Exerpt from the wedding of Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

'm back. Been busy. There was a pretty man deserving of my attention. Didn't read any modern poetry. Did read some Middle English poetry.

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In which Gawain and his new and newly-hot wife get it on:

"Kysse me, Sir Knyght, evyn now here;
I pray the, be glad and make good chere,
For well is me begon."
Ther they made joye oute of mynde,
So was itt reason and cours of kynde,
They two theymself alone.
She thankyd God and Mary mylde
She was recovered of that that she was defoylyd;
So dyd Sir Gawen.
He made myrthe alle in her boure
And thankyd of alle Oure Savyoure,
I telle you, in certeyn.

With joye and myrthe they wakyd tylle daye
And than wold ryse that fayre maye.
"Ye shalle nott," Sir Gawen sayd;
"We wolle lye and slepe tylle pryme
And then lett the Kyng calle us to dyne."
"I am greed," then sayd the mayd.
Thus itt passyd forth tylle middaye.
"Syrs," quod the Kyng, "lett us go and asaye
Yf Sir Gawen be on lyve.
I am fulle ferd of Sir Gawen,
Nowe lest the fende have hym slayn;
Nowe wold I fayn preve.

"Go we nowe," sayd Arthoure the Kyng.
"We wolle go se theyr uprysyng,
Howe welle that he hathe sped."
They cam to the chambre, alle incerteyn.
"Aryse," sayd the Kyng to Sir Gawen;
"Why slepyst thou so long in bed?"
"Mary," quod Gawen, "Sir Kyng, sicurly,
I wold be glad, and ye wold lett me be,
For I am fulle welle att eas.
Abyde, ye shalle se the dore undone!
I trowe that ye wolle say I am welle goon;
I am fulle lothe to ryse."

Syr Gawen rose, and in his hand he toke
His fayr Lady, and to the dore he shoke,
And opynyd the dore fulle fayre.
She stod in her smok alle by that fyre;
Her here was to her knees as red as gold wyre.
"Lo, this is my repayre!
Lo!" sayd Gawen Arthoure untille -
"Syr, this is my wyfe, Dame Ragnelle,
That savyd onys your lyfe."
He told the Kyng and the Queen hem beforn
Howe sodenly from her shap she dyd torne -
"My Lord, nowe be your leve" -

And whate was the cause she forshapen was
Syr Gawen told the Kyng both more and lesse.
"I thank God," sayd the Queen;
"I wenyd, Sir Gawen, she wold the have myscaryed;
Therfore in my hartt I was sore agrevyd.
Butt the contrary is here seen!"
Ther was game, revelle, and playe,
And every man to other gan saye,
"She is a fayre wyghte."
Than the Kyng them alle gan telle
How did help hym att nede Dame Ragnelle,
"Or my dethe had bene dyghte."

Ther the Kyng told the Queen, by the Rood,
Howe he was bestad in Ingleswod
With Sir Gromer Somer Joure,
And whate othe the knyght made hym swere,
"Or elles he had slayn me ryghte there
Withoute mercy or mesure.
This same Lady, Dame Ragnelle,
From my dethe she dyd help me ryght welle,
Alle for the love of Gawen."
Then Gawen told the Kyng alle togeder
Howe forshapen she was with her stepmoder
Tylle a knyght had holpen her agayn.

Ther she told the Kyng fayre and welle
Howe Gawen gave her the sovereynté every delle,
And whate choyse she gave to hym.
"God thank hym of his curtesye;
He savid me from chaunce and vilony
That was fulle foulle and grym.
Therfore, curteys Knyght and hend Gawen,
Shalle I nevere wrathe the serteyn,
That promyse nowe here I make.
Whilles that I lyve I shal be obaysaunt;
To God above I shalle itt warraunt,
And nevere with you to debate."

"Garamercy, Lady," then sayd Gawen;
"With you I hold me fulle welle content
And that I trust to fynde."
He sayd, "My love shalle she have.
Therafter nede she nevere more crave,
For she hathe bene to me so kynde."
The Queen sayd, and the ladyes alle,
"She is the fayrest nowe in this halle,
I swere by Seynt John!
My love, Lady, ye shalle have evere
For that ye savid my Lord Arthoure,
As I am a gentilwoman."

(Text and gloss here)