Þen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote ly3tis.
[B] Now hat3 Arthure his axe, & þe halme grype3,
& sturnely sture3 hit aboute, þat stryke wyth hit þo3t.
332 Þe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hy3t,
Herre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede & more;
[C] Wyth sturne schere[1] þer he stod, he stroked his berde,
& wyth a countenaunce dry3e he dro3 doun his cote,
336 No more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dinte3,
Þen any burne vpon bench hade bro3t hym to drynk
of wyne,
[D] Gawan, þat sate bi þe quene,
340 To þe kyng he can enclyne,
"I be-seche now with sa3e3 sene,
Þis melly mot be myne."

[Sidenote A: He assures the knight that no one is afraid of his great
words.]
[Sidenote B: Arthur seizes his axe.]
[Sidenote C: The knight, stroking his beard, awaits the blow, and with a
"dry countenance" draws down his coat.]
[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne beseeches the king to let him undertake the blow.]
[Footnote 1: chere (?).]

XVI.

"Wolde 3e, worþilych lorde," quod Gawan to þe kyng,
344 [A] "Bid me bo3e fro þis benche, & stonde by yow þere,
Þat I wyth-oute vylanye my3t voyde þis table,
& þat my legge lady lyked not ille,
I wolde com to your counseyl, bifore your cort ryche.