fetch thee such wages as thou dealest me to-day before this company of
doughty ones." "Where should I seek thee?" replies Gawayne, "where is
thy place? I know not thee, thy court, or thy name. I wot not where
thou dwellest, but teach me thereto, tell me how thou art called, and I
shall endeavour to find thee,--and that I swear thee for truth and by
my sure troth." "That is enough in New Year," says the groom in green,
"if I tell thee when I have received the tap. When thou hast smitten
me, then smartly I will teach thee of my house, my home, and my own
name, so that thou mayest follow my track and fulfil the covenant
between us. If I spend no speech, then speedest thou the better, for
then mayest thou remain in thy own land and seek no further; but cease
thy talking[1] (ll. 366-412). Take now thy grim tool to thee and let us
see how thou knockest." "Gladly, sir, for sooth," quoth Gawayne, and
his axe he brandishes.

[Footnote 1: This, I think, is the true explanation of slokes.]

The Green Knight adjusts himself on the ground, bends slightly his
head, lays his long lovely locks over his crown, and lays bare his neck
for the blow. Gawayne then gripped the axe, and, raising it on high,
let it fall quickly upon the knight's neck and severed the head from
the body. The fair head fell from the neck to the earth, and many
turned it aside with their feet as it rolled forth. The blood burst
from the body, yet the knight never faltered nor fell; but boldly he
started forth on stiff shanks and fiercely rushed forward, seized his
head, and lifted it up quickly. Then he runs to his horse, the bridle
he catches, steps into his stirrups and strides aloft. His head by the
hair he holds in his hands, and sits as firmly in his saddle as if no
mishap had ailed him, though headless he was (ll. 413-439). He turned
his ugly trunk about--that ugly body that bled,--and holding the head