Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Charles Brockden Brown (1771–1810). Edgar Huntley; or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker. 1857.

The Canterbury Tales

Appendix to Group A. The Tale of Gamelyn

LITHETH, and lesteneth · and herkeneth aright,And ye schulle heere a talking · of a doughty knight;Sire Iohan of Boundys · was his righte name,He cowde of norture y-nough · and mochil of game.Thre sones the knight hadde · that with his body he wan;The eldest was a moche schrewe · and sone he bigan.His bretheren loved wel here fader · and of him were agast,The eldest deserved his fadres curs · and had it at the last.The goode knight his fader · livede so yore,That deth was comen him to · and handled him ful sore.The goode knight cared sore · syk ther he lay,How his children scholde · liven after his day.He hadde ben wyde-wher · but non housbond he was,Al the lond that he hadde · it was verrey purchas.Fayn he wolde it were · dressed among hem alle,That ech of hem hadde his part · as it mighte falle.Tho sente he in-to cuntre · after wyse knightes,To helpe delen his londes · and dressen hem to-rightes.He sente hem word by lettres · they schulden hye blyve,If they wolde speke with him · whyl he was on lyve.Tho the knightes herden · syk that he lay,Hadde they no reste · nother night ne day,Til they comen to him · ther he lay stilleOn his deth-bedde · to abyde goddes wille.Than seyde the goode knight · syk ther he lay,‘Lordes, I you warne · for soth, withoute nay,I may no lenger liven · heer in this stounde;For thurgh goddes wille · deth draweth me to grounde.’Ther nas non of hem alle · that herde him aright,That they ne hadden reuthe · of that ilke knight,And seyde, ‘sir, for goddes love · ne dismay you nought;God may do bote of bale · that is now y-wrought.’Than spak the goode knight · syk ther he lay,‘Boote of bale god may sende · I wot it is no nay;But I byseke you, knightes · for the love of me,Goth and dresseth my lond · among my sones three.And sires, for the love of god · deleth hem nat amis,And forgetith nat Gamelyn · my yonge sone that is.Taketh heed to that on · as wel as to that other;Selde ye see ony eyr · helpen his brother.’Tho leete they the knight lyen · that was nought in hele,And wenten in-to counsel · his londes for to dele;For to delen hem alle · to oon, that was her thought,And for Gamelyn was yongest · he schulde have nought.Al the lond that ther was · they dalten it in two,And leeten Gamelyn the yonge · withoute londe go,And ech of hem seyde · to other ful lowde,His bretheren mighte yeve him lond · whan he good cowde.Whan they hadde deled · the lond at here wille,They comen ayein to the knight · ther he lay ful stille,And tolden him anon-right · how they hadden wrought;And the knight ther he lay · lyked it right nought.Than seyde the knight · ‘by seynt Martyn,For al that ye have y-doon · yit is the lond myn;For goddes love, neyhebours · stondeth alle stille,And I wil dele my lond · right after my wille.Iohan, myn eldeste sone · schal have plowes fyve,That was my fadres heritage · whyl he was on lyve;And my middeleste sone · fyve plowes of lond,That I halp for to gete · with my righte hond;And al myn other purchas · of londes and leedes,That I biquethe Gamelyn · and alle my goode steedes.And I biseke yow, goode men · that lawe conne of londe,For Gamelynes love · that my queste stonde.’Thus dalte the knight · his lond by his day,Right on his deth-bedde · syk ther he lay;And sone aftirward · he lay stoon-stille,And deyde whan tyme com · as it was Cristes wille.And anon as he was deed · and under gras y-grave,Sone the elder brother · gyled the yonge knave;He took into his hond · his lond and his leede,And Gamelyn himselfe · to clothen and to feede.He clothed him and fedde him · yvel and eek wrothe,And leet his londes for-fare · and his houses bothe,His parkes and his woodes · and dede nothing wel;And seththen he it aboughte · on his faire fel.So longe was Gamelyn · in his brotheres halle,For the strengest, of good wil · they doutiden him alle;Ther was non ther-inne · nowther yong ne old,That wolde wraththe Gamelyn · were he never so bold.Gamelyn stood on a day · in his brotheres yerde,And bigan with his hond · to handlen his berde;He thoughte on his londes · that layen unsawe,And his faire okes · that down were y-drawe;His parkes were y-broken · and his deer bireved;Of alle his goode steedes · noon was him bileved;His howses were unhiled · and ful yvel dight;Tho thoughte Gamelyn · it wente nought aright.Afterward cam his brother · walkinge thare,And seyde to Gamelyn · ‘is our mete yare?’Tho wraththed him Gamelyn · and swor by goddes book,‘Thou schalt go bake thy-self · I wil nought be thy cook!’‘How? brother Gamelyn · how answerest thou now?Thou spake never such a word · as thou dost now.’‘By my faith,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘now me thinketh neede,Of alle the harmes that I have · I tok never ar heede.My parkes ben to-broken · and my deer bireved,Of myn armure and my steedes · nought is me bileved;Al that my fader me biquath · al goth to schame,And therfor have thou goddes curs · brother by thy name!’Than bispak his brother · that rape was of rees,‘Stond stille, gadeling · and hold right thy pees;Thou schalt be fayn for to have · thy mete and thy wede;What spekest thou, Gamelyn · of lond other of leede?’Thanne seyde Gamelyn · the child that was ying,‘Cristes curs mot he have · that clepeth me gadeling!I am no worse gadeling · ne no worse wight,But born of a lady · and geten of a knight.’Ne durste he nat to Gamelyn · ner a-foote go,But clepide to him his men · and seyde to hem tho,‘Goth and beteth this boy · and reveth him his wit,And lat him lerne another tyme · to answere me bet.’Thanne seyde the child · yonge Gamelyn,‘Cristes curs mot thou have · brother art thou myn!And if I schal algate · be beten anon,Cristes curs mot thou have · but thou be that oon!’And anon his brother · in that grete heteMade his men to fette staves · Gamelyn to bete.Whan that everich of hem · a staf hadde y-nome,Gamelyn was war anon · tho he seigh hem come;Tho Gamelyn seigh hem come · he loked over-al,And was war of a pestel · stood under a wal;Gamelyn was light of foot · and thider gan he lepe,And drof alle his brotheres men · right on an hepe.He loked as a wilde lyoun · and leyde on good woon;Tho his brother say that · he bigan to goon;He fley up in-til a loft · and schette the dore fast;Thus Gamelyn with the pestel · made hem alle agast.Some for Gamelynes love · and some for his eye,Alle they drowe by halves · tho he gan to pleye.‘What! how now?’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘evel mot ye thee!Wil ye biginne contek · and so sone flee?’Gamelyn soughte his brother · whider he was flowe,And saugh wher he loked · out at a windowe.‘Brother,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘com a litel ner,And I wil teche thee a play · atte bokeler.’His brother him answerde · and swor by seynt Richer,‘Whyl the pestel is in thin hond · I wil come no neer:Brother, I wil make thy pees · I swere by Cristes ore;Cast away the pestel · and wraththe thee no-more.’‘I mot neede,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘wraththe me at oones,For thou wolde make thy men · to breke myne boones,Ne hadde I had mayn · and might in myn armes,To have y-put hem fro me · they wolde have do me harmes.’‘Gamelyn,’ sayde his brother · ‘be thou nought wroth,For to seen thee have harm · it were me right loth;I ne dide it nought, brother · but for a fonding,For to loken if thou were strong · and art so ying.’‘Com a-doun than to me · and graunte me my boneOf thing I wil thee aske · and we schul saughte sone.’Doun than cam his brother · that fikil was and fel,And was swithe sore · agast of the pestel.He seyde, ‘brother Gamelyn · aske me thy boone,And loke thou me blame · but I graunte sone.’Thanne seyde Gamelyn · ‘brother, y-wis,And we schulle ben at oon · thou most me graunte this:Al that my fader me biquath · whyl he was on lyve,Thou most do me it have · yif we schul nat stryve.’‘That schalt thou have, Gamelyn · I swere by Cristes ore!Al that thy fader thee biquath · though thou woldest have more;Thy lond, that lyth laye · ful wel it schal be sowe,And thyn howses reysed up · that ben leyd so lowe.’Thus seyde the knight · to Gamelyn with mowthe,And thoughte eek of falsnes · as he wel couthe.The knight thoughte on tresoun · and Gamelyn on noon,And wente and kiste his brother · and, whan they were at oon,Allas! yonge Gamelyn · nothing he ne wisteWith which a false tresoun · his brother him kiste!Litheth, and lesteneth · and holdeth your tonge,And ye schul heere talking · of Gamelyn the yonge.Ther was ther bisyden · cryed a wrastling,And therfor ther was set up · a ram and a ring;And Gamelyn was in good wil · to wende therto,For to preven his might · what he cowthe do.‘Brother,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘by seynt Richer,Thou most lene me to-night · a litel courserThat is freisch to the spore · on for to ryde;I most on an erande · a litel her bisyde.’‘By god!’ seyde his brother · ‘of steedes in my stalleGo and chese thee the best · and spare non of alleOf steedes or of coursers · that stonden hem bisyde;And tel me, goode brother · whider thou wolt ryde.’‘Her bisyde, brother · is cryed a wrastling,And therfor schal be set up · a ram and a ring;Moche worschip it were · brother, to us alle,Might I the ram and the ring · bring home to this halle.’A steede ther was sadeled · smertely and skeet;Gamelyn did a paire spores · fast on his feet.He sette his foot in the styrop · the steede he bistrood,And toward the wrasteling · the yonge child rood.Tho Gamelyn the yonge · was ride out at the gat,The false knight his brother · lokked it after that,And bisoughte Iesu Crist · that is heven king,He mighte breke his nekke · in that wrasteling.As sone as Gamelyn com · ther the place was,He lighte doun of his steede · and stood on the gras,And ther he herd a frankeleyn · wayloway singe,And bigan bitterly · his hondes for to wringe.‘Goode man,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘why makestow this fare?Is ther no man that may · you helpe out of this care?’‘Allas!’ seyde this frankeleyn · ‘that ever was I bore!For tweye stalworthe sones · I wene that I have lore;A champioun is in the place · that hath y-wrought me sorwe,For he hath slayn my two sones · but-if god hem borwe.I wold yeve ten pound · by Iesu Crist! and more,With the nones I fand a man · to handelen him sore.’‘Goode man,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘wilt thou wel doon,Hold myn hors, whyl my man · draweth of my schoon,And help my man to kepe · my clothes and my steede,And I wil into place go · to loke if I may speede.’‘By god!’ sayde the frankeleyn · ‘anon it schal be doon;I wil my-self be thy man · and drawen of thy schoon,And wende thou into the place · Iesu Crist thee speede,And drede not of thy clothes · nor of thy goode steede.’Barfoot and ungert · Gamelyn in cam,Alle that weren in the place · heede of him they nam,How he durste auntre him · of him to doon his mightThat was so doughty champioun · in wrastling and in fight.Up sterte the champioun · rapely and anoon,Toward yonge Gamelyn · he bigan to goon,And sayde, ‘who is thy fader · and who is thy sire?For sothe thou art a gret fool · that thou come hire!’Gamelyn answerde · the champioun tho,‘Thou knewe wel my fader · whyl he couthe go,Whyles he was on lyve · by seint Martyn!Sir Iohan of Boundys was his name · and I Gamelyn.’‘Felaw,’ seyde the champioun · ‘al-so mot I thryve,I knew wel thy fader · whyl he was on lyve;And thyself, Gamelyn · I wil that thou it heere,Whyl thou were a yong boy · a moche schrewe thou were.’Than seyde Gamelyn · and swor by Cristes ore,‘Now I am older woxe · thou schalt me finde a more!’‘By god!’ sayde the champioun · ‘welcome mote thou be!Come thou ones in myn hond · schalt thou never thee.’It was wel withinne the night · and the moone schon,Whan Gamelyn and the champioun · togider gonne goon.The champioun caste tomes · to Gamelyn that was prest,And Gamelyn stood stille · and bad him doon his best.Thanne seyde Gamelyn · to the champioun,‘Thou art faste aboute · to bringe me adoun;Now I have y-proved · many tornes of thyne,Thow most,’ he seyde, ‘proven · on or two of myne.’Gamelyn to the champioun · yede smertely anon,Of all the tornes that he cowthe · he schewed him but oon,And caste him on the lefte syde · that three ribbes to-brak,And ther-to his oon arm · that yaf a gret crak.Thanne seyde Gamelyn · smertely anoon,‘Schal it be holde for a cast · or elles for noon?’‘By god!’ seyde the champioun · ‘whether that it be,He that cometh ones in thin hand · schal he never thee!’Than seyde the frankeleyn · that had his sones there,‘Blessed be thou, Gamelyn · that ever thou bore were!’The frankeleyn seyde to the champioun · of him stood him noon eye,‘This is yonge Gamelyn · that taughte thee this pleye.’Agein answerd the champioun · that lyked nothing wel,‘He is a lither mayster · and his pley is right fel;Sith I wrastled first · it is y-go ful yore,But I was nevere in my lyf · handeled so sore.’Gamelyn stood in the place · allone withoute serk,And seyde, ‘if ther be eny mo · lat hem come to werk;The champioun that peyned him · to werke so sore,It semeth by his continaunce · that he wil no-more.’Gamelyn in the place · stood as stille as stoon,For to abyde wrasteling · but ther com noon;Ther was noon with Gamelyn · wolde wrastle more,For he handled the champioun · so wonderly sore.Two gentil-men ther were · that yemede the place,Comen to Gamelyn · (god yeve him goode grace!)And sayde to him, ‘do on · thyn hosen and thy schoon,For sothe at this tyme · this feire is y-doon.’And than seyde Gamelyn · ‘so mot I wel fare,I have nought yet halven-del · sold up my ware.’Tho seyde the champioun · ‘so brouke I my sweere,He is a fool that ther-of byeth · thou sellest it so deere.’Tho sayde the frankeleyn · that was in moche care,‘Felaw,’ he seyde · ‘why lakkest thou his ware?By seynt lame in Galys · that many man hath sought,Yet it is to good cheep · that thou hast y-bought.’Tho that wardeynes were · of that wrastelingCome and broughte Gamelyn · the ram and the ring,And seyden, ‘have, Gamelyn · the ring and the ram,For the beste wrasteler · that ever here cam.’Thus wan Gamelyn · the ram and the ring,And wente with moche Ioye · home in the morning.His brother seih wher he cam · with the grete rowte,And bad schitte the gate · and holde him withoute.The porter of his lord · was ful sore agast,And sterte anon to the gate · and lokked it fast.Now litheth, and lesteneth · bothe yonge and olde,And ye schul heere gamen · of Gamelyn the bolde.Gamelyn come ther-to · for to have comen in,And thanne was it y-schet · faste with a pin;Than seyde Gamelyn · ‘porter, undo the yat,For many good mannes sone · stondeth ther-at.’Than answerd the porter · and swor by goddes berde,‘Thow ne schalt, Gamelyn · come into this yerde.’‘Thow lixt,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘so browke I my chin!’He smot the wiket with his foot · and brak awey the pin.The porter seyh tho · it might no better be,He sette foot on erthe · and bigan to flee.‘By my faith,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘that travail is y-lore,For I am of foot as light as thou · though thou haddest swore.’Gamelyn overtook the porter · and his teene wrak,And gerte him in the nekke · that the bon to-brak,And took him by that oon arm · and threw him in a welle,Seven fadmen it was deep · as I have herd telle.Whan Gamelyn the yonge · thus hadde pleyd his play,Alle that in the yerde were · drewen hem away;They dredden him ful sore · for werkes that he wroughte,And for the faire company · that he thider broughte.Gamelyn yede to the gate · and leet it up wyde;He leet in alle maner men · that gon in wolde or ryde,And seyde, ‘ye be welcome · withouten eny greeve,For we wiln be maistres heer · and aske no man leve.Yestirday I lefte’ · seyde yonge Gamelyn,‘In my brother seller · fyve tonne of wyn;I wil not that this compaignye · parten a-twinne,And ye wil doon after me · whyl eny sope is thrinne,And if my brother grucche · or make foul cheere,Other for spense of mete or drink · that we spenden heere,I am oure catour · and bere oure aller purs,He schal have for his grucching · seint Maries curs.My brother is a niggoun · I swer by Cristes ore,And we wil spende largely · that he hath spared yore;And who that maketh grucching · that we here dwelle,He schal to the porter · into the draw-welle.’Seven dayes and seven night · Gamelyn held his feste,With moche mirth and solas · that was ther, and no cheste;In a little toret · his brother lay y-steke,And sey hem wasten his good · but durste he not speke.Erly on a morning · on the eighte day,The gestes come to Gamelyn · and wolde gon here way.‘Lordes,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘wil ye so hyë?Al the wyn is not yet dronke · so brouke I myn yë.’Gamelyn in his herte · was he ful wo,Whan his gestes took her leve · from him for to go;He wolde they had lenger abide · and they seyde ‘nay,’But bitaughte Gamelyn · god, and good day.Thus made Gamelyn his feest · and broughte it wel to ende,And after his gestes · toke leve to wende.Litheth, and lesteneth · and holdeth youre tonge,And ye schul heere gamen · of Gamelyn the yonge;Herkeneth, lordinges · and lesteneth aright,Whan alle gestes were goon · how Gamelyn was dight.Al the whyl that Gamelyn · heeld his mangerye,His brother thoughte on him be wreke · with his treccherye.Tho Gamelyns gestes · were riden and y-goon,Gamelyn stood allone · frendes had he noon;Tho after ful soone · withinne a litel stounde,Gamelyn was y-taken · and ful harde y-bounde.Forth com the false knight · out of the soleer,To Gamelyn his brother · he yede ful neer,And sayde to Gamelyn · ‘who made thee so boldFor to stroye my stoor · of myn houshold?’‘Brother,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘wraththe thee right nought,For it is many day y-gon · siththen it was bought;For, brother, thou hast y-had · by seynt Richer,Of fiftene plowes of lond · this sixtene yer,And of alle the beestes · thou hast forth bred,That my fader me biquath · on his deth-bed;Of al this sixtene yeer · I yeve thee the prow,For the mete and the drink · that we have spended now.’Thanne seyde the false knight · (evel mot he thee!)‘Herkne, brother Gamelyn · what I wol yeve thee;For of my body, brother · heir geten have I noon,I wil make thee myn heir · I swere by seint Iohan.’‘Par ma foy!’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘and if it so be,And thou thenke as thou seyst · god yelde it thee!’Nothing wiste Gamelyn · of his brotheres gyle;Therfore he him bigyled · in a litel whyle.‘Gamelyn,’ seyde he · ‘o thing I thee telle;Tho thou threwe my porter · in the draw-welle,I swor in that wraththe · and in that grete moot,That thou schuldest be bounde · bothe hand and foot;Therfore I thee biseche · brother Gamelyn,Lat me nought be forsworen · brother art thou myn;Lat me binde thee now · bothe hand and feet,For to holde myn avow · as I thee biheet.’‘Brother,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘al-so mot I thee!Thou schalt not be forsworen · for the love of me.’Tho made they Gamelyn to sitte · mighte he nat stonde,Til they hadde him bounde · bothe foot and honde.The false knight his brother · of Gamelyn was agast,And sente aftir feteres · to feteren him fast.His brother made lesinges · on him ther he stood,And tolde hem that comen in · that Gamelyn was wood.Gamelyn stood to a post · bounden in the halle,Tho that comen in ther · lokede on him alle.Ever stood Gamelyn · even upright;But mete ne drink had he non · neither day ne night.Than seyde Gamelyn · ‘brother, by myn hals,Now I have aspyed · thou art a party fals;Had I wist that tresoun · that thou haddest y-founde,I wolde have yeve thee strokes · or I had be bounde!’Gamelyn stood bounden · stille as eny stoon;Two dayes and two nightes · mete had he noon.Thanne seyde Gamelyn · that stood y-bounde stronge,‘Adam spenser · me thinkth I faste to longe;Adam spenser · now I byseche thee,For the mochel love · my fader loved thee,If thou may come to the keyes · lese me out of bond,And I wil parte with thee · of my free lond.’Thanne seyde Adam · that was the spencer,‘I have served thy brother · this sixtene yeer,If I leete thee goon · out of his bour,He wolde say afterward · I were a traytour.’‘Adam,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘so brouke I myn hals!Thou schalt finde my brother · atte laste fals;Therfor, brother Adam · louse me out of bond,And I wil parte with thee · of my free lond.’‘Up swich a forward’ · seyde Adam, ‘y-wis,I wil do therto · al that in me is.’‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘al-so mot I thee,I wol holde thee covenant · and thou wil me.’Anon as Adames lord · to bedde was y-goon,Adam took the keyes, and leet · Gamelyn out anoon;He unlokked Gamelyn · bothe handes and feet,In hope of avauncement · that he him biheet.Than seyde Gamelyn · ‘thanked be goddes sonde!Now I am loosed · bothe foot and honde;Had I now eten · and dronken aright,Ther is noon in this hous · schulde binde me this night.’Adam took Gamelyn · as stille as ony stoon,And ladde him in-to spence · rapely and anon,And sette him to soper · right in a privee stede,He bad him do gladly · and Gamelyn so dede.Anon as Gamelyn hadde · eten wel and fyn,And therto y-dronke wel · of the rede wyn,‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘what is now thy reed?Wher I go to my brother · and girde of his heed?’‘Gamelyn,’ seyde Adam · ‘it schal not be so.I can teche thee a reed · that is worth the two.I wot wel for sothe · that this is no nay,We schul have a mangery · right on Soneday;Abbotes and priours · many heer schal be,And other men of holy chirche · as I telle thee;Thow schalt stonde up by the post · as thou were hond-fast,And I schal leve hem unloke · awey thou may hem cast.Whan that they have eten · and wasschen here hondes,Thou schalt biseke hem alle · to bring thee out of bondes;And if they wille borwe thee · that were good game,Then were thou out of prisoun · and I out of blame;And if everich of hem · say unto us ‘nay,’I schal do an other · I swere by this day!Thou schalt have a good staf · and I wil have another,And Cristes curs have that oon · that faileth that other!’‘Ye, for gode!’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘I say it for me,If I fayle on my syde · yvel mot I thee!If we schul algate · assoile hem of here sinne,Warne me, brother Adam · whan I schal biginne.’‘Gamelyn,’ seyde Adam · ‘by seynte Charite,I wil warne thee biforn · whan that it schal be;Whan I twinke on thee · loke for to goon,And cast awey the feteres · and com to me anoon.’‘Adam,’ seide Gamelyn · ‘blessed be thy bones!That is a good counseil · yeven for the nones;If they werne me thanne · to bringe me out of bendes,I wol sette goode strokes · right on here lendes.’Tho the Sonday was y-come · and folk to the feste,Faire they were welcomed · both leste and meste;And ever atte halle-dore · as they comen in,They caste their eye · on yonge Gamelyn.The false knight his brother · ful of trechery,Alle the gestes that ther were · atte mangery,Of Gamelyn his brother · he tolde hem with moutheAl the harm and the schame · that he telle couthe.Tho they were served · of messes two or three,Than seyde Gamelyn · ‘how serve ye me?It is nought wel served · by god that al made!That I sitte fasting · and other men make glade.’The false knight his brother · ther that he stood,Tolde alle his gestes · that Gamelyn was wood;And Gamelyn stood stille · and answerde nought,But Adames wordes · he held in his thought.Tho Gamelyn gan speke · dolfully with-alleTo the grete lordes · that saten in the halle:‘Lordes,’ he seyde · ‘for Cristes passioun,Helpeth bringe Gamelyn · out of prisoun.’Than seyde an abbot · sorwe on his cheeke!‘He schal have Cristes curs · and seynte Maries eeke,That thee out of prisoun · beggeth other borwe,But ever worthe hem wel · that doth thee moche sorwe.’After that abbot · than spak another,‘I wold thin heed were of · though thou were my brother!Alle that thee borwe · foule mot hem falle!’Thus they seyden alle · that weren in the halle.Than seyde a priour · yvel mot he thryve!‘It is moche scathe, boy · that thou art on lyve.’‘Ow!’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘so brouke I my bon!Now I have aspyed · that freendes have I non.Cursed mot he worthe · bothe fleisch and blood,That ever do priour · or abbot ony good!’Adam the spencer · took up the cloth,And loked on Gamelyn · and say that he was wroth;Adam on the pantrye · litel he thoughte,But two goode staves · to halle-dore he broughte,Adam loked on Gamelyn · and he was war anoon,And caste awey the feteres · and he bigan to goon:Tho he com to Adam · he took that oo staf,And bigan to worche · and goode strokes yaf.Gamelyn cam in-to the halle · and the spencer bothe,And loked hem aboute · as they had be wrothe;Gamelyn sprengeth holy-water · with an oken spire,That some that stoode upright · fellen in the fire.There was no lewed man · that in the halle stood,That wolde do Gamelyn · eny thing but good,But stood bisyden · and leet hem bothe werche,For they hadde no rewthe · of men of holy cherche;Abbot or priour · monk or chanoun,That Gamelyn overtok · anon they yeeden doun.Ther was non of hem alle · that with his staf mette,That he ne made him overthrowe · and quitte him his dette.‘Gamelyn,’ seyde Adam · ‘for seynte Charite,Pay large liverey · for the love of me,And I wil kepe the dore · so ever here I masse!Er they ben assoyled · there shal noon passe.’‘Dowt thee nought,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘whyl we ben in-feere,Kep thou wel the dore · and I wol werche heere;Stere thee, good Adam · and lat ther noon flee,And we schul telle largely · how many that ther be.’‘Gamelyn,’ seyde Adam · ‘do hem but good;They ben men of holy chirche · draw of hem no blood,Save wel the croune · and do hem non harmes,But brek bothe her legges · and siththen here armes.’Thus Gamelyn and Adam · wroughte right fast,And pleyden with the monkes · and made hem agast.Thider they come ryding · Iolily with swaynes,And hom ayen they were y-lad · in cartes and in waynes.Tho they hadden al y-don · than seyde a gray frere,‘Allas! sire abbot · what dide we now heere?Tho that we comen hider · it was a cold reed,Us hadde ben better at home · with water and with breed.’Whyl Gamelyn made ordres · of monkes and frere,Ever stood his brother · and made foul chere;Gamelyn up with his staf · that he wel knew,And gerte him in the nekke · that he overthrew;A litel above the girdel · the rigge-bon to-barst;And sette him in the feteres · ther he sat arst.‘Sitte ther, brother’ · sayde Gamelyn,‘For to colen thy blood · as I dide myn.’As swithe as they hadde · y-wroken hem on here foon,They askeden watir · and wisschen anoon,What some for here love · and some for here awe,Alle the servants served hem · of the beste lawe.The scherreve was thennes · but a fyve myle,And al was y-told him · in a litel whyle,How Gamelyn and Adam · had doon a sory rees,Bounden and y-wounded men · ayein the kinges pees;Tho bigan sone · stryf for to wake,And the scherref was aboute · Gamelyn for to take.Now lytheth and lesteneth · so god yif you good fyn!And ye schul heere good game · of yonge Gamelyn.Four and twenty yonge men · that heelden hem ful bolde,Come to the schirref · and seyde that they woldeGamelyn and Adam · fetten, by her fay;The scherref yaf hem leve · soth as I you say;They hyeden faste · wold they nought bilinne,Til they come to the gate · ther Gamelyn was inne.They knokked on the gate · the porter was ny,And loked out at an hol · as man that was sly.The porter hadde biholde · hem a litel whyle,He loved wel Gamelyn · and was adrad of gyle,And leet the wicket stonden · y-steke ful stille,And asked hem withoute · what was here wille.For al the grete company · thanne spak but oon,‘Undo the gate, porter · and lat us in goon.’Than seyde the porter · ‘so brouke I my chin,Ye schul sey your erand · er ye comen in.’‘Sey to Gamelyn and Adam · if here wille be,We wil speke with hem · wordes two or thre.’‘Felaw,’ seyde the porter · ‘stond there stille,And I wil wende to Gamelyn · to witen his wille.’In wente the porter · to Gamelyn anoon,And seyde, ‘Sir, I warne you · her ben come your foon;The scherreves meyne · ben atte gate,For to take you bothe · schulle ye nat scape.’‘Porter,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘so moot I wel thee!I wil allowe thee thy wordes · whan I my tyme see;Go agayn to the yate · and dwel with hem a whyle,And thou schalt see right sone · porter, a gyle.Adam,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘looke thee to goon;We have foo-men atte gate · and frendes never oon;It ben the schirrefes men · that hider ben y-come,They ben swore to-gidere · that we schul be nom.’‘Gamelyn,’ seyde Adam · ‘hye thee right blyve,And if I faile thee this day · evel mot I thryve!And we schul so welcome · the scherreves men,That some of hem schul make · here beddes in the fen.’Atte posterne-gate · Gamelyn out wente,And a good cart-staf · in his hand he hente;Adam hente sone · another gret stafFor to helpe Gamelyn · and goode strokes yaf.Adam felde tweyne · and Gamelyn felde three,The other setten feet on erthe · and bigonne flee.‘What?’ seyde Adam · ‘so ever here I masse!I have a draught of good wyn! · drink er ye passe!’‘Nay, by god!’ sayde thay · ‘thy drink is not good,It wolde make mannes brayn · to lyen in his hood.’Gamelyn stood stille · and loked him aboute,And seih the scherreve come · with a gret route.‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘what be now thy reedes?Here cometh the scherreve · and wil have oure heedes.’Adam sayde, ‘Gamelyn · my reed is now this,Abyde we no lenger · lest we fare amis:I rede that we to wode goon · ar that we be founde,Better is us ther loos · than in town y-bounde.’Adam took by the hond · yonge Gamelyn;And everich of hem two · drank a draught of wyn,And after took her cours · and wenten her way;Tho fond the scherreve · nest, but non ay.The scherreve lighte adoun · and went in-to the halle,And fond the lord y-fetered · faste with-alle.The scherreve unfetered him · sone, and that anoon,And sente after a leche · to hele his rigge-boon.Lete we now this false knight · lyen in his care,And talke we of Gamelyn · and loke how he fare.Gamelyn in-to the woode · stalkede stille,And Adam the spenser · lykede ful ille;Adam swor to Gamelyn · by seynt Richer,‘Now I see it is mery · to be a spencer,That lever me were · keyes for to bere,Than walken in this wilde woode · my clothes to tere.’‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘dismaye thee right nought;Many good mannes child · in care is y-brought.’And as they stoode talking · bothen in-feere,Adam herd talking of men · and neyh, him thought, they were.Tho Gamelyn under the woode · lokede aright,Sevene score of yonge men · he saugh wel a-dight;Alle satte atte mete · in compas aboute.‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘now have we no doute,After bale cometh boote · thurgh grace of god almight;Me thinketh of mete and drink · that I have a sight.’Adam lokede tho · under woode-bowgh,And whan he seyh mete · he was glad y-nough;For he hopede to god · for to have his deel,And he was sore alonged · after a good meel.As he seyde that word · the mayster outlaweSaugh Gamelyn and Adam · under woode-schawe.‘Yonge men,’ seyde the maister · ‘by the goode roode,I am war of gestes · god sende us non but goode;Yonder ben two yonge men · wonder wel a-dight,And paraventure ther ben mo · who-so lokede aright.Ariseth up, ye yonge men · and fetteth hem to me;It is good that we witen · what men they be.’Up ther sterten sevene · fro the diner,And metten with Gamelyn · and Adam spenser.Whan they were neyh hem · than seyde that oon,‘Yeldeth up, yonge men · your bowes and your floon.’Thanne seyde Gamelyn · that yong was of elde,‘Moche sorwe mot he have · that to you hem yelde!I curse non other · but right my-selve;They ye fette to yow fyve · thanne ye be twelve!’Tho they herde by his word · that might was in his arm,Ther was non of hem alle · that wolde do him harm,But sayde unto Gamelyn · mildely and stille,‘Com afore our maister · and sey to him thy wille.’‘Yonge men,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘by your lewte,What man is your maister · that ye with be?’Alle they answerde · withoute lesing,‘Oure maister is y-crouned · of outlawes king.’‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘go-we in Cristes name;He may neyther mete nor drink · werne us, for schame.If that he be hende · and come of gentil blood,He wol yeve us mete and drink · and doon us som good.’‘By seynt Iame!’ seyde Adam · ‘what harm that I gete,I wil auntre to the dore · that I hadde mete.’Gamelyn and Adam · wente forth in-feere,And they grette the maister · that they founde there.Than seide the maister · king of outlawes,‘What seeke ye, yonge men · under woode-schawes?’Gamelyn answerde · the king with his croune,‘He moste needes walke in woode · that may not walke in towne.Sire, we walke not heer · noon harm for to do,But-if we meete with a deer · to scheete ther-to,As men that ben hungry · and mow no mete finde,And ben harde bistad · under woode-linde.’Of Gamelynes wordes · the maister hadde routhe,And seyde, ‘ye schal have y-nough · have god my trouthe!’He bad hem sitte ther adoun · for to take reste;And bad hem ete and drinke · and that of the beste.As they sete and eeten · and dronke wel and fyn,Than seyde that oon to that other · ‘this is Gamelyn.’Tho was the maister outlawe · in-to counseil nome,And told how it was Gamelyn · that thider was y-come.Anon as he herde · how it was bifalle,He made him maister under him · over hem alle.Within the thridde wyke · him com tyding,To the maister outlawe · that tho was her king,That he schulde come hom · his pees was y-mad;And of that goode tyding · he was tho ful glad.Tho seyde he to his yonge men · ‘soth for to telle,Me ben comen tydinges · I may no lenger dwelle.’Tho was Gamelyn anon · withoute tarying,Maad maister outlawe · and crouned here king.Tho was Gamelyn crouned · king of outlawes,And walked a whyle · under woode-schawes.The false knight his brother · was scherreve and sire,And leet his brother endite · for hate and for ire.Tho were his bonde-men · sory and nothing glad,When Gamelyn her lord · ‘wolves-heed’ was cryed and maad;And sente out of his men · wher they might him finde,For to seke Gamelyn · under woode-linde,To telle him tydinges · how the wind was went,And al his good reved · and his men schent.Whan they had him founde · on knees they hem sette,And a-doun with here hood · and here lord grette;‘Sire, wraththe you nought · for the goode roode,For we have brought you tydinges · but they be nat goode.Now is thy brother scherreve · and hath the baillye,And he hath endited thee · and ‘wolves-heed’ doth thee crye.’‘Allas!’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘that ever I was so slakThat I ne hadde broke his nekke · tho I his rigge brak!Goth, greteth hem wel · myn housbondes and wyf,I wol ben atte nexte schire · have god my lyf!’Gamelyn com wel redy · to the nexte schire,And ther was his brother · bothe lord and sire.Gamelyn com boldelich · in-to the moot-halle,And putte a-doun his hood · among the lordes alle;‘God save you alle, lordinges · that now here be!But broke-bak scherreve · evel mot thou thee!Why hast thou do me · that schame and vilonye,For to late endite me · and ‘wolves-heed’ me crye?’Tho thoughte the false knight · for to ben awreke,And leet take Gamelyn · moste he no more speke;Might ther be no more grace · but Gamelyn atte lasteWas cast in-to prisoun · and fetered ful faste.Gamelyn hath a brother · that highte sir Ote,As good a knight and hende · as mighte gon on foote.Anon ther yede a messager · to that goode knight,And tolde him al-togidere · how Gamelyn was dight.Anon as sire Ote herde · how Gamelyn was a-dight,He was wonder sory · was he no-thing light,And leet sadle a steede · and the way he nam,And to his tweyne bretheren · anon-right he cam.‘Sire,’ seyde sire Ote · to the scherreve tho,‘We ben but three bretheren · schul we never be mo;And thou hast y-prisoned · the beste of us alle;Swich another brother · yvel mot him bifalle!’‘Sire Ote,’ seide the false knight · ‘lat be thy curs;By god, for thy wordes · he schal fare the wurs;To the kinges prisoun · anon he is y-nome,And ther he schal abyde · til the Iustice come.’‘Parde!’ seyde sir Ote · ‘better it schal be;I bidde him to maynpris · that thou graunte him meTil the nexte sitting · of deliveraunce,And thanne lat Gamelyn · stande to his chaunce.’‘Brother, in swich a forward · I take him to thee;And by thy fader soule · that thee bigat and me,But-if he be redy · whan the Iustice sitte,Thou schalt bere the Iuggement · for al thy grete witte.’‘I graunte wel,’ seide sIr Ote · ‘that it so be.Let deliver him anon · and tak him to me.’Tho was Gamelyn delivered · to sire Ote his brother,And that night dwellede · that on with that other.On the morn seyde Gamelyn · to sire Ote the hende,‘Brother,’ he seide, ‘I moot · for sothe, from thee wende,To loke how my yonge men · leden here lyf,Whether they liven in Ioye · or elles in stryf.’‘By god!’ seyde sire Ote · ‘that is a cold reed,Now I see that al the cark · schal fallen on myn heed;For when the Iustice sitte · and thou be nought y-founde,I schal anon be take · and in thy stede y-bounde.’‘Brother,’ sayde Gamelyn · ‘dismaye thee nought,For by seint Iame in Gales · that many man hath sought,If that god almighty · holde my lyf and wit,I wil be ther redy · whan the Iustice sit.’Than seide sir Ote to Gamelyn · ‘god schilde thee fro schame;Com whan thou seest tyme · and bring us out of blame.’Litheth, and lesteneth · and holdeth you stille,And ye schul here how Gamelyn · hadde al his wille.Gamelyn wente ayein · under woode-rys,And fond there pleying · yonge men of prys.Tho was yong Gamelyn · glad and blithe y-nough,Whan he fond his mery men · under woode-bough.Gamelyn and his men · talkeden in-feere,And they hadde good game · here maister to heere;They tolden him of aventures · that they hadde founde,And Gamelyn hem tolde ayein · how he was fast y-bounde.Whyl Gamelyn was outlawed · hadde he no cors;There was no man that for him · ferde the wors,But abbotes and priours · monk and chanoun;On hem left he no-thing · whan he mighte hem nom.Whyl Gamelyn and his men · made merthes ryve,The false knight his brother · yvel mot he thryve!For he was fast aboute · bothe day and other,For to hyre the quest · to hangen his brother.Gamelyn stood on a day · and, as he biheeldThe woodes and the schawes · in the wilde feeld,He thoughte on his brother · how he him beheetThat he wolde be redy · whan the Iustice seet;He thoughte wel that he wolde · withoute delay,Come afore the Iustice · to kepen his day,And seide to his yonge men · ‘dighteth you yare,For whan the Iustice sitte · we moote be thare,For I am under borwe · til that I come,And my brother for me · to prisoun schal be nome.’‘By seint Iame!’ seyde his yonge men · ‘and thou rede therto,Ordeyne how it schal be · and it schal be do.’Whyl Gamelyn was coming · ther the Iustice sat,The false knight his brother · foryat he nat that,To huyre the men on his quest · to hangen his brother;Though he hadde nought that oon · he wolde have that other.Tho cam Gamelyn · fro under woode-rys,And broughte with him · his yonge men of prys.‘I see wel,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘the Iustice is set;Go aforn, Adam · and loke how it spet.’Adam wente into the halle · and loked al aboute,He seyh there stonde · lordes grete and stoute,And sir Ote his brother · fetered wel fast;Tho went Adam out of halle · as he were agast.Adam said to Gamelyn · and to his felawes alle,‘Sir Ote stant y-fetered · in the moot halle.’‘Yonge men,’ seide Gamelyn · ‘this ye heeren alle;Sire Ote stant y-fetered · in the moot halle.If god yif us grace · wel for to doo,He schal it abegge · that broughte him ther-too.’Thanne sayde Adam · that lokkes hadde hore,‘Cristes curs mote he have · that him bond so sore!And thou wilt, Gamelyn · do after my reed,Ther is noon in the halle · schal bere awey his heed.’‘Adam,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘we wiln nought don so,We wil slee the giltif · and lat the other go.I wil into the halle · and with the Iustice speke;On hem that ben gultif · I wil ben awreke.Lat non scape at the dore · take, yonge men, yeme;For I wil be Iustice this day · domes for to deme.God spede me this day · at my newe werk!Adam, com on with me · for thou schalt be my clerk.’His men answereden him · and bade him doon his best,‘And if thou to us have neede · thou schalt finde us prest;We wiln stande with thee · whyl that we may dure,And but we werke manly · pay us non hure.’‘Yonge men,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘so mot I wel thee!As trusty a maister · ye schal finde of me.’Right there the Iustice · sat in the halle,In wente Gamelyn · amonges hem alle.Gamelyn leet unfetere · his brother out of bende.Thanne seyde sire Ote · his brother that was hende,‘Thou haddest almost, Gamelyn · dwelled to longe,For the quest is oute on me · that I schulde honge.’‘Brother,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘so god yif me good rest!This day they schuln ben hanged · that ben on thy quest;And the Iustice bothe · that is the Iugge-man,And the scherreve bothe · thurgh him it bigan.’Thanne seyde Gamelyn · to the Iustise,‘Now is thy power y-don · thou most nedes arise;Thow hast yeven domes · that ben yvel dight,I wil sitten in thy sete · and dressen hem aright.’The Iustice sat stille · and roos nought anoon;And Gamelyn clevede · [a-two] his cheeke-boon;Gamelyn took him in his arm · and no more spak,But threw him over the barre · and his arm to-brak.Durste non to Gamelyn · seye but good,For ferd of the company · that withoute stood.Gamelyn sette him doun · in the Iustices seet,And sire Ote his brother by him · and Adam at his feet.Whan Gamelyn was y-set · in the Iustices stede,Herkneth of a bourde · that Gamelyn dede.He leet fetre the Iustice · and his false brother,And dede hem come to the barre · that oon with that other.Tho Gamelyn hadde thus y-doon · hadde he no reste,Til he had enquered · who was on the questeFor to deme his brother · sir Ote, for to honge;Er he wiste which they were · him thoughte ful longe.But as sone as Gamelyn · wiste wher they were,He dede hem everichone · feteren in-feere,And bringen hem to the barre · and sette hem in rewe;‘By my faith!’ seyde the Iustice · ‘the scherreve is a schrewe!’Than seyde Gamelyn · to the Iustise,‘Thou hast y-yeve domes · of the wors assise;And the twelve sisours · that weren of the queste,They schul ben hanged this day · so have I good reste!’Thanne seide the scherreve · to yonge Gamelyn,‘Lord, I crye the mercy · brother art thou myn.’‘Therfore,’ seyde Gamelyn · ‘have thou Cristes curs,For, and thou were maister · yit I schulde have wors.’For to make short tale · and nought to tarie longe,He ordeyned him a queste · of his men so strenge;The Iustice and the scherreve · bothe honged hye,To weyven with the ropes · and with the winde drye;And the twelve sisours · (sorwe have that rekke!)Alle they were hanged · faste by the nekke.Thus ended the false knight · with his treccherye,That ever hadde y-lad his lyf · in falsnes and folye.He was hanged by the nekke · and nought by the purs;That was the meede that he hadde · for his fadres curs.Sire Ote was eldest · and Gamelyn was ying,They wenten with here frendes · even to the king;They made pees with the king · of the best assise.The king loved wel sir Ote · and made him Iustise.And after, the king made Gamelyn · bothe in est and west,Chief Iustice · of al his free forest;Alle his wighte yonge men · the king foryaf here gilt,And sitthen in good office · the king hem hath y-pilt.Thus wan Gamelyn · his lond and his leede,And wrak him of his enemys · and quitte hem here meede;And sire Ote his brother · made him his heir,And siththen wedded Gamelyn · a wyf bothe good and feyr;They liveden to-gidere · whyl that Crist wolde,And sithen was Gamelyn · graven under molde.And so schal we alle · may ther no man flee:God bringe us to the Ioye · that ever schal be!