e goods!), and that is full poor for to pay for such
precious things" (ll. 1928-1951).

After the usual evening's entertainment, Gawayne retires to rest. The
next morning, being New Year's day, is cold and stormy. Snow falls, and
the dales are full of drift. Our knight in his bed locks his eyelids,
but full little he sleeps. By each cock that crows he knows the hour,
and before day-break he calls for his chamberlain, who quickly brings
him his armour (ll. 1952-2014). While Gawayne clothed himself in his
rich weeds he forgot not the "lace, the lady's gift," but with it
doubly girded his loins. He wore it not for its rich ornaments, "but to
save himself when it behoved him to suffer," and as a safeguard against
sword or knife (ll. 2015-2046).

Having thanked his host and all the renowned assembly for the great
kindness he had experienced at their hands, "he steps into stirrups and
strides aloft" (ll. 2047-2068).

The drawbridge is let down, and the broad gates unbarred and borne open
upon both sides, and the knight, after commending the castle to Christ,
passes thereout and goes on his way accompanied by his guide, that
should teach him to turn to that place where he should receive the
much-dreaded blow. They climb over cliffs, where each hill had a hat
and a mist-cloak, until the next morn, when they find themselves on a
full high hill covered with snow. The servant bids his master remain
awhile, saying, "I have brought you hither at this time, and now ye are
not far from that noted place that ye have so often enquired after. The
place that ye press to is esteemed full perilous, and there dwells a
man in that waste the worst upon earth, for he is stiff and stern and
loves to strike, and greater is he than any man upon middle-earth, and
his body is bigger than the best four in Arthur's house. He keeps the
Green Chapel; there passes none by that place, however proud in arms,
that he does not 'ding him to death with dint of his hand.' He is a man
immoderate and 'no mercy uses,' for be it churl or chaplain that by the
chapel rides, monk or mass-priest, or any man else, it is as pleasant
to him to kill them as to go alive himself. Wherefore I tell thee
truly, 'come ye there, ye be killed, though ye had twenty lives to
spend. He has dwelt there long of yore, and on field much sorrow has
w