Bluegrass Messengers

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle c. 1450

Here's the poem, The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle, c. 1450, that the ballad is based upon. At the very bottom of this page is the translation from Middle Englsih by Dr. David Breeden

THE WEDDING OF SIR GAWAIN AND DAME RAGNELLE- Edited by Thomas Hahn; Originally Published in Sir Gawain: Eleven Romances and Tales; Kalamazoo, Michigan: Medieval Institute Publications, 1995

  
    Lythe and listenythe the lif of a lord riche,
The while that he lyvid was none hym liche,
Nether in bowre ne in halle.
In the tyme of Arthoure thys adventure betyd,
And of the greatt adventure that he hymself dyd,
That Kyng curteys and royalle.   
Of alle kynges Arture berythe the flowyr,
And of alle knyghtod he bare away the honour,
Wheresoevere he wentt.
In his contrey was nothyng butt chyvalry
And knyghtes were belovid by that doughty,
For cowardes were everemore shent.
  
Nowe wylle ye lyst a whyle to my talkyng,
I shalle you telle of Arthowre the Kyng,
Howe ones hym befelle.
On huntyng he was in Ingleswod,
With alle his bold knyghtes good -
Nowe herken to my spelle!
The Kyng was sett att his trestylle-tree
With hys bowe to sle the wylde veneré
And hys lordes were sett hym besyde.
As the Kyng stode, then was he ware
Where a greatt hartt was and a fayre,
And forthe fast dyd he glyde.
  
The hartt was in a braken ferne,
And hard the houndes, and stode fulle derne:
Alle that sawe the Kyng.
"Hold you stylle, every man,
And I wolle goo myself, yf I can,
With crafte of stalkyng."
The Kyng in hys hand toke a bowe
And wodmanly he stowpyd lowe
To stalk unto that dere.
When that he cam the dere fulle nere,
The dere lept forthe into a brere,
And evere the Kyng went nere and nere.
  
So Kyng Arthure went a whyle
After the dere, I trowe, half a myle,
And no man with hym went.
And att the last to the dere he lett flye
And smote hym sore and sewerly -
Suche grace God hym sent.

Doun the dere tumblyd so theron,
And felle into a greatt brake of feron;
The Kyng folowyd fulle fast.
Anon the Kyng bothe ferce and felle
Was with the dere and dyd hym serve welle,
And after the grasse he taste.
  
As the Kyng was with the dere alone,
Streyghte ther cam to hym a quaynt grome,
Armyd welle and sure,
A knyght fulle strong and of greatt myghte.
And grymly wordes to the Kyng he sayd:
"Welle imet, Kyng Arthour!
Thou hast me done wrong many a yere
And wofully I shall quytte the here;
I hold thy lyfe days nyghe done.
Thou hast gevyn my landes in certayn
With greatt wrong unto Sir Gawen.
Whate sayest thou, Kyng alone?"
  
"Syr Knyghte, whate is thy name with honour?"
"Syr Kyng," he sayd, "Gromer Somer Joure,
I telle the nowe with ryghte."
"A, Sir Gromer Somer, bethynk the welle;
To sle me here honour getyst thou no delle.
Bethynk the thou artt a knyghte:
Yf thou sle me nowe in thys case,
Alle knyghtes wolle refuse the in every place;
That shame shalle nevere the froo.
Lett be thy wylle and folowe wytt
And that is amys I shalle amend itt,
And thou wolt, or that I goo."
  
"Nay," sayd Sir Gromer Somer, "by Hevyn Kyng!
So shalt thou nott skape, withoute lesyng;
I have the nowe att avaylle.
Yf I shold lett the thus goo with mokery,
Anoder tyme thou wolt me defye;
Of that I shalle nott faylle."
"Now," sayd the Kyng, "so God me save,
Save my lyfe, and whate thou most crave,
I shalle now graunt itt the;
Shame thou shalt have to sle me in veneré,
Thou armyd and I clothyd butt in grene, perdé."
  
"Alle thys shalle nott help the, sekyrly.
For I wolle nother lond ne gold, truly,
Butt yf thou graunt me att a certeyn day
Suche as I shalle sett, and in thys same araye."
"Yes," sayd the Kyng; "Lo, here my hand."
"Ye, butt abyde, Kyng, and here me a stound.
Fyrst thow shalt swere upon my sword broun
To shewe me att thy comyng whate wemen love best in feld and town
And thou shalt mete me here withouten send
Evyn att this day twelfe monethes end;
And thou shalt swere upon my swerd good
That of thy knyghtes shalle none com with the, by the Rood,
Nowther fremde ne freynd.
  
"And yf thou bryng nott answere withoute faylle,
Thyne hed thou shalt lose for thy travaylle -
Thys shalle nowe be thyne othe.
Whate sayst thou, Kyng? Lett se, have done!"
"Syr, I graunt to thys! Now lett me gone.
Thoughe itt be to me fulle lothe,
I ensure the, as I am true kyng,
To com agayn att thys twelfe monethes endyng
And bryng the thyne answere."
"Now go thy way, Kyng Arthure.
Thy lyfe is in my hand, I am fulle sure;
Of thy sorowe thow artt nott ware.
  
"Abyde, Kyng Arthure, a lytell whyle:
Loke nott today thou me begyle,
And kepe alle thyng in close -
For and I wyst, by Mary mylde,
Thou woldyst betray me in the feld,
Thy lyf fyrst sholdyst thou lose."
"Nay," sayd Kyng Arthure, "that may nott be.
Untrewe knyght shalt thou nevere fynde me -
To dye yett were me lever.
Farwelle, Sir Knyght, and evyll mett.
I wolle com, and I be on lyve att the day sett,
Thoughe I shold scape nevere."
  
The Kyng his bugle gan blowe.
That hard every knyght and itt gan knowe;
Unto hym can they rake.
Ther they fond the Kyng and the dere,
With sembland sad and hevy chere,
That had no lust to layk.
"Go we home nowe to Carlylle;
Thys huntyng lykys me nott welle,"
So sayd Kyng Arthure.
Alle the lordes knewe by his countenaunce
That the Kyng had mett with sume dysturbaunce.
  
Unto Carlylle then the Kyng cam,
Butt of his hevynesse knewe no man;
Hys hartt was wonder hevy.
In this hevynesse he dyd abyde
That many of his knyghtes mervelyd that tyde,
Tylle att the last Sir Gawen
To the Kyng he sayd than:
"Syr, me marvaylythe ryghte sore
Whate thyng that thou sorowyst fore."
  
Then answeryd the Kyng as tyghte:
"I shall the telle, gentylle Gawen knyght.
In the Forest as I was this daye,
Ther I mett with a knyght in his araye,
And serteyn wordes to me he gan sayn
And chargyd me I shold hym nott bewrayne;
Hys councelle must I kepe therfore,
Or els I am forswore."
  
"Nay, drede you nott, Lord! By Mary flower,
I am nott that man that wold you dishonour
Nother by evyn ne by moron."
"Forsothe I was on huntyng in Ingleswod;
Thowe knowest welle I slewe an hartt, by the Rode,
Alle mysylf alon.
Ther mett I with a knyght armyd sure;
His name he told me was Sir Gromer Somer Joure:
Therfor I make my mone.
  
"Ther that knyght fast dyd me threte
And wold have slayn me with greatt heatt,
But I spak fayre agayn.
Wepyns with me ther had I none;
Alas! My worshypp therfor is nowe gone."
"What therof?" sayd Gawen.
"Whatt nedys more? I shalle nott lye:
He wold have slayn me ther withoute mercy -
And that me was fulle lothe.
He made me to swere that att the twelfe monethes end
That I shold mete hym ther in the same kynde;
To that I plyghte my trowithe.
  
"And also I shold telle hym att the same day
Whate wemen desyren moste, in good faye;
My lyf els shold I lese.
This othe I made unto that knyghte,
And that I shold nevere telle itt to no wight;
Of thys I myghte nott chese.
And also I shold com in none oder araye,
Butt evyn as I was the same daye.
And yf I faylyd of myne answere,
I wott I shal be slayn ryghte there.
Blame me nott thoughe I be a wofulle man;
Alle thys is my drede and fere."
  
"Ye, Sir, make good chere.
Lett make your hors redy
To ryde into straunge contrey;
And evere wheras ye mete owther man or woman, in faye,
Ask of theym whate thay therto saye,
And I shalle also ryde anoder waye
And enquere of every man and woman and gett whatt I may
Of every man and womans answere;
And in a boke I shalle theym wryte."
"I graunt," sayd the Kyng as tyte;
"Ytt is welle advysed, Gawen the good,
Evyn by the Holy Rood."
  
Sone were they bothe redy,
Gawen and the Kyng, wytterly.
The Kyng rode on way and Gawen anoder
And evere enquyred of man, woman, and other,
Whate wemen desyred moste dere.
Somme sayd they lovyd to be welle arayd,
Somme sayd they lovyd to be fayre prayed,
Somme sayd they lovyd a lusty man
That in theyr armys can clypp them and kysse them than.
Somme sayd one, somme sayd other;
And so had Gawen getyn many an answere.
By that Gawen had geten whate he maye
And come agayn by a certeyn daye.
  
Syr Gawen had goten answerys so many
That had made a boke greatt, wytterly.
To the courte he cam agayn.
By that was the Kyng comyn with hys boke,
And eyther on others pamplett dyd loke.
"Thys may nott faylle," sayd Gawen.
"By God," sayd the Kyng, "I drede me sore;
I cast me to seke a lytelle more
In Yngleswod Forest.
I have butt a monethe to my day sett;
I may hapen on somme good tydynges to hitt -
Thys thynkythe me nowe best."
  
"Do as ye lyst," then Gawen sayd,
"Whatesoevere ye do I hold me payd;
Hytt is good to be spyrryng.
Doute you nott, Lord, ye shalle welle spede;
Sume of your sawes shalle help att nede,
Els itt were ylle lykyng."
Kyng Arthoure rode forthe on the other day
Into Yngleswod as hys gate laye,
And ther he mett with a Lady.
She was as ungoodly a creature
As evere man sawe, withoute mesure.
Kyng Arthure mervaylyd securly.
  
Her face was red, her nose snotyd withalle,
Her mowithe wyde, her tethe yalowe overe alle,
With bleryd eyen gretter then a balle.
Her mowithe was nott to lak:
Her tethe hyng overe her lyppes,
Her chekys syde as wemens hippes.
A lute she bare upon her bak;
Her nek long and therto greatt;
Her here cloteryd on an hepe;
In the sholders she was a yard brode.
Hangyng pappys to be an hors lode,
And lyke a barelle she was made.
And to reherse the fowlnesse of that Lady,
Ther is no tung may telle, securly;
Of lothynesse inowghe she had.
  
She satt on a palfray was gay begon,
With gold besett and many a precious stone.
Ther was an unsemely syghte:
So fowlle a creature withoute mesure
To ryde so gayly, I you ensure,
Ytt was no reason ne ryghte.
She rode to Arthoure and thus she sayd:
"God spede, Sir Kyng! I am welle payd
That I have with the mett;
Speke with me, I rede, or thou goo,
For thy lyfe is in my hand, I warn the soo;
That shalt thou fynde, and I itt nott lett."
  
"Why, whatt wold ye, Lady, nowe with me?"
"Syr, I wold fayn nowe speke with the
And telle the tydynges good.
For alle the answerys that thou canst yelpe,
None of theym alle shalle the helpe.
That shalt thou knowe, by the Rood.
Thou wenyst I knowe nott thy councelle,
Butt I warn the, I knowe itt every dealle.
Yf I help the nott, thou art butt dead.
Graunt me, Sir Kyng, butt one thyng,
And for thy lyfe I make warrauntyng,
Or elles thou shalt lose thy hed."
  
"Whate mean you, Lady? Telle me tyghte,
For of thy wordes I have great dispyte;
To you I have no nede.
Whate is your desyre, fayre Lady?
Lett me wete shortly -
Whate is your meanyng?
And why my lyfe is in your hand?
Telle me, and I shalle you warraunt
Alle your oun askyng."
  
"Forsothe," sayd the Lady, "I am no qued.
Thou must graunt me a knyght to wed:
His name is Sir Gawen.
And suche covenaunt I wolle make the,
Butt thorowe myne answere thy lyf savyd be,
Elles lett my desyre be in vayne.
And yf myne answere save thy lyf,
Graunt me to be Gawens wyf.
Advyse the nowe, Sir Kyng.
For itt must be so, or thou artt butt dead;
Chose nowe, for thou mayste sone lose thyne hed.
Telle me nowe in hying."
  
"Mary!" sayd the Kyng, "I maye nott graunt the
To make warraunt Sir Gawen to wed the;
Alle lyethe in hym alon.
Butt and itt be so, I wolle do my labour
In savyng of my lyfe to make itt secour;
To Gawen wolle I make my mone."
"Welle," sayd she, "nowe go home agayn
And fayre wordes speke to Sir Gawen,
For thy lyf I may save.
Thoughe I be foulle, yett am I gaye;
Thourghe me thy lyfe save he maye
Or sewer thy dethe to have."
  
"Alas!" he sayd; "Nowe woo is me
That I shold cause Gawen to wed the,
For he wol be lothe to saye naye.
So foulle a Lady as ye ar nowe one
Sawe I nevere in my lyfe on ground gone;
I nott whate I do may."
"No force, Sir Kyng, thoughe I be foulle;
Choyse for a make hathe an owlle.
Thou getest of me no more.
When thou comyst agayn to thyne answere
Ryghte in this place I shalle mete the here,
Or elles I wott thou artt lore."
  
"Now farewelle," sayd the Kyng, "Lady."
"Ye, Sir," she sayd, "ther is a byrd men calle an owlle...
And yett a Lady I am."
"Whate is your name, I pray you, telle me?"
"Syr Kyng, I highte Dame Ragnelle, truly,
That nevere yett begylyd man."
"Dame Ragnelle, now have good daye."
"Syr Kyng, God spede the on thy way!
Ryghte here I shalle the mete."
Thus they departyd fayre and welle.
The Kyng fulle sone com to Carlylle,
And his hartt hevy and greatt.
  
The fyrst man he mett was Sir Gawen,
That unto the Kyng thus gan sayn,
"Syr, howe have ye sped?"
"Forsothe," sayd the Kyng, "nevere so ylle!
Alas, I am in poynt myself to spylle,
For nedely I most be ded."
"Nay," sayd Gawen, "that may nott be!
I had lever myself be dead, so mott I the.
Thys is ille tydand."
  
"Gawen, I mett today with the fowlyst Lady
That evere I sawe, sertenly.
She sayd to me my lyfe she wold save -
Butt fyrst she wold the to husbond have.
Wherfor I am wo begon -
Thus in my hartt I make my mone."
"Ys this alle?" then sayd Gawen;
"I shalle wed her and wed her agayn,
Thowghe she were a fend;
Thowghe she were as foulle as Belsabub,
Her shalle I wed, by the Rood,
Or elles were nott I your frende.
  
"For ye ar my Kyng with honour
And have worshypt me in many a stowre;
Therfor shalle I nott lett.
To save your lyfe, Lorde, itt were my parte,
Or were I false and a greatt coward;
And my worshypp is the bett."
"Iwys, Gawen, I mett her in Inglyswod.
She told me her name, by the Rode:
That itt was Dame Ragnelle.
She told me butt I had of her answere,
Elles alle my laboure is nevere the nere -
Thus she gan me telle.
  
"And butt yf her answere help me welle
Elles let her have her desyre no dele -
This was her covenaunt.
And yf her answere help me, and none other,
Then wold she have you: here is alle togeder
That made she warraunt."
"As for this," sayd Gawen, "itt shalle nott lett:
I wolle wed her att whate tyme ye wolle sett.
I pray you, make no care.
For and she were the moste fowlyst wyghte
That evere men myghte se with syghte,
For your love I wolle nott spare."
  
"Garamercy, Gawen," then sayd Kyng Arthor;
"Of alle knyghtes thou berest the flowre
That evere yett I fond.
My worshypp and my lyf thou savyst forevere;
Therfore my love shalle nott frome the dyssevyr,
As I am Kyng in lond."
Then within five or six days
The Kyng must nedys goo his ways
To bere his answere.
The Kyng and Sir Gawen rode oute of toun -
No man with them, butt they alone,
Neder ferre ne nere.
  
When the Kyng was within the Forest:
"Syr Gawen, farewelle, I must go west;
Thou shalt no furder goo."
"My Lord, God spede you on your jorney.
I wold I shold nowe ryde your way,
For to departe I am ryghte wo."
The Kyng had rydden butt a while,
Lytelle more then the space of a myle,
Or he mett Dame Ragnelle.
"A, Sir Kyng! Ye arre nowe welcum here.
I wott ye ryde to bere your answere;
That wolle avaylle you no dele."
  
"Nowe," sayd the Kyng, "sithe itt wolle none other be,
Telle me your answere nowe, and my lyfe save me;
Gawen shalle you wed.
So he hathe promysed me my lyf to save,
And your desyre nowe shalle ye have,
Bothe in bowre and in bed.
Therfor telle me nowe alle in hast -
Whate wolle help now att last?
Have done, I may nott tary."
"Syr," quod Dame Ragnelle, "nowe shalt thou knowe
Whate wemen desyren moste of highe and lowe;
From this I wolle nott varaye:
  
"Summe men sayn we desyre to be fayre;
Also we desyre to have repayre
Of diverse straunge men;
Also we love to have lust in bed;
And often we desyre to wed.
Thus ye men nott ken
Yett we desyre anoder maner thyng:
To be holden nott old, butt fresshe and yong,
With flatryng and glosyng and quaynt gyn -
So ye men may us wemen evere wyn
Of whate ye wolle crave.
  
"Ye goo fulle nyse, I wolle nott lye;
Butt there is one thyng is alle oure fantasye,
And that nowe shalle ye knowe.
We desyren of men above alle maner thyng
To have the sovereynté, withoute lesyng,
Of alle, bothe hyghe and lowe.
For where we have sovereynté, alle is ourys,
Thoughe a knyght be nevere so ferys,
And evere the mastry wynne.
Of the moste manlyest is oure desyre:
To have the sovereynté of suche a syre,
Suche is oure crafte and gynne.
  
"Therfore wend, Sir Kyng, on thy way,
And telle that knyght, as I the saye,
That itt is as we desyren moste.
He wol be wrothe and unsoughte
And curse her fast that itt the taughte,
For his laboure is lost.
Go forthe, Sir Kyng, and hold promyse,
For thy lyfe is sure nowe in alle wyse,
That dare I welle undertake."
The Kyng rode forthe a greatt shake,
As fast as he myghte gate
Thorowe myre, more, and fenne,
Whereas the place was sygnyd and sett then.
  
Evyn there with Sir Gromer he mett,
And stern wordes to the Kyng he spak with that:
"Com of, Sir Kyng, nowe lett se
Of thyne answere, whate itt shal be,
For I am redy grathyd."
The Kyng pullyd oute bokes twayne:
"Syr, ther is myne answer, I dare sayn;
For somme wolle help att nede."
Syr Gromer lokyd on theym everychon:
"Nay, nay, Sir Kyng, thou artt butt a dead man;
Therfor nowe shalt thou blede."
  
"Abyde, Sir Gromer," sayd Kyng Arthoure,
"I have one answere shalle make alle sure."
"Lett se," then sayd Sir Gromer,
"Or els, so God me help, as I the say,
Thy dethe thou shalt have with large paye,
I telle the nowe ensure."
"Now," sayd the Kyng, "I se, as I gesse,
In the is butt a lytelle gentilnesse,
By God that ay is helpand.
Here is oure answere, and that is alle
That wemen desyren moste specialle,
Bothe of fre and bond:
  
"I saye no more, butt above al thyng
Wemen desyre sovereynté, for that is theyr lykyng.
And that is ther moste desyre,
To have the rewlle of the manlyest men,
And then ar they welle. Thus they me dyd ken
To rule the, Gromer Syre."
"And she that told the nowe, Sir Arthoure,
I pray to God, I maye se her bren on a fyre;
For that was my suster, Dame Ragnelle,
That old scott, God geve her shame.
Elles had I made the fulle tame;
Nowe have I lost moche travaylle.
  
"Go where thou wolt, Kyng Arthoure,
For of me thou maiste be evere sure.
Alas, that I evere se this day!
Nowe, welle I wott, myne enimé thou wolt be.
And att suche a pryk shall I nevere gett the;
My song may be 'Welle-awaye!"'
"No," sayd the Kyng, "that make I warraunt:
Some harnys I wolle have to make me defendaunt,
That make I God avowe!
In suche a plyghte shalt thou nevere me fynde;
And yf thou do, lett me bete and bynde,
As is for thy best prouf."
  
"Nowe have good day," sayd Sir Gromer.
"Farewele," sayd Sir Arthoure; "so mott I the,
I am glad I have so sped."
Kyng Arthoure turnyd hys hors into the playn,
And sone he mett with Dame Ragnelle agayn,
In the same place and stede.
"Syr Kyng, I am glad ye have sped welle.
I told howe itt wold be, every delle;
Nowe hold that ye have hyghte:
Syn I have savyd your lyf, and none other,
Gawen must me wed, Sir Arthoure,
That is a fulle gentille knyght."
  
"No, Lady; that I you hyghte I shalle nott faylle.
So ye wol be rulyd by my councelle,
Your wille then shalle ye have."
"Nay, Sir Kyng, nowe wolle I nott soo;
Openly I wol be weddyd, or I parte the froo
Elles shame wolle ye have.
Ryde before, and I wolle com after,
Unto thy courte, Syr Kyng Arthoure.
Of no man I wolle shame;
Bethynk you howe I have savyd your lyf.
Therfor with me nowe shalle ye nott stryfe,
For and ye do, ye be to blame."
  
The Kyng of her had greatt shame,
Butt forth she rood, thoughe he were grevyd;
Tylle they cam to Karlyle forth they mevyd.
Into the courte she rode hym by;
For no man wold she spare, securly -
Itt likyd the Kyng fulle ylle.
Alle the contraye had wonder greatt
Fro whens she com, that foule unswete;
They sawe nevere of so fowlle a thyng.
Into the halle she went, in certen.
"Arthoure, Kyng, lett fetche me Sir Gaweyn,
Before the knyghtes, alle in hying,
  
"That I may nowe be made sekyr.
In welle and wo trowithe plyghte us togeder
Before alle thy chyvalry.
This is your graunt; lett se, have done.
Sett forthe Sir Gawen, my love, anon,
For lenger tarying kepe nott I."
Then cam forthe Sir Gawen the knyght:
"Syr, I am redy of that I you hyghte,
Alle forwardes to fulfylle."
"God have mercy!" sayd Dame Ragnelle then;
"For thy sake I wold I were a fayre woman,
For thou art of so good wylle."
  
Ther Sir Gawen to her his trowthe plyghte
In welle and in woo, as he was a true knyght;
Then was Dame Ragnelle fayn.
"Alas!" then sayd Dame Gaynour;
So sayd alle the ladyes in her bower,
And wept for Sir Gawen.
"Alas!" then sayd bothe Kyng and knyght,
That evere he shold wed suche a wyghte,
She was so fowlle and horyble.
She had two tethe on every syde
As borys tuskes, I wolle nott hyde,
Of lengthe a large handfulle.
  
The one tusk went up and the other doun.
A mowthe fulle wyde and fowlle igrown,
With grey herys many on.
Her lyppes laye lumpryd on her chyn;
Nek forsothe on her was none iseen -
She was a lothly on!
She wold nott be weddyd in no maner
Butt there were made a krye in all the shyre,
Bothe in town and in borowe.
Alle the ladyes nowe of the lond,
She lett kry to com to hand
To kepe that brydalle thorowe.
  
So itt befylle after on a daye
That maryed shold be that fowlle maye
Unto Sir Gawen.
The daye was comyn the daye shold be;
Therof the ladyes had greatt pitey.
"Alas!" then gan they sayn.
The Queen prayd Dame Ragnelle sekerly -
"To be maryed in the mornyng erly,
As pryvaly as ye may."
"Nay!" she sayd; "By Hevyn Kyng,
That wolle I nevere, for no thyng,
For oughte that ye can saye.
  
"I wol be weddyd alle openly,
For with the Kyng suche covenaunt made I.
I putt you oute of dowte,
I wolle nott to churche tylle Highe Masse tyme
And in the open halle I wolle dyne,
In myddys of alle the rowte."
"I am greed," sayd Dame Gaynour;
"Butt me wold thynk more honour
And your worshypp moste."
"Ye, as for that, Lady, God you save.
This daye my worshypp wolle I have,
I telle you withoute boste."
  
She made her redy to churche to fare
And alle the states that there ware,
Syrs, withoute lesing.
She was arayd in the richest maner,
More fressher than Dame Gaynour;
Her arayment was worthe thre thowsand mark
Of good red nobles, styff and stark,
So rychely she was begon.
For alle her rayment, she bare the belle
Of fowlnesse, that evere I hard telle -
So fowlle a sowe sawe nevere man.
  
For to make a shortt conclusion,
When she was weddyd, they hyed theym home;
To mete alle they went.
This fowlle Lady bygan the highe dese;
She was fulle foulle and nott curteys,
So sayd they alle verament.
When the servyce cam her before,
She ete as moche as six that ther wore;
That mervaylyd many a man.
Her nayles were long ynchys thre,
Therwith she breke her mete ungoodly;
Therfore she ete alone.
  
She ette thre capons, and also curlues thre,
And greatt bake metes she ete up, perdé.
Al men therof had mervaylle.
Ther was no mete cam her before
Butt she ete itt up, lesse and more,
That praty, fowlle dameselle.
Alle men then that evere her sawe
Bad the deville her bonys gnawe,
Bothe knyght and squyre.
So she ete tylle mete was done,
Tylle they drewe clothes and had wasshen,
As is the gyse and maner.
  
Meny men wold speke of diverse service;
I trowe ye may wete inowghe ther was,
Bothe of tame and wylde.
In Kyng Arthours courte ther was no wontt
That myghte be gotten with mannys hond,
Noder in Forest ne in feld.
Ther were mynstralles of diverse contrey.
  
  
[The manuscript is here missing one leaf, containing
about seventy lines; the narrative continues
at the moment of Ragnelle's and Gawain's wedding night.]
  
  
"A, Sir Gawen, syn I have you wed,
Shewe me your cortesy in bed;
With ryghte itt may nott be denyed.
  
"Iwyse, Sir Gawen," that Lady sayd,
"And I were fayre ye wold do anoder brayd,
Butt of wedlok ye take no hed.
Yett for Arthours sake kysse me att the leste;
I pray you do this att my request.
Lett se howe ye can spede."
Sir Gawen sayd, "I wolle do more
Then for to kysse, and God before!"
He turnyd hym her untille.
He sawe her the fayrest creature
That evere he sawe, withoute mesure.
She sayd, "Whatt is your wylle?"
  
"A, Jhesu!" he sayd; "Whate ar ye?"
"Sir, I am your wyf, securly.
Why ar ye so unkynde?"
"A, Lady, I am to blame.
I cry you mercy, my fayre madame -
Itt was nott in my mynde.
A Lady ye ar fayre in my syghte,
And today ye were the foulyst wyghte
That evere I sawe with mine ie.
Wele is me, my Lady, I have you thus" -
And brasyd her in his armys and gan her kysse
And made greatt joye, sycurly.
  
"Syr," she sayd, "thus shalle ye me have:
Chese of the one, so God me save,
My beawty wolle nott hold -
Wheder ye wolle have me fayre on nyghtes
And as foulle on days to alle men sightes,
Or els to have me fayre on days
And on nyghtes on the fowlyst wyfe -
The one ye must nedes have.
Chese the one or the oder.
Chese on, Sir Knyght, whiche you is levere,
Your worshypp for to save."
  
"Alas!" sayd Gawen; "The choyse is hard.
To chese the best, itt is froward,
Wheder choyse that I chese:
To have you fayre on nyghtes and no more,
That wold greve my hartt ryghte sore,
And my worshypp shold I lese.
And yf I desyre on days to have you fayre,
Then on nyghtes I shold have a symple repayre.
Now fayn wold I chose the best:
I ne wott in this world whatt I shalle saye,
Butt do as ye lyst nowe, my Lady gaye.
The choyse I putt in your fyst:
  
"Evyn as ye wolle, I putt itt in your hand.
Lose me when ye lyst, for I am bond;
I putt the choyse in you.
Bothe body and goodes, hartt, and every dele,
Ys alle your oun, for to by and selle -
That make I God avowe!"
"Garamercy, corteys Knyght," sayd the Lady;
"Of alle erthly knyghtes blyssyd mott thou be,
For now am I worshyppyd.
Thou shalle have me fayre bothe day and nyghte
And evere whyle I lyve as fayre and bryghte;
Therfore be nott grevyd.
  
"For I was shapen by nygramancy,
With my stepdame, God have on her mercy,
And by enchauntement;
And shold have bene oderwyse understond,
Evyn tylle the best of Englond
Had wedyd me verament,
And also he shold geve me the sovereynté
Of alle his body and goodes, sycurly.
Thus was I disformyd;
And thou, Sir Knyght, curteys Gawen,
Has gevyn me the sovereynté serteyn,
That woll nott wrothe the erly ne late.
  
"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."
  
Syr Gawen gatt on her Gyngolyn
That was a good knyght of strengthe and kynn
And of the Table Round.
Att every greatt fest that Lady shold be.
Of fayrnesse she bare away the bewtye,
Wher she yed on the ground.
Gawen lovyd that Lady, Dame Ragnelle;
In alle his lyfe he lovyd none so welle,
I telle you withoute lesyng.
As a coward he lay by her bothe day and nyghte.
Nevere wold he haunt justyng aryghte;
Theratt mervaylyd Arthoure the Kyng.
  
She prayd the Kyng for his gentilnes,
"To be good lord to Sir Gromer, iwysse,
Of that to you he hathe offendyd."
"Yes, Lady, that shalle I nowe for your sake,
For I wott welle he may nott amendes make;
He dyd to me fulle unhend."
Nowe for to make you a short conclusyon,
I cast me for to make an end fulle sone
Of this gentylle Lady.
She lyvyd with Sir Gawen butt yerys five;
That grevid Gawen alle his lyfe,
I telle you securly.
  
In her lyfe she grevyd hym nevere;
Therfor was nevere woman to hym lever.
Thus leves my talkyng.
She was the fayrest Lady of alle Englond,
When she was on lyve, I understand;
So sayd Arthoure the Kyng.
Thus endythe the adventure of Kyng Arthoure,
That oft in his days was grevyd sore,
And of the weddyng of Gawen.
Gawen was weddyd oft in his days;
Butt so welle he nevere lovyd woman always,
As I have hard men sayn.
  
This adventure befelle in Ingleswod,
As good Kyng Arthoure on huntyng yod;
Thus have I hard men telle.
Nowe God, as thou were in Bethleme born,
Suffer nevere her soules be forlorne
In the brynnyng fyre of helle!
  
And, Jhesu, as thou were borne of a virgyn,
Help hym oute of sorowe that this tale dyd devyne,
And that nowe in alle hast,
For he is besett with gaylours many
That kepen hym fulle sewerly,
With wyles wrong and wraste.
Nowe God, as thou art veray Kyng Royalle,
Help hym oute of daunger that made this tale
For therin he hathe bene long.
And of greatt pety help thy servaunt,
For body and soull I yeld into thyne hand,
For paynes he hathe strong.
  
Here endythe the weddyng of
Syr Gawen and Dame Ragnelle
For helpyng of Kyng Arthoure.
 

THE WEDDING OF SIR GAWAIN AND DAME RAGNELLE: NOTES

1 As I have mentioned in the introduction to the text, the scribe's letter forms are often interchangeable, and strokes ambiguous. Often transcription will therefore be somewhat arbitrary. Where the scribe's forms are clear, I have reproduced them in my readings; where they are unclear, I have opted for forms closer to modern conventions of spelling. This has resulted in some inconsistencies, such as a mix of spellings like his and hys. In general, I have regarded final flourishes as meaningless, and so given, for example, knyght and with (in agreement with Madden and Hartwell) in preference to knyghte and withe (the usual readings in Sumner, Whiting, and Sands). In cases of double l with a stroke, I have retained a final e (i.e., welle, fulle, Ragnelle). These ambiguities of writing practice are not uncommon in medieval and Renaissance vernacular manuscripts, and the scribe certainly did not regard them as affecting the meaning of the text in any essential way. Consequently I have not recorded in these notes all the instances where spelling differs from edition to edition because the scribe's forms can legitimately be read in a variety of ways. Ragnelle has been edited more times than most other Middle English romances; I have benefitted greatly by consulting these earlier editions, and at the same time I have had to make choices among confusing, confused, and sometimes contradictory readings. These differences among editions have the effect of making the text of Ragnelle seem even more unpredictable in its orthography than it actually is. This has been complicated by attempts at editorial "normalization"; this is especially the case with Sands (likely the best known print of the poem), where standardization is itself inconsistent, and new spellings and word forms are added to the manuscript's readings. The present edition tries to offer a readable text that leaves the manuscript readings unaltered wherever possible. I have modernized spellings, giving "j" for "i," "u" for "v" and "w," "v" for "u" and "w," and "w" for "u" and "v" in accord with current usage.
Abbreviations: R = Rawlinson MS, M = Madden, S = Sumner, W = Whiting, Sands = Sands, H = Hartwell. See Select Bibliography for these editions.

11 belovid by that. R: belovid that; M adds by for sense, which I follow.

16 Ingleswod. The story is set in Inglewood Forest, near Carlisle (see lines 127, 132, 325) in Cumberland, in northwest England, on the border of Scotland. Inglewood Forest (whose Anglo-Saxon name, meaning "the wood of the Angles," suggests an English settlement in contested British territory) ceased to exist in the nineteenth century. Its mention connects Ragnelle with the settings for Avowyng (line 65) and Awntyrs (line 709). The Tarn Wathelene (mentioned in Avowyng, Awntyrs, and Marriage) was located within Inglewood Forest; see Awntyrs, line 2 and note. For these tales of Sir Gawain, the woods and lakes of Inglewood and the environs of Carlisle were locales with strong Arthurian and marvelous associations.

26 houndes. R: goundes; M reads as houndes, H reads as hounds; S, W emend to g[r]oundes.

43 theron. R: deron. The manuscript reading has presented a puzzle to editors. Most have taken deron (see line 26) to mean "covertly," though such a spelling is not, so far as I know, attested elsewhere. Again, deron might seem a past participle of derien, "to wound," though, likewise, no spellings resembling deron occur. I have taken it therefore as a case in which the scribe substitutes d for th; other instances occur at lines 176 (oder), 196 (anoder), 383 (Neder), 386 (furder), and so on, though in all of these cases the scribe substitutes d for a voiced, intervocalic th, not for an initial unvoiced sound. I take the line to mean that the wounded deer fell down on the spot. To read this as a form of derne would suggest either that the deer fell blindly into a thicket, or fell into a blind thicket (which concealed Sir Gromer).

47 serve welle. R: vell. The scribe writes s with -er abbreviation stroke over the letter, followed by well with a stroke through the ascenders. M reads serve well, which makes good sense in this context; I follow scribal spelling of this reading as in S, W. H reads sirvell, and emends to quell.

48 grasse. S derives the meaning of this word from the Old English word for "grass," and is followed by W. Sands calls it "a puzzling line," and, following S, suggests the deer touched the grass (i.e., died). It seems certain, however, that this scene is an "assay," in which the hunter measures the deer's fat (grasse, meaning grease or fat) as a preliminary to the ritualized "breaking" or butchering of the animal. Such scenes occur in Gottfried von Strassburg's Tristan, in which the hero proves his royal identity by demonstrating his knowledge of the ritual, and in the Middle English Parlement of the Thre Ages and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Instructions for the assay are given in several hunting manuals; see notes to lines 1325 ff. of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in the Tolkien-Gordon-Davis edition, where the "gres" of the "fowlest" deer is two fingers in breadth. H also notes this connection, as does Susan Dannenbaum [Crane] in her note on the line (Explicator 40 [1982], 3-4).

62 Gromer Somer Joure. H reads Jourer (with expanded abbreviation) and emends to Jour. The name seems less connected with chivalry than with folklore. Malory in the Morte Darthur names Sir Gromore Somyr Joure (or Sir Gromoreson in the Winchester manuscript) among the faction of twelve knights who align themselves with Gawain's brothers Mordred and Aggravayne in the ambush of Lancelot (see Works, p. 1164, and also pp. 343, 346, 1148). Among the others in the faction are Sir Gyngolyne, the son of Sir Gawain and (according to the present romance) Ragnelle (see line 799). In Turke (see text and notes at lines 320 ff. in this volume), Sir Gawain transforms the pagan "Turk" by beheading him, and he becomes Sir Gromer. But here his dangerousness, his sudden appearance deep in the woods, and his name would seem to connect Sir Gromer Somer Joure to the festivities of midsummer's day and night, and to the spirits and the "great and ugly gyants marching as if they were alive" associated with this occasion in England through the sixteenth century (George Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie, ed. Gladys Doidge Willcock and Alice Walker [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1936], p. 153). In this respect, he shares some traits with the Green Knight, in Greene Knight (text and notes in this volume) and still more with the eerie intruder of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, who exhibits striking similarities to the participants at celebrations of the agricultural year. The name Gromer may simply be a version of "groom," i.e., "man," as in "bridegroom" (compare line 50, where this term is applied to Sir Gromer), or a derivative from "gram," "angry." In Marriage, the lady tells Gawain that her wicked stepmother not only cast a spell on her, but "witched my brother to a carlish" shape (line 179). In Ragnelle, there's no evidence that Sir Gromer is bewitched, and he is without doubt a knight, as Arthur's greetings and descriptions make clear. See also note on Gyngolyn, line 799 below.

75 I have the nowe att avaylle. For the use of this phrase to express triumph, see OED, "avail," sb., 1b.

77 defye. The word defy carries a quasi-technical meaning in the context of chivalric honor; it implies a public challenge, which is simultaneously a denunciation and a demand for open, physical vindication of one's honor, and is therefore quite the opposite of what Sir Gromer Somer Jour does here. See MED, "defien" v. 1, 2.

80 whate thou most crave. Arthur's offer to Sir Gromer anticipates the riddle the latter poses to the King - to name "whate wemen love best" (line 91). In the same way, Sir Gromer's remark - "Thy lyfe is in my hand" (line 107) is directly echoed in Ragnelle's identical claim (line 256).

86 certeyn. M, S, W, Sands: certayn.

91 best in feld and town is written into margin; this hypermetrical tag may be part of a lost line.

96 fremde. R: frende; M reads fremde, which I follow.

104 endyng. R: end; I emend for the sake of rhyme.

128 huntyng. W misprints hyntyng.

149 By Mary flower. This is an elliptical phrase, meaning, "Mary, flower among women," or "flower of womanhood."

172 lese. R: leve; M reads lese. H reads R as lose, but follows M's emendation, as I do.

194 they. R: the; M reads they, which I follow.

212 faylle. R: ffayd; M reads faylle, which I follow.

235 her. R: he; M reads her, which I follow.

256 ff. Ragnelle's warning here precisely repeats the boast her brother, Sir Gromer, had made to Arthur at line 107 and so emphasizes the parallel between the compacts into which the king is forced. See also line 80 and note.

266 Yf I help the nott, thou art butt dead. R: Butt I warn the yf I help the nott, thou art butt dead; I follow M in omitting the phrase repeated from previous line, as a probable copyist's error.

273 Whate is your desyre, fayre Lady. Arthur's question ironically solicits from Ragnelle a concrete reply to the enigma Sir Gromer has set for him. In fulfilling her desire for Gawain, Arthur presumably obtains the answer to what all women desire, and answers Sir Gromer's challenge as well (see lines 467-72).

280 a knyght to wed. The line involves a pun: a knight to marry, and a knight as pledge of good faith ("to wed"). See OED, wed sb., 2a.

293 Alle lyethe in hym alon. In making individual consent - rather than family or state interests, or priestly authority - the ultimate basis for a valid marriage, the poem reflects central doctrinal positions taught from the twelfth century; see R. H. Helmholz, Marriage Litigation in Medieval England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974). Ragnelle makes the same point, concerning her own right to choose, at line 310.

302 sewer. S (followed by Sands) glosses this word adverbially, as "surely," but it seems more likely a form of the verb sure, "to assure": through me Gawain may save your life, or assure that your death comes about.

314 lore. R: lore fowll; I follow M in omitting the final word, which seems a confused rhyme.

316 ther is a byrd men calle an owlle. The precise import of this line is unclear; it may be that a part of the text is missing here. In echoing herself from line 310, Ragnelle seems to mean owlle to refer both to her own monstrousness (the owl was chiefly a negative symbol in late medieval writings) and to her natural rights as a human being, or to her repellent appearance and her assertion that she is in reality a Lady (line 315).

319 Dame Ragnelle. The name is otherwise unknown in Arthurian romance. In Patience, a poetic version of the Jonah story usually attributed to the author of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the gentile sailors on whose ship the Hebrew prophet tries to escape from the Lord curse him by "Ragnel" (line 188), apparently intended to be taken as the name of a pagan god or devil. See the note in J. J. Anderson's edition (Manchester, 1969), p. 59. In the Digby play of Mary Magdalen a heathen priest and his servant perform a comic exorcism in broken Latin, and then call on the gods "Ragnell and Roffyn" (line 1200; Late Medieval Religious Plays of . . . Digby 133, ed. Donald C. Baker and others, EETS o.s. 283 [Oxford, 1982], p. 64). The Chester play of "Balaam" has that gentile prophet invoke his gods "Ruffyn and Reynell" (line 213); the latter is given as "Ragnell" in one manuscript. Likewise, the Chester play of "Antichrist" has Antichrist call for aid:

Helpe, Sathanas and Lucyfere!
Belzebubb, bould batchellere!
Ragnell, Ragnell, thou art my deare! (lines 645-47)
(The Chester Mystery Cycle, ed. R. M. Lumiansky and David Mills, EETS s.s. 3 [Oxford, 1974], pp. 87 and 434; see also commentary by the same editors, EETS s.s. 9 [Oxford, 1986], pp. 69 and 347.) This widespread equivalence between the name Ragnelle and an exotic pagan god or devil may be echoed in Gawain's intentionally exaggerated comparison of Ragnelle to "a fend" and "Belsabub" (lines 344-45), or Arthur's reference to "the fende" (line 725), by which he may mean that he takes Ragnelle to be an evil spirit. In Marriage, the lady does not have a name, but she says her stepmother "witched me" so that "I must walke in womans liknesse, / Most like a feeind of hell" (lines 181-82). These associations may have made Ragnelle seem more spectral and frightening for a late medieval audience (like the ghost of Guenevere's mother in Awntyrs), and may have increased the ambiguity that surrounds her in the poem.

342 ff. Gawain's vow to "wed her and wed her agayn" out of friendship and fealty to Arthur gives the motive of male chivalric loyalty precedence over romantic personal love, and makes clear how women operate in romance as the intermediate term in the bonds between men.

366 itt. M supplies it before shalle as necessary for grammar and sense; the present emendation follows M's suggestion, though the spelling has been brought into accord with the scribe's convention.

419 Ye goo fulle nyse, I wolle nott lye. H emends the line to echo more fully Chaucer, Wife of Bath's Tale (line 931): "He gooth ful ny the sothe, I wol nat lye." This resemblance is one of the most striking evidences of direct connection between the two versions of the story.

439 welle. M, S, W, Sands emend to well.

440 shake. S takes the word to mean distance, and is followed by Sands. H rearranges lines 440-42, so that shake becomes a verb, "to go" (compare shoke, line 740). But the phrase seems clearly adverbial, a variation on the still-current idiom, "no great shakes," and means "quickly"; see OED, "shake," sb. 1, 1.

456 alle. R: ale; M reads all; I follow S, W in preserving the usual spelling.

476 her. R: he; M reads her, which I follow.

499 that ye have. Sands misprints that he have.

508 wolle ye have. W misprints wolle y have; Sands misreads welle ye have.

525 ff. Ragnelle here addresses Arthur.

528 us togeder. Sands misreads un togeder.

536 God have mercy. R: Godhavemercy, written as one word.

548 ff. The description of Ragnelle here complements the initial portrait (lines 231 ff.) in its extravagant hideousness, though the specific details are sometimes at odds ("Her nek long," line 238, as against no neck at all, line 555, for example).

562 thorowe. S glosses this word as "thoroughly," and Sands and H reproduce this. It is certainly a form of throw, meaning a specific time, an interval, or an occasion; see OED, throw sb. 1.

564 fowlle maye. R: fowlle; M inserts lady for rhyme and sense, followed by S, W, Sands. I follow H's insertion of maye, which duplicates the rhyme at lines 715-16 and better maintains the meter.

571 ye. R: we; I emend for the sake of sense.

592 thre thowsand mark. R: thre mlle mark. I have expanded the abbreviation (a form of Latin mille). The figure (about two thousand pounds) signifies not a specific amount, but simply the extravagance of Ragnelle's clothing.

612 Al. W: All.

635 for Arthours. Sands misreads of Arthours.

644 he. R: she; M reads he, which I follow.

650 ar. W: are.

652 ie. R: ien (plural); M reads ie, which I follow.

656 ff. The choice offered by Ragnelle - "fayre on nyghtes" (line 659) or "fayre on days" (line 661) - is the same in Marriage and in Gower's "Tale of Florent" (See G. C. Macaulay, Confessio Amantis in The English Works of John Gower, EETS e.s. 81, Vol. I [Oxford, 1900], I.1411 ff.) The choice in the Wife of Bath's Tale is "foul and old" and "true, humble wyf" or "yong and fair" and "take youre adventure" on sexual faithfulness (lines 1220 ff.). Chaucer's version makes more explicit the conflict embedded in the other three versions, namely public vs. private male enjoyment of the lady's sexual attractions. The happy ending allows the hero (putting it crudely) to have his cake and eat it too.

659 nyghtes. R: nyght; M reads nyghtes, which I follow.

672 lese. R: lose; M reads lese, followed by S, W, H.

677 do as ye lyst. Gawain's disposing himself to Ragnelle's desire brings to convergence a crucial array of themes and verbal echoes in the poem. By this accord, Ragnelle has sovereynté (line 697), which breaks the spell; Ragnelle had said to Arthur that women most desire sovereynté, and Arthur in turn had promised her fulfillment of her "desyre" (line 400). This knowledge of women's "rewlle" had given Arthur "rule" over Gromer (lines 470, 472), whose own desire of Arthur was to know "what wemen love best" (line 91). When Gawain has given "her sovereynté every delle" (line 776), Ragnelle puts her desire at his will (line 784), just as Arthur (at Ragnelle's wish) makes peace with Gromer (lines 811 ff.).

691 nygramancy. This use of a learned word to give credibility to the magical transformation is repeated in Carle, line 405, suggesting that even specialized Latin terms might be appropriated for specific functions within the popular romances.

716 maye. R: mayd; M reads maye, followed by S, W, H.

722 Syrs. R: syr; M reads syrs, followed by S, W, H.

730 incerteyn. Previous editors have taken in certeyn as two words (meaning "without doubt"), partly because of the slight gap between them in the manuscript. Such a space often occurs between components that modern print conventions present as unbroken words (i.e., be fell, line 15, be think, line 66, I wys, line 354), just as separate forms are joined (Almen, line 612). The form incertain is unusual but not rare, and makes good sense as specifying the state of mind of the royal entourage at this point. See OED, incertain, and MED, incertain(e).

737 goon. Sands reads gon, perhaps emended for sake of rhyme.

743 here. R: hed; M (followed by S, W, Sands, H): her; I adjust spelling for scribal convention.

759 is a fayre. Sands misprints is faire.

761 help. R: held; so M, S, W, Sands. I emend to the common idiom on the basis of sense, as does H.

773 The responsibility of Ragnelle's stepmother for her enchantment links the romance to traditions of domestic intrigue and intergenerational, interfamilial hostility characteristic of fairy tales. Marriage and Gower's "Tale of Florent" also assign the responsibility to the "Stepmoder for an hate" (Macaulay [see note on line 656 above], Confessio Amantis I.1844), while the Wife of Bath's Tale seems to imply that the lady acts on her own.

799 Gyngolyn. Sir Gawain's son (French Guinglain) is the hero of the Middle English romance Libeaus Desconus (the Englishing of "Le bel inconnu," The Fair Unknown), which survives in six different versions (ed. M. Mills, EETS 261 [Oxford, 1969]). In the romance, the hero is begotten by Gawain "be [by] a forest syde" (line 9); his mother, who is unnamed, rears him in secret, not revealing his identity, "For douute of wykkede loos" (line 17) - for fear of shame attaching itself to her or to her son. The Lambeth version contains a title: "A tretys of one Gyngelayne . . . that was Bastard son to sir Gaweyne" (ed. Mills, p. 75). In Malory, "sir Gyngalyn, Gawaynes sonne" is defeated by Tristram in his madness (Works, pp. 494-95); in the climactic action of the story, syr Gyngalyne makes one of the twelve accompanying his uncles Mordred and Aggravayne in the ambush of Lancelot (Works, p. 1164). Among the other knights in this group are Gawain's other sons, Florence and Lovell (who, according to Malory, "were begotyn uppon Sir Braundeles syster"; Works, p. 1147, and see Jeaste line 320 and note), Sir Galleron of Galway (see Carlisle, line 43 and Awntyrs, line 417 and note), and Sir Gromore Somyr Joure, the antagonist of the present romance whom Malory's Gawain brings to the Round Table. As Malory notes, all of Lancelot's antagonists "were of Scotlonde, other ellis of sir Gawaynes kynne, other wel willers to his bretheren."

805 Gawain's unflagging devotion here contrasts with his behavior in French stories, where he tirelessly pursues knightly adventure, as in Chrétien de Troyes' Yvain; in the latter poem, Gawain's taste for exploits disrupts the hero's love of his lady. As a coward (line 808) ironically recalls line 12 above, "For cowardes were everemore shent"; Ragnelle's transformation has also changed the nature of chivalric virtue, or at least the court's view of it.

810 mervaylyd. S, W read movaylyd and emend to present reading; I follow M, H in transcribing as m with superior abbreviation stroke.

     Arthoure the Kyng. R: kyng Arthoure; M reads Arthoure the kyng, which I follow.

832 This reference to Gawain's many liaisons obliquely recalls his reputation as roué in French romance, which appears in Jeaste as well.

838 born. Sands misprints boren.

844 besett with gaylours. The claim that the composer of Ragnelle is imprisoned recalls Malory's description of himself as "a knyght presoner," and his request that readers "praye for me . . . that God sende me good delyveraunce" (Works, pp. 180, 1260). Field (see Select Bibliography, above) suggests that Malory may have been the author of this poem.

847 Royalle. R: Ryoall.
___________

THE WEDDING OF SIR GAWAIN AND DAME RAGNELLE: INTRODUCTION

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle: Introduction
Edited by Thomas Hahn
Originally Published in Sir Gawain: Eleven Romances and Tales
Kalamazoo, Michigan: Medieval Institute Publications, 1995

The episode that makes up the plot of The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle is one of the most popular stories of late medieval England. The transformation of the loathly lady - a story common in folktales, and here combined with motifs of fairy tales like the frog prince and sleeping beauty - occurs in a popular ballad (see The Marriage of Sir Gawain, below), and in more polished literary renditions from the late fourteenth century by Geoffrey Chaucer and John Gower. The story also served for the plot of an interlude performed at one of Edward I's Round Tables in 1299: a loathly lady, with foot-long nose, donkey ears, neck sores, a gaping mouth, and blackened teeth, rode into the hall and demanded of Sir Perceval and Sir Gawain (Edward's knights had assumed Arthurian identities for the occasion) that they recover lost territory and end the strife between commons and lords. The author of the interlude evidently assumed that Edward's court would recognize the story in its outlines.

Ragnelle may in fact have had its origins in some distant and lost Arthurian narrative, for both Chrétien de Troyes in the Perceval and Wolfram von Eschenbach in the Parzival describe a Grail messenger who is an ugly hag. A variety of early European vernacular stories retell the plot of a loathly lady who, in return for certain crucial information or power, demands some sign of sexual favor from a hero, and is then transformed by the hero's compliance. In the earliest Old Irish versions, the reward for the hero's offering his favor or making the right choice is kingship or political dominance; the late medieval English versions recast the tales' setting, from the realm of epic exploits to a domestic environment of personal love characteristic of romance. Sir Gawain's reputation as a chivalric hero rides to a large extent on his talent for "luf talkyng" (as in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, line 927) and courtesy towards women, though according to Ragnelle these in turn are motivated by his fealty to the king.

At the heart of Ragnelle lies the question of how the unknown, the marvelous, or the threatening is brought into line with legitimate, normative, idealized chivalric society. Perhaps even more than the Green Knight in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Sir Gromer Somer Joure represents the forces of wildness and incivility: he appears suddenly in the midst of the forest, he behaves in ways that violate knightly protocols, and, most of all, he has a name that connects him with the licensed anarchy of Midsummer's Day. But Ragnelle represents these threats no less than her brother. Her seemingly omnivorous appetite marks her as an outsider, both sexually and socially, to the aristocratic court. Despite the counsels of her betters, she will have Gawain, and the entire court, led by Arthur and perhaps including Gawain, fears she is a sexual predator (lines 722 ff.). Her appearance and behavior - her raggedness, poverty, and general unkemptness, and her antisocial and indiscriminate consumption of vast quantities of food at the wedding feast - make clear that her repulsiveness is a function of her low estate and not simply a wild monstrosity. What brands Ragnelle as a hag is, in the terms defined by the central question of the poem, a form of desire or lack - a lack of manners, beauty, deference; what certifies her as a lady at the end is her possession of these qualities and of Sir Gawain. Though for the bewitched Ragnelle a good man is hard to find, once found he satisfies all her heart's desire.

The plot of Ragnelle, then, turns on the transformation of its heroine both physically and symbolically, from an ugly hag to a beautiful lady, and from an enigmatic threat to a fulfilled woman. Her double role - both Beauty and the Beast - endows her with a deep ambiguity, enmeshing both attraction and revulsion, fatal danger and life-giving knowledge; such worrisome duplicity often attaches itself to women (and to femininity generally) in popular romance, and throughout Western culture. The poem proceeds to establish a stable and benign identity for Ragnelle by providing a satisfying answer to Gawain's rather frantic question, "What ar ye?" (line 644). This inquiry unmistakably rephrases Ragnelle's pivotal question: "whate [do] wemen love best" (line 91), "whate [do] wemen desyren most" (line 406), what do "wemen desyren moste specialle" (line 465) - which itself uncannily anticipates the notorious formulation of Freud: "Was will das Weib?" - "What does Woman want?" It has sometimes been said that the fascination of this question and the wish to solve the enigma of Woman that it conveys express interests that are typically male (or, in more abstract, cultural terms, masculine). In the case of Ragnelle, the narrative unfolds in ways that have the heroine clearly serve the interests of the male chivalric society that the poem good-humoredly celebrates.

Through her relations with the various male characters - her kinship with Gromer, her compact with Arthur, her union with Gawain - Ragnelle literally holds the poem together, for she is their link with each other. She undoes the threat her brother poses for the court, and then reconciles him to the Round Table; she knows the answer to Arthur's problem and so saves his life and his kingship; she presents Gawain with opportunities to place his spectacular courtesy on display, first towards Arthur, and then towards women. Although Gawain performs his usual service as mediator, taming the strange (Ragnelle) and bringing it safely within the sphere of the court, even his success depends upon the more pervasive mediation of Ragnelle. By passing among these male characters, she becomes the nexus that ties them together and makes possible the fraternal and hierarchic bonds of chivalric solidarity.

Ragnelle explores the ties of chivalry through a structured repetition and variation of a fundamental pattern. This consists of a series of linked and interlocking oaths and commitments (a plotting device that distantly recalls the staggeringly complex interlacing of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight). In the first place, Arthur agrees (under duress) to a compact with Sir Gromer, though Gromer claims he imposes this trial because the king had already broken an obligation to him. Arthur then agrees with Ragnelle upon a second compact which will enable him to escape the first, though its fulfillment depends entirely upon Gawain's compliance. Gawain then agrees to the terms of the second compact, thereby obligating himself to Arthur and to Ragnelle. Ragnelle fulfills her promise, providing Arthur the knowledge that puts him out of Gromer's control (and puts Gromer in danger from Arthur and the court); Gawain fulfills his promise, marrying Ragnelle in a public ceremony and then agreeing to consummate the marriage. When Gawain, faced with what seems an impossible choice concerning Ragnelle's transformation, agrees to allow her to decide, he unwittingly fulfills the terms for setting her free from her enchantment. This outcome not only unites Ragnelle to Gawain, but to the King and Queen; she then uses this amity to bring Arthur and Gromer to reconciliation. Ragnelle ends therefore with everyone established in her or his proper place, and with courtesy restoring the Round Table's customary mutuality and hierarchy. Unmotivated marvels - meetings in the woods, monstrous apparitions, sudden transformations - work to bring about what everyone always wanted or expected, so that the link of fantasy and necessity seems (as it should in romance) inevitable.

Ragnelle deploys another common romance convention by setting the marvelous - especially the unanticipated but fatefully indispensable encounters and compacts that begin the poem - within a wood. The forest is a place for both recreation and mystery, where Arthur and his court go on holiday but where anything can happen. The hunt that starts the action constitutes a characteristic pastime for the English nobility of the late Middle Ages, an activity in which the necessities of survival are turned into a hierarchically nuanced display of strength and knowledge; the king is most a king when he sets off "wodmanly" (line 32) to stalk, kill, and then butcher the deer, conspicuously heedless of danger. Carlisle, Avowyng, and Awntyrs similarly begin with a hunt. The game or compact that Sir Gromer forces upon Arthur succeeds the chase. Though Sir Gromer's may seem an unchivalrous bargain, once Arthur has openly sworn his oath (line 99) he must abide by its rules on his honor, just as he must hold his word to Ragnelle (lines 294 ff.). In this way the romance orders events so that the force of civility and courtesy prevails, and the challenge of the wild is answered within the safe precincts of bedroom and court at the conclusion.
Although Sir Gromer alleges the justice of his complaint against King Arthur - like Sir Galeron in Awntyrs, he says that the king has unjustly stripped him of lands and given these to Sir Gawain (lines 58 ff.) - Ragnelle never stipulates the location of his estates. It does, however, identify the mysterious woods where he makes his appearance: he and his bewitched sister inhabit Inglewood Forest (lines 16, 152, 764, 835), the Cumberland setting for Avowyng, Awntyrs, and, by implication, for Marriage. In addition, the Round Table resides at Carlisle (lines 127, 132, 325), a center for Arthurian adventures in Carlisle, Avowyng, Awntyrs, Greene Knight, Marriage, and Carle. These allusions connect Ragnelle with other Gawain romances, and confer on the whole group a remarkable regional coherence.

Text

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle survives in a sixteenth-century manuscript now in Oxford (Bodleian 11951, formerly Rawlinson C.86). Madden, in 1839, characterized the text of Ragnelle as recorded "in a negligent hand," "very carelessly written" (pp. lxiv, lxvii). The scribe leaves unclear whether he employs a word-ending stroke simply as a flourish, or as indication of final unstressed -e. Even more confusing is his formation of i and y, which are often indistinguishable; the interchangeability of y for i in Middle English writing often makes it impossible or pointless to choose between them in a modern transcription of this manuscript. Earlier editions have varied considerably on this score. I have transcribed as y those characters that seem clearly y; when the letter form appears ambiguous, I have rendered it as i in conformity with standard conventions of modern spelling. I have usually transcribed the scribe's frequent use of "Ff" and "ff" as "F," though occasionally in mid-line I have given lower case. Capitalization and punctuation are almost entirely editorial.

In the manuscript, Ragnelle appears without stanza breaks. Nonetheless, the poem clearly employs a tail-rhyme stanza common to many other Middle English romances. This consists of six lines rhyming aabccb, with the a and c couplets written in longer lines (often containing ten syllables, usually four stresses), and the b-lines shorter (usually three stresses). The surviving copy of the poem lacks a significant number of individual lines (many of which are tail-rhyme c-lines), and these absences make stanza divisions irregular and uneven. It would be possible to maintain a format of six-line stanzas, and to suggest where omissions fall (as Hartwell does in his edition). However, both the convenience of the reader and the sense of narrative movement seem better served by an editorial division into twelve-line stanzas. This is the format I have chosen, though missing lines do produce several stanzas of irregular length. The manuscript seems also to be lacking at least one leaf (after line 628), but the progress of the story remains clear nonetheless.

Select Bibliography

Manuscript

Oxford, Bodleian Library MS 11951.

Editions (arranged chronologically)

Madden, Frederic. 1839. See Bibliography of Editions and Works Cited.

Sumner, Laura, ed. The Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell. Smith College Studies in Modern Language 5, no. 4. Northhampton, Massachusetts: Smith College Departments of Modern Languages, 1924.

Saul, G. B. The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell. New York: Prentice-Hall, 1934. [Modernization with Introduction.]

Whiting, Bartlett J. The Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell. In Sources and Analogues in Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales." Ed. W. F. Bryan and Germaine Dempster. New York: Humanities Press, 1958. Pp. 242-64. [Reprint of Summer's edition with "a few trifling misprints" corrected.]

Sands, Donald B. 1966. See Bibliography of Editions and Works Cited.

Hartwell, David Geddes. The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell: An Edition. Columbia University Dissertation, 1973. Dissertation Abstracts International, 34:3343A.

Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady. Retold by Selina Hastings. Illustrations by Juan Wijngaard. London: Methuen, 1981; Walker, 1988. New York: Lothrop, 1981; Lee and Shepard, 1985. [Children's version.]

Shibata, Yoshitaka. "The Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell." Tohoku Gakuin University Review: Essays and Studies in English Language and Literature (Tohoku Gakuin Daigaku Ronshu, Eigo-Eibungaku) 72 (1982), 374-82. [Japanese translation.]

Garbáty, Thomas J., ed. Medieval English Literature. Boston: Heath, 1984. [Contains an edition of Ragnelle (pp. 418-39), based apparently on the published text of Whiting.]

Wilhelm, James J., ed. Romance of Arthur III: Works from Russia to Spain, Norway to Italy. New York: Garland, 1988. [Contains an edition of Ragnelle (pp. 99-116), apparently reprinted from Garbáty's text of Whiting.]

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell. Ed. J. Withrington. Lancaster Modern Spelling Text 2. Lancaster: Department of English, Lancaster University, 1991. [I have not been able to examine a copy of this edition.]

Shepherd, Stephen H. A., ed. Middle English Romances. New York: Norton, 1995. Pp. 243-67. [I have not been able to examine a copy of this edition.]

Criticism

Boffey, Julia, and Carol M. Meale. "Selecting the Text: Rawlinson C.86 and Some Other Books for London Readers." In Regionalism in Late Medieval Manuscripts and Texts. Ed. Felicity Riddey. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1991. Pp. 143-69.

Coomaraswamy, A. K. "On the Loathly Bride." Speculum 20 (1945), 391-404.

Crane, Susan. "Alison's Incapacity and Poetic Instability in the Wife of Bath's Tale." PMLA 102 (1987), 20-28.

Dannenbaum, Susan [Crane]. "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell: Line 48." Explicator 40 (1982), 3-4.

Eisner, Sigmund. A Tale of Wonder: A Source Study of "The Wife of Bath's Tale." Wexford, Ireland: John English, 1957.

Field, P. J. C. "Malory and The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell." Archiv 219 (1982), 374-81.

Fradenburg, Louise. "The Wife of Bath's Passing Fancy." Studies in the Age of Chaucer 8 (1986), 31-58.

Griffiths, J. J. "A Re-examination of Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Rawlinson c.86." Archiv 219 (1982), 381-88.

_________________

I. KING ARTHUR DEVELOPS A PROBLEM Anonymous  (circa 1450)
Adapted from the Middle English by Dr. David Breeden

Hark and listen to the life of a rich lord
Who, while he lived, was like no one else
In bedroom or in court.
In the time of Arthur this adventure was,
And he himself, the courteous and royal king.
Of all knighthood he bore away the honor,
Wherever he went.
In his country there was nothing but chivalry:
He loved all brave knights;
Cowards were always disgraced.

Now, if you will listen a bit to my talking,
I shall tell you of Arthur the king
And what once befell him
As he was hunting in Inglewood
With all his bold knights.

Listen to my tale:
The king stood at his deer blind,
Ready with his bow to slay a wild deer,
And his knights sat there beside him.
As the king waited, he became aware
Of a great and beautiful hart standing.
When the men saw the king,
They waited as still as they could.
Then the hart darted off
Into a fern thicket

"Hold still, everyone,
And I will go myself,
Stalking as best I can,"
The king said, taking bow in hand.
Like a good hunter he stooped
Low to stalk the deer.

When he got close,
The hart jumped into a briar patch.
But the king crept closer and closer,
And so it went, until the king had gone,
I would swear, half a mile.
No man went with him.

At last, Arthur let fly an arrow
And hit the hart squarely,
Such was the grace God had sent him.
Down the deer tumbled, wounded,
And fell into a large fern thicket.
The king followed quickly
And savagely killed the deer
As it chewed the grass.

While the king was alone with the deer
Suddenly there came to him a quaint fellow
Armed well and sure--
A knight strong and mighty.
He said these grim words to the king:

"Well met, King Arthur!
You have done me wrong many a year,
And woefully I shall repay you now.
Indeed, you have wrongfully given
My lands to Sir Gawain.
What say you, king, alone as you are?"

"Sir knight, what is your honored name?" said Arthur.

"Sir king," he answered, "Gromer Somer Joure,
I tell you now the truth."

"Ah, Sir Gromer Somer, think you well
that slaying me here will get you no honor.
Remember that you are a knight.
If you slay me now--in this situation--
All knights will refuse you everywhere.
That shame shall never leave you.
Let your anger go and follow reason,
And I shall fix what is amiss--
If you wish--before I go."

"No," said Sir Gromer Somer, "by heaven's king!
You shall not escape by lying.
I have the advantage now.
If I should let you go with mocking,
Another time you will defy me.
I shall not fail in my purpose."

Then said the king, "So God save me!
But, sir, spare my life and ask anything;
I shall grant it you right now.
Shame you shall have in killing my at hunting--
You armed and me like this."

"All this will not help you, surely,"
Said Sir Gromer Somer.
"For I want neither land nor gold, really.
Will you grant me, at a certain day--
Which I will set--to come again as you are?"

"Yes," said the king. "Here is my hand."

"Yes, but, abide, king, and hear me awhile.
First you shall swear
Upon my burnished sword
To tell me when next we meet
What women love best
In field and in town.
And you shall meet me
Here without my sending for you
At the end of twelve months;
And you shall swear
Upon my good sword--
And by the holy cross--
that none of your knights
Will come with you,
Neither friend nor stranger.
And if you fail to bring an answer
You shall lose
Your head for your trouble.
This shall now be your oath.
What do you say, king?
Let's get this over with."

"Sir, I swear to this. Now let me be gone.
Though it is to me very sad,
I swear to you as a true king
To come again at the end of twelve months
And bring you your answer."

"Go your way, King Arthur,
Your life is in my hand, I am sure.
You are not aware of your sorrow.
Yet, wait, King Arthur, a little while.
Be sure you are not beguiled today.
And keep all this in secret;
For if I knew, by the mild virgin,
That you would betray me anywhere,
You would lose your life now."

"No," said King Arthur, "that will not be.
You will not find me an untrue knight.
I would much rather die.
Farewell, sir, ill-met knight.
I will come on the day set,
Even though there be no escape."

Then the king blew his bugle.
Every knight recognized it
And rushed to him right away.
There they found the hart
And the king with a sad face and spirit.
He no longer felt like sport.

"We shall go home to Carlisle.
I don't feel like hunting anymore."

All the lords knew by his look
That the king had met with some disturbance.

The king went to Carlisle
And no man knew
The reason for his sorrow,
For his heart so heavy.
His heart was very heavy,
And in this heaviness he stayed
So long that his knights marveled.

Finally, Sir Gawain said to the king,
"Sir, I am much amazed
And wonder at what makes you sorrowful."

The king answered quickly:
"I shall tell you, Gawain, gentle knight.
In the forest I was today,
And there I met a knight in his armor,
And certain words he said to me
And charged me that I not betray him.
I must keep his council, therefore,
Or else I am a liar."

"Dread not, lord, by the Virgin.
I am not the man who would dishonor you.
Neither in the evening nor the morning,"
Said Sir Gawain.

The king said:
"Truly, I was hunting in Inglewood.
By the cross, you know I killed a deer.
I was alone and there
Met a well-armed knight.
His name, he told me,
Was Sir Gromer Somer Joure.
And therefore I make my moan.
That knight threatened me
And would have slain me in his anger
Except that I spoke well in return.
I had no weapons, so,
Alas, my honor is gone."

"What of it?" said Gawain.

Arthur said; "I do not lie.
He would have slain me without mercy,
He hated me so much. He made me swear
That at the end of twelve months
I shall meet him there again, unarmed,
And to that I pledged my faith.
At that time I must tell him
What women desire most.
Otherwise, I lose my life.
This oath I made to that knight,
And that I would not tell this to anyone.
I had no choice about it.
And I swore I would come in no other clothes
Than those I wore when first we met.
If I fail to answer the question,
I know I shall be killed then and there.
Blame me not for being a woeful man.
All this is my dread and my fear."

"Yea, sir, be of good cheer,"
Said Sir Gawain. "Let your horse be made ready
To ride into a foreign country,
And indeed everywhere
You meet man or woman
Ask of them what they have to answer.
And I shall also ride--another way--
And inquire of every man and woman
And learn what I may
Of every man and woman's answer.
These answers I shall write in a book"

"I grant," said the king quickly,
that this is well advised, Gawain the Good.
Even by the holy cross."

Soon were they both ready,
Gawain and the king.
The king rode one way, Gawain the other.
And they inquired of both men and women
What it is women desire most.

Some said women love to be well dressed;
Some said they love to be well courted;
Some said they love a lusty man
Who will clasp them in his arms and kiss them;
Some said one thing, some said another,
And so Gawain got many an answer.

Soon Gawain had spent many a day,
Having gotten so many answers
That he had a book large indeed.
So he went to the court again.
By that time the king had come back also,
With his book, and each looked
At the volumes the other had written.

"We shall not fail," said Gawain.

"By God," said the king, "I am afraid.
I see I must seek more in Inglewood forest.
I have but a month more to go.
Perhaps I will happen on good news.
This I now think is best."

"Do as you wish," said Gawain.
"Whatever you do, I will be satisfied.
It is good to be on this quest.
Some of these answers will be correct,
Otherwise would be very bad luck."

II. KING ARTHUR MEETS A REALLY UGLY WOMAN

King Arthur rode out his gate
The next day into Inglewood.
There he met with a lady.
She was the ugliest creature
That a man ever saw.
King Arthur surely marveled.
Her face was red, her nose running,
Her mouth wide, her teeth all yellow.
Her eyes were bleary, as large as balls,
Her mouth just as large.
Her teeth hung out of her lips,
Her cheeks were as broad as a woman's hips.
He back was as curved as a lute.
Her neck was long and also thick.
Her hair clotted in a heap.
In the shoulders she was a yard across.
Her breasts would have been a load for a horse.
Like a barrel was she made.
To recite the foulness of that lady
There is no tongue fit.
She had ugliness to spare.

Yet she sat upon a gaily outfitted horse,
With gold and many a precious stone.
This was an unseemly sight
To see so measurelessly foul a creature
Riding so well, I can tell you.

She rode up to Arthur and said:
"God speed, sir king.
I am well pleased
That I have met with you.
I advise you to talk with me
For your life is in my hand.
Only I can prevent your death."

"What do you want with me, lady?"

"Sir, I will gladly speak with you
And tell you good news.
All the answers you have now
Will do you no good.
By the cross you will know that.
What? Did you think I don't know
Your secret? I know all.
Without my help, you are dead.
Grant me, sir king, one thing only.
Then I will promise you your life.
Otherwise, you lose your head."

"Lady, tell me, in few words, what you mean.
I have contempt for your words.
I have no need of you.
In short, tell me what you want, fair lady.
What is your meaning?
Why is my life in your hand?
Tell me, and I shall grant all you ask."

"Truly," said the lady, "I am no villain.
You must grant me a knight to wed.
His name is Sir Gawain.
Then I shall make you a promise.
Tell me: will you save your life
Or is my desire in vain?
If my answer saves your life,
Let me marry Sir Gawain.
Think now, sir king. For it must be so,
Or you are dead. Hurry. Tell me.
Or lose your head."

"Heavens,," said the king,"
I cannot promise you
I will order Sir Gawain to wed.
That all depends on him.
But, since it must be, I will work
At saving my life by trying.
I will tell Gawain my predicament."

"Well," she said, "now go home
And speak nicely to Gawain,
For I may save your life.
Though I am foul, I am lusty.
Through me he can save you.
Or cause your death."

"Alas!" Arthur said, "woe is me
That I should cause Gawain to marry you,
For he will hate saying no.
I've never seen such an ugly woman
Anywhere on this earth.
I don't know what to do!"

"It doesn't matter," sir king, "that I am foul.
Even an owl finds a mate.
This is the only chance you get.
When you come again, for the answer,
I will meet you here,
Or else I know you will be lost."

"Now farewell, lady," said the king.

"Yes, sir," said the lady, "there is a bird
Men call an owl. And yet I am a lady."

"What is your name, I pray you tell me."

"Sir king, I am truly called Dame Ragnell,
Who never yet lied to a man."

"Dame Ragnell, have a good day."

"Sir king, God speed you on your way.
I shall meet you right here.

Thus they departed, fair and well,
And the king came soon to Carlisle,
His heart heavy and sad.

The first man he met was Sir Gawain
Who said to the king,
"Sire, how have you done?"

"Foresooth," said the king, "never as badly.
Alas! I am at the point of killing myself,
For I would be better off dead."

"No," said Gawain, "that must not be.
I would rather be dead myself.
This is very distressing news."

"Gawain, I met the foulest lady today,
Certainly the worst I've ever seen.
She told me she would save my life
But first she wants to have a husband.
Therefore, I moan. I am woebegone."

"Is that all?" said Gawain.
"I shall wed her and wed her again,
Even if she be a fiend.
Even were she as foul as Beelzebub,
I would wed here, I swear by the cross.
Otherwise, I wouldn't be your friend.
You are my honored king
And have done me good many times.
Therefore, I hesitate not
To save your life, my lord. It is my duty.
Otherwise, I would be a false coward.
My service is better than that!"
"Indeed, Gawain, I met her in Inglewood.
I swear, she told me her name.
It is Dame Ragnell.
She said unless I had her answer,
All my labor is in vain.
She said that.
But if her answer helps me,
Then she wants you.
That's what she said.
She promised me that.

"As for this," said Gawain,
"It will not stop me.
I will wed her at the time you set.
I pray you worry no more.
Though she be the foulest person
That ever has been seen on earth,
For you I will not hesitate."

"Oh, thank you, Gawain," said King Arthur.
"Of all knights, you are the best
That I have ever found!
You have saved my life and reputation forever.
I will never stop honoring you
As long as I am king of the land!"

III. ARTHUR GETS HIS ANSWER

Five or six days later,
The king was to make his answer.
The king and Sir Gawain rode out of town,
No men with them, far or near,
But all alone. When the king got to the forest
He said, "Sir Gawain, farewell.
I must go West. You should go no farther."

"My lord, God speed you on your journey.
I wish I could ride with you,
For parting ways makes me quite sad."

The king had ridden only a short distance,
No more than a mile, when we me Dame Ragnell.

"Ah! Sir king! You are welcome here!
I know you come with your answer
That will help you not a little."

"Now," said the king, "since it's the only way,
Tell me your answer and save my life.
Sir Gawain will marry you.
He has promised to save my life,
And you shall have your desire,
Both in chamber and in bed.
Therefore, tell me quickly,
At last, what will help me.
Hurry. I can't wait."

"Sire," said Dame Ragnell,
"Now you shall know
What women want most,
From rich men and poor.
I will tell you the truth.
Some men say we desire to be beautiful.
Or that we desire sex
With as many men as we can find.
Others say we want pleasure in bed.
Others say we want many husbands.
You men just don't understand.
We want an entirely different thing.
We want to be seen as young, fresh.
We want to be flattered cleverly.
Thus you men can win us always
And get what you want.
But there is one thing that is our fantasy,
And that is what you shall know now:
We desire most from men,
From men both rich and poor,
To have sovereignty without lies.
For where we have sovereignty, all is ours,
Though a knight be ever so fierce,
And ever win mastery.
It is our desire to have mastery
Over such a sir. Such is our purpose.
Therefore, go, sir king, on your way,
And tell that knight what I have told you
That we women want most.
He will be angry and harsh
And curse the one who asked you,
For he has lost the battle.
Go, king, and keep your promise.
Your life is safe now in every way.
That much I promise."

The king rode a long time
As fast as he could go,
Through mire and moor and bog,
To the place appointed
To meet Sir Gromer.

Stern words he said to the king:
"Come on, sir king, let's hear
What your answer shall be.
I am prepared."

The king pulled out two books.
"Sir, here is my answer, I dare say,
For some will help those in need."

Sir Gromer looked at each answer.
"No, no, sir king. You are a dead man.
You shall bleed."

"Wait, Sir Gromer," said King Arthur,
"I have one answer that can't miss."

"Let's see it," said Sir Gromer,
Or else, so help me God, as I say,
You death you will have, violently.
That is for sure."

"Now," said the king, "I have seen,
As I guessed, very little kindness, by God.
Here is the answer, the true one--
What women desire most,
From rich men and from poor--
I say that above all things,
Women desire sovereignty. That is what they want.
And that is their greatest desire.
They want rule over the manliest of men,
Then they are happy. This I have learned,
And you are beaten, Sir Gromer."

"And she who told you this, King Arthur,
I pray to God I shall see her burn in fire.
That was my sister, Dame Ragnell.
That old hag! God send her shame!
Otherwise I would have tamed you.
Now I have wasted all my work.
Go where you will, King Arthur,
For now you need not fear me.
Alas! That I ever saw this day!
Now I well know you shall be my enemy.
I will never get the advantage again.
My song shall ever be alas, alas."

"No," said the king, "that much I swear.
Some armor I will ever after have, to defend myself.
That much I promise to God.
You will never find me like this again.
If you do, may I be beaten and bound,
As would be your right."

"Have a good day," said Sir Gromer.

"Farewell," said Sir Arthur. "So may I thrive.
I am glad to have beaten you."

IV. DAME RAGNELL GETS HER MAN

King Arthur turned his horse toward the plain.
And soon he met with Dame Ragnell again,
In exactly the same spot as before.

"Sir king, I am glad we have won!
I told you exactly how it would be!
Now keep to what you have promised.
Since I have saved your life, me and no one else,
Gawain must marry me, Sir Arthur.
It's the only way to be an honorable knight."

"No, lady. What I promised I will not fail to do.
If you will heed my advice, keeping quiet,
You shall have all that you wish."

"No, sir king. I will not do so.
Openly I will wed, or I will leave.
Otherwise, I will be shamed.
Ride on, and I will follow you
To your court, King Arthur, sire.
I will take shame from no man.
Remember how I have saved your life.
Don't argue with me.
If you do, you bring shame on yourself."

The king felt very much ashamed,
But she rode on, despite him,
Until they got to Carlisle.
Into the court she rode, by his side,
For she would spare the feelings of no man.
The king liked it not at all.
All the people wondered greatly
At whence she had come,
Such a foul, ugly thing.
They had never seen such an ugly thing.
She rode right into the hall.

"Arthur, king, fetch me Sir Gawain quickly
Before these knights, that I may be certain
You intend to marry us, for richer or poorer.
In front of all your knights.
That was your promise.
Let's see that you do it.
Bring me my love, Sir Gawain,
As quickly as you can.
I don't want to wait any longer."

Then came forth Sir Gawain the knight.
"Sire, I am ready to do what I promised,
Ready to fulfill all my vows."

"God-a-mercy!" shouted Dame Ragnell.
"For your sake, I wish
I were a good looking woman,
Since you are such a good man."

Then sir Gawain pledged to her his troth,
For richer and for poorer.
He was a true knight.
And Dame Ragnell was happy.

"Alas!" said Dame Guinevere.
And all the ladies of her chamber said the same.
They all wept for Sir Gawain.

"Alas!" said the king and all the knights.
That he should have to wed such a person!
So foul. So horrible. They said
She had long teeth on each side,
Boar's tusks, as long as your hand,
One going up, one down on each side.
And grey hairs. And her lips
Lay like lumps on her chin.
No one had ever seen
A neck like that. She was ugly!
I swear, no one would marry her
For any reason,
Unless there was some sort
Of proclamation or law over the country.

Guinevere summoned the ladies of the land
To help keep this marriage proper,
So it was that the foul lady would be married
Unto Sir Gawain very soon.
The ladies had great pity.
"Alas!" they said. The queen begged
Dame Ragnell to marry early in the morning
And "as privately as possible."
"No," she said. "By heaven's king
That is something I will never do,
No matter what you say.
I will be wedded openly,
For I have an agreement with the king.
Do not doubt: I will not come to the church
Until high mass time, and I will dine
In the open hall, in the middle of everybody."

"I am agreed," said Dame Guinevere,
"But I think it more honorable,
And to your own benefit to do otherwise."

"Well, as to that, lady, God save you,
This day I will have what I want--
I tell you that without boasting."

She made herself ready to go to church,
And all the nobles were there--I'm not lying.
She was dressed in the very best,
Fancier even than Guinevere.
Her dress was worth a king's ransom,
A thousand marks,
The very best gold coins.
That's how richly we was dressed.
Yet for all the clothing she wore,
She still was the ugliest woman I've heard of--
A hog isn't as ugly,
I can say, to keep it short.

After she was married,
Everyone hurried to dinner.
The foul lady sat at the head of the dais.
She was very foul and rude.
Everyone said so.
When the food came,
She ate everything,
Amazing everyone.
Her nails were three inches long
And with them she uncouthly cut her meat.
Therefore she ate alone.
She ate three chickens and three curlews,
And large meat pies she also ate up, indeed.
Everyone there wondered at it.
No food came before her
But she ate it, the foul woman.
Everyone who saw her,
Both the knights and the squires,
Prayed that the devil would gnaw her bones.
So she ate until everything was gone.
Until they brought the finger towels,
As is the custom and fashion.
Many men spoke of diverse foods,
I believe you know there was
Both domestic and wild meat.
There was never a lack in King Arthur's court
Of anything that could be gotten
Either in forest or in field.
There were people there from many lands.

V. A DOMESTIC SCENE

(NOTE: a page of the manuscript is missing here)

"Ah, Sir Gawain, since I have married you,
Show me a little courtesy in bed.
You cannot rightfully deny me that.
Indeed, Sir Gawain," the lady said,
If I were beautiful,
You would act a bit differently.
But you take no heed of marriage.
Still, for Arthur's sake, kiss me at least.
I ask that you do it,
So we can see how you manage."

Sir Gawain said, "I will do more
Than kiss, I swear to God!"
So he turned…
And saw she was
The fairest creature alive.
"Jesus!" he said. "What are you?"

"Sir, I am certainly your wife.
Why are you unkind to me?"

"Ah, lady, I am to blame.
I ask you mercy, fair madam.
I hadn't realized. You are so beautiful,
And earlier you were the ugliest woman
I have ever seen.
I am happy, lady, to see you thus."
So he embraced her in his arms
And began to kiss her
And made great joy, certainly.

"Sir," she said, "thus shall you have me.
By God, choose one--for my beauty will not hold.
Choose whether you will have me
Beautiful in the nights
And as ugly in the days, when men see me,
Or else have me beautiful in the day
And the ugliest woman in the nights.
One or the other you must have. Choose.
Choose, sir knight, which is more important
To your honor."

"Alas!" said Gawain, "the choice is hard.
Choosing the best is difficult.
I don't know what to choose.
To have you beautiful
At night and no more,
That would grieve my heart.
And I would lose my reputation.
But if I choose to have you beautiful in the day,
Then at night I would have slim pickings.
Now, gladly would I choose the best,
But I don't know what in the world to say.
Choose what you think best, happy lady.
The choice I put into your hand.
Do as you want, as you choose.
Untie me when you will, for I am bound.
I give the decision to you.
Body, possessions, heart and everything,
It is all yours, to buy and sell.
This I swear to God."

"Thank you, courteous knight," said the lady.
Of all the earth's knights, may you be blessed.
For now I am worshipped.
You shall have me beautiful both day and night,
And always I shall be fair and bright.
Therefore, grieve not,
For I was transformed through necromancy
By my stepmother, God have mercy on her.
She changed me by enchantment
From my true form--
Until the best of England
Had truly married me
And given me sovereignty
Over his body and all his goods.
Thus I was deformed,
And you, sir knight, courteous Gawain,
Have given me sovereignty indeed.
Never will you be sorry for that.
Kiss me, sir knight, right now,
I pray you. Be glad and make good cheer.
For all has turned out well."

Then they had joy beyond imagination,
The natural way of two people alone.
She thanked God and Mary
That she was recovered from her ugliness.
And so did Sir Gawain.
He made mirth in her bedroom
And gave many thanks to our savior, I can tell you.
With joy and mirth they stayed awake all night.

VI. THE MORNING AFTER

In the morning, the fair maiden went to get up.
"You shall not!" Sir Gawain said.
We will stay here until noon
And let the king call us to lunch."

"I agree," the maiden said,
And thus they went on till mid-day.

"Sirs," said the king, "let us go
To see if Sir Gawain is still alive.
I am very afraid for Sir Gawain,
Afraid the fiend has killed him.
I really must find out.
Go we now. We shall see them get up
And see how they have managed."

So they came to the bed chamber.
"Arise!" shouted the king to Sir Gawain.
"Why do you stay in be so long?"

"Oh, my!" said Gawain. "Surely, sir king,
I would be very happy if you would leave me alone.
For I am very much at ease.
Wait, I shall unlock the door.
Then, I think, you will say I am well fixed.
I am very reluctant to get up."

Sir Gawain arose and took his lady by the hand.
He hurried to the door and opened it.
She stood in a smock by the fire.
Her hair hung to her knees, a red gold.
"Lo, this is my pleasure."
"Lo!" said Gawain to Arthur.
"This is my wife, Dame Ragnell,
The one who saved your life."

Then he told the king and queen
How suddenly her shape had turned.
"My lord, by your leave, I will tell you
How she came to be misshapen."
Then Sir Gawain told it all.

"I thank God!" said the queen.
"I thought, Sir Gawain, you had been harmed.
I was much grieved at heart.
But I see the opposite is the case."

There were games, revelries, playing.
And every man said, "She is beautiful!"

Then the king told them all
How Dame Ragnell saved his life.
"My death had been prepared."
The king told the queen, swearing it was true,
How he had been bested in Inglewood
By Sir Gromer Somer Joure.
He told what that knight had made him swear.
"Otherwise, he would have slain me right there,
Without mercy or measure. This same lady,
Dame Ragnell, saved me from that death.
All for the love of Gawain.

Then Gawain told the king
How her stepmother had deformed her
Until a knight should save her.
And Dame Ragnell told the king
How Gawain had given her sovereignty
Over all he had. Whatever she wanted.

"God save him for such courtesy.
He saved me from villainy and a terrible fate,
One that was both foul and grim.
Therefore, courteous, gracious Gawain,
I shall never anger you. That is certain.
That promise I make to you.
While I live, I shall be obedient.
To God above I promise
That I will never quarrel with you."

"Thank you, lady," said Gawain.
"With you I feel quite content.
And I believe you will do these things."
Gawain said, "She shall have my love.
She will never lack it, for she has been
So kind to me."

The queen said, and the ladies all agreed,
"I swear by Saint John
That she is the fairest in this court.
My love, lady, you shall always have,
As I am a gentle woman,
Because you saved my lord Arthur."

Sir Gawain begot Gyngolyn of the Round Table,
A knight of strength and goodness.

And at every feast where a lady should be,
Wherever she went,
Dame Ragnell won the prize for beauty.

I can tell you without lying
That in all his life Gawain loved none so well.
He acted like a coward, avoiding jousting,
Just so he could be in bed with her day and night.
King Arthur wondered at it.

Dame Ragnell asked the king
For kindness to Sir Gromer.
"Be a good lord to Sir Gromer, indeed.
Fix the matter in which you offended him."

"Yes, lady, that I shall do for your sake,
Though I know he cannot make amends to me
For acting as he did."

VII. NOT SUCH A HAPPY ENDING

Now, to make a short conclusion.
I intend to finish quickly.
This gentle lady lived with Gawain
But five years. I tell you truly,
That grieved Gawain all his life.
Yet in her life she grieved him never.
And no woman was ever dearer to him.

Thus I will stop talking.
She was the fairest lady
In all of England
When she lived.
Even Arthur said so.
Thus ends this adventure of King Arthur--
A man who suffered much in his life--
And of the wedding of Gawain.

Gawain married often in his life
But I have heard men say
He never loved another woman so well.

Thus I have told the story
Of King Arthur's hunting adventure In Inglewood.

Now, God, as you were born in Bethlehem,
Never let our souls be lost in burning fire!
And, Jesus, as you were born of a virgin,
Help the composer of this tale out of sorrow,
And in a hurry if you can.
For he is beset by jailers
With wills wrong and hard
Who keep him locked away.

Now, God, as you are the true royal king,
Help him out of danger who made this tale,
For he has been in it a long time.
Have pity on Your servant.
I give body and soul to your hand,
For my suffering is great.

Here ends The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell
For the Helping of King Arthur.