{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch117.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch117.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch117.htm","text":"117A.1 LYTHE and listin, gentilmen,\nThat be of frebore blode;\nI shall you tel of a gode yeman,\nHis name was Robyn Hode.\n117A.2 Robyn was a prude outlaw,\n[Whyles he walked on grounde;\nSo curteyse an outlawe] as he was one\nWas never non founde.\n117A.3 Robyn stode in Bernesdale,\nAnd lenyd hym to a tre;\nAnd bi hym stode Litell Johnn,\nA gode yeman was he.\n117A.4 And alsoo dyd gode Scarlok,\nAnd Much, the miller\u2019s son;\nThere was none ynch of his bodi\nBut it was worth a grome.\n117A.5 Than bespake Lytell Johnn\nAll vntoo Robyn Hode:\nMaister, and ye wolde dyne betyme\nIt wolde doo you moche gode.\n117A.6 Than bespake hym gode Robyn:\nTo dyne haue I noo lust,\nTill that I haue som bolde baron,\nOr som vnkouth gest.\n117A.7 . . . . . . .\nThat may pay for the best,\nOr som knyght or [som] squyer,\nThat dwelleth here bi west.\n117A.8 A gode maner than had Robyn;\nIn londe where that he were,\nEuery day or he wold dyne\nThre messis wolde he here.\n117A.9 The one in the worship of the Fader,\nAnd another of the Holy Gost,\nThe thirde of Our der Lady,\nThat he loued allther moste.\n117A.10 Robyn loued Oure der Lady;\nFor dout of dydly synne,\nWolde he neuer do compani harme\nThat any woman was in.\n117A.11 \u2018Maistar,\u2019 than sayde Lytil Johnn,\n\u2018And we our borde shal sprede,\nTell vs wheder that we shal go,\nAnd what life that we shall lede.\n117A.12 \u2018Where we shall take, where we shall leue,\nWhere we shall abide behynde;\nWhere we shall robbe, where we shal reue,\nWhere we shal bete and bynde.\u2019\n117A.13 \u2018Therof no force,\u2019 than sayde Robyn;\n\u2018We shall do well inowe;\nBut loke ye do no husbonde harme,\nThat tilleth with his ploughe.\n117A.14 \u2018No more ye shall no gode yeman\nThat walketh by gren -wode shawe;\nNe no knyght ne no squyer\nThat wol be a gode felawe.\n117A.15 \u2018These bisshoppes and these archebishoppes,\nYe shall them bete and bynde;\nThe hy sherif of Notyingham,\nHym holde ye in your mynde.\u2019\n117A.16 \u2018This worde shalbe holde,\u2019 sayde Lytell Johnn,\n\u2018And this lesson we shall lere;\nIt is fer dayes ; God sende vs a gest,\nThat we were at oure dynere!\u2019\n117A.17 \u2018Take thy gode bowe in thy honde,\u2019 sayde Rob[yn];\n\u2018Late Much wende with the;\nAnd so shal Willyam Scarlo[k],\nAnd no man abyde with me.\n117A.18 \u2018And walke vp to the Saylis,\nAnd so to Watlingr Stret[e],\nAnd wayte after some vnkuth gest,\nVp chaunce ye may them mete.\n117A.19 \u2018Be he erle, or ani baron,\nAbbot, or ani knyght,\nBringhe hym to lodge to me;\nHis dyner shall be dight.\u2019\n117A.20 They wente vp to the Saylis,\nThese yeman all thre;\nThey loked est, they loke[d] weest;\nThey myght no man see.\n117A.21 But as they loked in to Bernysdale,\nBi a dern strete,\nThan came a knyght ridinghe;\nFull sone they gan hym mete.\n117A.22 All dreri was his semblaunce,\nAnd lytell was his pryde;\nHis one fote in the styrop stode,\nThat othere wauyd beside.\n117A.23 His hode hanged in his iyn two;\nHe rode in symple aray;\nA soriar man than he was one\nRode neuer in somer day.\n117A.24 Litell Johnn was full curteyes,\nAnd sette hym on his kne:\n\u2018Welcom be ye, gentyll knyght,\nWelcom ar ye to me.\n117A.25 \u2018Welcom be thou to gren wode,\nHend knyght and fre;\nMy maister hath abiden you fastinge,\nSyr, al these our s thre.\u2019\n117A.26 \u2018Who is thy maister?\u2019 sayde the knyght;\nJohnn sayde, Robyn Hode;\n\u2018He is [a] gode yoman,\u2019 sayde the knyght,\n\u2018Of hym haue I herde moche gode.\n117A.27 \u2018I graunte,\u2019 he sayde, \u2019with you to wende,\nMy bretherne, all in fere;\nMy purpos was to haue dyned to day\nAt Blith or Dancastere.\u2019\n117A.28 Furth than went this gentyl knight,\nWith a carefull chere;\nThe teris oute of his iyen ran,\nAnd fell downe by his lere.\n117A.29 They brought hym to the lodg -dore;\nWhan Robyn hym gan see,\nFull curtesly dyd of his hode\nAnd sette hym on his knee.\n117A.30 \u2018Welcome, sir knight,\u2019 than sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Welcome art thou to me;\nI haue abyden you fastinge, sir,\nAll these ouris thre.\u2019\n117A.31 Than answered the gentyll knight,\nWith word s fayre and fre;\nGod the saue, goode Robyn,\nAnd all thy fayre meyn .\n117A.32 They wasshed togeder and wyped bothe,\nAnd sette to theyr dynere;\nBrede and wyne they had right ynoughe,\nAnd noumbles of the dere.\n117A.33 Swannes and fessauntes they had full gode,\nAnd foules of the ryuere;\nThere fayled none so litell a birde\nThat euer was bred on bryre.\n117A.34 \u2018Do gladly, sir knight,\u2019 sayde Robyn;\n\u2018Gramarcy, sir,\u2019 sayde he;\n\u2018Suche a dinere had I nat\nOf all these wekys thre.\n117A.35 \u2018If I come ageyne, Robyn,\nHere by thys contr ,\nAs gode a dyner I shall the make\nAs that thou haest made to me.\u2019\n117A.36 \u2018Gramarcy, knyght,\u2019 sayde Robyn;\n\u2018My dyner whan that I it haue,\nI was neuer so gredy, bi dere worthy God,\nMy dyner for to craue.\n117A.37 \u2018But pay or ye wende,\u2019 sayde Robyn;\n\u2018Me thynketh it is gode ryght;\nIt was neuer the maner, by dere worthi God,\nA yoman to pay for a knyhht.\u2019\n117A.38 \u2018I haue nought in my coffers,\u2019 saide the knyght,\n\u2018That I may profer for shame:\u2019\n\u2018Litell Johnn, go loke,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Ne let nat for no blame.\n117A.39 \u2018Tel me truth,\u2019 than saide Robyn,\n\u2018So God haue parte of the:\u2019\n\u2018I haue no more but ten shelynges,\u2019 sayde the knyght,\n\u2018So God haue parte of me.\u2019\n117A.40 If thou hast no more,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018I woll nat one peny;\nAnd yf thou haue nede of any more,\nMore shall I lend the.\n117A.41 \u2018Go nowe furth, Littell Johnn,\nThe truth tell thou me;\nIf there be no more but ten shelinges,\nNo peny that I se.\u2019\n117A.42 Lyttell Johnn sprede downe hys mantell\nFull fayre vpon the grounde,\nAnd there he fonde in the knyght s cofer\nBut euen halfe [a] pounde.\n117A.43 Littell Johnn let it lye full styll,\nAnd went to hys maysteer [full] lowe;\n\u2018What tidyng s, Johnn?\u2019 sayde Robyn;\n\u2018Sir, the knyght is true inowe.\u2019\n117A.44 \u2018Fyll of the best wine,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018The knyght shall begynne;\nMoche wonder thinketh me\nThy clot[h]ynge is so thin[n]e.\n117A.45 \u2018Tell me [one] worde,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018And counsel shal it be;\nI trowe thou warte made a knyght of force,\nOr ellys of yemanry.\n117A.46 \u2018Or ellys thou hast bene a sori husbande,\nAnd lyued in stroke and stryfe;\nAn okerer, or ellis a lechoure,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Wyth wronge hast led thy lyfe.\u2019\n117A.47 \u2018I am none of those,\u2019 sayde the knyght,\n\u2018By God that mad me;\nAn hundred wynter here before\nMyn auncetres knyghtes haue be.\n117A.48 \u2018But oft it hath befal, Robyn,\nA man hath be disgrate;\nBut God that sitteth in heuen aboue\nMay amende his state.\n117A.49 \u2018Withyn this two yere, Robyne,\u2019 he sayde,\n\u2018My neghbours well it knowe,\nFoure hundred pounde of gode money\nFul well than myght I spende.\n117A.50 \u2018Nowe haue I no gode,\u2019 saide the knyght,\n\u2018God hath shaped such an ende,\nBut my chyldren and my wyfe,\nTyll God yt may amende.\u2019\n117A.51 \u2018In what maner,\u2019 than sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Hast thou lorne thy rychesse?\u2019\n\u2018For my great foly,\u2019 he sayde,\n\u2018And for my kynd[ ]nesse.\n117A.52 \u2018I hade a sone, forsoth, Robyn,\nThat shulde hau[e] ben myn ayre,\nWhanne he was twenty wynter olde,\nIn felde wolde iust full fayre.\n117A.53 \u2018He slewe a knyght of Lancaster,\nAnd a squyer bolde;\nFor to saue hym in his ryght\nMy godes both sette and solde.\n117A.54 \u2018My londes both sette to wedde, Robyn,\nVntyll a certayn day,\nTo a ryche abbot here besyde\nOf Seynt Mari Abbey.\u2019\n117A.55 \u2018What is the som?\u2019 sayde Robyn;\n\u2018Trouth than tell thou me;\u2019\n\u2018Sir,\u2019 he sayde, \u2019Foure hundred pounde;\nThe abbot told it to me.\u2019\n117A.56 \u2018Nowe and thou lese thy lond,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018What woll fall of the?\u2019\n\u2018Hastely I wol me buske,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018Ouer the salt see,\n117A.57 \u2018And se w[h]ere Criste was quyke and dede,\nOn the mount of Caluer ;\nFare wel, frende, and haue gode day;\nIt may no better be.\u2019\n117A.58 Teris fell out of hys iyen two;\nHe wolde haue gone hys way:\n\u2018Farewel, frende, and haue gode day;\nI ne haue no more to pay.\u2019\n117A.59 \u2018Where be thy frend s?\u2019 sayde Robyn:\n\u2018Syr, neuer one wol me knowe;\nWhile I was ryche ynowe at home\nGreat boste than wolde they blowe.\n117A.60 \u2018And nowe they renne away fro me,\nAs bestis on a rowe;\nThey take no more hede of me\nThanne they had me neuer sawe.\u2019\n117A.61 For ruthe thanne wept Litell Johnn,\nScarlok and Muche in fere;\n\u2018Fyl of the best wyne,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018For here is a symple chere.\n117A.62 \u2018Hast thou any frende,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Thy borowe that wold be?\u2019\n\u2018I haue none,\u2019 than sayde the knyght,\n\u2018But God that dyed on tree.\u2019\n117A.63 \u2018Do away thy iapis,\u2019 than sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Thereof wol I right none;\nWenest thou I wolde haue God to borowe,\nPeter, Poule, or Johnn?\n117A.64 \u2018Nay, by hym that me made,\nAnd shope both sonne and mone,\nFynde me a better borowe,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Or money getest thou none.\u2019\n117A.65 \u2018I haue none other,\u2019 sayde the knyght,\n\u2018The sothe for to say,\nBut yf yt be Our der Lady;\nShe fayled me neuer or thys day.\u2019\n117A.66 \u2018By dere worthy God,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018To seche all Englonde thorowe,\nYet fonde I neuer to my pay\nA moche better borowe.\n117A.67 \u2018Come nowe furth, Litell Johnn,\nAnd go to my tresour ,\nAnd bringe me foure hundered pound,\nAnd loke well tolde it be.\u2019\n117A.68 Furth than went Litell Johnn,\nAnd Scarlok went before;\nHe tolde oute foure hundred pounde\nBy eight and twenty score.\n117A.69 \u2018Is thys well tolde?\u2019 sayde [litell] Much;\nJohnn sayde, \u2018What gre[ue]th the?\nIt is almus to helpe a gentyll knyght,\nThat is fal in pouert .\n117A.70 \u2018Master,\u2019 than sayde Lityll John,\n\u2018His clothinge is full thynne;\nYe must gyue the knight a lyueray,\nTo lappe his body therin.\n117A.71 \u2018For ye haue scarlet and grene, mayster,\nAnd man[y] a riche aray;\nTher is no marchaunt in mery Englond\nSo ryche, I dare well say.\u2019\n117A.72 \u2018Take hym thre yerdes of euery colour,\nAnd loke well mete that it be;\u2019\nLytell Johnn toke none other mesure\nBut his bow -tree.\n117A.73 And at euery handfull that he met\nHe lep d foot s three;\n\u2018What deuyll s drapar,\u2019 sayid litell Muche,\n\u2018Thynkest thou for to be?\u2019\n117A.74 Scarlok stode full stil and loughe,\nAnd sayd, By God Almyght,\nJohnn may gyue hym gode mesure,\nFor it costeth hym but lyght.\n117A.75 \u2018Mayster,\u2019 than said Litell Johnn\nTo gentill Robyn Hode,\n\u2018Ye must giue the knig[h]t a hors,\nTo lede home this gode.\u2019\n117A.76 \u2018Take hym a gray coursar,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018And a saydle newe;\nHe is Oure Ladye\u2019s messangere;\nGod graunt that he be true.\u2019\n117A.77 \u2018And a gode palfray,\u2019 sayde lytell Much,\n\u2018To mayntene hym in his right;\u2019\n\u2018And a peyre of bot s,\u2019 sayde Scarlock,\n\u2018For he is a gentyll knight.\u2019\n117A.78 \u2018What shalt thou gyue hym, Litell John?\u2019 said Robyn;\n\u2018Sir, a peyre of gilt sporis clene,\nTo pray for all this company;\nGod bringe hym out of tene.\u2019\n117A.79 \u2018Whan shal mi day be,\u2019 said the knight,\n\u2018Sir, and your wyll be?\u2019\n\u2018This day twelue moneth,\u2019 saide Robyn,\n\u2018Vnder this gren -wode tre.\n117A.80 \u2018It were greate sham ,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018A knight alone to ryde,\nWithout squyre, yoman, or page,\nTo walk by his syde.\n117A.81 \u2018I shall the lende Litell John, my man,\nFor he shalbe thy knaue;\nIn a yema[n]\u2019s stede he may the stande,\nIf thou greate ned haue.\u2019\n117A.82 Now is the knight gone on his way;\nThis game hym thought full gode;\nWhanne he loked on Bernesdale\nHe blessyd Robyn Hode.\n117A.83 And whanne he thought on Bernysdale,\nOn Scarlok, Much, and Johnn,\nHe blyssyd them for the best company\nThat euer he in come.\n117A.84 Then spake that gentyll knyght,\nTo Lytel Johan gan he saye,\nTo-morrowe I must to Yorke toune,\nTo Saynt Mary abbay.\n117A.85 And to the abbot of that place\nFoure hondred pounde I must pay;\nAnd but I be there vpon this nyght\nMy londe is lost for ay.\n117A.86 The abbot sayd to his couent,\nThere he stode on grounde,\nThis day twelfe moneth came there a knyght\nAnd borowed foure hondred pounde.\n117A.87 [He borowed foure hondred pounde,]\nUpon all his lond fre;\nBut he come this ylk day\nDysheryte shall he be.\n117A.88 \u2018It is full erely,\u2019 sayd the pryoure,\n\u2018The day is not yet ferre gone;\nI had leuer to pay an hondred pounde,\nAnd lay downe anone.\n117A.89 \u2018The knyght is ferre beyonde the see,\nIn Englonde is his ryght,\nAnd suffreth honger and colde,\nAnd many a sory nyght.\n117A.90 \u2018It were grete pyt ,\u2019 said the pryoure,\n\u2018So to haue his londe;\nAnd ye be so lyght of your consyence,\nYe do to hym moch wronge.\u2019\n117A.91 \u2018Thou arte euer in my berde,\u2019 sayd the abbot,\n\u2018By God and Saynt Rycharde;\u2019\nWith that cam in a fat-heded monke,\nThe heygh selerer.\n117A.92 \u2018He is dede or hanged,\u2019 sayd the monke,\n\u2018By God that bought me dere,\nAnd we shall haue to spende in this place\nFoure hondred pounde by yere.\u2019\n117A.93 The abbot and the hy selerer\nStert forthe full bolde,\nThe [hye] iustyce of Englonde\nThe abbot there dyde holde.\n117A.94 The hy iustyce and many mo\nHad take in to they[r] honde\nHoly all the knyght s det,\nTo put that knyght to wronge.\n117A.95 They demed the knyght wonder sore,\nThe abbot and his meyn :\n\u2018But he come this ylk day\nDysheryte shall he be.\u2019\n117A.96 \u2018He wyll not come yet,\u2019 sayd the iustyce,\n\u2018Idare well vndertake;\u2019\nBut in sorowe tym for them all\nThe knyght came to the gate.\n117A.97 Than bespake that gentyll knyght\nUntyll his meyn :\nNow put on your symple wedes\nThat ye brought fro the see.\n117A.98 [They put on their symple wedes,]\nThey came to the gates anone;\nThe porter was redy hymselfe,\nAnd welcomed them euerychone.\n117A.99 \u2018Welcome, syr knyght,\u2019 sayd the porter;\n\u2018My lorde to mete is he,\nAnd so is many a gentyll man,\nFor the loue of the.\u2019\n117A.100 The porter swore a full grete othe,\nRR\u2019Brry God that mad me,\nHere be the best coresed hors\nThat euer yet sawe I me.\n117A.101 \u2018Lede them in to the stable,\u2019 he sayd,\n\u2018That eased myght they be;\u2019\n\u2018They shall not come therin,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018By God that dyed on a tre.\u2019\n117A.102 Lord s were to mete isette\nIn that abbotes hall;\nThe knyght went forth and kneled downe,\nAnd salued them grete and small.\n117A.103 \u2018Do gladly, syr abbot,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018I am come to holde my day:\u2019\nThe fyrst word the abbot spake,\n\u2018Hast thou brought my pay?\u2019\n117A.104 \u2018Not one peny,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018By God that maked me;\u2019\n\u2018Thou art a shrewed dettour,\u2019 sayd the abbot;\n\u2018Syr iustyce, drynke to me.\n117A.105 \u2018What doost thou here,\u2019 sayd the abbot,\n\u2018But thou haddest brought thy pay?\u2019\n\u2018For God,\u2019 than sayd the knyght,\n\u2018To pray of a lenger daye.\u2019\n117A.106 \u2018Thy daye is broke,\u2019 sayd the iustyce,\n\u2018Londe getest thou none:\u2019\n\u2018Now, good syr iustyce, be my frende,\nAnd fende me of my fone!\u2019\n117A.107 \u2018I am holde with the abbot,\u2019 sayd the iustyce,\n\u2018Both with cloth and fee :\u2019\n\u2018Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!\u2019\n\u2018Nay, for God,\u2019 sayd he.\n117A.108 \u2018Now, good syr abbot, be my frende,\nFor thy curteys ,\nAnd holde my lond s in thy honde\nTyll I haue made the gree!\n117A.109 \u2018And I wyll be thy true seruaunte,\nAnd trewely seru the,\nTyl ye haue foure hondred pounde\nOf money good and free.\u2019\n117A.110 The abbot sware a full grete othe,\n\u2018By God that dyed on a tree,\nGet the londe where thou may,\nFor thou getest none of me.\u2019\n117A.111 \u2018By dere worthy God,\u2019 then sayd the knyght,\n\u2018That all this world wrought,\nBut I haue my londe agayne,\nFull dere it shall be bought.\n117A.112 \u2018God, that was of a mayden borne,\nLeue vs well to spede!\nFor it is good to assay a frende\nOr that a man haue nede.\u2019\n117A.113 The abbot lothely on hym gan loke,\nAnd vylaynesly hym gan call;\n\u2018Out,\u2019 he sayd, \u2019Thou fals knyght,\nSpede the out of my hall!\u2019\n117A.114 \u2018Thou lyest,\u2019 then sayd the gentyll knyght,\n\u2018Abbot, in thy hal;\nFalse knyght was I neuer,\nBy God that made vs all.\u2019\n117A.115 Vp then stode that gentyll knyght,\nTo the abbot sayd he,\nTo suffre a knyght to knele so longe,\nThou canst no curteysye.\n117A.116 In ioust s and in tournement\nFull ferre than haue I be,\nAnd put my selfe as ferre in prees\nAs ony that euer I se.\n117A.117 \u2018What wyll ye gyue more,\u2019 sayd the iustice,\n\u2018And the knyght shall make a releyse?\nAnd elles dare I safly swere\nYe holde neuer your londe in pees.\u2019\n117A.118 \u2018An hondred pounde,\u2019 sayd the abbot;\nThe justice sayd, Gyue hym two;\n\u2018Nay, be God,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018Yit gete ye it not so.\n117A.119 \u2018Though ye wolde gyue a thousand more,\nYet were ye neuer the nere;\nShall there neuer be myn heyre\nAbbot, iustice, ne frere.\u2019\n117A.120 He stert hym to a borde anone,\nTyll a table rounde,\nAnd there he shoke oute of a bagge\nEuen four hundred pound.\n117A.121 \u2018Haue here thi golde, sir abbot,\u2019 saide the knight,\n\u2018Which that thou lentest me;\nHad thou ben curtes at my comynge,\nRewarded shuldest thou haue be.\u2019\n117A.122 The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,\nFor all his ryall fare;\nHe cast his hede on his shulder,\nAnd fast began to stare.\n117A.123 \u2018Take me my golde agayne,\u2019 saide the abbot,\n\u2018Sir iustice, that I toke the:\u2019\n\u2018Not a peni,\u2019 said the iustice,\n\u2018Bi Go[d, that dy]ed on tree.\u2019\n117A.124 \u2018Sir [abbot, and ye me]n of lawe,\nNow haue I holde my daye;\nNow shall I haue my londe agayne,\nFor ought that you can saye.\u2019\n117A.125 The knyght stert out of the dore,\nAwaye was all his care,\nAnd on he put his good clothynge,\nThe other he lefte there.\n117A.126 He wente hym forth full mery syngynge,\nAs men haue tolde in tale;\nHis lady met hym at the gate,\nAt home in Verysdale.\n117A.127 \u2018Welcome, my lorde,\u2019 sayd his lady;\n\u2018Syr, lost is all your good?\u2019\n\u2018Be mery, dame,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018And pray for Robyn Hode,\n117A.128 \u2018That euer his soul be in blysse:\nHe holpe me out of tene;\nNe had be his kynd nesse,\nBeggers had we bene.\n117A.129 \u2018The abbot and I accorded ben,\nHe is serued of his pay;\nThe god yoman lent it me,\nAs I cam by the way.\u2019\n117A.130 This knight than dwelled fayre at home,\nThe sothe for to saye,\nTyll he had gete four hundred pound,\nAl redy for to pay.\n117A.131 He purueyed him an hundred bowes,\nThe stryng s well ydyght,\nAn hundred shefe of arow s gode,\nThe hedys burneshed full bryght;\n117A.132 And euery arowe an ell longe,\nWith pecok wel idyght,\nInocked all with whyte siluer;\nIt was a semely syght.\n117A.133 He purueyed hym an [hondreth men],\nWell harness[ed in that stede],\nAnd hym selfe in that same sete,\nAnd clothed in whyte and rede.\n117A.134 He bare a launsgay in his honde,\nAnd a man ledde his male,\nAnd reden with a lyght songe\nVnto Bernysdale.\n117A.135 But as he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng,\nAnd there taryed was he,\nAnd there was all the best yemen\nOf all the west countree.\n117A.136 A full fayre game there was vp set,\nA whyte bulle vp i-pyght,\nA grete courser, with sadle and brydil,\nWith golde burnyssht full bryght.\n117A.137 A payre of gloues, a rede golde rynge,\nA pype of wyne, in fay;\nWhat man that bereth hym best i-wys\nThe pryce shall bere away.\n117A.138 There was a yoman in that place,\nAnd best worthy was he,\nAnd for he was ferre and frembde bested,\nSlayne he shulde haue be.\n117A.139 The knight had ruthe of this yoman,\nIn plac where he stode;\nHe sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme,\nFor loue of Robyn Hode.\n117A.140 The knyght presed in to the place,\nAn hundreth folowed hym [free],\nWith bow s bent and arow s sharpe,\nFor to shende that companye.\n117A.141 They shulderd all and made hym rome,\nTo wete what he wolde say;\nHe toke the yeman bi the hande,\nAnd gaue hym al the play .\n117A.142 He gaue hym fyue marke for his wyne,\nThere it lay on the molde,\nAnd bad it shulde be set a broche,\nDrynk who so wolde.\n117A.143 Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght,\nTyll that play was done;\nSo longe abode Robyn fastinge,\nThre hour s after the none.\n117A.144 Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,\nAll that nowe be here;\nOf Litell Johnn, that was the knight s man,\nGoode myrth ye shall here.\n117A.145 It was vpon a mery day\nThat yonge men wolde go shete;\nLytell Johnn fet his bowe anone,\nAnd sayde he wolde them mete.\n117A.146 Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute,\nAnd alway he slet the wande;\nThe proud sherif of Notingham\nBy the mark s can stande.\n117A.147 The sherif swore a full greate othe:\n\u2018By hym that dyede on a tre,\nThis man is the best arsch re\nThat euer yet sawe I [me.]\n117A.148 \u2018Say me nowe, wight yonge man,\nWhat is nowe thy name?\nIn what countre were thou borne,\nAnd where is thy wonynge wane?\u2019\n117A.149 \u2018In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,\nI-wys al of my dame;\nMen cal me Reynolde Gren lef\nWhan I am at home.\u2019\n117A.150 \u2018Sey me, Reyno[l]de Gren lefe,\nWolde thou dwell with me?\nAnd euery yere I woll the gyue\nTwenty marke to thy fee.\u2019\n117A.151 \u2018I haue a maister,\u2019 sayde Litell Johnn,\n\u2018A curteys knight is he;\nMay ye leu gete of hym,\nThe better may it be.\u2019\n117A.152 The sherif gate Litell John\nTwelue moneth s of the knight;\nTherfore he gaue him right anone\nA gode hors and a wight.\n117A.153 Nowe is Litell John the sherif s man,\nGod lende vs well to spede!\nBut alwey thought Lytell John\nTo quyte hym wele his mede.\n117A.154 \u2018Nowe so God me help ,\u2019 sayde Litell John,\n\u2018And by my true leutye,\nI shall be the worst seruaunt to hym\nThat euer yet had he.\u2019\n117A.155 fell vpon a Wednesday\nThe sherif on huntynge was gone,\nAnd Litel Iohn lay in his bed,\nAnd was foriete at home.\n117A.156 Therfore he was fastinge\nTil it was past the none;\n\u2018Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the,\nGyue me my dynere,\u2019 saide Litell John.\n117A.157 \u2018It is longe for Gren lefe\nFastinge thus for to be;\nTherfor I pray the, sir stuarde,\nMi dyner gif me.\u2019\n117A.158 \u2018Shalt thou neuer ete ne drynke,\u2019 saide the stuarde,\n\u2018Tyll my lorde be come to towne:\u2019\n\u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 saide Litell John,\n\u2018I had leuer to crake thy crowne.\u2019\n117A.159 The boteler was full vncurteys,\nThere he stode on flore;\nHe start to the botery\nAnd shet fast the dore.\n117A.160 Lytell Johnn gaue the boteler suche a tap\nHis backe went nere in two;\nThough he liued an hundred ier,\nThe wors shuld he go.\n117A.161 He sporned the dore with his fote;\nIt went open wel and fyne;\nAnd there he made large lyueray,\nBothe of ale and of wyne.\n117A.162 \u2018Sith ye wol nat dyne,\u2019 sayde Litell John,\n\u2018I shall gyue you to drinke;\nAnd though ye lyue an hundred wynter,\nOn Lytel Johnn ye shall thinke.\u2019\n117A.163 Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,\nThe whil that he wolde;\nThe sherife had in his kechyn a coke,\nA stoute man and a bolde.\n117A.164 \u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 saide the coke,\n\u2018Thou arte a shrewde hynde\nIn ani hous for to dwel,\nFor to ask thus to dyne.\u2019\n117A.165 And there he lent Litell John\nGod[ ] strokis thre;\n\u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 sayde Lytell John,\n\u2018These strokis lyked well me.\n117A.166 \u2018Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,\nAnd so thinketh me;\nAnd or I pas fro this place\nAssayed better shalt thou be.\u2019\n117A.167 Lytell Johnn drew a ful gode sworde,\nThe coke toke another in hande;\nThey thought no thynge for to fle,\nBut stifly for to stande.\n117A.168 There they faught sore togedere\nTwo myl way and well more;\nMyght neyther other harme done,\nThe mountnaunce of an owre.\n117A.169 \u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 sayde Litell Johnn,\nAnd by my true lewt ,\nThou art one of the best sworde-men\nThat euer yit sawe I [me.]\n117A.170 \u2018Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,\nTo gren wode thou shuldest with me,\nAnd two times in the yere thy clothinge\nChaunged shuld be;\n117A.171 \u2018And euery yere of Robyn Hode\nTwenty merke to thy fe:\u2019\n\u2018Put vp thy swerde,\u2019 saide the coke,\n\u2018And felow s woll we be.\u2019\n117A.172 Thanne he fet to Lytell Johnn\nThe nowmbles of a do,\nGode brede, and full gode wyne;\nThey ete and drank theretoo.\n117A.173 And when they had dronkyn well,\nTheyre trouth s togeder they plight\nThat they wo[l]de be with Robyn\nThat ylk sam nyght.\n117A.174 They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,\nAs fast as they myght gone;\nThe lokk s, that were of full gode stele,\nThey brake them euerichone.\n117A.175 They toke away the siluer vessell,\nAnd all that they mig[h]t get;\nPecis, masars, ne sponis,\nWolde thei not forget.\n117A.176 Also [they] toke the god pens,\nThre hundred pounde and more,\nAnd did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode,\nUnder the gren wode hore.\n117A.177 \u2018God the saue, my der mayster,\nAnd Criste the saue and se!\u2019\nAnd thanne sayde Robyn to Litell Johnn,\nWelcome myght thou be.\n117A.178 \u2018Also be that fayre yeman\nThou bryngest there with the;\nWhat tydyng s fro Noty[n]gham?\nLytill Johnn, tell thou me.\u2019\n117A.179 \u2018Well the gretith the proud sheryf,\nAnd sende[th] the here by me\nHis coke and his siluer vessell,\nAnd thre hundred pounde and thre.\u2019\n117A.180 \u2018I make myne avowe to God,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018And to the Trenyt ,\nIt was neuer by his gode wyll\nThis gode is come to me.\u2019\n117A.181 Lytyll Johnn there hym bethought\nOn a shrewde wyle;\nFyue myle in the forest he ran,\nHym happed all his wyll.\n117A.182 Than he met the proud sheref,\nHuntynge with houndes and horne;\nLytell Johnn coude of curtesye,\nAnd knelyd hym beforne.\n117A.183 \u2018God the saue, my der mayster,\nAnd Criste the saue and se!\u2019\n\u2018Reynolde Gren lefe,\u2019 sayde the shryef,\n\u2018Where hast thou nowe be?\u2019\n117A.184 \u2018I haue be in this forest;\nA fayre syght can I se;\nIt was one of the fayrest syghtes\nThat euer yet sawe I me.\n117A.185 \u2018Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,\nHis coloure is of grene;\nSeuen score of dere vpon a herde\nBe with hym all bydene.\n117A.186 \u2018Their tynd s are so sharpe, maister,\nOf sexty, and well mo,\nThat I durst not shote for drede,\nLest they wolde me slo.\u2019\n117A.187 \u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 sayde the shyref,\n\u2018That syght wolde I fayne se:\u2019\n\u2018Buske you thyderwarde, mi der mayster,\nAnone, and wende with me.\u2019\n117A.188 The sherif rode, and Litell Johnn\nOf fote he was smerte,\nAnd whane they came before Robyn,\n\u2018Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.\u2019\n117A.189 Still stode the proud sherief,\nA sory man was he;\n\u2018Wo the worthe, Raynolde Gren lefe,\nThou hast betrayed nowe me.\u2019\n117A.190 \u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 sayde Litell Johnn,\n\u2018Mayster, ye be to blame;\nI was mysserued of my dynere\nWhan I was with you at home.\u2019\n117A.191 Sone he was to souper sette,\nAnd serued well with siluer white,\nAnd whan the sherif sawe his vessell,\nFor sorowe he myght nat ete.\n117A.192 \u2018Make glad chere,\u2019 sayde Robyn Hode,\n\u2018Sherif, for charit ,\nAnd for the loue of Litill Johnn\nThy lufe I graunt to the.\u2019\n117A.193 Whan they had souped well,\nThe day was al gone;\nRobyn commaunde[d] Litell Johnn\nTo drawe of his hosen and his shone;\n117A.194 His kirtell, and his cote of pie,\nThat was fured well and fine,\nAnd to[ke] hym a grene mantel,\nTo lap his body therin.\n117A.195 Robyn commaundyd his wight yonge men,\nVnder the gren -wode tree,\nThey shulde lye in that same sute,\nThat the sherif myght them see.\n117A.196 All nyght lay the proud sherif\nIn his breche and in his [s]chert;\nNo wonder it was, in gren wode,\nThough his syd s gan to smerte.\n117A.197 \u2018Make glade chere,\u2019 sayde Robyn Hode,\n\u2018Sheref, for charit ;\nFor this is our ordre i-wys,\nVnder the gren -wode tree.\u2019\n117A.198 \u2018This is harder order,\u2019 sayde the sherief,\n\u2018Than any ankir or frere;\nFor all the golde in mery Englonde\nI wolde nat longe dwell her.\u2019\n117A.199 \u2018All this twelue monthes,\u2019 sayde Robin,\n\u2018Thou shalt dwell with me;\nI shall the tech , proud sherif,\nAn outlaw for to be.\u2019\n117A.200 \u2018Or I be here another nyght,\u2019 sayde the sherif,\n\u2018Robyn, nowe pray I the,\nSmyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe,\nAnd I forgyue it the.\n117A.201 \u2018Lat me go,\u2019 than sayde the sherif,\n\u2018For saynt charit ,\nAnd I woll be the best[ ] frende\nThat euer yet had ye.\u2019\n117A.202 \u2018Thou shalt swere me an othe,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018On my bright bronde;\nShalt thou neuer awayte me scathe,\nBy water ne by lande.\n117A.203 \u2018And if thou fynde any of my men,\nBy nyght or [by] day,\nVpon thyn oth thou shalt swere\nTo helpe them tha[t] thou may.\u2019\n117A.204 Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe,\nAnd home he began to gone;\nHe was as full of gren wode\nAs euer was hepe of stone.\n117A.205 The sherif dwelled in Notingham;\nHe was fayne he was agone;\nAnd Robyn and his mery men\nWent to wode anone.\n117A.206 \u2018Go we to dyner,\u2019 sayde Littell Johnn;\nRobyn Hode sayde, Nay;\nFor I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,\nFoe she sent me nat my pay.\n117A.207 \u2018Haue no doute, maister,\u2019 sayde Litell Johnn;\n\u2018Yet is nat the sonne at rest;\nFor I dare say, and sauely swere,\nThe knight is true and truste.\u2019\n117A.208 \u2018Take thy bowe in thy hande,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018Late Much wende with the,\nAnd so shal Wyllyam Scarlok,\nAnd no man abyde with me.\n117A.209 \u2018And walke vp vnder the Sayles,\nAnd to Watlynge-strete,\nAnd wayte after some vnketh gest;\nVp-chaunce ye may them mete.\n117A.210 \u2018Whether he be messengere,\nOr a man that myrth s can,\nOf my good he shall haue some,\nYf he be a por man.\u2019\n117A.211 Forth then stert Lytel Johan,\nHalf in tray and tene,\nAnd gyrde hym with a full good swerde,\nUnder a mantel of grene.\n117A.212 They went vp to the Sayles,\nThese yemen all thre;\nThey loked est, they loked west,\nThey myght no man se.\n117A.213 But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale,\nBy the hy waye,\nThan were they ware of two blacke monkes,\nEche on a good palferay.\n117A.214 Then bespake Lytell Johan,\nTo Much he gan say,\nI dare lay my lyfe to wedde,\nThat [these] monkes haue brought our pay.\n117A.215 \u2018Make glad chere,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018And frese your bowes of ewe,\nAnd loke your hert s be seker and sad,\nYour stryng s trusty and trewe.\n117A.216 \u2018The monke hath two and fifty [men,]\nAnd seuen somers full stronge;\nThere rydeth no bysshop in this londe\nSo ryally, I vnderstond.\n117A.217 \u2018Brethern,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018Here are no more but we thre;\nBut we bryng them to dyner,\nOur mayster dare we not se.\n117A.218 \u2018Bende your bowes,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018Make all yon prese to stonde;\nThe formost monke, his lyfe and his deth\nIs closed in my honde.\n117A.219 \u2018Abyde, chorle monke,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018No ferther that thou gone;\nYf thou doost, by dere worthy God,\nThy deth is in my honde.\n117A.220 \u2018And euyll thryfte on thy hede,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018Ryght vnder thy hatt s bonde;\nFor thou hast made our mayster wroth,\nHe is fastynge so longe.\u2019\n117A.221 \u2018Who is your mayster?\u2019 sayd the monke;\nLytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode;\n\u2018He is a stronge thefe,\u2019 sayd the monke,\n\u2018Of hym herd I neuer good.\u2019\n117A.222 \u2018Thou lyest,\u2019 than sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018And that shall rew the;\nHe is a yeman of the forest,\nTo dyne he hath bod the.\u2019\n117A.223 Much was redy with a bolte,\nRedly and anone,\nHe set the monke to-fore the brest,\nTo the grounde that he can gone.\n117A.224 Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen\nThere abode not one,\nSaf a lytell page and a grome,\nTo lede the somers with Lytel Johan.\n117A.225 They brought the monke to the lodg -dore,\nWhether he were loth or lefe,\nFor to speke with Robyn Hode,\nMaugre in theyr tethe.\n117A.226 Robyn dyde adowne his hode,\nThe monke whan that he se;\nThe monke was not so curt yse,\nHis hode then let he be.\n117A.227 \u2018He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,\u2019\nThan sayd Lytell Johan:\n\u2018Thereof no force,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018For curteysy can he none.\n117A.228 \u2018How many men,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Had this monke, Johan?\u2019\n\u2018Fyfty and two whan that we met,\nBut many of them be gone.\u2019\n117A.229 \u2018Let blowe a horne,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018That felaushyp may vs knowe;\u2019\nSeuen score of wyght yemen\nCame pryckynge on a rowe.\n117A.230 And euerych of them a good mantell\nOf scarlet and of raye;\nAll they came to good Robyn,\nTo wyte what he wolde say.\n117A.231 They made the monke to wasshe and wype,\nAnd syt at his denere,\nRobyn Hode and Lytell Johan\nThey serued him both in-fere.\n117A.232 \u2018Do gladly, monke,\u2019 sayd Robyn.\n\u2018Gramercy, syr,\u2019 sayd he.\n\u2018Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,\nAnd who is your avow ?\u2019\n117A.233 \u2018Saynt Mary abbay,\u2019 sayd the monke,\n\u2018Though I be symple here.\u2019\n\u2018In what offyce?\u2019 sayd Robyn:\n\u2018Syr, the hy selerer.\u2019\n117A.234 \u2018Ye be the more welcome,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018So euer mote I the;\nFyll of the best wyne,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2019This monke shall drynke to me.\n117A.235 \u2018But I haue grete meruayle,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Of all this long day;\nI drede Our Lady be wroth with me,\nShe sent me not my pay.\u2019\n117A.236 \u2018Haue no doute, mayster,\u2019 sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018Ye haue no nede, I saye;\nThis monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,\nFor he is of her abbay.\u2019\n117A.237 \u2018And she was a borowe,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Betwene a knyght and me,\nOf a lytell money that I hym lent,\nUnder the g\u2019Rene-wode tree.\n117A.238 \u2018And yf thou hast that syluer ibrought,\nI pray the let me se;\nAnd I shall help the eftsones,\nYf thou haue nede to me.\u2019\n117A.239 The monke swore a full grete othe,\nWith a sory chere,\n\u2018Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,\nHerde I neuer ere.\u2019\n117A.240 \u2018I make myn avowe to God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Monke, thou art to blame;\nFor God is holde a ryghtwys man,\nAnd so is his dame.\n117A.241 \u2018Thou toldest with thyn own tonge,\nThou may not say nay,\nHow thou arte her seruaunt,\nAnd seruest her euery day.\n117A.242 \u2018And thou art made her messengere,\nMy money for to pay;\nTherfore I cun the mor thanke\nThou arte come at thy day.\n117A.243 \u2018What is in your cofers?\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Trewe than tell thou me:\u2019\n\u2018Syr,\u2019 he sayd, \u2019Twenty marke,\nAl so mote I the.\u2019\n117A.244 \u2018Yf there be no more,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018I wyll not one peny;\nYf thou hast myster of ony more,\nSyr, more I shall lende to the.\n117A.245 \u2018And yf I fynd [more,\u2019 sayd] Robyn,\n\u2018I-wys thou shalte it for gone;\nFor of thy spendynge-syluer, monke,\nThereof wyll I ryght none.\n117A.246 \u2018Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,\nAnd the trouth tell thou me;\nIf there be no more but twenty marke,\nNo peny that I se.\u2019\n117A.247 Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,\nAs he had done before,\nAnd he tolde out of the monk s male\nEyght [hondred] pounde and more.\n117A.248 Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,\nAnd went to his mayster in hast;\n\u2018Syr,\u2019 he sayd, \u2019The monke is trewe ynowe,\nOur Lady hath doubled your cast.\u2019\n117A.249 \u2018I make myn avowe to God,\u2019 sayd Robyn-+--+-\n\u2018Monke, what tolde I the?-+--+-\nOur Lady is the trewest woman\nThat euer yet founde I me.\n117A.250 \u2018By dere worthy God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018To seche all Englond thorowe,\nYet founde I neuer to my pay\nA moche better borowe.\n117A.251 \u2018Fyll of the best wyne, and do hym drynke,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018And grete well thy lady hende,\nAnd yf she haue nede to Robyn Hode,\nA frende she shall hym fynde.\n117A.252 \u2018And yf she nedeth ony more syluer,\nCome thou agayne to me,\nAnd, by this token she hath me sent,\nShe shall haue such thre.\u2019\n117A.253 The monke was goynge to London ward,\nThere to holde grete mote,\nThe knyght that rode so hye on hors,\nTo brynge hym vnder fote.\n117A.254 \u2018Whether be ye away?\u2019 sayd Robyn:\n\u2018Syr, to maners in this londe,\nToo reken with our reues,\nThat haue done moch wronge.\u2019\n117A.255 \u2018Come now forth, Lytell Johan,\nAnd harken to my tale;\nA better yemen I knowe none,\nTo seke a monk s male.\u2019\n117A.256 \u2018How moch is in yonder other corser?\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018The soth must we see:\u2019\n\u2018By Our Lady,\u2019 than sayd the monke,\n\u2018That were no curteysye,\n117A.257 \u2018To bydde a man to dyner,\nAnd syth hym bete and bynde.\u2019\n\u2018It is our old maner,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018To leue but lytell behynde.\u2019\n117A.258 The monke toke the hors with spore,\nNo lenger wolde he abyde:\n\u2018Ask to drynk ,\u2019 than sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Or that ye forther ryde.\u2019\n117A.259 \u2018Nay, for God,\u2019 than sayd the monke,\n\u2018Me reweth I cam so nere;\nFor better chepe I myght haue dyned\nIn Blythe or in Dankestere.\u2019\n117A.260 \u2018Grete well your abbot,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018And your pryour, I you pray,\nAnd byd hym send me such a monke\nTo dyner euery day.\u2019\n117A.261 Now lete we that monke be styll,\nAnd speke we of that knyght:\nYet he came to holde his day,\nWhyle that it was lyght.\n117A.262 He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale,\nUnder the gren -wode tre,\nAnd he founde there Robyn Hode,\nAnd all his mery meyn .\n117A.263 The knyght lyght doune of his good palfray;\nRobyn whan he gan see,\nSo curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,\nAnd set hym on his knee.\n117A.264 \u2018God the sau , Robyn Hode,\nAnd all this company:\u2019\n\u2018Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,\nAnd ryght welcome to me.\u2019\n117A.265 Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,\nTo that knyght so fre:\nWhat ned dryueth the to gren wode?\nI praye the, syr knyght, tell me.\n117A.266 \u2018And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,\nWhy hast thou be so longe?\u2019\n\u2018For the abbot and the hy iustyce\nWolde haue had my londe.\u2019\n117A.267 \u2018Hast thou thy londe [a]gayne?\u2019 sayd Robyn;\n\u2018Treuth than tell thou me:\u2019\n\u2018Ye, for God,\u2019 sayd the knyght,\n\u2018And that thanke I God and the.\n117A.268 \u2018But take not a grefe,\u2019 sayd the knyght, \u2019That I haue be so longe;\nI came by a wrastelynge,\nAnd there I holpe a por yeman,\nWith wronge was put behynde.\u2019\n117A.269 \u2018Nay, for God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Syr knyght, that thanke I the;\nWhat man that helpeth a good yeman,\nHis frende than wyll I be.\u2019\n117A.270 \u2018Haue here foure hondred pounde,\u2019 than sayd the knyght,\n\u2018The whiche ye lent to me;\nAnd here is also twenty marke\nFor your curteysy.\u2019\n117A.271 \u2018Nay, for God,\u2019 than sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Thou broke it well for ay;\nFor Our Lady, by her [hy ] selerer,\nHath sent to me my pay.\n117A.272 \u2018And yf I toke it i-twyse,\nA shame it were to me;\nBut trewely, gentyll knyght,\nWelcom arte thou to me.\u2019\n117A.273 Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,\nHe leugh and had good chere:\n\u2018By my trouthe,\u2019 then sayd the knyght,\n\u2018Your money is redy here.\u2019\n117A.274 \u2018Broke it well,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Thou gentyll knyght so fre;\nAnd welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,\nUnder my trystell-tre.\n117A.275 \u2018But what shall these bow s do?\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018And these arow s ifedred fre?\u2019\n\u2018By God,\u2019 than sayd the knyght,\n\u2018A por present to the.\u2019\n117A.276 \u2018Come now forth, Lytell Johan,\nAnd go to my treasur ,\nAnd brynge me there foure hondred pounde;\nThe monke ouer-tolde it me.\n117A.277 \u2018Haue here foure hondred pounde,\nThou gentyll knyght and trewe,\nAnd bye hors and harnes good,\nAnd gylte thy spores all newe.\n117A.278 \u2018And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,\nCom to Robyn Hode,\nAnd by my trouth thou shalt none fayle,\nThe whyles I haue any good.\n117A.279 \u2018And broke well thy foure hondred pound,\nWhiche I lent to the,\nAnd make thy selfe no more so bare,\nBy the counsell of me.\u2019\n117A.280 Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,\nThe knyght all of his care:\nGod, that syt in heuen hye,\nGraunte vs well to fare!\n117A.281 Now hath the knyght his leue i-take,\nAnd wente hym on his way;\nRobyn Hode and his mery men\nDwelled styll full many a day.\n117A.282 Lyth and lysten, gentil men,\nAnd herken what I shall say,\nHow the proud[ ] sheryfe of Notyngham\nDyde crye a full fayre play;\n117A.283 That all the best archers of the north\nSholde come vpon a day,\nAnd [he] that shoteth allther best\nThe game shall bere a way.\n117A.284 He that shoteth allther best,\nFurthest fayre and lowe,\nAt a payre of fynly buttes,\nUnder the gren -wode shawe,\n117A.285 A ryght good arowe he shall haue,\nThe shaft of syluer whyte,\nThe hede and the feders of ryche red golde,\nIn Englond is none lyke.\n117A.286 This than herde good Robyn,\nUnder his trystell-tre:\n\u2018Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men;\nThat shotynge wyll I se.\n117A.287 \u2018Buske you, my mery yonge men,\nYe shall go with me;\nAnd I wyll wete the shryu s fayth,\nTrewe and yf he be.\u2019\n117A.288 Whan they had theyr bowes i-bent,\nTheyr takles fedred fre,\nSeuen score of wyght yonge men\nStode by Robyns kne.\n117A.289 Whan they cam to Notyngham,\nThe buttes were fayre and longe;\nMany was the bolde archere\nThat shoted with bow s stronge.\n117A.290 \u2018There shall but syx shote with me;\nThe other shal kepe my he[ue]de,\nAnd stand with good bow s bent,\nThat I be not desceyued.\u2019\n117A.291 The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende,\nAnd that was Robyn Hode,\nAnd that behelde the proud[ ] sheryfe,\nAll by the but [as] he stode.\n117A.292 Thry s Robyn shot about,\nAnd alway he slist the wand,\nAnd so dyde good Gylberte\nWyth the whyt hande.\n117A.293 Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke\nWere archers good and fre;\nLytell Much and good Reynolde,\nThe worste wolde they not be.\n117A.294 Whan they had shot aboute,\nThese archours fayre and good,\nEuermore was the best,\nFor soth, Robyn Hode.\n117A.295 Hym was delyuered the good arowe,\nFor best worthy was he;\nHe toke the yeft so curteysly,\nTo gren wode wolde he.\n117A.296 They cryed out on Robyn Hode,\nAnd grete horn s gan they blowe:\n\u2018Wo worth the, treason!\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Full euyl thou art to knowe.\n117A.297 \u2018And wo be thou! thou proud sheryf,\nThus gladdynge thy gest;\nOther wyse thou behot me\nIn yonder wylde forest.\n117A.298 \u2018But had I the in gren wode,\nUnder my trystell-tre,\nThou sholdest leue me a better wedde\nThan thy trewe lewt .\u2019\n117A.299 Full many a bow there was bent,\nAnd arow s let they glyde;\nMany a kyrtell there was rent,\nAnd hurt many a syde.\n117A.300 The outlawes shot was so stronge\nThat no man myght them dryue,\nAnd the proud[ ] sheryf s men,\nThey fled away full blyue.\n117A.301 Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke,\nIn gren wode he wolde haue be;\nMany an arowe there was shot\nAmonge that company.\n117A.302 Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,\nWith an arowe in his kne,\nThat he myght neyther go nor ryde;\nIt was full grete pyt .\n117A.303 \u2018Mayster,\u2019 then sayd Lytell Johan,\n\u2018If euer thou loue[d]st me,\nAnd for that ylk lord s loue\nThat dyed vpon a tre,\n117A.304 \u2018And for the medes of my seruyce,\nThat I haue serued the,\nLete neuer the proud sheryf\nAlyue now fynd me.\n117A.305 \u2018But take out thy brown swerde,\nAnd smyte all of my hede,\nAnd gyue me wound s depe and wyde;\nNo lyfe on me be lefte.\u2019\n117A.306 \u2018I wolde not that,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Johan, that thou were slawe,\nFor all the golde in mery Englonde,\nThough it lay now on a rawe.\u2019\n117A.307 \u2018God forbede,\u2019 sayd Lytell Much,\n\u2018That dyed on a tre,\nThat thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,\nParte our company.\u2019\n117A.308 Up he toke hym on his backe,\nAnd bare hym well a myle;\nMany a tyme he layd hym downe,\nAnd shot another whyle.\n117A.309 n was there a fayre castell,\nA lytell within the wode;\nDouble-dyched it was about,\nAnd walled, by the rode.\n117A.310 And there dwelled that gentyll knyght,\nSyr Rychard at the Lee,\nThat Robyn had lent his good,\nUnder the gren -wode tree.\n117A.311 In he toke good Robyn,\nAnd all his company:\n\u2018Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode,\nWelcome arte thou to me;\n117A.312 \u2018And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort,\nAnd of thy curteysye,\nAnd of thy gret kynd nesse,\nUnder the gren -wode tre.\n117A.313 \u2018I loue no man in all this worlde\nSo much as I do the;\nFor all the proud[ ] sheryf of Notyngham,\nRyght here shalt thou be.\n117A.314 \u2018Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge,\nAnd let no man come in,\nAnd arme you well, and make you redy,\nAnd to the walles ye wynne.\n117A.315 \u2018For one thynge, Robyn, I the behote;\nIswere by Saynt Quyntyne,\nThese forty dayes thou wonnest with me,\nTo soupe, ete, and dyne.\u2019\n117A.316 Bordes were layde, and clothes were spredde,\nRedely and anone;\nRobyn Hode and his mery men\nTo met can they gone.\n117A.317 Lythe and lysten, gentylmen,\nAnd herkyn to your songe;\nHowe the proud shyref of Notyngham,\nAnd men of armys stronge,\n117A.318 Full fast cam to the hy shyref,\nThe contr vp to route,\nAnd they besette the knyght s castell,\nThe wall s all aboute.\n117A.319 The proud shyref loude gan crye,\nAnd sayde, Thou traytour knight,\nThou kepest here the kynges enemys,\nAgaynst the lawe and right.\n117A.320 \u2018Syr, I wyll auowe that I haue done,\nThe dedys that here be dyght,\nVpon all the land s that I haue,\nAs I am a trew knyght.\n117A.321 \u2018Wende furth, sirs, on your way,\nAnd do no more to me\nTyll ye wyt oure kyng s wille,\nWhat he wyll say to the.\u2019\n117A.322 The shyref thus had his answere,\nWithout any lesynge;\n[Fu]rth he yede to London towne,\nAll for to tel our kinge.\n117A.323 Ther he telde him of that knight,\nAnd eke of Robyn Hode,\nAnd also of the bolde archars,\nThat were soo noble and gode.\n117A.324 \u2018He wyll auowe that he hath done,\nTo mayntene the outlawes stronge;\nHe wyll be lorde, and set you at nought,\nIn all the northe londe.\u2019\n117A.325 \u2018I wil be at Notyngham,\u2019 saide our kynge,\n\u2018Within this fourteenyght,\nAnd take I wyll Robyn Hode,\nAnd so I wyll that knight.\n117A.326 \u2018Go nowe home, shyref,\u2019 sayde our kynge,\n\u2018And do as I byd the;\nAnd ordeyn gode archers ynowe,\nOf all the wyd contr .\u2019\n117A.327 The shyref had his leue i-take,\nAnd went hym on his way,\nAnd Robyn Hode to gren wode,\nVpon a certen day.\n117A.328 And Lytel John was hole of the arowe\nThat shot was in his kne,\nAnd dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode,\nVnder the grene-wod tree.\n117A.329 Robyn Hode walked in the forest,\nVnder the leuys grene;\nThe proud shyref of Notyngham\nThereof he had grete tene.\n117A.330 The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode,\nHe myght not haue his pray;\nThan he awayted this gentyll knyght,\nBothe by nyght and day.\n117A.331 Euer he wayted the gentyll knyght,\nSyr Richarde at the Lee,\nAs he went on haukynge by the ryuer-syde,\nAnd let [his] hauk s flee.\n117A.332 Toke he there this gentyll knight,\nWith men of armys stronge,\nAnd led hym to Notyngham warde,\nBounde bothe fote and hande.\n117A.333 The sheref sware a full grete othe,\nBi hym that dyed on rode,\nHe had leuer than an hundred pound\nThat he had Robyn Hode.\n117A.334 This harde the knyght s wyfe,\nA fayr lady and a free;\nShe set hir on a gode palfrey,\nTo gre\u2019Ne wode anone rode she.\n117A.335 Whanne she cam in the forest,\nVnder the gren -wode tree,\nFonde she there Robyn Hode,\nAnd al his fayre men .\n117A.336 \u2018God the sau , god Robyn,\nAnd all thy company;\nFor Our der Ladyes sake,\nA bon graunte thou me.\n117A.337 \u2018Late neuer my wedded lorde\nShamefully slayne be;\nHe is fast bowne to Notingham warde,\nFor the loue of the.\u2019\n117A.338 Anone than saide goode Robyn\nTo that lady so fre,\nWhat man hath your lorde [i-]take?\n. . . . . .\n117A.339 . . . . . .\n\u2018For soth as I the say;\nHe is nat yet thre myl s\nPassed on his way.\u2019\n117A.340 Vp than sterte gode Robyn,\nAs man that had ben wode:\n\u2018Buske you, my mery men,\nFor hym that dyed on rode.\n117A.341 \u2018And he that this sorowe forsaketh,\nBy hym that dyed on tre,\nShall he neuer in gren wode\nNo lenger dwel with me.\u2019\n117A.342 Sone there were gode bow s bent,\nMo than seuen score;\nHedge ne dyche spared they none\nThat was them before.\n117A.343 \u2018I make myn auowe to God,\u2019 sayde Robyn,\n\u2018The sherif wolde I fayne see;\nAnd if I may hym take,\nI-quyte shall it be.\u2019\n117A.344 And whan they came to Notingham,\nThey walked in the strete;\nAnd with the proud sherif i-wys\nSon can they mete.\n117A.345 \u2018Abyde, thou proud sherif,\u2019 he sayde,\n\u2018Abyde, and speke with me;\nOf some tidinges of oure kinge\nI wolde fayne here of the.\n117A.346 \u2018This seuen yere, by dere worthy God,\nNe yede I this fast on fote;\nI make myn auowe to God, thou proud sherif,\nIt is nat for thy gode.\u2019\n117A.347 Robyn bent a full goode bowe,\nAn arrowe he drowe at wyll;\nHe hit so the proud sherife\nVpon the grounde he lay full still.\n117A.348 And or he myght vp aryse,\nOn his fete to stonde,\nHe smote of the sherifs hede\nWith his bright[ ] bronde.\n117A.349 \u2018Lye thou there, thou proud sherife,\nEuyll mote thou cheue!\nThere myght no man to the truste\nThe whyles thou were a lyue.\u2019\n117A.350 His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes,\nThat were so sharpe and kene,\nAnd layde on the sheryues men,\nAnd dryued them downe bydene.\n117A.351 Robyn stert to that knyght,\nAnd cut a two his bonde,\nAnd toke hym in his hand a bowe,\nAnd bad hym by hym stonde.\n117A.352 \u2018Leue thy hors the behynde,\nAnd lerne for to renne;\nThou shalt with me to gren wode,\nThrough myr , mosse, and fenne.\n117A.353 \u2018Thou shalt with me to gren wode,\nWithout ony leasynge,\nTyll that I haue gete vs grace\nOf Edwarde, our comly kynge.\u2019\n117A.354 The kynge came to Notynghame,\nWith knyght s in grete araye,\nFor to take that gentyll knyght\nAnd Robyn Hode, and yf he may.\n117A.355 He asked men of that countr\nAfter Robyn Hode,\nAnd after that gentyll knyght,\nThat was so bolde and stout.\n117A.356 Whan they had tolde hym the case\nOur kynge vnderstode ther tale,\nAnd seased in his honde\nThe knyght s lond s all.\n117A.357 All the passe of Lancasshyre\nHe went both ferre and nere,\nTyll he came to Plomton Parke;\nHe faylyd many of his dere.\n117A.358 There our kynge was wont to se\nHerd s many one,\nHe coud vnneth fynde one dere,\nThat bare ony good horne.\n117A.359 The kynge was wonder wroth withall,\nAnd swore by the Trynyt ,\n\u2018I wolde I had Robyn Hode,\nWith eyen I myght hym se.\n117A.360 \u2018And he that wolde smyte of the knyght s hede,\nAnd brynge it to me,\nHe shall haue the knyght s londes,\nSyr Rycharde at the Le.\n117A.361 \u2018I gyue it hym with my charter,\nAnd sele it [with] my honde,\nTo haue and holde for euer more,\nIn all mery Englonde.\u2019\n117A.362 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,\nThat was treue in his fay:\nA, my leeg lorde the kynge,\nOne worde I shall you say.\n117A.363 There is no man in this countr\nMay haue the knyght s londes,\nWhyle Robyn Hode may ryde of gone,\nAnd bere a bowe in his hondes,\n117A.364 That he ne shall lese his hede,\nThat is the best ball in his hode:\nGiue it no man, my lorde the kynge,\nThat ye wyll any good.\n117A.365 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge\nIn Notyngham, and well more;\nCoude he not here of Robyn Hode,\nIn what countr that he were.\n117A.366 But alway went good Robyn\nBy halke and eke by hyll,\nAnd alway slewe the kyng s dere,\nAnd welt them at his wyll.\n117A.367 Than bespake a proude fostere,\nThat stode by our kyng s kne;\nYf ye wyll se good Robyn,\nYe must do after me.\n117A.368 Take fyue of the best knyght s\nThat be in your lede,\nAnd walke downe by yon abbay,\nAnd gete you monk s wede.\n117A.369 And I wyll be your led s-man,\nAnd lede you the way,\nAnd or ye come to Notyngham,\nMyn hede then dare I lay,\n117A.370 That ye shall mete with good Robyn,\nOn lyue yf that he be;\nOr ye come to Notyngham,\nWith eyen ye shall hym se.\n117A.371 Full hast[ ]ly our kynge was dyght,\nSo were his knyght s fyue,\nEuerych of them in monk s wede,\nAnd hasted them thyder blyve.\n117A.372 Our kynge was grete aboue his cole,\nA brode hat on his crowne,\nRyght as he were abbot-lyke,\nThey rode up in-to the towne.\n117A.373 Styf bot s our kynge had on,\nForsoth as I you say;\nHe rode syngynge to gren wode,\nThe couent was clothed in graye.\n117A.374 His male-hors and his gret somers\nFolowed our kynge behynde,\nTyll they came to gren wode,\nA myle vnder the lynde.\n117A.375 There they met with good Robyn,\nStondynge on the waye,\nAnd so dyde many a bolde archere,\nFor soth as I you say.\n117A.376 Robyn toke the kyng s hors,\nHast ly in that stede,\nAnd sayd, Syr abbot, by your leue,\nA whyle ye must abyde.\n117A.377 \u2018We be yemen of this foreste,\nVnder the gren -wode tre;\nWe lyue by our kyng s dere,\n[Other shyft haue not wee.]\n117A.378 \u2018And ye haue chyrches and rent s both,\nAnd gold full grete plent ;\nGyue vs some of your spendynge,\nFor saynt[ ] charyt .\u2019\n117A.379 Than bespake our cumly kynge,\nAnone than sayd he;\nI brought no more to gren wode\nBut forty pounde with me.\n117A.380 I haue layne at Notyngham\nThis fourtynyght with our kynge,\nAnd spent I haue full moche good,\nOn many a grete lordynge.\n117A.381 And I haue but forty pounde,\nNo more than haue I me;\nBut yf I had an hondred pounde,\nI wolde vouch it safe on the.\n117A.382 Robyn toke the forty pounde,\nAnd departed it in two partye;\nHalfendell he gaue his mery men,\nAnd bad them mery to be.\n117A.383 Full curteysly Robyn gan say;\nSyr, haue this for your spendyng;\nWe shall mete another day;\n\u2018Gramercy,\u2019 than sayd our kynge.\n117A.384 \u2018But well the greteth Edwarde, our kynge,\nAnd sent to the his seale,\nAnd byddeth the com to Notyngham,\nBoth to mete and mele\u2019\n117A.385 He toke out the brod targe,\nAnd sone he lete hym se;\nRobyn coud his courteysy,\nAnd set hym on his kne.\n117A.386 \u2018I loue no man in all the worlde\nSo well as I do my kynge;\nWelcome is my lord s seale;\nAnd, monke, for thy tydynge,\n117A.387 \u2018Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,\nTo day thou shalt dyne with me,\nFor the loue of my kynge,\nUnder my trystell-tre.\u2019\n117A.388 Forth he lad our comly kynge,\nFull fayre by the honde;\nMany a dere there was slayne,\nAnd full fast dyghtande.\n117A.389 Robyn toke a full grete horne,\nAnd loude he gan blowe;\nSeuen score of wyght yonge men\nCame redy on a rowe.\n117A.390 All they kneled on theyr kne,\nFull fayre before Robyn:\nThe kynge sayd hym selfe vntyll,\nAnd swore by Saynt Austyn,\n117A.391 \u2018Here is a wonder semely syght;\nMe thynketh, by Godd s pyne,\nHis men are more at his byddynge\nThen my men be at myn.\u2019\n117A.392 Full hast[ ]ly was theyr dyner idyght,\nAnd therto gan they gone;\nThey serued our kynge with al theyr myght,\nBoth Robyn and Lytell Johan.\n117A.393 Anone before our kynge was set\nThe fatt venyson,\nThe good whyte brede, the good rede wyne,\nAnd therto the fyne ale and browne.\n117A.394 \u2018Make good chere,\u2019 said Robyn,\n\u2018Abbot, for charyt ;\nAnd for this ylk tydynge,\nBlyssed mote thou be.\n117A.395 \u2018Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,\nOr thou hens wende;\nThan thou may enfourme our kynge,\nWhan ye togyder lende.\u2019\n117A.396 Up they stert all in hast,\nTheyr bow s were smartly bent;\nOur kynge was neuer so sore agast,\nHe wende to haue be shente.\n117A.397 Two yerd s there were vp set,\nThereto gan they gange;\nBy fyfty pase, our kynge sayd,\nThe merk s were to longe.\n117A.398 On euery syde a rose-garlonde,\nThey shot vnder the lyne:\n\u2018Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018His takyll he shall tyne,\n117A.399 \u2018And yelde it to his mayster,\nBe it neuer so fyne;\nFor no man wyll I spare,\nSo drynke I ale or wyne:\n117A.400 \u2018And bere a buffet on his hede,\nI-wys ryght all bare:\u2019\nAnd all that fell in Robyns lote,\nHe smote them wonder sare.\n117A.401 Twyse Robyn shot aboute,\nAnd euer he cleued the wande,\nAnd so dyde good Gylberte\nWith the Whyt Hande.\n117A.402 Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,\nFor nothynge wolde they spare;\nWhen they fayled of the garlonde,\nRobyn smote them full sore.\n117A.403 At the last shot that Robyn shot,\nFor all his frend s fare,\nYet he fayled of the garlonde\nThre fyngers and mare.\n117A.404 Than bespake good Gylberte,\nAnd thus he gan say;\n\u2018Mayster,\u2019 he sayd, \u2019your takyll is lost,\nStande forth and take your pay.\u2019\n117A.405 \u2018If it be so,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018That may no better be,\nSyr abbot, I delyuer the myn arowe,\nI pray the, syr, serue thou me.\u2019\n117A.406 \u2018It falleth not for myn ordre,\u2019 sayd our kynge,\n\u2018Robyn, by thy leue,\nFor to smyte no good yeman,\nFor doute I sholde hym greue.\u2019\n117A.407 \u2018Smyte on boldely,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018I giue the larg leue:\u2019\nAnone our kynge, with that worde,\nHe folde vp his sleue,\n117A.408 And sych a buffet he gaue Robyn,\nTo grounde he yede full nere:\n\u2018I make myn avowe to God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Thou arte a stalworthe frere.\n117A.409 \u2018There is pith in thyn arme,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018I trowe thou canst well shete:\u2019\nThus our kynge and Robyn Hode\nTogeder gan they mete.\n117A.410 Robyn beheld our comly kynge\nWystly in the face,\nSo dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,\nAnd kneled downe in that place.\n117A.411 And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,\nWhan they se them knele:\n\u2018My lorde the kynge of Englonde,\nNow I knowe you well.\n117A.412 \u2018Mercy then, Robyn,\u2019 sayd our kynge,\n\u2018Vnder your trystyll-tre,\nOf thy goodnesse and thy grace,\nFor my men and me!\u2019\n117A.413 \u2018Yes, for God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018And also God me saue,\nI ask mersy, my lorde the kynge,\nAnd for my men I craue.\u2019\n117A.414 \u2018Yes, for God,\u2019 than sayd our kynge,\n\u2018And therto sent I me,\nWith that thou leue the gren wode,\nAnd all thy company;\n117A.415 \u2018And come home, syr, to my courte,\nAnd there dwell with me.\u2019\n\u2018I make myn avowe to God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018And ryght so shall it be.\n117A.416 \u2018I wyll come to your courte,\nYour seruyse for to se,\nAnd brynge with me of my men\nSeuen score and thre.\n117A.417 \u2018But me lyk well your seruyse,\nI [wyll] come agayne full soone,\nAnd shote at the donn dere,\nAs I am wonte to done.\u2019\n117A.418 \u2018Haste thou ony gren cloth,\u2019 sayd our kynge,\n\u2018That thou wylte sell nowe to me?\u2019\n\u2018Ye, for God,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Thyrty yerd s and thre.\u2019\n117A.419 \u2018Robyn,\u2019 sayd our kynge,\n\u2018Now pray I the,\nSell me some of that cloth,\nTo me and my meyn .\u2019\n117A.420 \u2018Yes, for God,\u2019 then sayd Robyn,\n\u2018Or elles I were a fole;\nAnother day ye wyll me clothe,\nI trowe, ayenst the Yole.\u2019\n117A.421 The kynge kest of his col then,\nA grene garment he dyde on,\nAnd euery knyght also, i-wys,\nAnother had full sone.\n117A.422 Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,\nThey keste away theyr graye;\n\u2018Now we shall to Notyngham,\u2019\nAll thus our kynge gan say.\n117A.423 They bente theyr bowes, and forth they went,\nShotynge all in-fere,\nTowarde the towne of Notyngham,\nOutlawes as they were.\n117A.424 Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,\nFor soth as I you say,\nAnd they shote plucke-buffet,\nAs they went by the way.\n117A.425 And many a buffet our kynge wan\nOf Robyn Hode that day,\nAnd nothynge spared good Robyn\nOur kynge in his pay.\n117A.426 \u2018So God me help ,\u2019 sayd our kynge,\n\u2018Thy game is nought to lere;\nI sholde not get a shote of the,\nThough I shote all this yere.\u2019\n117A.427 All the people of Notyngham\nThey stode and behelde;\nThey sawe nothynge but mantels of grene\nThat couered all the felde.\n117A.428 Than euery man to other gan say,\nI drede our kynge be slone;\nCom Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys\nOn lyue he lefte neuer one.\u2019\n117A.429 Full hast[ ]ly they began to fle,\nBoth yemen and knaues,\nAnd olde wyues that myght euyll goo,\nThey hypped on theyr staues.\n117A.430 The kynge l[o]ughe full fast,\nAnd commaunded them agayne;\nWhen they se our comly kynge,\nI-wys they were full fayne.\n117A.431 They ete and dranke, and made them glad,\nAnd sange with not s hye;\nThan bespake our comly kynge\nTo Syr Rycharde at the Lee.\n117A.432 He gaue hym there his londe agayne,\nA good man he bad hym be;\nRobyn thanked our comly kynge,\nAnd set hym on his kne.\n117A.433 Had robyn dwelled in the kyng s courte\nBut twelue monethes and thre,\nThat [he had] spent an hondred pounde,\nAnd all his mennes fe.\n117A.434 In euery place where Robyn came\nEuer more he layde downe,\nBoth for knyght s and for squyres,\nTo gete hym grete renowne.\n117A.435 By than the yere was all agone\nHe had no man but twayne,\nLytell Johan and good Scathlocke,\nWith hym all for to gone.\n117A.436 Robyn sawe yonge men shote\nFull fayre vpon a day;\n\u2018Alas!\u2019 than sayd good Robyn,\n\u2018My welthe is went away.\n117A.437 \u2018Somtyme I was an archere good,\nA styffe and eke a stronge;\nI was compted the best archere\nThat was in mery Englonde.\n117A.438 \u2018Alas!\u2019 then sayd good Robyn,\n\u2018Alas and well a woo!\nYf I dwele lenger with the kynge,\nSorowe wyll me sloo.\u2019\n117A.439 Forth than went Robyn Hode\nTyll he came to our kynge:\n\u2018My lorde the kynge of Englonde,\nGraunte me myn askynge.\n117A.440 \u2018I made a chapell in Bernysdale,\nThat semely is to se,\nIt is of Mary Magdaleyne,\nAnd thereto wolde I be.\n117A.441 \u2018I myght neuer in this seuen nyght\nNo tyme to slepe ne wynke,\nNother all these seuen dayes\nNother ete ne drynke.\n117A.442 \u2018Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,\nI may not be therfro;\nBarefote and wolwarde I haue hyght\nThyder for to go.\u2019\n117A.443 \u2018Yf it be so,\u2019 than sayd our kynge,\n\u2018It may no better be,\nSeuen nyght I gyue the leue,\nNo lengre, to dwell fro me.\u2019\n117A.444 \u2018Gramercy, lorde,\u2019 then sayd Robyn,\nAnd set hym on his kne;\nHe toke his leu full courteysly.\nTo gren wode then went he.\n117A.445 Whan he came to gren wode,\nIn a mery mornynge,\nThere he herde the not s small\nOf byrd s mery syngynge.\n117A.446 \u2018It is ferre gone,\u2019 sayd Robyn,\n\u2018That I was last here;\nMe lyste a lytell for to shote\nAt the donn dere.\u2019\n117A.447 Robyn slewe a full grete harte;\nHis horne than gan he blow,\nThat all the outlawes of that forest\nThat horne coud they knowe,\n117A.448 And gadred them togyder,\nIn a lytell throwe.\nSeuen score of wyght yonge men\nCame redy on a rowe,\n117A.449 And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,\nAnd set them on theyr kne:\n\u2018Welcome,\u2019 they sayd, \u2019our [der ] mayster,\nUnder this gren -wode tre.\n117A.450 Robyn dwelled in gren wode\nTwenty yere and two;\nFor all drede of Edwarde our kynge,\nAgayne wolde he not goo.\n117A.451 Yet he was begyled, i-wys,\nThrough a wycked woman,\nThe pryoresse of Kyrk sly,\nThat nye was of hys kynne:\n117A.452 For the loue of a knyght,\nSyr Roger of Donkesly,\nThat was her own speciall;\nFull euyll mot they the!\n117A.453 They toke togyder theyr counsell\nRobyn Hode for to sle,\nAnd how they myght best do that dede,\nHis banis for to be.\n117A.454 Than bespake good Robyn,\nIn place where as he stode,\n\u2018To morow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly,\nCraftely to be leten blode.\u2019\n117A.455 Syr Roger of Donkestere,\nBy the pryoresse he lay,\nAnd there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,\nThrough theyr fals playe.\n117A.456 Cryst haue mercy on his soule,\nThat dyed on the rode!\nFor he was a good outlawe,\nAnd dyde pore men moch god.","title":"The Child Ballads: 117. The Gest of Robyn Hode","type":"page"}