{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56926/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56926","id":"gutenberg_56926","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56926","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads, English -- England -- Texts","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Outlaws -- Poetry","Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Poetry","Songs, English -- England -- Texts"],"text":"Produced by MWS, RichardW, and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. Music transcribed\nby Linda Cantoni. (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by The Internet Archive.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  ROBIN HOOD, a Collection of all the Ancient\n  Poems, Songs and Ballads, now extant, Relative\n  to that Celebrated English Outlaw; by Joseph\n  Ritson; With eighty Wood Engravings by Thomas\n  Bewick and nine Etchings from original\n  paintings by A.H. Tourrier and E. Buckman.\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD.\n\n\n_PUBLISHER\u2019S NOTE._\n\n_Of this fine Large Paper Edition one hundred copies are printed,\neach being numbered._\n\n_The portrait and nine etchings are given in duplicate, one being\nprinted on Whatman paper and the other on Japanese._\n\n\n _No._ 61\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: J. Ritson.]\n\n[Illustration: J. Ritson.]\n\n\n _RITSON_\n\n ROBIN HOOD\n\n A Collection of all the Ancient Poems,\n Songs and Ballads, now extant, Relative to\n that Celebrated English Outlaw\n\n TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED HISTORICAL ANECDOTES\n OF HIS LIFE\n\n BY JOSEPH RITSON\n\n With Eighty Wood Engravings\n\n BY THOMAS BEWICK\n\n PRINTED ON CHINA PAPER\n\n Also Nine Etchings from Original Paintings\n\n BY A. H. TOURRIER AND E. BUCKMAN\n\n LONDON\n JOHN C. NIMMO\n 14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.\n 1885\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Ballantyne Press\n\nBallantyne & Hanson Edinburgh London]\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n_PUBLISHER\u2019S NOTICE._\n\n\n_This edition of ROBIN HOOD is printed from that published in\n1832, which was carefully edited and printed from Mr. RITSON\u2019S own\nannotated edition of 1795._\n\n_The original wood engravings, by the celebrated THOMAS BEWICK,\nhave been again used; and from being printed on China paper, will\nbe found superior in clearness and beauty to the first impression._\n\n_The nine etchings now given have been newly etched from original\npictures painted by A. H. TOURRIER and E. BUCKMAN._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n  THE LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0i\n\n  NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0xiv\n\n\n  Part the First.\n\n  I. A LYTELL GESTE OF ROBYN HODE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a01\n\n  II. ROBIN HOOD [AND THE POTTER]\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a081\n\n  III. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a097\n\n  IV. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0114\n\n  V. A TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0126\n\n\n  Part the Second.\n\n  I. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S BIRTH, BREEDING, VALOUR, AND\n  MARRIAGE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0149\n\n  II. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S PROGRESS TO\n  NOTTINGHAM\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0161\n\n  III. THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD, WITH ROBIN\n  HOOD, SCARLET, AND JOHN\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0166\n\n  IV. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0170\n\n  V. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0175\n\n  VI. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TANNER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0181\n\n  VII. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TINKER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0189\n\n  VIII. ROBIN HOOD AND ALLIN A DALE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0197\n\n  IX. ROBIN HOOD AND THE SHEPHERD\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0203\n\n  X. ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTALL FRYER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0209\n\n  XI. ROBIN HOOD AND THE STRANGER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0217\n\n  XII. ROBIN HOOD AND QUEEN KATHERINE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0235\n\n  XIII. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S CHASE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0244\n\n  XIV. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S GOLDEN PRIZE\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0249\n\n  XV. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING WILL STUTLY\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0254\n\n  XVI. THE NOBLE FISHERMAN; OR, ROBIN HOOD\u2019S\n  PREFERMENT\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0262\n\n  XVII. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S DELIGHT\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0268\n\n  XVIII. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0274\n\n  XIX. LITTLE JOHN AND THE FOUR BEGGARS\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0280\n\n  XX. ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0285\n\n  XXI. ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0290\n\n  XXII. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF\n  HEREFORD\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0298\n\n  XXIII. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THE WIDOW\u2019S THREE\n  SONS FROM THE SHERIFF WHEN GOING TO BE\n  EXECUTED\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0303\n\n  XXIV. ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0309\n\n  XXV. THE KING\u2019S DISGUISE, AND FRIENDSHIP WITH\n  ROBIN HOOD\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0314\n\n  XXVI. ROBIN HOOD AND THE GOLDEN ARROW\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0323\n\n  XXVII. ROBIN HOOD AND THE VALIANT\n  KNIGHT\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0330\n\n  XXVIII. ROBIN HOOD\u2019S DEATH AND BURIAL\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0335\n\n\n  APPENDIX\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0341\n\n  GLOSSARY\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0387\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF EMBELLISHMENTS.\n\n   PORTRAIT OF JOSEPH RITSON\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0_Frontispiece_\n\n   KIRKLEY HALL\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0_Page_ xiv\n\n   COURTESY OF LITTLE JOHN\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a06\n\n   LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a014\n\n   ROBIN HOOD AND THE LADY\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a058\n\n   THE BANQUET\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a089\n\n   ROBIN HOOD AND THE ABBOT\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0132\n\n   ROBIN HOOD AND THE PINDER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0168\n\n   THE PRAYER OF THE FRIARS\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0252\n\n   ROBIN HOOD AND HIS BETRAYER\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0336\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe singular circumstance that the name of an outlawed individual\nof the twelfth or thirteenth century should continue traditionally\npopular, be chanted in ballads, and, as one may say,\n\n Familiar in our mouth as household words,\n\nat the end of the eighteenth, excited the editor\u2019s curiosity to\nretrieve all the historical or poetical remains concerning him that\ncould be met with: an object which he has occasionally pursued\nfor many years; and of which pursuit he now publishes the result.\nHe cannot, indeed, pretend that his researches, extensive as they\nmust appear, have been attended with all the success he could\nhave wished; but, at the same time, it ought to be acknowledged\nthat many poetical pieces, of great antiquity and some merit, are\ndeservedly rescued from oblivion.\n\nThe materials collected for the \u201cLife\u201d of this celebrated\ncharacter, which are either preserved at large or carefully\nreferred to in the \u201cNotes and Illustrations,\u201d are not, it must\nbe confessed, in every instance, so important, so ancient, or,\nperhaps, so authentic, as the subject seems to demand; although the\ncompiler may be permitted to say, in humble second-hand imitation\nof the poet Martial:\n\n Some there are good, some middling, and some bad;\n But yet they were the best that could be had.\n\nDesirous to omit nothing that he could find upon the subject, he\nhas everywhere faithfully vouched and exhibited his authorities,\nsuch as they are: it would, therefore, seem altogether uncandid or\nunjust to make him responsible for the want of authenticity of such\nof them as may appear liable to that imputation.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{i}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD.\n\n\nIt will scarcely be expected that one should be able to offer\nan authentic narrative of the life and transactions of this\nextraordinary personage. The times in which he lived, the mode of\nlife he adopted, and the silence or loss of contemporary writers,\nare circumstances sufficiently favourable, indeed, to romance,\nbut altogether inimical to historical truth. The reader must,\ntherefore, be contented with such a detail, however scanty or\nimperfect, as a zealous pursuit of the subject enables one to give;\nand which, though it may fail to satisfy, may possibly serve to\namuse.\n\nNo assistance has been derived from the labours of his professed\nbiographers\u2009(1);[1] and even the {ii} industrious Sir John\nHawkins, from whom the public might have expected ample\ngratification upon the subject, acknowledges that \u201cthe history\nof this popular hero is but little known, and all the scattered\nfragments concerning him, could they be brought together, would\nfall far short of satisfying such an inquirer as none but real\nand authenticated facts will content. We must,\u201d he says, \u201ctake\nhis story as we find it.\u201d He accordingly gives us nothing but two\nor three trite and trivial extracts, with which every one at all\ncurious about the subject was as well acquainted as himself. It is\nnot, at the same time, pretended, that the present attempt promises\nmore than to bring together the scattered fragments to which the\nlearned historian alludes. This, however, has been done, according\nto the best of the compiler\u2019s information and abilities; and the\nresult is, with a due sense of the deficiency of both, submitted to\nthe reader\u2019s candour.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nROBIN HOOD was born at Locksley, in the county of Nottingham\u2009(2),\nin the reign of King Henry the Second, and about the year of Christ\n1160\u2009(3). His extraction was noble, and his true name ROBERT\nFITZOOTH, which vulgar pronunciation easily corrupted into ROBIN\nHOOD\u2009(4). He is frequently styled, and commonly reputed to have\nbeen, EARL OF HUNTINGDON; a title to which, in the latter part of\nhis life, at least, he actually appears to have had some sort of\npretension\u2009(5). In his youth he {iii} is reported to have been of\na wild and extravagant disposition; insomuch that, his inheritance\nbeing consumed or forfeited by his excesses, and his person\noutlawed for debt, either from necessity or choice, he sought\nan asylum in the woods and forests, with which immense tracts,\nespecially in the northern parts of the kingdom, were at that time\ncovered\u2009(6). Of these, he chiefly affected Barnsdale, in Yorkshire,\nSherwood, in Nottinghamshire, and, according to some, Plompton\nPark, in Cumberland\u2009(7). Here he either found, or was afterward\njoined by, a number of persons in similar circumstances\u2014\n\n \u201cSuch as the fury of ungovern\u2019d youth\n  Thrust from the company of awful men,\u201d\u2009(8)\n\nwho appear to have considered and obeyed him as their chief or\nleader, and of whom his principal favourites, or those in whose\ncourage and fidelity he most confided, where Little John (whose\nsurname is said to have been Nailor), William Scadlock (Scathelock\nor Scarlet), George a Green, pinder (or pound-keeper) of Wakefield,\nMuch, a miller\u2019s son, and a certain monk or frier named Tuck\u2009(9).\nHe is likewise said to have been accompanied in his retreat by a\nfemale, of whom he was enamoured, and whose real or adopted name\nwas Marian\u2009(10).\n\nHis company, in process of time, consisted of a hundred archers;\nmen, says Major, most skilful in battle, whom four times that\nnumber of the boldest fellows durst not attack\u2009(11). His manner\nof recruiting was somewhat singular; for, in the words of an {iv}\nold writer, \u201cwhersoever he hard of any that were of unusual\nstrength and \u2018hardines,\u2019 he would desgyse himselfe, and, rather\nthen fayle, go lyke a begger to become acquaynted with them; and,\nafter he had tryed them with fyghting, never give them over tyl he\nhad used means to drawe [them] to lyve after his fashion\u201d\u2009(12):\na practice of which numerous instances are recorded in the more\ncommon and popular songs, where, indeed, he seldom fails to receive\na sound beating. In shooting with the long bow, which they chiefly\npractised, \u201cthey excelled all the men of the land; though, as\noccasion required, they had also other weapons\u201d\u2009(13).\n\nIn those forests, and with this company, he for many years reigned\nlike an independent sovereign; at perpetual war, indeed, with the\nKing of England, and all his subjects, with an exception, however,\nof the poor and needy, and such as were \u201cdesolate and oppressed,\u201d\nor stood in need of his protection. When molested, by a superior\nforce in one place, he retired to another, still defying the power\nof what was called law and government, and making his enemies pay\ndearly, as well for their open attacks, as for their clandestine\ntreachery. It is not, at the same time, to be concluded that he\nmust, in this opposition, have been guilty of manifest treason or\nrebellion; as he most certainly can be justly charged with neither.\nAn outlaw, in those times, being deprived of protection, owed\nno allegiance: \u201chis hand was against every man, and every man\u2019s\nhand against him\u201d\u2009(14). {v} These forests, in short, were his\nterritories; those who accompanied and adhered to him his subjects:\n\n \u201cThe world was not his friend, nor the world\u2019s law:\u201d\n\nand what better title King Richard could pretend to the territory\nand people of England than Robin Hood had to the dominion of\nBarnsdale or Sherwood is a question humbly submitted to the\nconsideration of the political philosopher.\n\nThe deer with which the royal forests then abounded (every Norman\ntyrant being, like Nimrod, \u201ca mighty hunter before the Lord\u201d)\nwould afford our hero and his companions an ample supply of food\nthroughout the year; and of fuel, for dressing their vension, or\nfor the other purposes of life, they could evidently be in no want.\nThe rest of their necessaries would be easily procured, partly by\ntaking what they had occasion for from the wealthy passenger who\ntraversed or approached their territories, and partly by commerce\nwith the neighbouring villages or great towns.\n\nIt may be readily imagined that such a life, during great part of\nthe year, at least, and while it continued free from the alarms\nor apprehensions to which our foresters, one would suppose, must\nhave been too frequently subject, might be sufficiently pleasant\nand desirable, and even deserve the compliment which is paid to it\nby Shakespeare in his comedy of _As you like it_ (act i. scene 1),\nwhere, on Oliver\u2019s asking, \u201cWhere will the old duke live?\u201d Charles\nanswers, \u201cThey say he is already in the forest of Arden, and {vi}\na many merry men with him; and there they live like the OLD ROBIN\nHOOD OF ENGLAND;\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. and fleet the time carelessly as they did in\nthe golden world.\u201d Their gallant chief, indeed, may be presumed to\nhave frequently exclaimed with the banished Valentine, in another\nplay of the same author:[2]\n\n \u201cHow use doth breed a habit in a man!\n  This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,\n  I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:\n  Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,\n  And, to the nightingale\u2019s complaining notes,\n  Tune my distresses and record my woes.\u201d\n\nHe would doubtless, too, often find occasion to add:\n\n \u201cWhat hallooing and what stir is this to-day?\n  These are my mates, that make their wills their law,\n  Have some unhappy passenger in chace:\n  They love me well; yet I have much to do,\n  To keep them from uncivil outrages.\u201d\n\nBut, on the other hand, it will be at once difficult and painful to\nconceive,\n\n \u201c\u2015\u2015When they did hear\n  The rain and wind beat dark December, how,\n  In that their pinching cave, they could discourse\n  The freezing hours away!\u201d\u2009(15).\n\nTheir mode of life, in short, and domestic economy, of which no\nauthentic particulars have been even traditionally preserved,\nare more easily to be guessed at than described. They have,\nnevertheless, been elegantly sketched by the animating pencil of an\nexcellent though neglected poet:\u2014\n\n{vii}\n\n   \u201cThe merry pranks he play\u2019d, would ask an age to tell,\n And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befell,\n When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been laid,\n How he hath cousen\u2019d them, that him would have betray\u2019d;\n How often he hath come to Nottingham disguis\u2019d,\n And cunningly escap\u2019d, being set to be surpriz\u2019d.\n In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one,\n But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John;\n And to the end of time, the tales shall ne\u2019er be done,\n Of Scarlock, George a Green, and Much the miller\u2019s son,\n Of Tuck the merry frier, which many a sermon made\n In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.\n An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood,\n Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good,\n All clad in Lincoln green\u2009(16), with caps of red and blue,\n His fellow\u2019s winded horn not one of them but knew,\n When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill,\n The warbling ecchos wak\u2019d from every dale and hill.\n Their bauldricks set with studs, athwart their shoulders cast,\n To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast,\n A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span,\n Who struck below the knee, not counted then a man:\n All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous strong;\n They not an arrow drew, but was a cloth-yard long.\n Of archery they had the very perfect craft,\n With broad-arrow, or but, or prick, or roving shaft,\n At marks full forty score, they us\u2019d to prick, and rove,\n Yet higher than the breast, for compass never strove;\n Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win:\n At long-outs, short, and hoyles, each one could cleave the pin:\n Their arrows finely pair\u2019d, for timber, and for feather,\n With birch and brazil piec\u2019d to fly in any weather;\n And shot they with the round, the square, or forked pile,\n The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a mile.\n And of these archers brave, there was not any one,\n But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upon,\n Which they did boil and roast, in many a mighty wood,\n Sharp hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly food. {viii}\n Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he\n Slept many a summer\u2019s night under the greenwood tree.\n From wealthy abbots\u2019 chests, and churls\u2019 abundant store,\n What oftentimes he took, he shar\u2019d amongst the poor:\n No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin\u2019s way,\n To him before he went, but for his pass must pay:\n The widow in distress he graciously reliev\u2019d,\n And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin griev\u2019d:\u2009(17)\n He from the husband\u2019s bed no married woman wan,\n But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian,\n Was ever constant known, which wheresoe\u2019er she came,\n Was sovereign of the woods; chief lady of the game:\n Her clothes tuck\u2019d to the knee, and dainty braided hair,\n With bow and quiver arm\u2019d, she wander\u2019d here and there,\n Amongst the forests wild; Diana never knew\n Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew.\u201d[3]\n\nThat our hero and his companions, while they lived in the woods,\nhad recourse to robbery for their better support is neither to\nbe concealed nor to be denied. Testimonies to this purpose,\nindeed, would be equally endless and unnecessary. Fordun, in the\nfourteenth century, calls him \u201c_ille famosissimus siccarius_,\u201d\nthat most celebrated robber, and Major terms him and Little John\n\u201c_famatissimi latrones_.\u201d But it is to be remembered, according to\nthe confession of the latter historian, that, in these exertions\nof power, he took away the goods of rich men only; never killing\nany person, unless he was attacked or resisted: that he would not\nsuffer a woman to be maltreated; nor ever took anything from the\npoor, but charitably fed them with the wealth he drew from the\nabbots. I disapprove, says he, of the rapine {ix} of the man:\nbut he was the most humane and the prince of all robbers\u2009(18). In\nallusion, no doubt, to this irregular and predatory course of life,\nhe has had the honour to be compared to the illustrious Wallace,\nthe champion and deliverer of his country; and that, it is not a\nlittle remarkable, in the latter\u2019s own time\u2009(19).\n\nOur hero, indeed, seems to have held bishops, abbots, priests, and\nmonks, in a word, all the clergy, regular or secular, in decided\naversion.\n\n \u201cThese byshoppes and thyse archebyshoppes,\n  Ye shall them bete and bynde,\u201d\n\nwas an injunction carefully impressed upon his followers. The Abbot\nof Saint Mary\u2019s, in York\u2009(20), from some unknown cause, appears to\nhave been distinguished by particular animosity; and the Sheriff of\nNottinghamshire\u2009(21), who may have been too active and officious in\nhis endeavours to apprehend him, was the unremitted object of his\nvengeance.\n\nNotwithstanding, however, the aversion in which he appears to\nhave held the clergy of every denomination, he was a man of\nexemplary piety, according to the notions of that age, and retained\na domestic chaplain (Frier Tuck, no doubt) for the diurnal\ncelebration of the divine mysteries. This we learn from an anecdote\npreserved by Fordun\u2009(22), as an instance of those actions which\nthe historian allows to deserve commendation. One day, as he heard\nmass, which he was most devoutly accustomed to do (nor would {x}\nhe, in whatever necessity, suffer the office to be interrupted,)\nhe was espied by a certain sheriff and officers belonging to the\nking, who had frequently before molested him in that most secret\nrecess of the wood where he was at mass. Some of his people, who\nperceived what was going forward, advised him to fly with all\nspeed, which, out of reverence to the sacrament, which he was then\nmost devoutly worshipping, he absolutely refused to do. But the\nrest of his men having fled for fear of death, Robin, confiding\nsolely in Him whom he reverently worshipped, with a very few,\nwho by chance were present, set upon his enemies, whom he easily\nvanquished; and, being enriched with their spoils and ransom, he\nalways held the ministers of the Church and masses in greater\nveneration ever after, mindful of what is vulgarly said:\n\n \u201cHim God does surely hear\n  Who oft to th\u2019 mass gives ear.\u201d\n\nHaving, for a long series of years, maintained a sort of\nindependent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at\ndefiance, a proclamation was published\u2009(23) offering a considerable\nreward for bringing him in either dead or alive; which, however,\nseems to have been productive of no greater success than former\nattempts for that purpose. At length, the infirmities of old age\nincreasing upon him\u2009(24), and desirous to be relieved, in a fit\nof sickness, by being let blood, he applied for that purpose to\nthe Prioress of Kirkleys nunnery in Yorkshire, his {xi} relation\n(women, and particularly religious women, being, in those times,\nsomewhat better skilled in surgery than the sex is at present), by\nwhom he was treacherously suffered to bleed to death. This event\nhappened on the 18th of November 1247, being the 31st year of King\nHenry III. and (if the date assigned to his birth be correct) about\nthe 87th of his age\u2009(24). He was interred under some trees, at a\nshort distance from the house; a stone being placed over his grave,\nwith an inscription to his memory\u2009(25).\n\nSuch was the end of Robin Hood: a man who, in a barbarous age, and\nunder a complicated tyranny, displayed a spirit of freedom and\nindependence which has endeared him to the common people, whose\ncause he maintained (for all opposition to tyranny is the cause of\nthe people), and, in spite of the malicious endeavours of pitiful\nmonks, by whom history was consecrated to the crimes and follies\nof titled ruffians and sainted idiots, to suppress all record of\nhis patriotic exertions and virtuous acts, will render his name\nimmortal.\n\nWith respect to his personal character: it is sufficiently evident\nthat he was active, brave, prudent, patient; possessed of uncommon\nbodily strength and considerable military skill; just, generous,\nbenevolent, faithful, and beloved or revered by his followers\nor adherents for his excellent and amiable qualities. Fordun,\na priest, extols his piety, Major (as we have seen) pronounces\nhim the most humane and the prince of all robbers; and Camden,\nwhose testimony is of {xii} some weight, calls him \u201c_pr\u00e6donem\nmitissimum_,\u201d the gentlest of thieves. As proofs of his universal\nand singular popularity: his story and exploits have been made\nthe subject as well of various dramatic exhibitions\u2009(26), as of\ninnumerable poems, rimes, songs and ballads\u2009(27): he has given\nrise to divers proverbs\u2009(28); and to swear by him, or some of his\ncompanions, appears to have been a usual practice\u2009(29): his songs\nhave been chanted on the most solemn occasions\u2009(30); his service\nsometimes preferred to the Word of God\u2009(31): he may be regarded\nas the patron of archery\u2009(32); and, though not actually canonised\n(a situation to which the miracles wrought in his favour, as well\nin his lifetime as after his death, and the supernatural powers\nhe is, in some parts, supposed to have possessed\u2009(33), give him\nan indisputable claim), he obtained the principal distinction of\nsainthood, in having a festival allotted to him, and solemn games\ninstituted in honour of his memory, which were celebrated till the\nlatter end of the sixteenth century; not by the populace only, but\nby kings or princes and grave magistrates; and that as well in\nScotland as in England; being considered, in the former country, of\nthe highest political importance, and essential to the civil and\nreligious liberties of the people, the efforts of government to\nsuppress them frequently producing tumult and insurrection\u2009(34).\nHis bow, and one of his arrows, his chair, his cap, and one of\nhis slippers, were preserved, with peculiar veneration, till\nwithin {xiii} the present century\u2009(35); and not only places which\nafforded him security or amusement, but even the well at which he\nquenched his thirst, still retain his name\u2009(36): a name which, in\nthe middle of the present century, was conferred as a singular\ndistinction upon the prime minister to the king of Madagascar\u2009(37).\n\nAfter his death his company was dispersed\u2009(38). History is silent\nin particulars: all that we can, therefore, learn is, that the\nhonour of Little John\u2019s death and burial is contended for by\nrival nations\u2009(39); that his grave continued long \u201ccelebrous\nfor the yielding of excellent whetstones;\u201d and that some of his\ndescendants, of the name of Nailor, which he himself bore, and they\nfrom him, were in being so late as the last century\u2009(40).\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO \u201cTHE LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD\u201d, pp. i\u2013xiii\n\n\n [1] For Notes, &c., see p. xiv. _et seq._\n\n\n [2] Two Gentlemen of Verona, act v. scene 4.\n\n\n [3] Drayton\u2019s Polyolbion, song xxvi.\n\n{xiv}\n\n\n\n\nNOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS REFERRED TO IN THE FOREGOING LIFE.\n\n\n(1) _\u201cFormer biographers,\u201d &c._] Such, that is, as have already\nappeared in print, since a sort of manuscript life in the Sloane\nLibrary will appear to have been of some service. The first of\nthese respectable personages is the author, or rather compiler,\nof \u201cThe noble birth and gallant achievements of that remarkable\noutlaw Robin Hood; together with a true account of the many\nmerry extravagant exploits he played; in twelve several stories:\nnewly collected by an ingenious antiquary. London, printed by W.\nO.\u201d [William Onley], 4to, black letter, no date. These \u201cseveral\nstories,\u201d in fact, are only so many of the songs in the common\nGarland transposed; and the \u201cingenious antiquary,\u201d who strung them\ntogether, has known so little of his trade, that he sets out with\ninforming us of his hero\u2019s banishment by King Henry the Eighth. The\nabove is supposed to be the \u201csmall merry book\u201d called Robin Hood,\nmentioned in a list of \u201cbooks, ballads, and histories, printed for\nand sold by William Thackeray at the Angel in Duck-lane\u201d (about\n1680), preserved in one of the volumes of old ballads (part of\nBagford\u2019s collection) in the British Museum.\n\nAnother piece of biography, from which much will not be expected,\nis \u201cThe lives and heroick atchievements of the renowned Robin Hood\nand James Hind, two noted robbers and highwaymen. London, 1752.\u201d\n8vo. This, however, is probably nothing more than an extract from\nJohnson\u2019s \u201cLives of the Highwaymen,\u201d in which, as a specimen of the\nauthors historical authenticity, we have the life and actions of\nthat noted robber, Sir John Falstaff.\n\n[Illustration: KIRKLEY HALL.]\n\n[Illustration: KIRKLEY HALL.]\n\n{xv}\n\nThe principal if not sole reason why our hero is never once\nmentioned by Matthew Paris, Benedictus Abbas, or any other\nancient English historian, was most probably his avowed enmity to\nchurchmen; and history, in former times, was written by none but\nmonks. They were unwilling to praise the actions which they durst\nneither misrepresent nor deny. Fordun and Major, however, being\nforeigners, have not been deterred by this professional spirit from\nrendering homage to his virtues.\n\n\n(2)\u2005\u2014\u201c_was born at Locksley, in the county of Nottingham._\u201d] \u201cRobin\nHood,\u201d says a MS. in the British Museum (Bib. Sloan. 715), written,\nas it seems, toward the end of the sixteenth century, \u201cwas borne at\nLockesley in Yorkshyre, or after others in Nottinghamshire.\u201d The\nwriter here labours under manifest ignorance and confusion, but the\nfirst row of the rubric will set him right:\n\n \u201cIn Locksly town, in merry Nottinghamshire,\n    In merry sweet Locksly town,\n  There bold Robin Hood was born and was bred,\n    Bold Robin of famous renown.\u201d[4]\n\nDr. Fuller (Worthies of England, 1662, p. 320) is doubtful as to\nthe place of his nativity. Speaking of the \u201cMemorable Persons\u201d of\nNottinghamshire, \u201cRobert Hood,\u201d says he, \u201c(if not by birth) by his\nchief abode this country-man.\u201d\n\nThe name of such a town as Locksley, or Loxley (for so we sometimes\nfind it spelled), in the county of Nottingham or of York, does\nnot, it must be confessed, occur either in Sir Henry Spelman\u2019s\nVillare Anglicum. in Adams\u2019s Index Villaris, in Whatley\u2019s England\u2019s\nGazetteer,[5] in Thoroton\u2019s History of Nottinghamshire, or in the\nNomina Villarum Eboracensium (York, 1768, 8vo). The silence of\nthese authorities is not, however, to be regarded as a conclusive\nproof that such a place never existed. The names of towns and\nvillages, of which no trace is now to be found but in ancient\nwritings, would fill a volume.\n\n{xvi}\n\n\n(3)\u2005\u2014\u201c_in the reign of King Henry the Second, and about the year\nof Christ 1160._\u201d] \u201cRobin Hood,\u201d according to the Sloane MS., \u201cwas\nborne .\u00a0.\u00a0. in the dayes of Henry the 2nd, about the yeare 1160.\u201d\nThis was the 6th year of that monarch; at whose death (anno 1189)\nhe would, of course, be about 29 years of age. Those writers are\ntherefore pretty correct who represent him as playing his pranks\n(Dr. Fuller\u2019s phrase) in the reign of King Richard the First, and,\naccording to the last-named author, \u201cabout the year of our Lord\n1200.\u201d[6] Thus Mair (who is followed by Stowe, Annales, 1592, p.\n227), \u201cCirca h\u00e6c tempora [sci. Ricardi I.] ut auguror,\u201d &c. A MS.\nnote in the Museum (Bib. Har. 1233), not, in Mr. Wanley\u2019s opinion,\nto be relied on, places him in the same period, \u201cTemp. Rich. I.\u201d\nNor is Fordun altogether out of his reckoning in bringing him down\nto the time of Henry III., as we shall hereafter see; and with him\nagrees Andrew of Wyntowne, in his \u201cOryginale Cronykil,\u201d written\nabout 1420, which, at the year 1283, has the following lines:\n\n \u201cLytil Jhon and Robyne Hude\n  Wayth-men were commendyd gud:\n  In Yngil-wode and Barnysdale\n  Thai oysyd all this tyme thare trawale.\u201d\n\nA modern writer (History of Whitby, by Lionel Charlton, York, 1779,\n4to), though of no authority in this point, has done well enough to\nspeak of him as living \u201cin the days of abbot Richard and Peter his\nsuccessor;\u201d that is, between the years 1176 and 1211. The author\nof the two plays upon the story of our hero, of which a particular\naccount will be hereafter given, makes him contemporary with King\nRichard, who, as well as his brother Prince John, is introduced\nupon the scene; which is confirmed by another play, quoted in Note\n5. Warner, also, in his Albion\u2019s England, 1602, p. 132, refers his\nexistence to \u201cbetter daies, first Richard\u2019s daies.\u201d This, to be\nsure, may not be such evidence as would be sufficient to decide the\npoint in a court of justice; but neither judge nor counsel will\ndispute {xvii} the authority of that oracle of the law Sir Edward\nCoke, who pronounces that \u201cThis Robert Hood lived in the reign of\nKing R. I.\u201d (3 Institute, 197).\n\nWe must not therefore regard what is said by such writers as the\nauthor of \u201cGeorge a Greene, the pinner of Wakefield,\u201d 1599 (see\nNote 9), who represents our hero as contemporary with King Edward\nIV.,[7] and the compiler of a foolish book called \u201cThe noble birth,\n&c. of Robin Hood\u201d (see Note 1), who commences it by informing us\nof his banishment by King Henry VIII. As well, indeed, might we\nsuppose him to have lived before the time of Charlemagne, because\nSir John Harington, in his translation of the Orlando Furioso,\n1590, p. 391, has made\n\n \u201cDuke \u2019Ammon in great wrath thus wise to speake:\n  This is a Tale indeed of Robin Hood,\n  Which to beleeve, might show my wits but weake;\u201d\n\nor to imagine his story must have been familiar to Plutarch,\nbecause in his Morals, translated by Dr. Philemon Holland, 1603, p.\n644, we read the following passage:\u2014\u201cEvenso [_i.e._ as the crane\nand fox serve each other in \u00c6sop], when learned men at a table\nplunge and drowne themselves (as it were), in subtile problemes and\nquestions interlaced with logicke, which the vulgar sort are not\nable for their lives to comprehend and conceive; whiles they also\nagaine for their part come in with their foolish songs, and vain\nballads of Robin-Hood and Little John, telling tales of a tubbe, or\nof a roasted horse, and such like.\u201d Who, indeed, would be apt to\nthink that his skill in archery was known to Virgil? And yet, as\ninterpreted by our facetious friend Mr. Charles Cotton, he tells us\nthat\n\n \u201cCupid was a little tyny,\n  Cogging, lying, peevish nynny;\n  But with a bow the shit-breecht elf\n  Would shoot like Robin Hood himself.\u201d\n\nIn a word, if we are to credit translators, he must have {xviii}\nexisted before the siege of Troy; for thus, according to one of\nHomer\u2019s:\n\n \u201cThen came a choice companion\n  Of Robin Hood and Little John,\n  Who many a buck and many a doe,\n  In Sherwood forest, with his bow,\n  Had nabb\u2019d; believe me it is true, sir,\n  The fellow\u2019s Christian name was Teucer.\u201d\n\n                          _Iliad_, by Bridges, 4to, p. 231.[8]\n\nThis last supposition, indeed, has even the respectable countenance\nof Dan Geoffrey Chaucer:\n\n \u201cPandarus answerde, it may be well inough,\n  And held with him of all that ever he saied,\n  But in his hart he thought, and soft lough,\n  And to himselfe full soberly he saied,\n  From hasellwood there Jolly Robin plaied,\n  Shall come all that thou abidest here,\n  Ye, farewell all the snow of ferne yere.\u201d\n\n                     _Troilus_ (B. 5), Speght\u2019s edition, 1602.\n\n\n(4) \u201c_His extraction was noble, and his true name Robert\nFitzooth._\u201d] In \u201can olde and auncient pamphlet,\u201d which Grafton\nthe chronicler had seen, it was written that \u201cThis man discended\nof a noble parentage.\u201d The Sloane MS. says \u201cHe was of .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\nparentage;\u201d and though the material word is illegible, the sense\nevidently requires noble. So, likewise, the Harleian note: \u201cIt is\nsaid that he was of noble blood.\u201d Leland also has expressly termed\nhim \u201cnobilis\u201d (Collectanea, i. 54). The following account of his\nfamily will be found sufficiently particular. Ralph Fitzothes,\nor Fitzooth, a Norman, who had come over to England with William\nRufus, married Maud or Matilda, daughter of Gilbert de Gaunt, Earl\nof Kyme and Lindsey, by whom he had two sons: Philip, afterward\nEarl of Kyme, that earldom being part of his mother\u2019s dowry, and\nWilliam. Philip the elder died without issue; William was a ward to\nRobert de Vere, Earl of Oxford, in whose household he received his\neducation, and who, by the king\u2019s express command, gave {xix} him\nin marriage to his own niece, the youngest of the three daughters\nof the celebrated Lady Roisia de Vere, daughter of Aubrey de Vere,\nEarl of Guisnes in Normandy, and lord high chamberlain of England\nunder Henry I., and of Adeliza, daughter to Richard de Clare, Earl\nof Clarence and Hertford, by Payn de Beauchamp, baron of Bedford,\nher second husband. The offspring of this marriage was our hero,\nRobert Fitzooth, commonly called Robin Hood. (See Stukeley\u2019s\nPal\u00e6ographia Britannica, No. I. passim.)\n\nA writer in the Gentleman\u2019s Magazine for March 1793, under the\nsignature D. H.,[9] pretends that Hood is only a corruption of\n\u201co\u2019 th\u2019 wood, q.d. of Sherwood.\u201d This, to be sure, is an absurd\nconceit; but, if the name were a matter of conjecture, it might\nbe probably enough referred to some particular sort of hood\nour hero wore by way of distinction or disguise. See Scot\u2019s\nDiscoverie of Witchcraft, 1584, p. 522. In Jonson\u2019s masque of \u201cThe\nking\u2019s entertainment at Welbeck\u201d (Works, 1756, vii. 53), certain\ncharacters are introduced \u201cin livery hoods,\u201d of whom Fitz-ale says,\n\n \u201cSix hoods they are, and of the blood,\n  They tell of ancient Robin Hood.\u201d\n\nIt may be remembered that Hugh _Capet_, the first king of France\nof the third and last race, obtained that surname from a similar\ncircumstance. It is unnecessary to add that Hood is a common\nsurname at this day, as well as a place in Yorkshire, formerly\n_Hode_; and that Edward the Third, in the tenth year of his reign,\nconfirmed to Thomas, the son of _Robert de Hode_, of Hoveden, in\ntail-general, certain places of moorland, _&c._ _in vasto de_\nIncklesmore, _&c._ (Ro. Pa. 10 E. 3. m. 31).\n\n\n(5) \u201c_He is frequently styled .\u00a0.\u00a0. Earl of Huntingdon, a title\nto which, for the latter part of his life at least, he actually\nappears to have had some sort of pretension._\u201d] In Grafton\u2019s \u201colde\nand auncient pamphlet,\u201d though the author had, as already noticed,\nsaid \u201cthis man discended of a NOBLE PARENTAGE,\u201d he adds, \u201cor\nrather beyng of a base stocke {xx} and linage, was for his manhood\nand chivalry advaunced to the noble dignitie of an ERLE.\u201d\n\nIn the MS. note (Bib. Har. 1233) is the following passage: \u201cIt is\nsaid that he was of noble blood no lesse then an earle.\u201d Warner,\nin his Albion\u2019s England, already cited, calls him \u201ca county.\u201d The\ntitles of Mundy\u2019s two plays are: \u201cThe downfall\u201d and \u201cThe death of\nRobert earle of Huntington.\u201d He is likewise introduced in that\ncharacter in the same author\u2019s Metropolis Coronata, hereafter\ncited. In his epitaph we shall find him expressly styled \u201cRobert,\nEarl of Huntingtun.\u201d\n\nIn \u201cA pleasant commodie called Looke about you,\u201d printed in 1600,\nour hero is introduced, and performs a principal part. He is\nrepresented as the young Earl of Huntington, and in ward to Prince\nRichard, though his brother Henry, the young king, complains of his\nhaving \u201chad wrong about his wardship.\u201d He is described as\n\n \u201cA gallant youth, a proper gentleman;\u201d\n\nand is sometimes called \u201cpretty earle\u201d and \u201clittle wag.\u201d One of the\ncharacters thus addresses him:\n\n \u201cBut welcome, welcome, and young Huntington,\n  Sweet Robyn Hude, honor\u2019s best flowing bloome,\u201d\n\nand calls him\n\n             \u201c\u2015\u2015an honourable youth,\n Vertuous and modest, Huntington\u2019s right heyre.\u201d\n\nIt is also said that\n\n \u201cHis father Gilbert was the smoothst fac\u2019t lord\n  That ere bare armes in England or in Fraunce.\u201d\n\nIn one scene, \u201cEnter Richard and Robert with coronets.\u201d\n\n  \u201c_Rich._ Richard the Prince of England, with his ward,\n The noble Robert Hood, earle Huntington,\n Present their service to your majestie.\u201d\n\nDr. Percy\u2019s objection, that the most ancient poems make no mention\nof this earldom,[10] but only call him a yeoman, will be considered\nin another place. How he founded his pretensions to this title will\nbe seen in his pedigree. Here it is. {xxi}\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTHE PEDIGREE OF ROBIN HOOD EARL OF HUNTINGTON.\u201d]\n\n[Transcriber\u2019s Note] The following is a Distributed Proofreaders\ntranscription of the pedigree chart printed in the original book.\n\n 1 Richard Fitzgilbert de Clare, earl of Brien; m. Roisia.\n\n   11 Robert Fitzgilbert; m. Alice (22).\n\n   12 Roisia; m. Gilbert de Gaunt, earl of Kyme and Lindsey came in\n   with the conquerer.\n\n     121 Walter de Gaunt earl of Lindsey.\n\n       1211 Gilbert de Gaunt earl of Lincoln; m. Avis dau. and heir of\n       William de Romara e. of Lincoln.\n\n         12111 Alice heiress; m. Simon S. lis III. earl of Huntingdon\n         and Northton (2121). ob. s. p 1184.\n\n     122 Maud; m. Ralf Fitzooth a Norman, lord of Kyme.\n\n       1221 Philip Fitzooth, lord of Kyme, ob. s. p.\n\n       1222 William Fitzooth, brought up by Robert earl of Oxford; m. a\n       daughter of Payn Beauchamp and lady Roisia de Vere.\n\n         12221 ROBERT FITZOOTH, commonly called ROBIN HOOD, pretended\n         earl of Hun\u00adting\u00adton, ob. 1274 [1247].[11]\n\n 2 I. Waltheof earl of Northumberland and Hun\u00adting\u00adton; m. Judith\n countess of Hun\u00adting\u00adton, the conqueror\u2019s niece.\n\n   21 Maud; m. II. Simon de S. lis I. earl of Northampton and\n   Huntingdon; m. III. David I. king of Scots, earl of Huntingdon;\n\n     211 IV. Henry earl of Northumberland and Huntingdon; son of Maud\n     and David; m. Ada daughter of William earl of Warren.\n\n       2111 VI. Malcolm IV. king of Scots, earl of Northumberland and\n       Huntingdon.\n\n       2112 VII. William earl of Huntingdon.\n\n       2113 IX. David earl of \u201cCarrick\u201d and Huntingdon, son of Henry\n       IV. (above) earl and of Ada. ob. 1219.\n\n         21131 X. John sirnamed Scot his son, earl of Angus and\n         Huntingdon, ob. s. p. 1237.\n\n     212 V. Simon S. lis II.; son of Simon and Maud; m. Isabel dau. of\n     Robert Bossu earl of Leicester.\n\n       2121 VIII. Simon S. lis III. earl of Huntingdon and Northton.\n       ob. s. P. 1184; m. Alice heiress (12111).\n\n   22 Alice; m. Robert Fizgilbert (11), son of Richard Fitzgilbert and\n   Roisia.\n\n[End Transcriber\u2019s Note]\n\n{xxii}\n\n\n(6) _\u201cIn his youth he is reported to have been of a wild and\nextravagant disposition,\u201d &c._] Grafton\u2019s pamphlet, after supposing\nhim to have been \u201cadvaunced to the noble dignitie of an erle,\u201d\ncontinued thus: \u201cBut afterwardes he so prodigally exceeded in\ncharges and expences, that he fell into great debt, by reason\nwhereof, so many actions and sutes were commenced against him\nwhereunto he answered not, that by {xxiii} order of lawe he was\noutlawed.\u201d[12] Leland must undoubtedly have had good authority for\ncalling him \u201cnobilis ille exlex.\u201d[13] Fordun supposes him in the\nnumber of those deprived of their estates by King Henry III. \u201cHoc\nintempore,\u201d says he, \u201cde exheredatis surrexit & caput erexit ille\nfamosissimus siccarius Robertus Hode & littill Johanne cum eorum\ncomplicibus\u201d (p. 774). The Sloane MS. says he was \u201cso ryotous that\nhe lost or sould his patrimony & for debt became an outlawe;\u201d\nand the Harleian note mentions his \u201chaving wasted his estate in\nriotous courses.\u201d The former authority, however, gives a different,\nthough, it may be, less credible, account of his being obliged to\nabscond. It is as follows: \u201cOne of his first exployts was the\ngoing abrode into a forrest & bearing with him a bowe of exceeding\ngreat strength, he fell into company with certayne rangers or\nwoodmen, who fell to quarrel with him, as making showe to use such\na bowe as no man was able to shoote withall. Whereto Robin replyed\nthat he had two better then that at Lockesley, only he bare that\nwith him nowe as a byrding bowe. At length the \u2018contention\u2019 grewe\nso hote that there was a wager layd about the kyllyng of a deere a\ngreate distance of, for performance whereof Robin offered to lay\nhis head to a certayne some of money, the advantage of which rash\nspeach the others presently tooke. So the marke being found out,\none of them, both to make his hart faynt and hand unsteady, as he\nwas about to shoote urged him with the losse of head if he myst the\nmarke. Notwithstanding Robyn kyld the deare, and gave every man his\n{xxiv} money agayne, save to him which at the poynt of shooting so\nupbraided him with danger to loose his hed for that wager; & he\nsayd they would drinke togeyther: whereupon the others stomached\nthe matter and from quarelling they grewe to fighting with him. But\nRobin, getting him somewhat of, with shooting dispatch them, and so\nfled away; and then betaking himselfe to lyve in the woods,\u201d &c.[14]\n\nThat he lurked or infested the woods is agreed by all. \u201cCirca h\u00e6c\ntempora,\u201d says Major, \u201cRobertus Hudus Anglus & parvus Joannes,\nlatrones famatissimi, in nemoribus latuerunt.\u201d\n\nDr. Stukeley says that \u201cRobin Hood took to this wild way of life\nin imitation of his grandfather Geoffrey de Mandeville, who being\na favorer of Maud empress, King Stephen took him prisoner at S.\nAlbans, and made him give up the tower of London, Walden, Plessis,\n&c., upon which he lived on plunder\u201d (MS. note in his copy of Robin\nHood\u2019s Garland).\n\n\n(7) _\u201cOf these, he chiefly affected Barnsdale,\u201d &c._] \u201cAlong on\nthe lift hond,\u201d says Leland, \u201ca iii. miles of betwixt Milburne and\nFeribridge I saw the wooddi and famose forrest of Barnesdale, wher\nthay say that Robyn Hudde lyvid like an outlaw\u201d (Itinerary, v. 101).\n\n\u201cThey haunted about Barnsdale forrest, Compton [r. Plompton]\nparke,[15] and such other places\u201d (MS. Sloane).\n\n\u201cHis principal residence,\u201d says Fuller, \u201cwas in Shirewood forrest\nin this county [Notts], though he had another haunt (he is no\nfox that hath but one hole) near the sea in the North Riding in\nYorkshire, where Robin Hood\u2019s Bay still retaineth his name: not\nthat he was any pirat, but a land-thief, who retreated to those\nunsuspected parts for his security\u201d (Worthies of England, p. 320).\n{xxv}\n\nIn Thoroton\u2019s Nottinghamshire, p. 505, is some account of the\nancient and present state of Sherwood forest; but one looks in\nvain through that dry detail of land-owners for any particulars\nrelating to our hero. \u201cIn anno domini 1194, King Richard the First,\nbeing a hunting in the forrest of Sherwood, did chase a hart out of\nthe forrest of Sherwood into Barnesdale in Yorkshire, and because\nhe could not there recover him, he made proclamation at Tickill\nin Yorkshire, and at divers other places there, that no person\nshould kill, hurt, or chase the said hart, but that he might safely\nretorne into forrest againe, which hart was afterwards called a\nhart-royall proclaimed\u201d (Manwood\u2019s Forest Laws, 1598, p. 25, from\n\u201can auncient recorde\u201d found by him in the tower of Nottingham\nCastle).[16]\n\n\n(8) _\u201cHere he either found,\u201d &c._] After being outlawed, Grafton\ntells us, \u201cfor a lewde shift, as his last refuge, [he] gathered\ntogether a companye of roysters and cutters, and practised\nrobberyes and spoyling of the kinges subjects, and occupied and\nfrequented the forestes or wild countries.\u201d See also the following\nnote.\n\n\n(9) \u201c_Little John, William Scadlock, George a Green, pinder of\nWakefield, Much a miller\u2019s son, and a certain monk or frier named\nTuck._\u201d] Of these, the pre-eminence is incontestably due to Little\nJohn, whose name is almost constantly coupled with that of his\ngallant leader. \u201cRobertus Hode & littill Johanne,\u201d are mentioned\ntogether by Fordun as early as 1341; and later instances of the\nconnection would be almost endless. After the words, \u201cfor debt\nbecame an {xxvi} outlaw,\u201d the Sloane MS. adds: \u201cthen joyninge to\nhim many stout fellowes of lyke disposition, amongst whom one\ncalled Little John was principal or next to him, they haunted about\nBarnsdale forrest,\u201d &c. See Notes 39, 40.\n\nWith respect to Frier Tuck, \u201cthogh some say he was an other kynd\nof religious man, for that the order of freyrs was not yet sprung\nup\u201d (MS. Sloan.), yet as the Dominican friers (or friers preachers)\ncame into England in the year 1221, upward of twenty years before\nthe death of Robin Hood, and several orders of these religious had\nflourished abroad for some time, there does not seem much weight\nin that objection: nor, in fact, can one pay much regard to the\nterm frier, as it seems to have been the common title given by\nthe vulgar (more especially after the Reformation) to all the\nregular clergy, of which the friers were at once the lowest and\nmost numerous. If Frier Tuck be the same person who, in one of the\noldest songs, is called the curtail frier of Fountains-dale, he\nmust necessarily have been one of the monks of that abbey, which\nwas of the Cistercian order. However this may be, Frier Tuck is\nfrequently noticed by old writers as one of the companions of Robin\nHood, and as such was an essential character in the morris-dance\n(see Note 34). He is thus mentioned by Skelton, laureat, in his\n\u201cgoodly interlude\u201d of Magnificence, written about the year 1500,\nand with an evident allusion to some game or practice now totally\nforgotten and inexplicable:\n\n \u201cAnother bade shave halfe my berde,\n  And boyes to the pylery gan me plucke,\n  And wolde have made me freer Tucke,\n  To preche oute of the pylery hole.\u201d\n\nIn the year 1417, as Stow relates, \u201cone, by his counterfeite name,\ncalled Frier Tucke, with manie other malefactors, committed many\nrobberies in the counties of Surrey & Sussex, whereupon the king\nsent out his writs for their apprehension\u201d (Annales, 1592).\n\nGeorge a Green is George o\u2019 the green, meaning perhaps the\ntown-green, in which the pound or pinfold stood of which he had the\ncare. He has been particularly celebrated, and {xxvii} \u201cAs good as\nGeorge a Green\u201d is still a common saying.[17] Drayton, describing\nthe progress of the river Calder, in the West Riding of Yorkshire,\nhas the following lines:\n\n \u201cIt chanc\u2019d she in her course on \u2018Kirkley\u2019 cast her eye,\n  Where merry Robin Hood, that honest thief, doth lie;\n  Beholding fitly too before how Wakefield stood,\n  She doth not only think of lusty Robin Hood,\n  But of his merry man, the pindar of the town\n  Of Wakefield, George a Green, whose fames so far are blown\n  For their so valiant fight, that every freeman\u2019s song\n  Can tell you of the same; quoth she, be talk\u2019d on long,\n  For ye were merry lads, and those were merry days.\u201d\n\nThus, too, Richard Brathwayte, in his poetical epistle \u201cto\nall true-bred northerne sparks of the generous society of the\nCottoneers\u201d (Strappado for the Divell, 1615):\n\n \u201cBut haste, my muse, in colours to display\n  Some auncient customes in their high-roade way,\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  At least such places labour to make knowne\n  As former times have honour\u2019d with renowne.\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  The first whereof that I intend to show\n  Is merry Wakefield, and her pindar too,\n  Which fame hath blaz\u2019d with all that did belong,\n  Unto that towne in many gladsome song,\n  The pindar\u2019s valour, and how firme he stood\n  In th\u2019 townes defence \u2019gainst th\u2019 rebel Robin Hood,\n  How stoutly he behav\u2019d himselfe, and would,\n  In spite of Robin, bring his horse to th\u2019 fold,\n  His many May-games which were to be seene\n  Yearly presented upon Wakefield greene,\n  Where lovely Jugge and lustie Tib would go,\n  To see Tom-lively turne upon the toe;\n  Hob, Lob, and Crowde the fidler would be there,\n  And many more I will not speake of here.\n  Good God! how glad hath been this hart of mine,\n  To see that towne, which hath, in former time,\n  So flourish\u2019d and so gloried in her name,\n  Famous by th\u2019 pindar who first rais\u2019d the same!\n  Yea, I have paced ore that greene and ore\n  And th\u2019 more I saw\u2019t I tooke delight the more, {xxviii}\n  For where we take contentment in a place,\n  A whole daies walke seemes as a cinquepace.\n  Yet as there is no solace upon earth\n  Which is attended evermore with mirth,\n  But when we are transported most with gladnesse,\n  Then suddenly our joy\u2019s reduc\u2019d to sadnesse;\n  So far\u2019d with me to see the pindar gone,\n  And of those jolly laddes that were not one\n  Left to survive: I griev\u2019d more then Ile say:\n  (But now for Bradford I must hast away).\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Unto thy task, my muse, and now make knowne\n  The jolly shoo-maker of Bradford towne,\n  His gentle craft so rais\u2019d in former time\n  By princely journey-men his discipline,\n  Where he was wont with passengers to quaffe,\n  But suffer none to carry up their staffe\n  Upon their shoulders, whilst they past through town,\n  For if they did he soon would beat them downe;\n  (So valiant was the souter) and from hence\n  Twixt Robin Hood and him grew th\u2019 difference;\n  Which, cause it is by most stage-poets writ,\n  For brevity I thought good to omit.\u201d\n\nIn the latter part of this extract, honest Richard evidently\nalludes to \u201cA pleasant conceyted comedie of George a Greene, the\npinner of Wakefield; as it was sundry times acted by the servants\nof the right honourable the earle of Sussex,\u201d 1599, 4to, which\nhas been erroneously ascribed to Heywood the epigrammatist, and\nis reprinted, with other trash, in the late edition of Dodsley\u2019s\nOld Plays; only it unluckily happens that Robin Hood is almost the\nonly person who has no difference with the souter (or shoemaker) of\nBradford. The play, in short (or at least that part of it which we\nhave any concern with), is founded on the ballad of Robin Hood and\nthe Pinder of Wakefield (see part ii. song 3), which it directly\nquotes, and is, in fact, a most despicable performance.[18] King\nEdward (the Fourth) having taken King James of Scotland prisoner,\nafter a most bloody battle near Middleham Castle, from which of\n30,000 Scots not 5000 had escaped, comes with his royal captive in\ndisguise to Bradford, where they {xxix} meet Robin Hood and George\na Green, who have just had a stout affray: and after having read\nthis, and a great deal more such nonsensical stuff, Captain Grose\nsagaciously \u201csupposes that this play has little or no foundation\nin history;\u201d and very gravely sits down and debates his opinion in\nform.\n\n\u201cThe history of George a Green, pindar of the town of Wakefield,\u201d\n4to, no date,[19] is a modern production, chiefly founded on the\nold play just mentioned, of neither authority nor merit.\n\nOur gallant pinder is thus facetiously commemorated by Drunken\nBarnaby:\n\n \u201cHinc diverso cursu, sero\n  Quod audissem de pindero\n  Wakefeeldensi; gloria mundi,\n  Ubi socii sunt jucundi,\n  Mecum statui peragrare\n  Georgii fustem visitare.\u201d\n\n \u201cTurning thence, none could me hinder\n  To salute the Wakefield pindar;\n  Who indeed is the world\u2019s glory,\n  With his comrades never sorry.\n  This was the cause, lest you should miss it,\n  George\u2019s club I meant to visit.\u201d\n\n \u201cVeni Wakefield peram\u00e6num,\n  Ubi qu\u00e6rens Georgium Greenum,\n  Non inveni, sed in lignum\n  Fixum reperi Georgii signum,\n  Ubi allam bibi feram\n  Donec Georgio fortior eram.\u201d\n\n \u201cStrait at Wakefield I was seen a,\n  Where I sought for George a Green a;\n  But could find not such a creature,\n  Yet on a sign I saw his feature,\n  Where strength of ale had so much stir\u2019d me,\n  That I grew stouter far than Jordie.\u201d\n\nBesides the companions of our hero enumerated in the text, and\nwhose names are most celebrated and familiar, we find those of\nWilliam of Goldsbrough (mentioned by Grafton), Right-hitting Brand\n(by Mundy), and Gilbert with the white {xxx}\n\nhand, who is thrice named in the Lyttell Geste of Robyn Hode (i.\n52, 71), and is likewise noticed by Bishop Gawin Douglas in his\nPalice of Honour, printed at Edinburgh in 1579, but written before\n1518:\n\n \u201cThair saw I Maitlaind upon auld Beird Gray,\n  Robene Hude, and Gilbert with the quhite hand,\n  How Hay of Nauchton slew, in Madin land.\u201d[20]\n\nAs no mention is made of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William\nof Cloudeslie, either in the ancient legend or in more than one of\nthe numerous songs of Robin Hood, nor does the name of the latter\nonce occur in the old metrical history of those famous archers\nreprinted in Percy\u2019s Reliques, and among pieces of ancient popular\npoetry, it is to be concluded that they flourished at different\nperiods, or at least had no connection with each other. In a poem,\nhowever, intitled, \u201cAdam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and young\nWilliam of Cloudesley, the second part,\u201d 1616, 4to, b. l. (Bib.\nBod. Art. L. 71, being a more modern copy than that in Selden C.\n39, which wants the title, but was probably printed with the first\npart, which it there accompanies, in 1605; differing considerably\ntherefrom in several places, and containing many additional\nverses), are the following lines (not in the former copy):\n\n \u201cNow beare thy father\u2019s heart, my boy,\n     Said William of Cloudesley then,\n When i was young i car\u2019d not for\n     The brags of sturdiest men.\n The pinder of Wakefield, George a Green,\n     I try\u2019d a sommer\u2019s day,\n Yet he nor i were victors made\n     Nor victor\u2019d went away.\n Old Robin Hood, nor Little John,\n     Amongst their merry men all,\n Nor fryer Tuck, so stout and young,\n     My courage could appall.\u201d\n\n\n(10) \u201c_Marian._\u201d] Who or whatever this lady was, it is observable\nthat no mention of her occurs either in the Lytell Geste of Robyn\nHode, or in any other poem or song {xxxi} concerning him, except\nthe not very old ballad of Robin Hood\u2019s Golden Prize, where she is\nbarely named, and a still more modern one of no merit (see part ii.\nsong 24).[21] She is an important character, however, in the two\nold plays of The death and downfall of Robert earl of Huntington,\nwritten before 1600, and is frequently mentioned by dramatic or\nother writers about that period. Her presence, likewise, was\nconsidered as essential to the morris-dance. See Note 34.\n\nIn the _First Part of King Henry IV._ Falstaff says to the hostess,\n\u201cThere\u2019s no more faith in thee than in a stew\u2019d prune; nor no more\ntruth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian\nmay be the deputy\u2019s wife of the ward to thee;\u201d upon which Dr.\nJohnson observes, that \u201cMaid Marian is a man dressed like a woman,\nwho attends the dancers of the morris.\u201d \u201cIn the ancient songs of\nRobin Hood,\u201d says Percy, \u201cfrequent mention is made of Maid Marian,\nwho appears to have been his concubine. I could quote,\u201d adds he,\n\u201cmany passages in my old MS. to this purpose, but shall produce\nonly one:[22]\n\n \u2018Good Robin Hood was living then,\n     Which now is quite forgot,\n  And so was fayre Maid Marian,\u2019 &c.\u201d\n\nMr. Steevens, too, after citing the old play of \u201cThe downfall of\nRobert earl of Huntington,\u201d 1601, to prove \u201cthat Maid Marian was\noriginally a name assumed by Matilda, the daughter of Robert, Lord\nFitzwater, while Robin Hood remained in a state of outlawry,\u201d\nobserves, that \u201cShakespeare speaks of Maid Marian in her degraded\nstate, when she was {xxxii} represented by a strumpet or a clown;\u201d\nand refers to figure 2 in the plate at the end of the play, with\nMr. Tollet\u2019s observations on it. The widow, in Sir W. Davenant\u2019s\n\u201cLove and Honour,\u201d says, \u201cI have been Mistress Marian in a maurice\nere now;\u201d and Mr. Warton[23] quotes an old piece, entitled \u201cOld\nMeg of Herefordshire for a Maid Marian, and Hereford town for a\nmorris-dance: or 12 morris-dancers in Herefordshire of 1200 years\nold,\u201d London, 1609, 4to, which is dedicated, he says, to one Hall,\na celebrated tabourer in that country.[24] See Note 34.\n\n\n(11) _\u201cHis company,\u201d &c._] See the entire passage quoted from Major\nin a subsequent note. \u201cBy such bootyes as he could get,\u201d says the\nwriter of the Sloane MS., \u201chis company encreast to an hundred and a\nhalfe.\u201d\n\n\n(12) _\u2014\u201cthe words of an old writer.\u201d_] The author of the Sloane\nmanuscript; which adds: \u201cafter such maner he procured the pynner\nof Wakefeyld to become one of his company, and a freyr called\nMuchel [r. Tuck] .\u202f.\u202f. Scarlock he induced upon this occasion: one\nday meeting him as he walket solitary & like to a man forlorne,\nbecause a mayd to whom he was affyanced was taken from [him] by the\nviolence of her frends, & given to another that was old & welthy,\nwhereupon Robin, understanding when the maryage-day should be,\ncame to the church as a begger, & having his own company not far\nof, which came in so soone as they hard {xxxiii} the sound of his\nhorne, he tooke the bryde perforce from him that [bare] in hand\nto have marryed her, & caused the preist to wed her & Scarlocke\ntogeyther.\u201d (See part ii. song 8.) This MS., of which great part\nis merely the old legend or Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode turned into\nprose, appears to have been written before the year 1600.\n\n\n(13) _\u201cIn shooting,\u201d &c._] MS. Sloan. Grafton also speaks of our\nhero\u2019s \u201cexcellyng principally in archery or shooting, his manly\ncourage agreeyng thereunto.\u201d\n\nTheir archery, indeed, was unparalleled, as both Robin Hood and\nLittle John have frequently shot an arrow a measured mile, or 1760\nyards, which it is supposed no one, either before or since, was\never able to do. \u201cTradition,\u201d says Master Charlton, \u201cinforms us\nthat in one of \u2018Robin Hood\u2019s\u2019 peregrinations, he, attended by his\ntrusty mate Little John, went to dine [at Whitby Abbey] with the\nabbot Richard, who, having heard them often famed for their great\ndexterity in shooting with the long bow, begged them after dinner\nto shew him a specimen thereof; when, to oblige the abbot, they\nwent up to the top of the abbey, whence each of them shot an arrow,\nwhich fell not far from Whitby-laths, but on the contrary side of\nthe lane; and in memorial thereof, a pillar was set up by the abbot\nin the place where each of the arrows was found, which are yet\nstanding in these our days; that field where the pillar for Robin\nHood\u2019s arrow stands being still called Robin Hood\u2019s field, and the\nother where the pillar for Little John\u2019s arrow is placed, still\npreserving the name of John\u2019s field. Their distance from Whitby\nAbbey is more than a measured mile, which seems very far for the\nflight of an arrow, and is a circumstance that will stagger the\nfaith of many; but as to the credibility of the story, every reader\nmay judge thereof as he thinks proper; only I must here beg leave\nto observe that these very pillars are mentioned, and the fields\ncalled by the aforesaid names, in the old deeds for that ground,\nnow in the possession of Mr. Thomas Watson\u201d (History of Whitby,\nYork, 1779, p. 146).[25] {xxxiv}\n\nDr. Meredith Hanmer, in his Chronicle of Ireland (p. 179), speaking\nof Little John, says, \u201cThere are memorable acts reported of him,\nwhich I hold not for truth, that he would shoot an arrow a mile off\nand a great deale more; but them,\u201d adds he, \u201cI leave among the lyes\nof the land.\u201d[26] See Note 39. {xxxv}\n\n\n(14) \u201c_An outlaw, in those times, being deprived of protection,\nowed no allegiance,\u201d &c._] Such a character was, doubtless, at the\nperiod treated of, in a very critical situation; it being equally\nas legal and meritorious to hunt down and dispatch him as it was to\nkill a wolf, the head of which animal he was said to bear. \u201cItem\nforis facit,\u201d says Bracton (who wrote about the time), \u201comnia que\npacis sunt, quia a tempore quo utlagatus est caput gerit lupinum,\nita ut impune ab omnibus interfici possit\u201d (l. 2, c. 35). In the\ngreat roll of the exchequer, in the 7th year of King Richard I.,\nis an allowance by writ of two marks to Thomas de Prestwude,\nfor bringing to Westminster the head of William de Elleford, an\noutlaw. (See Madox\u2019s History of the Exchequer, 136.) Those who\nreceived or consorted with a person outlawed were subject to the\nsame punishment. Such was the humane policy of our enlightened\nancestors! See Note 21.\n\n\n(15)\n\n                    \u201c_\u2015\u2015how\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0they could discourse\n The freezing hours away!_\u201d]\n\n(Cymbeline, act iii. scene 3). The chief subjects of our hero\u2019s\nconversation are supposed, by a poetical genius of the 16th {xxxvi}\ncentury, to have been the commendation of a forest-life and the\ningratitude of mankind.\n\n   \u201cI have no tales of Robin Hood, though mal-content was he\n In better daies, first Richard\u2019s daies, and liv\u2019d in woods as we\n A Tymon of the world; but not devoutly was he soe,\n And therefore praise I not the man: but for from him did groe\n Words worth the note, a word or twaine of him ere hence we goe.\n   Those daies begot some mal-contents, the principall of whome\n A county was, that with a troope of yomandry did rome,\n Brave archers and deliver men, since nor before so good,\n Those took from rich to give the poore, and manned Robin Hood.\n He fed them well, and lodg\u2019d them safe in pleasant caves and bowers,\n Oft saying to his merry men, What juster life than ours?\n Here use we tallents that abroad the churles abuse or hide,\n Their coffers\u2019 excrements, and yeat for common wants denide.\n We might have sterved for their store, & they have dyc\u2019st our bones,\n Whose tongues, driftes, harts, intice, meane, melt, as syrens, foxes,\n       stones,\n Yea even the best that betterd them heard but aloofe our mones.\n And redily the churles could prie and prate of our amis,\n Forgetfull of their owne.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n I did amis, not missing friends that wisht me to amend:\n I did amend, but missed friends when mine amis had end:\n My friends therefore shall finde me true, but I will trust no frend.\n Not one I knewe that wisht me ill, nor any workt me well,\n To lose, lacke, live, time, frends, in yncke, an hell, an hell, an\n       hell!\n Then happie we (quoth Robin Hood) in merry Sherwood that dwell.\u201d[27]\n\nIt has been conjectured, however, that, in the winter season, our\nhero and his companions severally quartered themselves in villages\nor country-houses more or less remote, with persons of whose\nfidelity they were assured. It is not improbable, at the same time,\nthat they might have tolerably comfortable habitations erected in\nthe woods.\n\nArchery, which our hero and his companions appear to have carried\nto a state of perfection, continued to be cultivated for some\nages after their time, down, indeed, to that of Henry VIII., or\nabout the year 1540, when, owing to the introduction of artillery\nand matchlock-guns, it became neglected, and the bowmen of Cressy\nand Agincourt utterly extinct; though it may be still a question\nwhether a body of expert archers would not, even at this day, be\nsuperior to an equal {xxxvii} number armed with muskets.[28]\nThe loss sustained from this change by the people at large seems\nirreparable. Anciently, the use of the bow or bill qualified every\nman for a soldier; and a body of peasants, led on by a Tyler or a\nCade, was not less formidable than any military force that could\nbe raised to oppose them: by which means the people from time to\ntime preserved the very little liberty they had, and which their\ntyrants were constantly endeavouring to wrest from them. See how\nthe case stands at present: the sovereign, let him be who or what\nhe will (kings have been tyrants, and may be so again), has a\nstanding army, well disciplined and accoutred, while the subjects\nor people are absolutely defenceless: as much care having been\ntaken, particularly since \u201cthe glorious revolution,\u201d to deprive\nthem of arms as was formerly bestowed to enforce their use and\npractice.[29] The following extract from Hale\u2019s Historia Placitorum\nCoron\u00e6 (i. 118) will serve to show how familiar the bow and arrow\nwas in the 14th century:\u2014\u201cM. 22. E. 3. Rot. 117. coram rege Ebor.\nThis was the case of Henry Vescy, who had been indicted before\nthe sheriff in turno suo .\u00a0.\u00a0. of divers felonies, whereupon the\nsheriff mandavit commissionem suam Henrico de Clyderawe & aliis\nad capiendum pr\u00e6dictum H. Vescy, & salvo ducendum usque castrum\nde Ebor.\u201d Vescy would not submit to an arrest, but fled, and\ninter fugiendum shot with his bow and arrows at his pursuers,\nbut in the end was killed by Clyderawe: to which may be added a\nremarkable passage in Harison\u2019s \u201cDescription of England\u201d (prefixed\nto Holinshed\u2019s Chronicle, 1587), to prove how much it had declined\nin the 16th. \u201cIn times past,\u201d says he, \u201cthe {xxxviii} cheefe\nforce of England consisted in their long bowes. But now we have\nin maner generallie given over that kind of artillerie, and for\nlong bowes in deed doo practise to shoot compasse for our pastime;\nwhich kind of shooting can never yeeld anie smart stroke, nor beat\ndown our enemies, as our countrymen were woont to doo at everie\ntime of need. Certes the Frenchmen and Rutters,[30] deriding our\nnew archerie in respect of their corslets, will not let, in open\nskirmish, if anie leisure serve, to turne up their tailes, and\ncrie, Shoote, English; and all because our strong shooting is\ndecaied and laid in bed. But if some of our Englishmen now lived\nthat served King Edward the Third in his warres with France, the\nbreech[31] of such a varlet should have beene nailed to his bum\nwith one arrow, and an other fethered in his bowels, before he\nshould have turned about to see who shot the first\u201d (p. 198).\nBishop Latimer, in his sixth sermon before King Edward VI., gives\nan interesting account how the sons of yeomen were, in his infancy,\ntrained up to the bow. \u201cBut now,\u201d says he, \u201cwe have taken up\nwhooring in townes, instead of shooting in the fieldes.\u201d\n\n\n(16)\n\n \u201c_All clad in Lincoln green._\u201d]\n\nThis species of cloth is mentioned by Spenser (Faerie Queene, VI.\nii. 5):\n\n \u201cAll in a woodman\u2019s jacket he was clad\n  Of Lincolne greene, belay\u2019d with silver lace\n  And on his head an hood with aglets sprad,\n  And by his side his hunter\u2019s horne he hanging had.\u201d\n\nIt is likewise noticed by our poet himself, in another place:\n\n \u201cSwains in shepherds gray, and gyrles in Lincolne greene.\u201d[32]\n\nSee Polyolbion, song xxv., where the marginal note says, \u201cLincolne\nanciently dyed the best green in England.\u201d Thus Coventry had\nformerly the reputation of dying the best blue. {xxxix} See Ray\u2019s\nProverbs, p. 178. Kendal green is equally famous, and appears to\nhave been cloth of a similar quality. This colour was adopted\nby foresters to prevent their being too readily discovered by\nthe deer. See Sir John Wynne\u2019s History of the Guedir Family\n(Barrington\u2019s Miscellanies), p. 419. Thus the Scotish Highlanders\nused to wear brown plaids to prevent their being distinguished\namong the heath. It is needless to observe that green has ever been\nthe favourite dress of an archer, hunter, &c. See Note 34.[33] We\nnow call it a Saxon or grass green:\n\n \u201cHis coat is of a Saxon green, his waistcoat\u2019s of a plaid\u201d (O. song).\n\nLincoln green was well known in France in or before the 13th\ncentury. Thus, in an old fabliau, transprosed by M. Le Grand\n(Fabliaux ou Contes, iv. 13), \u201cIl mit donc son surcot fourr\u00e9\nd\u2019\u00e9cureuil, et sa belle robe d\u2019Estanfort teinte en verd.\u201d Estanfort\nis Stamford, in Lincolnshire.[34] This cloth is, likewise, often\nmentioned by the old Scotish poets under the names of Lincum licht,\nLincum twyne, &c., and appears to have been in universal request:\nand yet, notwithstanding this cloud of evidence, Mr. Pinkerton\nhas had the confidence to assert that \u201cno particular cloth was\never made at Lincoln.\u201d (See Ancient Scotish Poems, ii. 430.) But,\nindeed, this worthy gentleman, as Johnson said of Goldsmith, only\nstumbles upon truth by accident. {xl}\n\n\n(17)\n\n \u201c_From wealthy abbots\u2019 chests_,\u201d _&c._]\n\n\u201cBut who,\u201d exclaims Dr. Fuller, having cited this passage, \u201cmade\nhim a judge? or gave him a commission to take where it might\nbe best spared, and give where it was most wanted?\u201d That same\npower, one may answer, which authorises kings to take where it\ncan be worst spared, and give it where it is least wanted. Our\nhero, in this respect, was a knight-errant; and wanted no other\ncommission than that of Justice, whose cause he militated. His\npower, compared with that of the king of England, was by no means\neither equally usurped or equally abused: the one reigned over\nsubjects (or slaves) as a master (or tyrant), the other possessed\nno authority but what was delegated to him by the free suffrage\nof his adherents, for their general good: and as for the rest,\nit would be absurd to blame in Robin what we should praise in\nRichard.[35] The latter, too, warred in remote parts of the\nworld against nations from which neither he nor his subjects had\nsustained any injury; the former at home against those to whose\nwealth, avarice, or ambition he might fairly attribute not only\nhis own misfortunes, but the misery of the oppressed and enslaved\nsociety he had quitted. In a word, every man who has the power has\nalso the authority to pursue the ends of justice, to regulate the\ngifts of fortune, by transferring the superfluities of the rich to\nthe necessities of the poor; by relieving the oppressed, and even,\nwhen necessary, destroying the oppressor. These are the objects of\nthe social union, and every individual may, and to the utmost of\nhis power should, endeavour to promote them. Had our Robin Hood\nbeen, like M\u2019Donald of Barrisdale, a reader of Virgil, he, as well\nas that gallant chief, might have inscribed on his baldric\u2014 {xli}\n\n \u201cH\u00e6 tibi erunt artes; pacis componere mores,\n  Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.\u201d[36]\n\n\n(18) \u201c_But it is to be remembered_,\u201d _&c._] The passage from\nMajor\u2019s work, which has been already quoted, is here given entire\n(except as to a single sentence introduced in another place).\n\u201cCirca h\u00e6c tempora [s. Ricardi I.] ut auguror, Robertus Hudus &\nParvus Joannes latrones famatissimi, in nemoribus latuerunt, solum\nopulentum virorum bona diripientes. Nullum nisi eos invadentem\nvel resistentem pro suarum rerum tuitione occiderunt. Centum\nsagittarios ad pugnam aptissimos Robertus latrociniis aluit quos\n400 viri fortissimi invadere non audebant. F\u00e6minam nullum opprimi\npermisit, nec pauperum bona surripuit, verum eos ex abbatum bonis\nablatis opipare pavit. Viri rapinam improbo sed latronum omnium\nhumanissimus & princeps erat\u201d (Majoris Britanni\u00e6 Historia, Edin.\n1740, p. 128).\n\nStowe, in his Annales, 1592, p. 227, gives an almost literal\nversion of the above passage; Richard Robinson versifies it;[37]\nand Camden slightly refers to it. {xlii}\n\n\n(19)\u2005\u2014\u201c_has had the honour to be compared to the illustrious\nWallace_,\u201d _&c._] In the first volume of Peck\u2019s intended supplement\nto the Monasticon, consisting of collections for the history of\nPr\u00e6monstratensian monasteries, now in the British Museum, is a\nvery curious riming Latin poem with the following title: \u201cPrioris\nAlnwicensis de bello Scotico apud Dumbarr, tempore rigis Edwardi\nI. dictamen sive rithmus Latinus, quo de Willielmo Wallace Scotico\nillo Robin Whood, plura sed invidiose canit;\u201d and in the margin\nare the following date and reference:\u2014\u201c22. Julii 1304. 32. E. 1.\nRegist. Prem. fol. 59. a.\u201d This, it maybe observed, is the first\nknown instance of our hero\u2019s name being mentioned by any writer\nwhatever; and affords a strong and respectable proof of his early\npopularity.\n\n\n(20) \u201c_The abbot of St. Mary\u2019s in York._\u201d] \u201cIn the year 1088, Alan,\nEarl of Richmond, founded here a stately abbey for black monks to\nthe honour of St. Olave; but it was afterwards dedicated to the\nBlessed Virgin by the command of king William Rufus. Its yearly\nrevenues at the suppression amounted to \u00a31550, 7_s._ 9_d._ Dugd.,\n\u00a32850, 1_s._ 5_d._ Speed\u201d (Willis\u2019s Mitred Abbeys, i. 214). The\nabbots in our hero\u2019s time were\u2014\n\n Robert de Harpsham (el. 1184), ob. 1198.\n Robert de Longo Campo, ob. 1239.\n William Rondele, ob. 1244.\n Tho. de Wharterhille, ob. 1258.\n\n\n(21)\u2005\u2014\u201c_the sheriff of Nottinghamshire._\u201d] Ralph Murdach was\nsheriff of Derby and Nottinghamshires in the first year of King\nRichard I., and for the seven years preceding, and William Brewerre\nin his sixth year, between which and the first no name appears on\nthe roll. See Fuller\u2019s Worthies, &c.\n\nIn the year 1195, Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, {xliii}\njusticiary of all England, sent throughout the kingdom this form\nof oath: that all men of the realm of England would keep the peace\nof the lord the king to their power; and that they would neither\nbe thieves nor robbers, nor the receivers of such, nor consent to\nthem in anything; and that when they were able to know such-like\nmalefactors, they would take them to the utmost of their power, and\ndeliver them to the sheriff; who in no wise should be delivered\nunless by the lord the king or his chief justice; and if unable to\ntake them, they should cause the bailiffs of the lord the king to\nknow who they were: and, cry being raised for pursuing outlaws,\nrobbers, thieves, or their receivers, all should fully do that\nsuit to the utmost of their power, &c. Knights were to be assigned\nfor these purposes, and men chosen and faithful were sent to\nexecute them in every county, who by the oath of true men of the\nvicinages took many and put them in the king\u2019s prisons; but many,\nbeing forewarned, and conscious of evil, left their houses and\npossessions and fled (_R. de Hoveden_, p. 757).\n\n\n(22)\u2005\u2014\u201c_an anecdote preserved by Fordun_,\u201d _&c._] \u201cDe quo eciam\nqu\u00e6dam commendabilia recitantur, sicut patuit in hoc, quod cum\nipse quondam in Barnisdale iram [f. ob iram] regis & fremitum\nprincipis, missam, ut solitus erat, devotissime audiret, nec\naliqua necessitate volebat interrumpere officium, quadam die cum\naudiret missam, \u00e0 quodam vicecomite & ministris regis, s\u00e6pius per\nprius ipsum infestantibus, in illo secretissimo loco nemorali,\nubi miss\u00e6 interfuit, exploratus, venientes ad eum qui de suis\nhoc perceperunt, ut omni annisu fugeret suggesserunt, qui, ob\nreverentiam sacramenti, quod tunc devotissime venerabatur, omnino\nfacere recusavit. Sed ceteris suis, ob metum mortis trepidantibus,\nRobertus tantum confisus in eum, quem coluit reveritus, cum\npaucissimis, qui tunc forte ei affuerunt, inimicos congressus &\neos de facili devicit, et de eorum spoliis ac redemptione ditatus,\nministros ecclesi\u00e6 & missas semper in majori veneratione semper &\nde post habere pr\u00e6elegit, attendens quod wlgariter dictum est:\n\n Hunc deus exaudit, qui missam s\u00e6pius audit.\u201d\n\nJ. De Fordun Scotichronicon, \u00e0 Hearne, Ox. 1722, p. 774. {xliv}\n\nThis passage is found in no other copy of Fordun\u2019s Chronicle than\none in the Harleian Library. Its suppression in all the rest may\nbe fairly accounted for on the principle which is presumed to have\ninfluenced the conduct of the ancient English historians. See Note\n1.\n\n\n(23)\u2005\u2014\u201c_a proclamation was published_,\u201d _&c._] \u201cThe king att last,\u201d\nsays the Harleian MS., \u201csett furth a proclamation to have him\napprehended,\u201d &c. Grafton, after having told us that he \u201cpractised\nrobberyes,\u201d &c., adds, \u201cThe which beyng certefyed to the king, and\nhe beyng greatly offended therewith, caused his proclamation to\nbe made that whosoever would bryng him quicke or dead, the king\nwould geve him a great summe of money, as by the recordes in the\nExchequer is to be seene: But of this promise no man enjoyed any\nbenefite. For the sayd Robert Hood, being afterwardes troubled with\nsicknesse,\u201d &c. (p. 85.) See Note 14.\n\n\n(24) \u201c_At length the infirmities of old age increasing upon him_,\u201d\n_&c._] Thus Grafton: \u201cThe sayd Robert Hood, beyng troubled with\nsicknesse, came to a certain nonry in Yorkshire called Bircklies\n[r. Kircklies], where desiryng to be let blood, he was betrayed and\nbled to death.\u201d The Sloane MS. says that \u201c[Being] dystempered with\ncould and age, he had great payne in his lymmes, his bloud being\ncorrupted, therefore to be eased of his payne by letting bloud, he\nrepayred to the priores of Kyrkesly, which some say was his aunt, a\nwoman very skylful in physique & surgery; who, perceyving him to be\nRobyn Hood, & waying howe fel an enimy he was to religious persons,\ntoke reveng of him for her owne howse and all others by letting him\nbleed to death. It is also sayd that one Sir Roger of Doncaster,\nbearing grudge to Robyn for some injury, incyted the priores, with\nwhome he was very familiar, in such a maner to dispatch him.\u201d See\nthe Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode, ad finem. The Harleian MS., after\nmentioning the proclamation \u201csett furth to have him apprehended,\u201d\nadds, \u201cAt which time it happened he fell sick at a nunnery in\nYorkshire called Birkleys [r. Kirkleys]; & desiring there to be let\nblood, hee was betrayed & made bleed to death.\u201d\n\nKirkleys, Kirklees, or Kirkleghes, formerly Kuthale, in the {xlv}\ndeanery of Pontefract, and archdeaconry of the West Riding of\nYorkshire, was a Cistercian, or, as some say, a Benedictine\nnunnery, founded, in honour of the Virgin Mary and St. James, by\nReynerus Flandrensis in the reign of King Henry II. Its revenues\nat the dissolution were somewhat about \u00a320, and the site was\ngranted (36 Hen. 8.) to John Tasburgh and Henry Savill, from whom\nit came to one of the ancestors of Sir George Armytage, Bart.,\nthe present possessor. The remains of the building (if any) are\nvery inconsiderable, and its register has been searched after in\nvain. See Tanner\u2019s Notitia, p. 674. Thoresby\u2019s Ducatus Leodiensis,\np. 91. Hearne\u2019s \u201cAccount of Several Antiquities in and about the\nUniversity of Oxford,\u201d at the end of Leland\u2019s Itinerary, vol. ii.\np. 128.\n\nIn 1706 was discovered, among the ruins of the nunnery, the\nmonument of Elisabeth de Staynton, prioress; but it is not certain\nthat this was the lady from whom our hero experienced such kind\nassistance. See Thoresby and Hearne ubi supra.\n\n\u201cOne may wonder,\u201d says Dr. Fuller, \u201chow he escaped the hand of\njustice, dying in his bed, for ought is found to the contrary;\nbut it was because he was rather a merry than a mischievous thief\n(complementing passengers out of their purses), never murdering any\nbut deer, and .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. \u2018feasting\u2019 the vicinage with his vension\u201d\n(Worthies, p. 320). See the following note.\n\n\n(25) \u201c_He was interred under some trees at a short distance from\nthe house; a stone being placed over his grave with an inscription\nto his memory._\u201d] \u201cKirkley monasterium monialium, ubi Ro: Hood\nnobilis ille exlex sepultus\u201d (Leland\u2019s Collectanea, i. 54).\n\u201cKirkleys Nunnery, in the Woods, whereof Robin Hood\u2019s grave is, is\nbetween Halifax and Wakefield upon Calder\u201d (Letter from Jo. Savile\nto W. Camden, Illus. viro epis. 1691).\n\n                      \u201c\u2015\u2015as Caldor comes along,\n It chanced she in her course on \u2018Kirkley\u2019 cast her eye,\n Where merry Robin Hood, that honest thief, doth lie.\u201d\n\n                                             (Polyolbion, song 28.)\n\nSee also Camden\u2019s Britannia, 1695, p. 709. {xlvi}\n\nIn the second volume of Dr. Stukeley\u2019s Itinerarium Curiosum is an\nengraving of \u201cthe prospect of Kirkley\u2019s abby, where Robin Hood\ndyed, from the footway leading to Heartishead church, at a quarter\nof a mile distance. A. The New Hall. B. The Gatehouse of the\nNunnery. C. The trees among which Robin Hood was buryed. D. The way\nup the Hill were this was drawn. E. Bradley wood. F. Almondbury\nhill. G. Castle field. Drawn by Dr. Johnston among his Yorkshire\nAntiquitys, p. 54 of the drawings. E. Kirkall, sculp.\u201d It makes\nplate 99 of the above work, but is unnoticed in the letterpress.\n\nAccording to the Sloane MS., the prioress, after \u201cletting him bleed\nto death, buryed him under a great stone by the hywayes syde;\u201d\nwhich is agreeable to the account in Grafton\u2019s Chronicle, where it\nis said that, after his death, \u201cthe prioresse of the same place\ncaused him to be buried by the highway-side, where he had used to\nrob and spoyle those that passed that way. And vpon his grave the\nsayde prioresse did lay a very fayre stone, wherein the names of\nRobert Hood, William of Goldesborough, and others were graven.\nAnd the cause why she buryed him there was, for that the common\npassengers and travailers, knowyng and seeyng him there buryed,\nmight more safely and without feare take their jorneys that way,\nwhich they durst not do in the life of the sayd outlawes. And at\neyther ende of the sayde tombe was erected a crosse of stone, which\nis to be seene there at this present.\u201d\n\n\u201cNear unto \u2018Kirklees\u2019 the noted Robin Hood lies buried under a\ngrave-stone that yet remains near the park, but the inscription\nscarce legible\u201d (Thoresby\u2019s Ducatus Leodiensis, fo. 1715, p. 91).\nIn the Appendix, p. 576, is the following note, with a reference to\n\u201cpage 91:\u201d\u2014\n\n\u201cAmongst the papers of the learned Dr. Gale, late dean of Yorke,\nwas found this epitaph of Robin Hood:\n\n Hear undernead dis laitl stean\n laiz robert earl of Huntingtun\n nea arcir ver az hie sa geud\n an pipl kauld im robin heud {xlvii}\n sick utlawz az hi an iz men\n vil england nivr si agen.\n\n                              obiit 24 [r. 14] kal dekembris 1247.\u201d\n\nThe genuineness of this epitaph has been questioned. Dr. Percy,\nin the first edition of his \u201cReliques of Ancient English Poetry\u201d\n(1765), says \u201cIt must be confessed this epitaph is suspicious,\nbecause in the most ancient poems of Robin Hood there is no mention\nof this imaginary earldom.\u201d This reason, however, is by no means\nconclusive, the most ancient poem now extant having no pretension\nto the antiquity claimed by the epitaph: and indeed the Doctor\nhimself should seem to have afterward had less confidence in it,\nas, in both the subsequent editions, those words are omitted, and\nthe learned critic merely observes that the epitaph appears to him\nsuspicious. It will be admitted that the bare suspicion of this\ningenious writer, whose knowledge and judgment of ancient poetry\nare so conspicuous and eminent, ought to have considerable weight.\nAs for the present editor\u2019s part, though he does not pretend to\nsay that the language of this epitaph is that of Henry the Third\u2019s\ntime, nor indeed to determine of what age it is, he can perceive\nnothing in it from whence one should be led to pronounce it\nspurious, _i.e._ that it was never inscribed on the grave-stone\nof Robin Hood. That there actually was some inscription upon it\nin Thoresby\u2019s time, though then scarce legible, is evident from\nhis own words: and it should be remembered as well that the last\ncentury was not the era of imposition, as that Dr. Gale was both\ntoo good and too learned a man either to be capable of it himself\nor to be liable to it from others.\n\nThat industrious chronologist and topographer, as well as\nrespectable artist and citizen, master Thomas Gent, of York, in\nhis \u201cList of religious houses,\u201d annexed to \u201cThe ancient and modern\nstate of\u201d that famous city, 1730, 12mo, p. 234, informs us that\nhe had been told \u201cthat his [Robin Hood\u2019s] tombstone, having his\neffigy thereon, was order\u2019d, not many years ago, by a certain\nknight to be placed as a harth-stone in his great hall. When it\nwas laid overnight, the next morning it was \u2018surprizingly\u2019 removed\n[on or to] one side; and {xlviii} so three times it was laid, and\nas successively turned aside. The knight, thinking he had done\nwrong to have brought it thither, order\u2019d it should be drawn back\nagain; which was performed by a pair of oxen and four horses, when\ntwice the number could scarce do it before. But as this,\u201d adds the\nsagacious writer, \u201cis a story only, it is left to the reader to\njudge at pleasure.\u201d N.B.\u2014This is the second instance of a miracle\nwrought in favour of our hero!\n\nIn Gough\u2019s Sepulchral Monuments, p. cviii., is \u201cthe figure of the\nstone over the grave of Robin Hood [in Kirklees park, being a\nplain stone with a sort of cross fleuree thereon], now broken and\nmuch defaced, the inscription illegible. That printed in Thoresby,\nDucat. Leod. 576, from Dr. Gale\u2019s papers, was never on it.[38]\nThe late Sir Samuel Armitage owner of the premises, caused the\nground under it to be dug a yard deep, and found it had never been\ndisturbed; so that it was probably brought from some other place,\nand by vulgar tradition ascribed to Robin Hood\u201d (refers to \u201cMr.\nWatson\u2019s letter in Antiquary Society minutes\u201d). This is probably\nthe tomb-stone of Elizabeth de Staynton, mentioned in the preceding\nnote.\n\nThe old epitaph is, by some anonymous hand, in a work entitled\n\u201cSepulchrorum inscriptiones; or a curious collection of 900 of the\nmost remarkable epitaphs,\u201d Westminster, 1727 (vol. ii. p. 73), thus\nnot inelegantly paraphrased:\n\n \u201cHere, underneath this little stone,\n  Thro\u2019 Death\u2019s assaults, now lieth one,\n  Known by the name of Robin Hood,\n  Who was a thief, and archer good;\n  Full thirteen years, and something more,\n  He robb\u2019d the rich to feed the poor: {xlix}\n  Therefore, his grave bedew with tears,\n  And offer for his soul your prayers.\u201d[39]\n\n\n(26)\u2005\u2014\u201c_various dramatic exhibitions_.\u201d] The earliest of these\nperformances now extant is \u201cThe playe of Robyn Hode, very proper\nto be played in Maye games,\u201d which is inserted in the Appendix to\nthis work, and may probably be as old as the 15th century. That a\ndifferent play, however, on the same subject has formerly existed,\nseems pretty certain from a somewhat curious passage in \u201cThe famous\nchronicle of king Edward the first, sirnamed Edward Longshankes,\u201d\n&c., by George Peele, printed in 1593.\n\n \u201cLluellen .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. weele get the next daie from Brecknocke the\n booke of Robin Hood, the frier he shall instruct us in his cause,\n and weele even here .\u00a0.\u00a0. wander like irregulers up and down the\n wildernesse, ile be maister of misrule, ile be Robin Hood that\n once, cousin \u2018Rice,\u2019 thou shalt be little John, and hers frier\n David, as fit as a die for frier Tucke. Now, my sweet Nel, if you\n will make up the messe with a good heart for maide Marian, and doe\n well with Lluellen under the green-woode trees, with as good a wil\n as in the good townes, why plena est curia.\n\n [_Exeunt._\n\n _Enter Mortimor, solus._\n\n   _Mortimor._ .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. Maisters, have after gentle Robin Hood,\n You are not so well accompanied I hope,\n But if a potter come to plaie his part,\n Youle give him stripes or welcome good or worse.      [_Exit._\n\n _Enter Lluellen, Meredith, frier, Elinor, and their traine. They\n are all clad in greene, &c. sing, &c. Blyth and bonny, the song\n ended, Lluellen speaketh._\n\n   _Luellen._ Why so, I see, my mates of olde,\n All were nor lies that Bedlams [beldams] told;\n Of Robin Hood and little John,\n Frier Tucke and maide Marian.\u201d\n\nMortimer, as a potter, afterwards fights the frier with \u201cflailes.\u201d\n\n2. \u201cThe downfall of Robert earle of Huntington, afterward {l}\ncalled Robin Hood of merrie Sherwodde: with his love to chaste\nMatilda, the lord Fitzwater\u2019s daughter, afterwardes his faire maide\nMarian. Acted by the right honourable, the earle of Notingham, lord\nhigh admirall of England, his servants. \u00b6 Imprinted at London, for\nWilliam Leake, 1601.\u201d 4to, b. l.\n\n3. \u201cThe death of Robert, earle of Huntington, otherwise called\nRobin Hood of merrie Sherwodde: with the lamentable tragedie of\nchaste Matilda, his faire maid Marian, poysoned at Dunmowe, by king\nJohn. Acted, &c. \u00b6 Imprinted &c. [as above] 1601.\u201d 4to, b. l.\n\nThese two plays, usually called the first and second part of Robin\nHood, were always, on the authority of Kirkman, falsely ascribed\nto Thomas Heywood, till Mr. Malone fortunately retrieved the names\nof the true authors, Anthony Mundy and Henry Chettle.[40] As they\nseem partly founded on traditions long since forgotten, and refer\noccasionally to documents not now to be found; at any rate, as they\nare much older than most of the common ballads upon the subject,\nand contain some curious and possibly authentic particulars not\nelsewhere to be met with, the reader will excuse the particularity\nof the account and length of the extracts here given.\n\nThe first part, or downfall of Robert earle of Huntington, is\nsupposed to be performed at the court and command of Henry VIII.,\nthe poet Skelton being the dramatist, and {li} acting the part of\nchorus. The introductory scene commences thus:\n\n \u201c_Enter Sir John Eltam, and knocke at Skelton\u2019s doore._\n\n _Sir John._ Howe, maister Skelton! what, at studie hard?\n\n [_Opens the doore._\n\n _Skel._ Welcome and wisht for, honest Sir John Eltam,\u2014\n Twill trouble you after your great affairs,\n\n [i.e. _the surveying of certain maps which his majesty had\n employed him in_;\n\n To take the paine that I intended to intreate you to,\n About rehearsall of your promis\u2019d play.\n\n _Elt._ Nay, master Skelton; for the king himselfe,\n As wee were parting, bid mee take great heede\n Wee faile not of our day: therefore I pray\n Sende for the rest, that now we may rehearse.\n\n _Skel._ O they are readie all, and drest to play.\n What part play you?\n\n _Elt._ Why, I play little John,\n And came of purpose with this greene sute.\n\n _Skel._ Holla, my masters, little John is come.\n\n [_At every doore all the players runne out: some crying_ where?\n where? _others_, Welcome, Sir John: _among others the boyes and\n clowne_.\n\n _Skel._ Faith, little Tracy, you are somewhat forward.\n What, our maid Marian leaping like a lad!\n If you remember, Robin is your love,\n Sir Thomas Mantle yonder, not Sir John.\n\n _Clow._ But, master, Sir John is my fellowe, for I am Much the\n miller\u2019s sonne. Am I not?\n\n _Skel._ I know yee are, sir:\u2014\n And, gentlemen, since you are thus prepar\u2019d,\n Goe in, and bring your dumbe scene on the stage.\n And I, as prologue, purpose to expresse\n The ground whereon our historie is laied.\n\n [_Exeunt, manet Skelton._\n\n _Trumpets sounde_, [1] _enter first King Richard with drum and\n auncient, giving Ely a purse and sceptre, his mother and brother\n John, Chester, Lester, Lacie, others at the king\u2019s appointment,\n doing reverence. The king goes in: presently Ely ascends the\n chaire, Chester, John, and the queene part displeasantly._ [2]\n Enter ROBERT, EARLE OF HUNTINGTON, _leading Marian; followes him\n Warman, and after Warman, the prior; Warman ever flattering and\n making curtsie, taking gifts of the prior behinde and his master\n before. Prince John enters, offereth to take Marian; Queen Elinor\n enters, offering to pull Robin from her; but they infolde each\n other, and sit downe within the curteines._ [3] _Warman with the\n prior, Sir Hugh Lacy, Lord Sentloe, and Sir Gilbert Broghton folde\n hands, and drawing the curteins, all_ (_but the prior_) _enter,\n and are kindely received by_ Robin Hoode.\u201d\n\n{lii}\n\nDuring the exhibition of the second part of the dumb show, Skelton\ninstructs the audience as follows:\n\n \u201cThis youth that leads yon virgin by the hand\n  Is our earle Robert, or your Robin Hoode,\n  That in those daies was earle of Huntington;\n  The ill-fac\u2019t miser, brib\u2019d in either hand,\n  Is Warman, once the steward of his house,\n  Who, Judas like, betraies his liberall lord,\n  Into the hands of that relentlesse prior,\n  Calde Gilbert Hoode, uncle to Huntington.\n  Those two that seeke to part these lovely friends,\n  Are Elenor the queene, and John the prince,\n  She loves earle Robert, he maide Marian,\n  But vainely; for their deare affect is such,\n  As only death can sunder their true loves.\n  Long had they lov\u2019d, and now it is agreed,\n  This day they must be troth-plight, after wed:\n  At Huntington\u2019s faire house a feast is helde,\n  But envie turnes it to a house of teares.\n  For those false guestes, conspiring with the prior;\n  To whom earle Robert greatly is in debt,\n  Meane at the banquet to betray the earle,\n  Unto a heavie writ of outlawry:\n  The manner and escape you all shall see.\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  Looke to your entrance, get you in, Sir John.\n  My shift is long, for I play Frier Tucke;\n  Wherein, if Skelton hath but any lucke,\n  Heele thanke his hearers oft with many a ducke.\n  For many talk of Robin Hood that never shot in his bowe,\n  But Skelton writes of Robin Hood what he doth truly knowe.\u201d\n\nAfter some Skeltonical rimes, and a scene betwixt the prior,\nthe sheriff, and justice Warman, concerning the outlawry, which\nappears to be proclaimed, and the taking of Earl Huntington at\ndinner, \u201cEnter Robin Hoode, little John following him; Robin having\nhis napkin on his shoulder, as if hee were sodainly raised from\ndinner.\u201d He is in a violent rage at being outlawed, and Little John\nendeavours to pacify him. Marian being distressed at his apparent\ndisorder, he dissembles with her. After she is gone, John thus\naddresses him:\n\n \u201cNow must your honour leave these mourning tunes,\n  And thus by my areede you shall provide; {liii}\n  Your plate and jewels \u2018i wil\u2019 straight packe up,\n  And toward Notingham convey them hence.\n  At Rowford, Sowtham, Wortley, Hothersfield,\n  Of all your cattell mony shall be made,\n  And I at Mansfield will attend your comming;\n  Where weele determine which waie\u2019s best to take.\n\n  _Rob._ Well, be it so; a God\u2019s name, let it be;\n  And if I can, Marian shall come with mee.\n\n  _John._ Else care will kill her; therefore if you please,\n  At th\u2019 utmost corner of the garden wall,\n  Soone in the evening waite for Marian,\n  And as I goe ile tell her of the place.\n  Your horses at the Bell shall readie bee,\n  I meane Belsavage,[41] whence, as citizens\n  That \u2018meane\u2019 to ride for pleasure some small way,\n  You shall set foorth.\u201d\n\nThe company now enters, and Robin charges them with the conspiracy,\nand rates their treacherous proceedings. Little John in attempting\nto remove the goods is set upon by Warman and the sheriff; and\nduring the fray \u201cEnter Prince John, Ely and the prior, and others.\u201d\nLittle John tells the prince he but defends the box containing his\nown gettings; upon which his royal highness observes,\n\n \u201cYou do the fellow wrong; his goods are his:\n  You only must extend upon the earles.\n\n  _Prior._ That was, my lord, but nowe is Robert Hood,\n  A simple yeoman as his servants were.\u201d\n\nEly gives the prior his commission, with directions to make speed,\nlest \u201cin his country-house all his heards be solde;\u201d and gives\nWarman a patent \u201cfor the high sheriffewick of Nottingham.\u201d After\nthis, \u201cEnter Robin like a citizen; and then the queen and Marian\ndisguised for each other. Robin takes Marian, and leaves the queen\nto Prince John, who is {liv} so much enraged at the deception\nthat he breaks the head of Ely\u2019s messenger. Sir Hugh, brother to\nLord Lacy, and steward to Ely, who had been deeply concerned in\nHuntington\u2019s ruin, is killed in a brawl by Prince John, whom Ely\norders to be arrested; but the prince, producing letters from the\nking revoking Ely\u2019s appointment, \u201clifts up his drawne sworde,\u201d and\n\u201cExit, cum Lester and Lacy,\u201d in triumph. Then \u201cEnter Robin Hoode,\nMatilda at one doore, little John and Much the Miller\u2019s sonne at\nanother doore.\u201d After mutual congratulations, Robin asks if it be\n\n                \u201c\u2015\u2015possible that Warman\u2019s spite\n Should stretch so farre, that he doth hunt the lives\n Of bonnie Scarlet, and his brother Scathlock?\n\n _Much._ O, I, sir. Warman came but yesterday to take charge of the\n jaile at Notingham, and this daie, he saies, he will hang the two\n outlawes.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n _Rob._ Now, by my honour\u2019s hope,\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n He is too blame: say, John, where must they die?\n\n _John._ Yonder\u2019s their mother\u2019s house, and here the tree,\n Whereon, poore men, they must forgoe their lives;\n And yonder comes a lazy lozell frier,\n That is appointed for their confessor,\n Who, when we brought your monie to their mother\u2019s,\n Was wishing her to patience for their deaths.\u201d\n\nHere \u201cEnter Frier Tucke;\u201d some conversation passes, and the frier\nSkeltonizes; after which he departs, saying,\n\n                 \u201c\u2015\u2015let us goe our way,\n Unto this hanging businesse; would for mee\n Some rescue or repreeve might set them free.\n\n _Rob._ Heardst thou not, little John, the frier\u2019s speach?\n\n _John._ He seemes like a good fellow, my good lord.\n\n _Rob._ He\u2019s a good fellowe, John, upon my word.\n Lend me thy horne, and get thee in to Much,\n And when I blowe this horne, come both and helpe mee.\n\n _John._ Take heed, my lord: the villane Warman knows you,\n And ten to one he hath a writ against you.\n\n _Rob._ Fear not: below the bridge a poor blind man doth dwell,\n With him I will change my habit, and disguise,\n Only be readie when I call for yee,\n For I will save their lives, if it may bee.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n{lv}\n\n _Enter Warman, Scarlet and Scathlock bounde, Frier Tuck as\n their confessor, officers with halberts._\n\n _War._ Master frier, be briefe, delay no time.\n Scarlet and Scatlock, never hope for life;\n Here is the place of execution,\n And you must answer lawe for what is done.\n\n _Scar._ Well, if there be no remedie, we must:\n Though it ill seemeth, Warman, thou shouldst bee,\n So bloodie to pursue our lives thus cruellie.\n\n _Scat._ Our mother sav\u2019d thee from the gallows, Warman,\n His father did preferre thee to thy lord:\n One mother had wee both, and both our fathers\n To thee and to thy father were kinde friends.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n _War._ Ye were first outlawes, then ye proved theeves.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n Both of your fathers were good honest men;\n Your mother lives their widowe in good fame:[42]\n But you are scapethrifts, unthrifts, villanes, knaves,\n And as ye liv\u2019d by shifts, shall die with shame.\u201d\n\nTo them enters Ralph, the sheriff\u2019s man, to acquaint him that the\ncarnifex, or executor of the law, had fallen off his \u201ccurtall\u201d and\nwas \u201ccripplefied\u201d and rendered incapable of performing his office;\nso that the sheriff was to become his deputy. The sheriff insists\nthat Ralph shall serve the turn, which he refuses. In the midst of\nthe altercation, \u201cEnter Robin Hoode, like an old man,\u201d who tells\nthe sheriff that the two outlaws had murdered his young son, and\nundone himself; so that for revenge-sake he desires they may be\ndelivered to him. They denying the charge, \u201cRobin whispers with\nthem,\u201d and with the sheriff\u2019s leave, and his man\u2019s help, unbinds\nthem: then, sounds his horn; and \u201cEnter little John, Much .\u00a0.\u00a0.\nFight; the frier, making as if he helpt the sheriffe, knockes down\nhis men crying, Keepe the king\u2019s peace. Sheriffe [perceiving that\nit is \u201cthe outlawed earle of Huntington\u201d] runnes away, and his\nmen.\u201d (See the ballad of \u201cRobin Hood rescuing the widow\u2019s sons,\u201d\npart ii. num. xxiii.) {lvi}\n\n \u201c_Fri._ Farewell, earle Robert, as I am true frier,\n I had rather be thy clarke then serve the prior.\n\n _Rob._ A jolly fellowe! Scarlet, knowest thou him?\n\n _Scar._ Hee is of Yorke, and of Saint Maries cloister;\n There where your greedie uncle is lord prior.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n _Rob._ Here is no biding, masters; get yee in.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n John, on a sodaine thus I am resolv\u2019d.\n To keepe in Sherewoodde tille the king\u2019s returne,\n And being outlawed, leade an outlawe\u2019s life.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n _John._ I like your honour\u2019s purpose exceeding well.\n\n _Rob._ Nay, no more honour, I pray thee, little John;\n Henceforth I will be called Robin Hoode,\n Matilda shall be my maid Marian.\u201d\n\nThen follows a scene betwixt old Fitzwater and Prince John, in the\ncourse of which the prince, as a reason to induce Fitzwater to\nrecall his daughter Matilda, tells him that she is living in an\nadulterous state, for that\n\n \u201c\u2014Huntington is excommunicate,\n  And till his debts be paid, by Rome\u2019s decree,\n  It is agreed, absolv\u2019d he cannot be;\n  And that can never be.\u2014So never wife,\u201d &c.\n\nFitzwater, on this, flies into a passion, and accuses the prince\nof being already married to \u201cearle Chepstowe\u2019s daughter.\u201d They\n\u201cfight; John falles.\u201d Then enter the queen, &c., and John sentences\nFitzwater to banishment: after which \u201cEnter Scathlocke and Scarlet,\nwinding their hornes at severall doores. To them enter Robin Hoode,\nMatilda, all in greene .\u00a0.\u00a0. Much, little John; all the men with\nbowes and arrowes.[43]\n\n        *       *       *       *       *\n\n \u201c_Rob._ Wind once more, jolly huntsmen, all your horns,\n Whose shrill sound, with the ecchoing wods assist,\n Shall ring a sad knell for the fearefull deere,\n Before our feathered shafts, death\u2019s winged darts,\n Bring sodaine summons for their fatall ends. {lvii}\n\n _Scar._ Its ful seaven years since we were outlawed first,\n And wealthy Sherewood was our heritage:\n For all those yeares we raigned uncontrolde,\n From Barnsdale shrogs to Notingham\u2019s red cliffes.\n At Blithe and Tickhill were we welcome guests:\n Good George a Greene at Bradford was our friend,\n And wanton Wakefield\u2019s pinner lov\u2019d us well.[44]\n At Barnsley dwels a potter, tough and strong,\n That never brookt we brethren should have wrong.\n The nunnes of Farnsfield (pretty nunnes they bee)\n Gave napkins, shirts, and bands to him and mee.\n Bateman of Kendall gave us Kendall greene;\n And Sharpe of Leedes sharpe arrows for us made.\n At Rotherham dwelt our bowyer, God him blisse,\n Jackson he hight, his bowes did never misse.\n This for our goode, our scathe let Scathlocke tell,\n In merry Mansfield how it once befell.\n\n _Scath._ In merry Mansfield, on a wrestling day,\n Prizes there were, and yeomen came to play,\n My brother Scarlet and myselfe were twaine;\n Many resisted, but it was in vaine,\n For of them all we wonne the mastery,\n And the gilt wreathes were given to him and me.\n There by Sir Doncaster of \u2018Hothersfield,\u2019\n We were bewraied, beset, and forst to yield;\n And so borne bound from thence to Notingham,\n Where we lay doom\u2019d to death till Warman came.\u201d\n\nSome cordial expressions pass between Robin and Matilda. He\ncommands all the yeomen to be cheerful; and orders Little John to\nread the articles.\n\n \u201c_Joh._ First, no man must presume to call our master,\n By name of earle, lorde, baron, knight, or squire:\n But simply by the name of Robin Hoode.\u2015\u2015\n   That faire Matilda henceforth change her name,\n \u2018And\u2019 by maid Marian\u2019s name be only cald.\n   Thirdly, no yeoman following Robin Hoode\n In Sherewood, shall use widowe, wife, or maid,\n But by true labour, lustfull thoughts expell.\n   Fourthly, no passenger with whom ye meete,\n Shall yee let passe till hee with Robin feaste:\n Except a poast, a carrier, or such folke,\n As use with foode to serve the market townes.\n   Fiftly, you never shall the poore man wrong. {lviii}\n Nor spare a priest, a usurer, or a clarke.\n   Lastly, you shall defend with all your power\n Maids, widowes, orphants, and distressed men.\n\n _All._ All these we vowe to keepe, as we are men.\n\n _Rob._ Then wend ye to the greenewod merrily,\n And let the light roes bootlesse from yee runne,\n Marian and I, as soveraigns of your toyles,\n Will wait, within our bower, your bent bowes spoiles.\n\n                              [_Exeunt winding their hornes._\u201d\n\nIn the next scene, we find Frier Tucke feignedly entering into a\nconspiracy with the prior and Sir Doncaster to serve an execution\non Robin in disguise. Jinny, the widow Scarlet\u2019s daughter, coming\nin on her way to Sherwood, is persuaded by the frier to accompany\nhim, \u201cdisguised in habit like a pedler\u2019s mort.\u201d Fitzwater enters\nlike an old man:\u2014sees Robin sleeping on a green bank, Marian\nstrewing flowers on him; pretends to be blind and hungry, and is\nregaled by them. In answer to a question why the fair Matilda\n(Fitzwater\u2019s daughter) had changed her name, Robin tells him it is\n\n \u201cBecause she lives a spotlesse maiden life:\n  And shall, till Robin\u2019s outlawe life have ende,\n  That he may lawfully take her to wife;\n  Which, if King Richard come, will not be long.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnter Frier Tucke and Jinny like pedlers singing,\u201d and afterward\n\u201cSir Doncaster and others weaponed.\u201d The frier discovers the plot,\nand a fray ensues. The scene then changes to the court, where the\nprior is informed of six of his barns being destroyed by fire, and\nof the different execrations of all ranks upon him, as the undoer\nof \u201cthe good lord Robert, earle of Huntington;\u201d that the convent\nof St. Mary\u2019s had elected \u201cOlde father Jerome\u201d prior in his place;\nand lastly, a herald brings his sentence of banishment, which is\nconfirmed by the entrance of the prior. Lester brings an account\nof the imprisonment of his gallant sovereign, King Richard, by\nthe Duke of Austria, and requires his ransom to be sent. He then\nintroduces a description of his matchless valour in the Holy Land.\nJohn not only refuses the ransom-money, but usurps the style of\nking; upon which Lester grows furious, {lix} and rates the whole\ncompany. The following is part of the dialogue:\n\n \u201c_Joh._ (_to Lester_). Darest thou attempt thus proudly in our sight?\n\n  _Lest._ What is\u2019t a subject dares, that I dare not?\n\n  _Sals._ Dare subjects dare, their soveraigne being by?\n\n  _Lest._ O God, that my true soveraigne were ny!\n\n  _Qu._ Lester, he is.\n\n  _Lest._ Madame, by God, you ly.\n\n  _Chest._ Unmanner\u2019d man.\n\n  _Lest._ A plague of reverence!\u201d\n\nAfter this, and more on the same subject, the scene returns to the\nforest, where Ely, being taken by Much, \u201clike a countryman with\na basket,\u201d is examined and detected by Robin, who promises him\nprotection and service. On their departure:\n\n \u201c_Joh._ Skelton, a worde or two beside the play.\n\n  _Fri._ Now, Sir John Eltam, what ist you would say?\n\n  _John._ Methinks I see no jeasts of Robin Hoode,\n No merry morices of Frier Tuck,\n No pleasant skippings up and downe the wodde,\n No hunting songs, no coursing of the bucke:\n Pray God this play of ours may have good lucke,\n And the king\u2019s majestie mislike it not!\n\n  _Fri._ And if he doe, what can we doe to that?\n I promis\u2019d him a play of Robin Hoode,\n His honorable life, in merry Sherewod;\n His majestie himselfe survaid the plot,\n And bad me boldly write it, it was good.\n For merry jeasts, they have bene showne before\n As how the frier fell into the well,\n For love of Jinny, that faire bonny bell:\n How Greeneleafe rob\u2019d the shrieve of Notingham,\n And other mirthful matter, full of game.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnter Warman banished.\u201d He laments his fall, and applies to a\ncousin, on whom he had bestowed large possessions, for relief; but\nreceives nothing, except reproaches for his treachery to his noble\nmaster. The jailor of Nottingham, who was indebted to him for his\nplace, refuses him even a scrap of his dog\u2019s meat, and reviles\nhim in the severest terms. Good-wife Tomson, whose husband he had\ndelivered from death, to his great joy, promises him a caudle,\nbut {lx} fetches him a halter,[45] in which he is about to hang\nhimself, but is prevented by Fitzwater, and some of Robin Hood\u2019s\nmen, who crack a number of jokes upon him; Robin puts an end to\ntheir mockery, and proffers him comfort and favour. Then enters\nFrier Tucke, with an account of Sir Doncaster and the prior being\nstripped and wounded in their way to Bawtrey: Robin, out of love\nto his uncle, hastens to the place. After this \u201cEnter Prince John,\nsolus, in green, bowe and arrowes.\n\n \u201c_John._ Why this is somewhat like, now may I sing,\n As did the Wakefield pinder in his note;\n At Michaelmas commeth my covenant out,\n     My master gives me my fee:\n Then Robin Ile weare thy Kendall greene,\n     And wend to the greenewodde with thee.\u201d[46]\n\nHe assumes the name of Woodnet, and is detected by Scathlocke and\nFrier Tucke. The prince and Scathlocke fight, Scathelocke grows\nweary, and the frier takes his place. Marion enters, and perceiving\nthe frier, parts the combatants. Robin enters, and John submits\nto him. Much enters, running, with information of the approach of\n\u201cthe king and twelve and twenty score of horses.\u201d Robin places his\npeople in order. The trumpets sound, the king and his train enter,\na general pardon ensues, and the king confirms the love of Robin\nand Matilda. Thus the play concludes, Skelton promising the second\npart, and acquainting the audience of what it should consist.\n\nThe second part, or death of Robert earle of Huntington, is\na pursuit of the same story. The scene, so far as our hero\nis concerned, lyes in Sherwood. A few extracts may not be\nunacceptable. {lxi}\n\n\u201cSc. iiii. Winde hornes. Enter king, queene, &c. Frier Tuck\ncarrying a stag\u2019s head, dauncing.\u201d The frier has been sent for to\nread the following incription upon a copper ring round the stag\u2019s\nneck:\n\n \u201cWhen Harold Hare-foote raigned king,\n  About my necke he put this ring.\u201d\n\nThe king orders \u201chead, ring, and all\u201d to be sent to Nottingham\nCastle, to be kept for monuments. Fitzwater tells him he has heard\n\u201can olde tale,\u201d\n\n \u201cThat Harold, being Goodwin\u2019s sonne of Kent,[47]\n  Hunted for pleasure once within this wood,\n  And singled out a faire and stately stagge,\n  Which, foote to foote, the king in running caught;\n  And sure this was the stagge.\n\n  _King._ It was no doubt.\n\n  _Chester._ But some, my lord, affirme,\n That Julius C\u00e6sar, many years before,\n Tooke such a stagge, and such a poesie writ.\u201d[48] {lxii}\n\nUpon which his majesty very sagaciously remarks,\n\n \u201cIt should not be in Julius C\u00e6sar\u2019s time:\n  There was no English used in this land\n  Untill the Saxons came, and this is writ\n  In Saxon characters.\u201d\n\nThe next quotation may be of service to Dr. Percy, who {lxiii}\nhas been pleased to question our hero\u2019s nobility, because \u201cthe\nmost ancient poems make no mention of this earldom,\u201d and the old\nlegend expressly asserts him \u201cto have been a yeoman.\u201d It is very\ntrue; and we shall here not only find his title established, but\nalso discover the secret of his not being usually distinguished or\ndesigned by it.\n\n \u201c_Enter Roben Hoode._\n\n _King._ How now, earle Robert!\n\n _Fri._ A forfet, a forfet, my liege lord,\n My master\u2019s lawes are on record,\n The court-roll here your grace may see.\n\n _King._ I pray thee, frier, read them mee.\n\n _Fri._ One shall suffice, and this is hee.\n No man that commeth in this wod,\n To feast or dwell with Robin Hood,\n Shall call him earle, lord, knight, or squire,\n He no such titles doth desire,\n But Robin Hood, plain Robin Hoode,\n That honest yoeman, stout and good,\n On paine of forfetting a marke,\n That must be paid to mee his clarke.\n My liege, my liege, this lawe you broke,\n Almost in the last word you spoke;\n That crime may not acquitted bee,\n Till Frier Tuck receive his fee.\u201d\n\nNow, the reason that \u201cthe most ancient poems make no mention\nof this earldom,\u201d and the old legend expressly asserts him \u201cto\nhave been a yeoman,\u201d appears, plainly enough, to be, that as,\npursuant to his own injunction, he was never called, either by his\nfollowers, or in the vicinity, by any other name than Robin Hood,\nso particularly the minstrels, who were always, no doubt, welcome\nto Sherwood,[49] {lxiv} and liberally entertained by him and his\nyeomanry, would take special care never to offend against the above\nlaw: which puts an end to the dispute.\u2014Q. E. D.\n\nOur hero is, at length, poisoned by a drink which Doncaster and the\nprior, his uncle, had prepared for him to give to the king. His\ndeparting scene and last dying speech are beautiful and pathetic.\n\n \u201c_Rob._ Inough, inough, Fitzwater, take your child.\n My dying frost, which no sunnes heat can thawe,\n Closes the powers of all my outward parts;\n My freezing blood runnes back into my heart,\n Where it assists death, which it would resist:\n Only my love a little hinders death,\n For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite.\n\n        *       *       *       *       *\n\n _Mat._ O let mee looke for ever in thy eyes,\n And lay my warme breath to thy bloodlesse lips,\n If my sight can restraine death\u2019s tyrannies,\n Or keep lives breath within thy bosome lockt.\u201d\n\nHe desires to be buried\n\n \u201cAt Wakefield, underneath the abbey-wall;\u201d\n\ndirects the manner of his funeral; and bids his yeomen,\n\n \u201cFor holy dirges, sing \u2018him\u2019 wodmen\u2019s songs.\u201d\n\nThe king, upon the earl\u2019s death, expresses his sorrow for the\ntragical event; ratifies the will; repeats the directions for the\nfuneral; and says,\n\n \u201cFall to your wod-songs, therefore, yeomen bold,\n  And deck his herse with flowers, that lov\u2019d you deere.\u201d\n\nThe whole concludes with the following solemn dirge:\n\n \u201cWeepe, weepe, ye wod-men waile,\n  Your hands with sorrow wring;\n  Your master Robin Hood lies deade,\n  Therefore sigh as you sing. {lxv}\n \u201cHere lies his primer, and his beades,\n  His bent bowe, and his arrowes keene,\n  His good sworde and his holy crosse:\n  Now cast on flowers fresh and greene.\n\n \u201cAnd, as they fall, shed teares and say,\n  Well a, well a day, well a, well a day!\n  Thus cast yee flowers and sing,\n  And on to Wakefield take your way.\u201d\n\nThe poet then prosecutes the legend of Matilda, who is finally\npoisoned, by the procurement of King John, in Dunmow Priory.\n\nThe story of this lady, whom the author of these plays is supposed\nto have been the first that converted into the character of Maid\nMarian, or connected in any shape with the history of Robin Hood,\nis thus related by Stow, under the year 1213: \u201cThe chronicle of\nDunmow sayth, this discord arose betwixt the king and his barons,\nbecause of Mawd called the faire, daughter to Robert Fitzwalter,\nwhome the king loved, but her father would not consent; and\nthereupon ensued warre throughout England. .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. Whilst Mawd\nthe faire remayned at Dunmow, there came a messenger unto her\nfrom King John about his suite in love, but because she would not\nagree, the messenger poysoned a boyled or potched egge against she\nwas hungrie, whereof she died\u201d (Annales, 1592). Two of Drayton\u2019s\nheroical epistles pass between King John and Matilda. He has also\nwritten her legend.\n\n4. \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s penn\u2019orths, by Wm. Haughton.\u201d[50]\n\n5. \u201cMetropolis coronata, the triumphs of ancient drapery: or, rich\ncloathing of England, in a second yeeres performance. In honour of\nthe advancement of Sir John Jolles, knight, to the high office of\nlord maior of London, and taking his oath for the same authoritie,\non Monday being the 30. day of October, 1615. Performed in heartie\naffection to him, and at the bountifull charges of his worthy\nbrethren the truely honourable society of drapers, the first that\nreceived such dignitie, in this citie. Devised and written by A. M.\n{lxvi} [Anthony Mundy] citizen and draper of London.\u201d 1615, 4to.\n\nThis is one of the pageants formerly usual on Lord Mayor\u2019s day,\nand of which several are extant, written as well by our author\nMundy,[51] as by Middleton, Dekker, Heywood, and other hackney\ndramatists of that period. They were thought of such consequence\nthat the City had for some time (though probably not till after\nthe Restoration) a professed laureat for their composition; an\noffice which expired with Elkanah Settle in 1723\u201324. They consisted\nchiefly of machinery, allegorical or historical personages, songs\nand speeches.\n\n\u201cAfter all these shewes, thus ordered in their appointed places,\nfolloweth another device of huntsmen, all clad in greene, with\ntheir bowes, arrowes and bugles, and a new slaine deere, carried\namong them. It savoureth of earle Robert de la Hude, sometime\nthe noble earle of Huntington, and sonne in law (by marriage) to\nold Fitz-Alwine,[52] raised by the muses all-commanding power,\nto honour this triumph with his father. During the time of his\nout-lawed life in the forest of merry Shirwood, and elsewhere,\nwhile the cruel oppression of a most unnatural and covetous brother\nhung heavy upon him, Gilbert de la Hude, lord abbot of Christall\n[r. Kirkstall] abbey, who had all or most of his lands in mortgage:\nhe was commonly called Robin Hood, and had a gallant company of\nmen (out-lawed in the like manner) that followed his downecast\nfortunes; as little John, Scathlocke, Much the miller\u2019s son,\nRight-hitting Brand, fryar Tuck, and many more. In which condition\nof life we make instant use of him, and part of his brave bowmen,\nfitted with bowes and arrowes, of the like strength and length, as\ngood records {lxvii} deliver testimonie, were then used by them in\ntheir killing of deere.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n\u201cAfterward, [viz. after \u201cFitz-Alwine\u2019s speech to the lord maior at\nnight,\u201d] as occasion best presenteth itselfe, when the heate of\nall other employments are calmly overpast, earle Robin Hood, with\nfryer Tuck, and his other brave huntesmen, attending (now at last)\nto discharge their duty to my lord, which the busie turmoile of the\nwhole day could not before affoord: they shewe themselves to him in\nthis order, and earle Robin himselfe thus speaketh.\n\nThe speech spoken by Earl Robert de la Hude, commonly called Robin\nHood.\n\n Since graves may not their dead containe,\n Nor in their peacefull sleepes remaine,\n But triumphes and great showes must use them,\n And we unable to refuse them;\n It joyes me that earle Robert Hood,\n Fetcht from the forrest of merrie Shirwood,\n With these my yeomen tight and tall,\n Brave huntsmen and good archers all,\n Must in this joviall day partake,\n Prepared for your honour\u2019s sake.\n No sooner was i raysde from rest,\n And of my former state possest\n As while i liv\u2019d, but being alone,\n And of my yeomen seeing not one,\n I with my bugle gave a call,\n Made all the woods to ring withall.\n Immediately came little John,\n And Scathlock followed him anon,\n With Much the honest miller\u2019s sonne;\n And ere ought else could be done,\n The frollicke frier came tripping in,\n His heart upon a merrie pinne.\n Master (quoth he) in yonder brake,\n A deere is hid for Marian\u2019s sake,\n Bid Scathlock, John, or honest Brand,\n That hath the happy hitting hand,\n Shoote right and have him: and see, my lord,\n The deed performed with the word.\n For Robin and his bow-men bold,\n Religiously did ever holde,\n Not emptie-handed to be seene,\n Were\u2019t but at feasting on a greene; {lxviii}\n Much more then, when so high a day\n Calls our attendance: all we may\n Is all too little, tis your grace\n To winke at weakenesse in this case:\n So, fearing to be over-long,\n End all with our old hunting song.\n\n        *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe song of Robin Hood and his huntes-men.\n\n Now wend we together, my merry men all,\n   Unto the forrest side a;\n And there to strike a buck or a doae,\n   Let our cunning all be tried a.\n\n Then goe we merrily, merrily on,\n   To the green-wood to take up our stand [a],\n Where we will lye in waite for our game,\n   With our best bowes all in our hand [a].\n\n What life is there like to bold Robin Hood?\n   It is so pleasant a thing a:\n In merry Shirwood he spends his dayes,\n   As pleasantly as a king a.\n\n No man may compare with bold Robin Hood,\n   With Robin Hood, Scathlocke and John [a]:\n Their like was never, nor never will be,\n   If in case that they were gone [a].\n\n They will not away from merry Shirwood,\n   In any place else to dwell [a]:\n For there is neither city nor towne,\n   That likes them half so well [a].\n\n Our lives are wholly given to hunt,\n   And haunt the merry greene-wood [a];\n Where our best service is daily spent,\n   For our master Robin Hood [a].\u201d\n\n6. \u201cRobin Hood and his pastoral May games.\u201d 1624.\n\n7. \u201cRobin Hood and his crew of soldiers.\u201d 1627.\n\nThese two titles are inserted among the plays mentioned by Chetwood\nin his British Theatre (p. 67) as written by anonymous authors in\nthe 16th century to the Restoration. But neither Langbaine, who\nmentions both, nor any other person, pretends to have ever seen\neither of them. The former, indeed, may possibly be \u201cThe playe\nof Robyn {lxix} Hode,\u201d already noticed; and the other is probably\na future article. Langbaine, it is to be observed, gives no date\nto either piece; so that it may be fairly concluded those above\nspecified are of Chetwood\u2019s own invention, which appears to have\nbeen abundantly fertile in every species of forgery and imposture.\n\n8. \u201cThe sad shepherd, or a tale of Robin Hood.\u201d\n\nThe story of our renowned archer cannot be said to have been wholly\noccupied by bards without a name, since, not to mention Mundy or\nDrayton, the celebrated Ben Jonson intended a pastoral drama on\nthis subject, under the above title; but dying, in the year 1637,\nbefore it was finished, little more than the two first acts have\ndescended down to us. His last editor (Mr. Whalley), while he\nregrets that it is but a fragment, speaks of it in raptures, and,\nindeed, not without evident reason, many passages being eminently\npoetical and judicious.\n\n\u201cThe persons of the play,\u201d so far as concerns our immediate\npurpose, are: [1] \u201cRobin Hood, the chief woodman [i.e. forester],\nmaster of the feast. [2] Marian, his lady, the mistress. [3] Friar\nTuck, the chaplain and steward. [4] Little John, bow-bearer. [5,\n6] Scarlet, Scathlocke,[53] two brothers, huntsmen. [7] George a\nGreen, huisher of the bower. [8] Much, Robin Hood\u2019s bailiff or\nacater.\u201d The rest are the guests invited, the witch of Paplewick,\nher daughter, the swin\u2019ard her son, Puck Hairy or Robin Goodfellow,\ntheir hind, and lastly a devout hermit. \u201cThe scene, Sherwood,\nconsisting of a landscape of a forest, hills, valleys, cottages,\na castle, a river, pastures, herds, flocks, all full of country\nsimplicity; Robin Hood\u2019s bower, his well, &c.\u201d \u201cThe argument of\nthe first act\u201d is as follows: \u201cRobin Hood, having invited all the\nshepherds and shepherdesses of the vale of Be\u2019voir to a feast in\nthe forest of Sherwood, and trusting to his mistress, Maid Marian,\nwith her woodmen, to kill him venison against the day; having\nleft the like charge with Friar Tuck, his chaplain and steward,\nto command the rest of his merry men to see the bower made {lxx}\nready, and all things in order for the entertainment: \u2018meets\u2019\nwith his guests at their entrance into the wood, and conducts\nthem to his bower: where, by the way, he receives the relation of\nthe sad shepherd \u00c6glamour, who is fallen into a deep melancholy\nfor the loss of his beloved Earine, reported to have been drowned\nin passing over the Trent, some few days before. .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. In the\nmeantime Marian is come from hunting. .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. Robin Hood inquires\nif she hunted the deere at force, and what sport he made? how long\nhe stood? and what head he bore? all which is briefly answered,\nwith a relation of breaking him up, and the raven, and her bone.\nThe suspect had of that raven to be Maudlin the witch of Paplewick,\nwhom one of the huntsmen met i\u2019 the morning at the rousing of the\ndeer, and is confirmed by her being then in Robin Hood\u2019s kitchen,\ni\u2019 the chimney corner, broiling the same bit which was thrown\nto the raven at the quarry or fall of the deer. Marian, being\ngone in to shew the deer to some of the shepherdesses, returns\ndiscontented; sends away the venison she had killed to her they\ncall the witch; quarrels with her love Robin Hood, abuseth him,\nand his guests the shepherds; and so departs, leaving them all in\nwonder and perplexity.\u201d\n\nBy \u201cthe argument of the second act\u201d it appears that the witch had\n\u201ctaken the shape of Marian to abuse Robin Hood and perplex his\nguests.\u201d However, upon an explanation of the matter with the true\nMarian, the trick is found out, the venison recovered, and \u201cRobin\nHood dispatches out his woodmen to hunt and take her: which ends\nthe act.\u201d The third act was designed to be taken up with the chase\nof the witch, her various schemes to elude the pursuers, and the\ndiscovery of Earine in the swineherd\u2019s enchanted oak. Nothing\nmore of the author\u2019s design appearing, we have only to regret\nthe imperfect state of a pastoral drama, which, according to the\nabove learned and ingenious editor, would have done honour to the\nnation.[54] {lxxi}\n\n9. \u201cRobin Hood and his crew of souldiers, a comedy acted at\nNottingham on the day of his saCRed majesties corronation. Vivat\nrex. The actors names: Robin Hood, commander; Little John, William\nScadlocke, souldiers; messenger from the sheriffe. London, printed\nfor James Davis, 1661.\u201d 4to.\n\nThis is an interlude, of a few pages and no merit, alluding to the\nlate rebellion, and the subject of the day. The outlaws, convinced\nby the reasoning of the sheriff\u2019s messenger, become loyal subjects.\n\n10. \u201cRobin Hood. An opera, as it is perform\u2019d at Lee\u2019s and Harper\u2019s\ngreat theatrical booth in Bartholomew-fair.\u201d 1730. 8vo.\n\n11. \u201cRobin Hood.\u201d 1751. 8vo.\n\nThis was a ballad-farce, acted at Drury-lane Theatre, in which the\nfollowing favourite song was originally sung by Mr. Beard, in the\ncharacter of Robin Hood:\n\n As blithe as the linnet sings in the green wood,\n     So blithe we\u2019ll wake the morn;\n And through the wide forest of merry Sherwood\n     We\u2019ll wind the bugle horn.\n\n The sheriff attempts to take bold Robin Hood,\n     Bold Robin disdains to fly;\n Let him come when he will, we\u2019ll, in merry Sherwood,\n     Or vanquish, boys, or die.\n\n Our hearts they are stout, and our bows they are good,\n     As well their masters know;\n They\u2019re cull\u2019d in the forest of merry Sherwood,\n     And never will spare a foe.\n\n Our arrows shall drink of the fallow deer\u2019s blood,\n     We\u2019ll hunt them all o\u2019er the plain!\n And through the wide forest of merry Sherwood,\n     No shaft shall fly in vain.\n\n Brave Scarlet, and John, who ne\u2019er were subdu\u2019d,\n     Give each his hand so bold;\n We\u2019ll range through the forest of merry Sherwood,\n     What say my hearts of gold?\n\n12. \u201cRobin Hood; or Sherwood forest: a comic opera. As performed\nat the theatre-royal in Covent-garden. By Leonard Mac Nally, esq.\u201d\n1784. 8vo. {lxxii}\n\nThis otherwise insignificant performance was embellished with some\nfine music by Mr. Shield. It has been since reduced to, and is\nstill frequently acted as, an after-piece.\n\nA drama on the subject of Robin Hood, under the title of The\nForesters, has been long expected from the elegant author of The\nSchool for Scandal. The first act, said to have been written many\nyears ago, is, by those who have seen or heard it, spoken of with\nadmiration.[55]\n\n\n(27)\u2005\u2014\u201c_innumerable poems, rimes, songs and ballads._\u201d] The\noriginal and most ancient pieces of this nature have all perished\nin the lapse of time, during a period of between five and six\nhundred years\u2019 continuance; and all we now know of them is that\nsuch things once existed. In the Vision of Pierce Plowman, an\nallegorical poem, thought to have been composed soon after the\nyear 1360, and generally ascribed to Robert Langeland, the author\nintroduces an ignorant, idle, and drunken secular priest, the\nrepresentative, no doubt, of the parochial clergy of that age, in\nthe character of Sloth, who makes the following confession:\n\n \u201cI cannot parfitli mi paternoster, as the preist it singeth,\n  But I can ryms of Roben Hode, and \u2018Randolf\u2019 erl of Chester,\n  But of our lorde or our lady I lerne nothyng at all.\u201d[56]\n\n{lxxiii}\n\nFordun, the Scotish historian, who wrote about 1340, speaking\nof Robin Hood and Little John, and their accomplices, says, \u201cof\nwhom the foolish vulgar in comedies and tragedies make lewd\nentertainment, and are delighted to hear the jesters and minstrels\nsing them above all other ballads;\u201d[57] and Mair (or Major),\nwhose history was published by himself in 1521, observes that\n\u201cThe exploits of this Robert are celebrated in songs throughout\nall Britain.\u201d[58] So, likewise, Maister Johne Bellendene, the\ntranslator of \u201cthat noble clerk Maister Hector Boece\u201d (Bois or\nBoethius), having mentioned \u201cthat waithman Robert Hode with his\nfallow litil Johne,\u201d adds, \u201cof quhom ar mony fabillis and mery\nsportis soung amang the vulgar pepyll.\u201d[59] Whatever may have been\nthe nature of the compositions alluded to by the above writers,\nseveral of the pieces printed in the present collection are {lxxiv}\nunquestionably of great antiquity; not less, that is, than between\nthree and four hundred years old. The Lytell Geste, which is first\ninserted, is probably the oldest thing upon the subject we now\npossess;[60] but a legend, apparently of the same species, was once\nextant, of, perhaps, a still earlier date, of which it is some\nlittle satisfaction to be able to give even the following fragment,\nfrom a single leaf, fortunately preserved in one of the volumes of\nold printed ballads in the British Museum, in a handwriting as old\nas Henry the Sixth\u2019s time. It exhibits the characters of our hero\nand his _fidus Achates_ in the noblest point of view.\n\n \u201cHe say_d_ Robyn Hod .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. yne the preson,\n And owght off hit was g_on_.\n\n The porter rose a-non certeyn,\n   As sone as he hard Johan call;\n Lytyll Johan was redy with a sword,\n   And bare hym throw to the wall.\n\n Now will I be jayler, sayd lytyll Johan,\n   And toke the keys in hond;\n He toke the way to Robyn Hod,\n   And sone he hyme unbond.\n\n He gaffe hym a good swerd in his hond,\n   His hed ther-with for to kepe;\n And ther as the wallis wer lowest,\n   Anon down ther they lepe.\n\n        *       *       *       *       *\n\n   To Robyn .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. sayd:\n\n I have d_one_ the a god torne for an .\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   Quit me when thow may;\n I have done the a gode torne, sayd lytyll [Johan],\n   Forsothe as I the saye; {lxxv}\n I have browghte the under the gren wod .\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   Farewell & have gode daye.\n\n Nay, be my trowthe, sayd Robyn,\n   So schall it never bee;\n I make the master, sayd Robyn,\n   Off all my men & me.\n Nay, be my trowthe, sayd lytyll Johan,\n   So schall it never bee.\u201d\n\nThis, indeed, may be part of the \u201cstory of Robin Hood and Little\nJohn,\u201d which M. Wilhelm Bedwell found in the ancient MS. lent him\nby his much honoured good friend M. G. Withers, whence he extracted\nand published \u201cThe Turnament of Tottenham,\u201d a poem of the same age,\nand which seemed to him to be done (perhaps but transcribed) by Sir\nGilbert Pilkington, formerly, as some had thought, parson of that\nparish.[61]\n\nThat poems and stories on the subject of our hero and his\ncompanions were extraordinarily popular and common before and\nduring the 16th century is evident from the testimony of divers\nwriters. Thus, Alexander Barclay, priest, in his translation of The\nShyp of Folys, printed by Pynson in 1508, and by John Cawood in\n1570,[62] says:\n\n \u201cI write no jeste ne tale of Robin Hood.\u201d\n\nAgain:\n\n \u201cFor goodlie scripture is not worth an hawe,\n  But tales are loved ground of ribaudry;\n  And many are so blinded with their foly,\n  That no scriptur thinke they so true nor gode,\n  As is a foolish jest of Robin Hode.\u201d\n\nAgain:\n\n \u201cAnd of all fables and jestes of Robin Hood,\n  Or other trifles.\u201d\n\n{lxxvi}\n\nThe same Barclay, in the fourth of his Egloges, subjoined to the\nlast edition of The Ship of Foles, but originally printed soon\nafter 1500, has the following passage:\n\n \u201cYet would I gladly heare some mery fit\n  Of maide Marion, or els of Robin Hood,\n  Or Benteleyes ale, which chafeth well the blood,\n  Of Perte of Norwich, or Sauce of Wilberton,\n  Or buckishe Joly[63] well stuffed as a ton.\u201d\n\nRobert Braham, in his epistle to the reader, prefixed to Lydgate\u2019s\nTroy-book, 1555, is of opinion that \u201cCaxton\u2019s recueil\u201d [of Troy]\nis \u201cworthye to be numbred amongest the trifelinge tales and\nbarrayne luerdries of Robyn Hode and Bevys of Hampton.\u201d (See Ames\u2019s\nTypographical Antiquities, by Herbert, p. 849.)\n\n\u201cFor one that is sand blynd,\u201d says Sir Thomas Chaloner, \u201cwould take\nan asse for a moyle, or another prayse a rime of Robyn Hode for\nas excellent a making as Troylus of Chaucer, yet shoulde they not\nstraight-waies be counted madde therefore?\u201d (Erasmus\u2019s Praise of\nFolye, sig. h.)\n\n\u201cIf good lyfe,\u201d observes Bishop Latimer, \u201cdo not insue and folowe\nupon our readinge to the example of other, we myghte as well spende\nthat tyme in reading of prophane hystories, of Canterburye tales,\nor a fit of Roben Hode\u201d (Sermons, sig. A. iiii.)\n\nThe following lines, from a poem in the Hyndford MS. compiled\nin 1568, afford an additional proof of our hero\u2019s popularity in\nScotland:\n\n \u201cThair is no story that I of heir,\n  Of Johne nor Robene Hude,\n  Nor zit of Wallace wicht but weir,\n  That me thinkes half so gude,\n  As of thre palmaris,\u201d &c.\n\nThat the subject was not forgotten in the succeeding age, can be\ntestifyed by Drayton, who is elsewhere quoted, and in his sixth\neclogue makes Gorbo thus address \u201cold Winken de Word:\u201d {lxxvii}\n\n \u201cCome, sit we down under this hawthorn-tree,\n  The morrow\u2019s light shall lend us day enough,\n  And let us tell of Gawen, or Sir Guy,\n  Of Robin Hood, or of old Clem a Clough.\u201d\n\nRichard Johnson, who wrote \u201cThe History of Tom Thumbe,\u201d in prose\n(London, 1621, 12mo, b. l.), thus prefaces his work: \u201cMy merry muse\nbegets no tales of Guy of Warwicke, &c. nor will I trouble my penne\nwith the pleasant glee of Robin Hood, little John, the fryer, and\nhis Marian; nor will I call to mind the lusty Pinder of Wakefield,\n&c.\u201d\n\nIn \u201cThe Calidonian Forrest,\u201d a sort of allegorical or mystic tale,\nby John Hepwith, gentleman, printed in 1641, 4to, the author says,\n\n \u201cLet us talke of Robin Hoode,\n  And little John in mery Shirewoode,\u201d &c.[64]\n\nOf one very ancient, and undoubtedly once very popular, song this\nsingle line is all that is now known to exist: {lxxviii}\n\n \u201cRobin Hood in Barnsdale stood.\u201d\n\nHowever, though but a line, it is of the highest authority in\nWestminster Hall, where, in order to the decision of a knotty\npoint, it has been repeatedly cited, in the most solemn manner, by\ngrave and learned judges.\n\nM. 6 Jac. B. R. Witham _v._ Barker, Yelv. 147. Trespass, for\nbreaking plaintif\u2019s close, &c. Plea. Liberum tenementum of Sir\nJohn Tyndall, and justification as his servant and by his command.\nReplication, That it is true it is his freehold, but that long\nbefore the time when &c. he leased to plaintif at will, who\nentered and was possessed until, &c. traversing, that defendant\nentered, &c. by command of Sir John. Demurrer: and adjudged\nagainst plaintif, on the ground of the replication being bad, as\nnot setting forth any seisin or possession in Sir John, out of\nwhich a lease at will could be derived. For a title made by the\nplea or replication should be certain to all intents, because it\nis traversable. Here, therefor, he should have stated Sir John\u2019s\nseisin, as well as the lease at will; which is not done here: \u201cmes\ntout un come il ust replie Robin Whood in Barnwood stood, absque\nhoc q def. p commandement Sir John. Quod nota. Per Fenner, Williams\net Crook justices sole en court. Et judgment done accordant. Yelv.\np def.\u201d\n\nIn the case of Bush _v._ Leake, B. R. Trin. 23 G. 3, Buller,\njustice, cited the case of Coulthurst _v._ Coulthurst, C. B.\nPasch. 12 G. 3 (an action on bond), and observed, \u201cThere a case in\nYelverton was alluded to, where the court said, you might as well\nsay, by way of inducement to a traverse, Robin Hood in Barnwood\nstood.\u201d\n\nIt is almost unnecessary to observe, because it will be shortly\nproved, that Barnwood, in the preceding quotations, ought to be\nBarnsdale.[65] With respect to Whood, the reader {lxxix} will\nsee, under Note 19, a remarkable proof of the antiquity of that\npronunciation, which actually prevails in the metropolis at this\nday. See also the word \u201cwhodes\u201d in Note 34. So, likewise, Bale, in\nhis _Actes of English Votaries_, 1560, says, \u201cthe monkes had their\ncowles, caprones or whodes;\u201d and in Stow\u2019s _Survey_, 1598, p. 120,\nhave \u201ca fooles whoode.\u201d\n\nThis celebrated and important line occurs as the first of a foolish\nmock-song, inserted in an old mortality, intitled \u201cA new interlude\nand a mery of the nature of the iiii elementes,\u201d supposed to\nhave been printed by John Rastall about 1520; where it is thus\nintroduced:\n\n \u201c_Hu_[_manyte_]. \u2015\u2015let us some lusty balet syng.\n\n _Yng_[_norance_]. Nay, syr, by the hevyn kyng:\n        For me thynkyth it servyth for no thyng,\n        All suche pevysh prykeryd song.\n\n _Hu._ Pes, man, pryk-song may not be dyspysyd,\n        For therwith God is well plesyd.\n\n        *       *       *       *       *\n\n _Yng._ Is God well pleasyd, trowest thou, therby?\n        Nay, nay, for there is no reason why.\n        For is it not as good to say playnly\n        Gyf me a spade,\n        As gyf me a spa ve va ve va ve vade?\n        But yf thou wylt have a song that is good,\n        I have one of Robyn Hode,\n        The best that ever was made. {lxxx}\n\n _Hu._ Then a feleshyp, let us here it.\n\n _Yng._ But there is a bordon, thou must here it,\n        Or ellys it wyll not be.\n\n _Hu._ Than begyn, and care not for .\u00a0.\u00a0.\n              Downe downe downe, &c.\n\n _Yng._ Robyn Hode in Barnysdale stode,\n        And lent hym tyl a mapyll thystyll;\n        Than cam our lady & swete saynt Andrewe;\n        Slepyst thou, wakyst thou, Geffrey Coke?[66]\n\n        A c. wynter the water was depe,\n        I can not tell you how brode;\n        He toke a gose nek in his hande,\n        And over the water he went.\n\n        He start up to a thystell top,\n        And cut hym downe a holyn clobbe;\n        He stroke the wren betwene the hornys,\n        That fyre sprange out of the pygges tayle.\n\n        Jak boy is thy bow i-broke,\n        Or hath any man done the wryguldy wrange?\n        He plukkyd muskyllys out of a wyllowe,\n        And put them in to his sachell.\n\n        Wylkyn was an archer good,\n        And well coude handell a spade;\n        He toke his bend bowe in his hand,\n        And set him downe by the fyre.\n\n        He toke with hym lx. bowes and ten,\n        A pese of befe, another of baken.\n        Of all the byrdes in mery Englond,\n        So merely pypys the mery bottel.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe lives, stories, and giftes of men which are contained in the\nbible, they [the papists] read as thinges no more pertaining unto\nthem than a tale of Robin Hood\u201d (Tyndale, Prologue to the prophecy\nof Jonas, about 1531).\n\nGwalter Lynne, printer, in his dedication to Ann, Duchess of\nSomerset, of \u201cThe true beliefe in Christ and his sacramentes,\u201d\n1550, says, \u201cI woulde wyshe tharfore that al men, {lxxxi} women,\nand chyldren, would read it. Not as they haue bene here tofore\naccustomed to reade the fained storyes of Robin-hode, Clem of the\nCloughe, wyth such lyke to passe the tyme wythal,\u201d &c.\n\nIn 1562, John Alde had license to print \u201ca ballad of Robyn god,\u201d a\nmistake, it is probable, for Robyn Hod.\n\nAlexander Hume, minister of Logie, about 1599, says in one of his\n\u201cHymnes or Sacred Songs,\u201d printed in that year, that\n\n \u2015\u2015\u201cmuch to blame are those of carnal brood,\n Who loath to taste of intellectual food,\n Yet surfeit on old tales of Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n           Complaint of Scotland, Edin. 1801, Dissertation, p. 221.\n\n \u201cExclude the scriptures, and bid them read the story\n  Of Robin Hood and Guy, which was both tall and stout,\n  And Bevis of Southampton, to seek the matter out.\n  Suffer all slander against God and his truth,\n  And praise the old fashion in king Arthur\u2019s days,\n  Of abbays and monasteries how it is great ruth\n  To have them plucked down, and so the eldest says;\n  And how it was merry when Robin Hood\u2019s plays\n  Was in every town, the morrice and the fool,\n  The maypole and the drum, to bring the calf from school,\n  With Midge, Madge and Marion, about the pole to dance,\n  And Stephen, that tall stripling, to lead Volans dance,\n  With roguing Gangweeke, a goodly remembrance,\n  With beads in every hand, our prayers stood by tale:\n  This was a merry work, talk among our meany,\n  And then of good eggs ye might have twenty for a penny.\u201d\n\n                          L. Ramsey\u2019s Practice of the Divell, b. l.\n\nAll the entire poems and songs known to be extant will be found\nin the following collection; but many more may be traditionally\npreserved in different parts of the country which would have\nadded considerably to its value.[67] That {lxxxii} some of these\nidentical pieces, or others of the like nature, were great\nfavourites with the common people in the time of Queen Elizabeth,\nthough not much esteemed, it would seem, by the refined critic,\nmay, in addition to the testimonies already cited, be inferred\nfrom a passage in Webbe\u2019s Discourse {lxxxiii} of English Poetrie,\nprinted in 1586. \u201cIf I lette passe,\u201d says he, \u201cthe unaccountable\nrabble of ryming ballet-makers and compylers of sencelesse sonets,\nwho be most busy to stuffe every stall full of grosse devises\nand unlearned pamphlets, I trust I shall with the best sort be\nheld excused. For though many such can frame an alehouse-song of\nfive or sixe score verses, hobbling uppon some tune of a northern\njygge, or Robyn Hoode, or La lubber, &c. and perhappes observe\njust number of sillables, eyght in one line, sixe in an other,\nand therewithall an A to make a jercke in the ende, yet if these\nmight be accounted poets (as it is sayde some of them make meanes\nto be promoted to the lawrell), surely we shall shortly have whole\nswarmes of poets; and every one that can frame a booke in ryme,\nthough, for want of matter, it be but in commendations of copper\nnoses, or bottle ale, wyll catch at the garlande due to poets:\nwhose potticall (poeticall, I should say) heades, I woulde wyshe,\nat their worshipfull comencements, might, in steede of lawrell,\nbe gorgiously garnished with fayre greene barley, in token of\ntheir good affection to our Englishe malt.\u201d The chief object of\nthis satire seems to be William Elderton, the drunken {lxxxiv}\nballad-maker, of whose compositions all but one or two have\nunfortunately perished.[68]\n\nMost of the songs inserted in the second half of this volume were\ncommon broad-sheet ballads, printed in black letter, with woodcuts,\nbetween the Restoration and the Revolution; though copies of some\nfew have been found of an earlier date. \u201cWho was the author of the\ncollection intitled Robin Hood\u2019s Garland, no one,\u201d says Sir John\nHawkins, \u201chas yet pretended to guess. As some of the songs have in\nthem more of the spirit of poetry than others, it is probable,\u201d he\nthinks, \u201cit is the work of various hands: that it has from time to\ntime been varied and adapted to the phrase of the times,\u201d he says,\n\u201cis certain.\u201d None of these songs, it is believed, were collected\ninto a garland till after the Restoration; as the earliest that\nhas been met with, a copy of which is in the possession of Francis\nDouce, Esq., was printed by W. Thackeray, a noted ballad-monger,\nin 1670. This, however, contains no more than sixteen songs, some\nof which, very falsely as it seems, are said to have been \u201cnever\nbefore printed.\u201d \u201cThe latest edition of any worth,\u201d according to\nSir John Hawkins, \u201cis that of 1719.\u201d None of the old editions of\nthis garland have any sort of preface: that prefixed to the modern\nones, of Bow or Aldermary churchyard, being {lxxxv} taken from the\ncollection of old ballads, 1723, where it is placed at the head of\nRobin Hood\u2019s birth and breeding. The full title of the last London\nedition of any note is\u2014\u201cRobin Hood\u2019s Garland: being a complete\nhistory of all the notable and merry exploits performed by him and\nhis men on many occasions: To which is added a preface [_i.e._ the\none already mentioned] giving a more full and particular account\nof his birth, &c., than any hitherto published. [Cut of archers\nshooting at a target.]\n\n I\u2019ll send this arrow from my bow,\n   And in a wager will be bound\n To hit the mark aright, although\n   It were for fifteen hundred pound.\n Doubt not I\u2019ll make the wager good,\n Or ne\u2019er believe bold Robin Hood.\n\nAdorned with twenty-seven neat and curious cuts adapted to the\nsubject of each song. London, Printed and sold by R. Marshall,\nin Aldermary church-yard, Bow-lane.\u201d 12mo. On the back of the\ntitle-page is the following Grub-street address:\n\n \u201cTo all gentlemen archers.\n\n \u201cThis garland has been long out of repair,\n   Some songs being wanting, of which we give account;\n  For now at last, by true industrious care,\n   The sixteen songs to twenty-seven we mount;\n  Which large addition needs must please, I know,\n     All the ingenious \u2018yeomen\u2019 of the bow.\n  To read how Robin Hood and Little John,\n     Brave Scarlet, Stutely, valiant, bold and free,\n  Each of them bravely, fairly play\u2019d the man,\n     While they did reign beneath the green-wood tree;\n  Bishops, friars, likewise many more,\n  Parted with their gold, for to increase their store,\n  But never would they rob or wrong the poor.\u201d\n\nThe last seven lines are not by the author of the first six, but\nwere added afterwards; perhaps when the twenty-four songs were\nincreased to twenty-seven.[69] {lxxxvi}\n\n\n(28)\u2005\u2014\u201c_has given rise to divers proverbs._\u201d] Proverbs, in all\ncountries, are, generally speaking, of very great antiquity; and\ntherefore it will not be contended that those concerning our hero\nare the oldest we have. It is highly probable, however, that they\noriginated in or near his own time, and of course have existed\nfor upwards of 500 years, which is no modern date. They are here\narranged, not, perhaps, according to their exact chronological\norder, but by the age of the authorities they are taken from.\n\n1. \u201cGood even, good Robin Hood.\u201d\n\nThe allusion is to civility extorted by fear. It is preserved by\nSkelton, in that most biting satire against Cardinal Wolsey, \u201cWhy\ncome ye not to court?\u201d (Works, 1736, p. 147).\n\n \u201cHe is set so hye,\n  In his hierarchy,\n\n         *       *       *       *       *\n\n  That in the chambre of stars\n  All matters there he mars;\n  Clapping his rod on the borde,\n  No man dare speake a word;\n  For he hath all the saying,\n  Without any renaying: {lxxxvii}\n  He rolleth in his recordes,\n  He saith, How say ye my lordes?\n  Is not my reason good?\n  Good even, good Robin Hood.\u201d[70]\n\n2. \u201cMany men talk of Robin Hood that never shot in his bow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is, many discourse (or prate rather) of matters wherein they\nhave no skill or experience. This proverb is now extended all over\nEngland, though originally of Nottinghamshire extraction, where\nRobin Hood did principally reside in Sherwood forest. He was an\narch-robber, and withal an excellent archer; though surely the\npoet[71] gives a twang to the loose of his arrow, making him shoot\none a cloth-yard long, at full forty score mark, for compass never\nhigher than the breast, and within less than a foot of the mark.\nBut herein our author hath verified the proverb, talking at large\nof Robin Hood, in whose bow he never shot\u201d (Fuller\u2019s Worthies, p.\n315).\n\n\u201cOne may justly wonder,\u201d adds the facetious writer, \u201cthis archer\ndid not at last hit the mark, I mean, come to the gallows for his\nmany robberies.\u201d\n\nThe proverb is mentioned, and given as above, by Sir Edward Coke in\nhis 3d Institute, p. 197. See also Note 26. It is thus noticed by\nJonson in \u201cThe king\u2019s entertainment at Welbeck in Nottinghamshire,\n1633:\u201d\n\n \u201cThis is .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. father Fitz-Ale, herald of Derby, &c.\n  He can fly o\u2019er hills and dales,\n  And report you more odd tales\n  Of our out law Robin Hood,\n  That revell\u2019d here in Sherewood,\n  And more stories of him show,\n  (Though he ne\u2019er shot in his bow)\n  Than au\u2019 men or believe, or know.\u201d\n\n{lxxxviii}\n\nWe likewise meet with it in Epigrams, &c., 1654:\n\n               \u201cIn Vertutem.\n\n \u201cVertue we praise, but practice not her good,\n  (Athenian-like) we act not what we know;\n  So many men doe talk of Robin Hood,\n  Who never yet shot arrow in his bow.\u201d\n\nOn the back of a ballad in Anthony a Wood\u2019s collection he has\nwritten,\n\n \u201cThere be some that prate\n  Of Robin Hood, and of his bow,\n  Which never shot therein, I trow.\u201d\n\nRay gives it thus:\n\n \u201cMany talk of Robin Hood, that never shot in his bow,\n  And many talk of little John, that never did him know:\u201d\n\nwhich Kelly has varied, but without authority.\n\nCamden\u2019s printer has separated the lines, as distinct proverbs\n(Remains, 1674):\n\n \u201cMany speak of Robin Hood that never shot in his bow.\n\n \u201cMany a man talks of little John that never did him know.\u201d\n\nThis proverb likewise occurs in The downfall of Robert earle of\nHuntington, 1600, and is alluded to in a scarce and curious old\ntract intitled \u201cThe contention betwyxte Church-yeard and Camell,\nupon David Dycer\u2019s Dreame,\u201d &c. 1560, 4to, b. l.\n\n \u201cYour sodain stormes and thundre claps, your boasts and braggs so loude:\n  Hath doone no harme thogh Robin Hood spake with you in a cloud.\n  Go learne againe of litell Jhon, to shute in Robyn Hods bowe,\n  Or Dicars dreame shall be unhit, and all his whens, I trowe.\u201d[72]\n\nThe Italians appear to have a similar saying:\n\n Molti parlan di Orlando\n Chi non viddero mai suo brando.\n\n{lxxxix}\n\n3. \u201cTo overshoot Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd lastly and chiefly, they cry out with open mouth as if they\nhad overshot Robin Hood, that Plato banished them [_i.e._ poets]\nout of his commonwealth\u201d (Sir P. Sidney\u2019s Defence of Poesie).\n\n4. \u201cTales of Robin Hood are good [enough] for fools.\u201d\n\nThis proverb is inserted in Camden\u2019s Remains, printed originally in\n1605; but the word in brackets is supplied from Ray.\n\n5. \u201cTo sell Robin Hood\u2019s pennyworths.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is spoken of things sold under half their value; or if you\nwill, half sold, half given. Robin Hood came lightly by his\nware, and lightly parted therewith; so that he could afford the\nlength of his bow for a yard of velvet. Whithersoever he came, he\ncarried a fair along with him; chapmen crowding to buy his stollen\ncommodities. But seeing the receiver is as bad as the thief, and\nsuch buyers are as bad as receivers, the cheap pennyworths of\nplundered goods may in fine prove dear enough to their consciences\u201d\n(Fuller\u2019s Worthies, p. 315).\n\nThis saying is alluded to in the old North-country song of Randal a\nBarnaby:\n\n \u201cAll men said, it became me well,\n  And Robin Hood\u2019s pennyworths I did sell.\u201d\n\n6. \u201cCome, turn about, Robin Hood.\u201d\n\nImplying that to challenge or defy our hero must have been the _ne\nplus ultra_ of courage. It occurs in \u201cWit and Drollery,\u201d 1661:\n\n \u201cO love, whose power and might,\n     No creature ere withstood,\n  Thou forcest me to write,\n     Come turn about Robin-hood.\u201d\n\n7. \u201cAs crook\u2019d as Robin Hood\u2019s bow.\u201d\n\nThat is, we are to conceive, when bent by himself. The following\nstanza of a modern Irish song is the only authority for this\nproverb that has been met with:\n\n \u201cThe next with whom I did engage,\n  It was an old woman worn with age, {xc}\n  Her teeth were like tobacco pegs,\n  Besides she had two bandy legs,\n  Her back more crook\u2019d than Robin Hood\u2019s bow,\n  Purblind and decrepid, unable to go;\n  Altho\u2019 her years were sixty-three,\n  She smil\u2019d at the humours of Soosthe Bue.\u201d\n\n8. \u201cTo go round by Robin Hood\u2019s barn.\u201d\n\nThis saying, which now first appears in print, is used to imply the\ngoing of a short distance by a circuitous method, or the farthest\nway about.\n\n\n(29)\u2005\u2014\u201c_to swear by him, or some of his companions, appears to\nhave been a usual practice._\u201d] The earliest instance of this\npractice occurs in a pleasant story among \u201cCertaine merry tales of\nthe mad-men of Gottam,\u201d compiled in the reign of Henry VIII. by\nDr. Andrew Borde, an eminent physician of that period, which here\nfollows verbatim, as taken from an old edition in black letter,\nwithout date (in the Bodleian Library), being the first tale in the\nbook.\n\n\u201cThere was two men of Gottam, and the one of them was going to\nthe market at Nottingham to buy sheepe, and the other came from\nthe market; and both met together upon Nottingham bridge. Well\nmet, said the one to the other. Whither be yee going? said he that\ncame from Nottingham. Marry, said he that was going thither, I\ngoe to the market to buy sheepe. Buy sheepe! said the other, and\nwhich way wilt thou bring them home? Marry, said the other, I will\nbring them over this bridge. By Robin Hood, said he that came from\nNottingham, but thou shalt not. By Maid Marrion, said he that was\ngoing thitherward, but I will. Thou shalt not, said the one. I\nwill, said the other. Ter here! said the one. Shue there! said the\nother. Then they beate their staves against the ground, one against\nthe other, as there had beene an hundred sheepe betwixt them. Hold\nin, said the one. Beware the leaping over the bridge of my sheepe,\nsaid the other. I care not, said the other. They shall not come\nthis way, said the one. But they shall, said the other. Then said\nthe other, & if that thou make much to doe, I will put my finger in\nthy mouth. A turd thou wilt, said the other. And as they were at\nthat contention, another man of Gottam {xci} came from the market,\nwith a sacke of meale upon a horse, and seeing and hearing his\nneighbours at strife for sheepe, and none betwixt them, said, Ah\nfooles, will you never learn wit? Helpe me, said he that had the\nmeale, and lay my sack upon my shoulder. They did so; and he went\nto the one side of the bridge, and unloosed the mouth of the sacke,\nand did shake out all his meale into the river. Now, neighbours,\nsaid the man, how much meale is there in my sacke now? Marry, there\nis none at all, said they. Now, by my faith, said he, even as much\nwit is in your two heads, to strive for that thing you have not.\nWhich was the wisest of all these three persons, judge you.\u201d[73]\n\n\u201cBy the bare scalp of Robin Hood\u2019s fat frier,\u201d is an oath put\nby Shakespeare into the mouth of one of his outlaws in the _Two\nGentlemen of Verona_, act iv. scene 1. \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s fat frier\u201d is\nFrier Tuck; a circumstance of which Doctor Johnson, who set about\nexplaining that author with a very inadequate stock of information,\nwas perfectly ignorant.\n\n\n(30)\u2005\u2014\u201c_his songs have been preferred, not only on the most\nsolemn occasion to the psalms of David, but in fact to the New\nTestament._\u201d] [\u201cOn Friday, March 9th, 1733] was executed at\nNorthampton William Alcock for the murder of his wife. He never\nown\u2019d the fact, nor was at all concern\u2019d at his approaching death,\nrefusing the prayers and assistance of any persons. In the morning\nhe drank more than was sufficient, yet sent and paid for a pint of\nwine, which being deny\u2019d him, he would not enter the cart before he\nhad his money return\u2019d. On his way to the gallows he sung part of\nan old song of Robin Hood, with the chorus, Derry, derry, down,[74]\n&c., and swore, kick\u2019d and spurn\u2019d at every person {xcii} that laid\nhold of the cart; and before he was turn\u2019d off, took off his shoes,\nto avoid a well-known proverb; and being told by a person in the\ncart with him, it was more proper for him to read, or hear some\nbody read to him, than so vilely to swear and sing, he struck the\nbook out of the person\u2019s hands, and went on damning the spectators,\nand calling for wine. Whilst psalms and prayers were performing at\nthe tree, he did little but talk to one or other, desiring some to\nremember him, others to drink to his good journey; and to the last\nmoment declared the injustice of his case\u201d (Gentleman\u2019s Magazine,\nvol. iii. P. 154).\n\nTo this maybe added, that at Edinburgh, in 1565, \u201cSandy Stevin\nmenstrall [_i.e._ musician] was convinced of blasphemy, alledging,\nThat he would give no moir credit to The new testament, then to\na tale of Robin Hood, except it wer confirmed be the doctours of\nthe church\u201d (Knox\u2019s Historie of the Reformation in Scotland, Edin.\n1732, p. 368).\n\nWilliam Roy, in a bitter satire against Cardinal Wolsey, intitled,\n\u201cRede me and be nott wrothe For I saye nothynge but trothe,\u201d\nprinted abroad, about 1525, speaking of the bishops, says:\n\n \u201cTheir frantyke foly is so pevisshe,\n  That they contempne in Englisshe,\n     To have the new testament;\n  But as for tales of Robyn Hode,\n  With wother jestes nether honest nor goode,\n     They have none impediment.\u201d\n\nTo the same effect is the following passage in another old libel\nupon the priests, intitled \u201cI playne Piers which can not flatter, a\nplowe-man men me call,\u201d &c. b. l. n. d. printed in the original as\nprose:\n\n \u201cNo Christen booke,\n  Maye thou on looke,\n     Yf thou be an Englishe strunt, {xciii}\n  Thus dothe alyens us loutte,\n  By that ye spreade aboute,\n     After that old sorte and wonte.\n  You allowe they saye,\n  Legenda aurea,\n     Roben Hoode, Bevys, & Gower,\n  And all bagage be syd,\n  But God\u2019s word ye may not abyde,\n     These lyese are your churche \u2018dower.\u2019\u201d\n\nSee also before, p. lxxii.[75]\n\nSo in Laurence Ramsey\u2019s \u201cPractise of the Divell\u201d (n. d. 4to, b. l.):\n\n \u201cExclude the scriptures, and byd them reade the storie\n  Of Robin Hood, and Guye, which was both tall and stout,\n  And Bevis of Southampton, to seeke the matter out.\u201d\n\n\n(31) \u201c_His service to the Word of God._\u201d] \u201cI came once myselfe,\u201d\nsays Bishop Latimer (in his sixth sermon before King Edward VI.),\n\u201cto a place, riding on a jorney homeward from London, and I sent\nworde over night into the towne that I would preach there in\nthe morning, bicause it was a holy day, and methought it was an\nholydayes worke. The churche stode in my way; and I tooke my horse\nand my company and went thither (I thought I should have found a\ngreat companye in the churche), and when I came there, the churche\ndore was faste locked. I taried there half an hower and more; at\nlast the keye was founde; and one of the parishe commes to me, and\nsayes, Sir, this is a busie day with us, we cannot heare you; it is\nRobin Hoodes daye. The parishe are gone abroad to gather for Robin\nHoode, I pray you let them not. I was fayne there to geve place\nto Robin Hoode. I thought my rochet shoulde have bene regarded,\nthoughe I were not; but it woulde not serve, it was fayne to geve\nplace to Robin Hodes men. {xciv}\n\n\u201cIt is no laughyng matter, my frendes, it is a weepyng matter, a\nheavy matter, under the pretence for gatherynge for Robin Hoode,\na traytour[76] and a theefe, to put out a preacher, to have\nhis office lesse esteemed, to preferre Robin Hoode before the\nministration of God\u2019s worde, and all this hath come of unpreaching\nprelates. Thys realme hath bene ill provided for, that it hath had\nsuche corrupte judgementes in it, to preferre Robin Hoode to God\u2019s\nworde. If the bishoppes had bene preachers, there shoulde never\nhave bene any such thing,\u201d &c.\n\n\n(32)\u2005\u2014\u201c_may be called the patron of archery._\u201d] The bow and arrow\nmakers, in particular, have always held his memory in the utmost\nreverence. Thus, in the old ballad of London\u2019s Ordinary:\n\n \u201cThe hosiers will dine at the Leg,\n   The drapers at the sign of the Brush,\n  The fletchers to Robin Hood will go,\n   And the spendthrift to Beggar\u2019s-bush.\u201d[77]\n\nThe picture of our hero is yet a common sign in the country, and,\nbefore hanging-signs were abolished in London, must have been still\nmore so in the City; there being at present no less than a dozen\nalleys, courts, lanes, &c., to which he or it has given a name.\n(See Baldwin\u2019s New Complete Guide, 1770.) The Robin Hood Society,\na club or assembly for public debate, or school for oratory, is\nwell known. It was held at a public-house, which had once borne the\nsign, and still retained the name of this great man, in Butcher\nRow, near Temple Bar.\n\nIt is very usual in the North of England for a publican whose name\nfortunately happens to be John Little to have {xcv} the sign\nof Robin Hood and his constant attendant, with this quibbling\nsubscription:\n\n \u201cYou gentlemen, and yeomen good,\n  Come in and drink with Robin Hood;\n  If Robin Hood be not at home,\n  Come in and drink with Little John.\u201d[78]\n\nAn honest countryman, admiring the conceit, adopted the lines, with\na slight, but, as he thought, necessary alteration, viz.:\n\n \u201cIf Robin Hood be not at home,\n  Come in and drink with\u2014Simon Webster.\u201d\n\nDrayton, describing the various ensigns or devices of the English\ncounties at the battle of Agincourt, gives to\n\n \u201cOld Nottingham, an archer clad in green,\n  Under a tree with his drawn bow that stood,\n  Which in a chequer\u2019d flag far off was seen;\n  It was the picture of old Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n\n(33)\u2005\u2014\u201c_the supernatural powers he is, in some parts, supposed to\nhave possessed._\u201d] \u201cIn the parish of Halifax is an immense stone\nor rock, supposed to be a Druidical monument, there called Robin\nHood\u2019s pennystone, which he is said to have used to pitch with at a\nmark for his amusement. There is likewise another of these stones,\nof several tons weight, which the country-people will tell you he\nthrew off an adjoining hill with a spade as he was digging. Every\nthing of the marvellous kind being here attributed to Robin Hood,\nas it is in Cornwall to King Arthur\u201d (Watson\u2019s History of Halifax,\np. 27).\n\nAt Birchover, six miles south of Bakewell, and four from Haddon, in\nDerbyshire, among several singular groups of rocks, are some stones\ncalled Robin Hood\u2019s stride, being two {xcvi} of the highest and\nmost remarkable. The people say Robin Hood lived here.\n\n\n(34)\u2005\u2014\u201c_having a festival allotted to him, and solemn games\ninstituted in honour of his memory_,\u201d _&c._] These games, which\nwere of great antiquity and different kinds, appear to have been\nsolemnised on the first and succeeding days of May, and to owe\ntheir original establishment to the cultivation and improvement\nof the manly exercise of archery, which was not, in former times,\npractised merely for the sake of amusement.\n\n\u201cI find,\u201d says Stow, \u201cthat in the moneth of May, the citizens of\nLondon, of all estates, lightlie in every parish, or sometimes\ntwo or three parishes joyning together, had their severall\nmayinges, and did fetch in Maypoles, with divers warlike shewes,\nwith good archers, morrice-dancers, and other devices for pastime\nall the day long: and towards the evening they had stage-playes\nand bonefires in the streetes. .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. These greate Mayinges and\nMaygames, made by the governors and masters of this citie, with the\ntriumphant setting up of the greate shafte (a principall Maypole in\nCornhill, before the parish church of S. Andrew, therefore called\nUndershafte) by meane of an insurrection of youthes against alianes\non Mayday 1517, the ninth of Henry the Eight, have not beene so\nfreely used as afore\u201d (Survey of London, 1598, p. 72).\n\nThe disuse of these ancient pastimes, and the consequent \u201cneglect\nof archerie,\u201d are thus pathetically lamented by Richard Niccolls,\nin his London\u2019s Artillery, 1616:\n\n[Sidenote: A description of one drawing a bow.]\n\n \u201cHow is it that our London hath laid downe\n  This worthy practise, which was once the crowne\n  Of all her pastime, when her Robin Hood\n  Had wont each yeare, when May did clad the wood,\n  With lustie greene, to lead his yong men out,\n  Whose brave demeanour, oft when they did shoot,\n  Invited royall princes from their courts,\n  Into the wilde woods to behold their sports!\n  Who thought it then a manly sight and trim,\n  To see a youth of cleane compacted lim,\n  Who, with a comely grace, in his left hand\n  Holding his bow, did take his stedfast stand,\n  Setting his left leg somewhat foorth before,\n  His arrow with his right hand nocking sure, {xcvii}\n  Not stooping, nor yet standing streight upright,\n  Then, with his left hand little \u2019bove his sight,\n  Stretching his arm out, with an easie strength,\n  To draw an arrow of a yard in length.\u201d[79]\n\nThe lines,\n\n \u201cInvited royall princes from their courts\n  Into the wild woods to behold their sports,\u201d\n\nmay be reasonably supposed to allude to Henry VIII., who appears\nto have been particularly attached, as well to the exercise of\narchery as to the observance of May. Some short time after his\ncoronation, says Hall, he \u201ccame to Westminster with the quene, and\nall their traine: and on a tyme being there, his grace therles of\nEssex, Wilshire, and other noble menne, to the numbre of twelve,\ncame sodainly in a mornyng into the quenes chambre, all appareled\nin short cotes of Kentish Kendal, with hodes on their heddes, and\nhosen of the same, every one of them his bowe and arrowes, and a\nsworde and a bucklar, like outlawes, or \u2018Robyn\u2019 Hodes men; whereof\nthe quene, the ladies, and al other there were abashed, aswell for\nthe straunge sight, as also for their sodain commyng: and after\ncertayn daunces and pastime made thei departed\u201d (Hen. VIII. fo.\n6, b). The same author gives the following curious account of \u201cA\nmaiynge\u201d in the 7th year of this monarch (1516): \u201cThe kyng & the\nquene, accompanied with many lordes & ladies, roade to the high\ngrounde on Shoters hil to take the open ayre, and as they passed\nby the way they espied a company of tall yomen, clothed all in\ngrene, with grene whodes & bowes and arrowes, to the number of ii.\nC. Then one of them whiche called hymselfe Robyn Hood, came to the\nkyng, desyring hym to se his men shote, & the kyng was content.\nThen he whisteled, and all the ii. C. archers shot & losed at\nonce; and then he whisteled again, and they likewyse shot agayne;\ntheir arrowes whisteled by craft of the {xcviii} head, so that\nthe noyes was straunge and great, and muche pleased the kyng, the\nquene, and all the company. All these archers were of the kynges\ngarde, and had thus appareled themselves to make solace to the\nkynge. Then Robyn Hood desyred the kyng and quene to come into the\ngrene wood, and to se how the outlawes lyve. The kyng demaunded\nof the quene and her ladyes, if they durst adventure to go into\nthe wood with so many outlawes. Then the quene said, if it pleased\nhym, she was content. Then the hornes blewe tyll they came to the\nwood under Shoters-hill, and there was an arber made of bowes,\nwith a hal, and a great chamber, and an inner chamber, very well\nmade and covered with floures and swete herbes, which the kyng\nmuche praised. Then sayd Robyn Hood, Sir, outlawes brekefastes\nis venyson, and therefore you must be content with such fare\nas we use. Then the kyng and quene sate doune, and were served\nwith venyson and vyne by Robyn Hood and his men, to their great\ncontentacion. Then the kyng departed and his company, and Robyn\nHood and his men them conduicted: and as they were returnyng, there\nmet with them two ladyes in a ryche chariot drawen with v. horses,\nand every horse had his name on his head, and on every horse sat\na lady with her name written .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. and in the chayre sate the\nlady May, accompanied with lady Flora, richely appareled; and they\nsaluted the kyng with diverse goodly songes, and so brought hym\nto Grenewyche. At this maiyng was a greate number of people to\nbeholde, to their great solace and confort\u201d (fo. lvi. b).\n\nThat this sort of May-games was not peculiar to London appears\nfrom a passage in Richard Robinson\u2019s \u201cThird assertion Englishe\nhistoricall, frendly in favour and furtherance of English\narchery:\u201d[80] {xcix}\n\n \u201cAnd, heare because of archery I do by penne explane,\n  The use, the proffet, and the praise, to England by the same,\n  Myselfe remembreth of a childe in contreye native mine,\u00a0\u00a0(1553)\n  A May-game was of Robyn Hood, and of his traine that time,\u00a0\u00a0(7. E. 6.)\n  To traine up young men, stripplings, and eche other younger childe,\n  In shooting, yearely this with solempne feast was by the guylde\n  Or brotherhood of townsmen don, with sport, with joy, and love,\n  To proffet which in present tyme, and afterward did prove.\u201d\n\nThe games of Robin Hood seem to have been occasionally of a\ndramatic cast. Sir John Paston, in the time of King Edward IV.,\ncomplaining of the ingratitude of his servants, mentions one who\nhad promised never to desert him, \u201cand ther uppon,\u201d says he, \u201cI\nhave kepyd hym thys iii yer to pleye seynt Jorge, and Robyn Hod and\nthe sheryf off Notyngham,[81] and now when I wolde have good horse\nhe is goon into Bernysdale, and I withowt a keeper.\u201d\n\nIn some old accounts of the churchwardens of St. Helen\u2019s at\nAbingdon, Berks, for the year 1556, there is an entry For setting\nup Robin Hoodes Bower; I suppose, says {c} Warton, for a parish\ninterlude. (See History of English Poetry, ii. 175.)[82] {ci}\n\nIn some places, at least, these games were nothing more, in\neffect, than a morris-dance, in which Robin Hood, Little John, Maid\nMarian, and Frier Tuck were the principal personages; the others\nbeing a clown or fool, the hobby-horse (which appears, for some\nreason or other, to have been frequently forgot[83]), the taborer,\nand the dancers, who were more or less numerous. Thus Warner:\n\n \u201cAt Paske began our morrise, and ere penticost our May,\n  Tho Roben Hood, liell John, frier Tuck, and Marian deftly play,\n  And lard and ladie gang till kirke with lads and lasses gay.\u201d[84]\n\nPerhaps the clearest idea of these last-mentioned games, about the\nbeginning of the 16th century, will be derived from some curious\nextracts given by Mr. Lysons in his valuable work intitled \u201cThe\nEnvirons of London\u201d (vol. i. 1792, p. 226), from the contemporary\naccounts of the \u201cchurchwardens of the parish of Kingston upon\nThames.\u201d\n\n\u201cRobin Hood and May-game.\n\n   \u201c23 Hen. 7. To the menstorell upon May-day      0  0   4\n \u2015\u2015 For paynting of the mores garments and for\n        sarten gret leveres[85]                    0  2   4 {cii}\n \u2015\u2015 For paynting of a bannar for Robin Hode        0  0   3\n \u2015\u2015 For 2 M. & \u00bd pynnys                            0  0  10\n \u2015\u2015 For 4 plyts and \u00bd of laun for the mores\n        garments                                   0  2  11\n \u2015\u2015 For orseden[86] for the same                   0  0  10\n \u2015\u2015 For a goun for the lady                        0  0   8\n \u2015\u2015 For bellys for the dawnsars                    0  0  12\n 24 Hen. 7. For little John\u2019s cote                 0  8   0\n  1 Hen. 8. For silver paper for the mores\n        dawnsars                                   0  0   7\n \u2015\u2015 For Kendall for Robyn Hode\u2019s cote              0  1   3\n \u2015\u2015 For 3 yerds of white for the frere\u2019s[87] cote  0  3   0 {ciii}\n \u2015\u2015 For 4 yards of kendall for mayde Marian\u2019s[88]\n        huke[89]                                   0  3   4\n \u2015\u2015 For saten of sypers for the same huke          0  0   6\n \u2015\u2015 For 2 payre of glovys for Robin Hode and\n        mayde Maryan                               0  0   3\n \u2015\u2015 For 6 brode arovys                             0  0   6\n \u2015\u2015 To mayde Maryan for her labour for two\n        years                                      0  2   0\n \u2015\u2015 To Fygge the taborer                           0  6   0\n \u2015\u2015 Rec^d for Robyn Hod\u2019s gaderyng 4\n        marks[90] {civ}\n  5 Hen. 8. Rec^d for Robin Hood\u2019s gaderyng at\n        Croydon                                    0  9   4\n 11 Hen. 8. Paid for three broad yerds of rosett\n        for maykng the frer\u2019s cote                 0  3   6\n \u2015\u2015 Shoes for the mores daunsars, the frere and\n        mayde Maryan at 7^d a payre                0  5   4\n 13 Hen. 8. Eight yerds of fustyan for the mores\n        daunsars coats                             0 16   0\n A dosyn of gold skynnes for the morres[91]        0  0  10\n 15 Hen. 8. Hire of hats for Robynhode             0  0  16\n \u2015\u2015 Paid for the hat that was lost                 0  0  10\n 16 Hen. 8. Rec^d at the church-ale and Robyn-hode\n        all things deducted                        3 10   6\n \u2015\u2015 Paid for 6 yerds \u00bc of satyn for Robyn\n        Hode\u2019s coyts                               0 12   6\n \u2015\u2015 For makyng the same                            0  2   0\n \u2015\u2015 For 3 ells of locram[92]                       0  1   6\n 21 Hen. 8. For spunging and brushing\n        Robyn-hode\u2019s cotys                         0  0   2\n 28 Hen. 8. Five hats and 4 porses for the\n        daunsars                                   0  0   4\u00bd\n \u2015\u2015 4 yerds of cloth for the fole\u2019s cote           0  2   0\n \u2015\u2015 2 ells of worstede for mayde Maryans kyrtle    0  6   8\n \u2015\u2015 For 6 payre of double sollyd showne            0  4   6\n \u2015\u2015 To the mynstrele                               0 10   8\n \u2015\u2015 To the fryer and the piper for to go to\n        Croydon                                    0  0   8\n 29 Hen. 8. Mem. Lefte in the keping of the\n        wardens nowe beinge.\n\nA fryers cote of russet and a kyrtele of worstyde weltyd with red\ncloth, a mowrens[93] cote of buckram, and 4 morres {cv} daunsars\ncotes of white fustian spangelyd and two gryne saten cotes and a\ndysardd\u2019s[94] cote of cotton and 6 payre of garters with bells.\u201d\n\nThese games appear to have been discontinued at Kingston, as\na parochial undertaking at least, after the above period, as the\nindustrious inquirer found no further entries relating to them.\n\nSome of the principal characters of the morris seem to have\ngradually disappeared, so that at length it consisted only of the\ndancers, the piper, and the fool. In Mr. Tollet\u2019s window we find\nneither Robin Hood nor Little John, though Marian and the frier\nare still distinguished performers.[95] But in the scene of one,\nintroduced in the old play of Jacke Drum\u2019s Entertainment, first\nprinted in 1601, there is not the least symptom of any of the\nfour.[96] \u201cThe taber and pipe strike up a morrice. A shoute within:\nA lord, a lord, a lord, who![97]\n\n _Ed._ Oh, a morrice is come, observe our country sports,\n \u2019Tis _Whitson tyde_,[98] and we must frolick it.\n\n{cvi}\n\n _Enter the morrice._\n\n The song.\n\n Skip it, and trip it, nimbly, nimbly,\n Tickle it, tickle it lustily,\n Strike up the taber, for the wenches favour,\n Tickle it, tickle it lustily.\n Let us be seen, on Hygate greene,\n   To dance for the honour of Holloway.\n Since we are come hither, let\u2019s spare for no leather,\n   To dance for the honour of Holloway.\n\n _Ed._ Well said, my boyes, I must have my lord\u2019s livory: what\n is\u2019t? a maypole? Troth, \u2019twere a good body for a courtier\u2019s\n impreza, if it had but this life, Frustra florescit. Hold, cousin,\n hold.\n\n [_He gives the fool money._\n\n _Foole._ Thankes, cousin, when the lord my father\u2019s audit comes,\n wee\u2019l repay you againe. Your benevolence too, sir.\n\n _Mam._ What! a lord\u2019s sonne become a begger!\n\n _Foole._ Why not? when beggers are become lord\u2019s sons. Come, \u2019tis\n but a trifle.\n\n _Mam._ Oh, sir, many a small make a great.\n\n _Foole._ No, sir, a few great make a many small. Come, my lords,\n poore and neede hath no law.\n\n _S. Ed._ Nor necessitie no right. Drum, downe with them into the\n celler. Rest content, rest content; one bout more, and then away.\n\n _Foole._ \u2018Spoke\u2019 like a true heart: I kisse thy foote, sweet\n knight.\n\n _The morrice sing and dance and exeunt._\u201d\n\nIt is therefore highly probable, as hath been already suggested,\nthat the _May-game of Robin Hood_ and the _morris-dance_ had\noriginally no sort of connection; that the performers had united\ntheir forces, because their joint efforts proved more successful,\nlucrative, or agreeable; and that, in fine, the latter gradually\nshook off companions from whose association they no longer derived\nany advantage.[99]\n\nAn old writer, describing a country bridal show exhibited before\nQueen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle in 1575, {cvii} mentions\n\u201ca lively moris dauns, according too the auncient manner, six\ndaunsers, mawd Marion, and the fool.\u201d\n\nStubbs\u2019s chapter, upon \u201cLords of mis-rule\u201d (Anatomie of Abuses,\n1583) contains a singular description of a grand parochial\nmorris-dance, which is worthy of perusal.\n\nIt is observable that, in the sham second part of _Hudibras_,\npublished 1663, this place is said to be\n\n \u201cHighly famed for _Hocktide games_.\u201d\n\n(Grey\u2019s edition of _Hudibras_, ii. 90.) Of what nature these were\n(at Kingston) we are not informed. See Plot\u2019s Natural History of\nOxfordshire; Leland\u2019s Collectanea, v. Roas.\n\n_Hocktide_ or _Hock-day_ was the Tuesday fortnight after Easter.\nTwo falsehoods are asserted of this festival: one, that its\ncelebration was owing to the general joy excited by the death of\nHardecnute, which in fact took place on the 8th of June: the other,\nthat it was the anniversary of the general slaughter of the Danes\nin 1042; which Henry of Huntingdon and others expressly fix on St.\nBrice\u2019s day, being the 13th of November.\n\nIt plainly appears, by these extracts, that _Robyn Hode_, _Little\nJohn_, _the frere_, and _mayde Maryan_ were fitted out at the same\ntime with _the mores daunsars_, and, consequently, it would seem,\nunited with them in one and the same exhibition.[100]\n\n\u201cAlso it was said, that the ladie hir selfe, the same daie hir\nhusband and she should be crowned, said that she feared they\nshould prove but as a summer king and queene, such as in countrie\ntownes the yoong folks choose for short to danse about maipoles\u201d\n(Holinshed, at the year 1306).\n\nAs to the original institution of May-poles, or king and queen\nof May,\u2014in a word, of the primitive purpose and celebration of a\npopular festival at that season,\u2014nothing {cviii} satisfactory or\nconsequential can be discovered. The curious reader, at the same\ntime, may consult Spelman\u2019s Glossary, _voce_ MAIUMA, and Ducange,\n_vv._ MAJUMA, MAIUS.\n\nIn an old manuscript music-book given lately by Mr. Dalziel to the\nAdvocates\u2019 Library are the following scraps of songs about Robin\nHood:\n\n \u201cFirst when Robin good bow bare,\n  Was never bairne so bold,\n   Doune, doune, berrie, doune, doune.\u201d\n\n \u201cNow will ye hear a jollie jest,\n  How Robin Hood was pope of Rome,\n  And Wallace king of France.\u201d\n\n \u201cJolly Robin goe to the green wood to thy lemman.\u201d\n\n \u201cThe nock is out of Johnes bow, Joly, joly,\u201d &c.\n\nMuch curious matter on the subject of the morris-dance is to be\nfound in \u201cMr. Tollet\u2019s opinion concerning the Morris-dancers upon\nhis Window.\u201d (See Steevens\u2019s Shakespeare, v. 425, edition 1778,\nor viii. 596, edition 1793. See also Mr. Waldron\u2019s notes upon the\nSad Shepherd, 1783, p. 255.) Morris-dancers are said to be yet\nannually seen in Norfolk,[101] and make their constant appearance\nin Lancashire.[102]\n\nIn Scotland, \u201cThe game of Robin Hood was celebrated in the month\nof May. The populace assembled previous to {cvix} the celebration\nof this festival, and chose some respectable[103] member of the\ncorporation to officiate in the character of Robin Hood, and\nanother in that of Little John his squire. Upon the day appointed,\nwhich was a Sunday or holyday, the people assembled in military\narray, and went to some adjoining field, where, either as actors\nor spectators, the whole inhabitants of the respective towns were\nconvened. In this field they probably amused themselves with a\nrepresentation of Robin Hood\u2019s predatory exploits, or of his\nencounters with the officers of justice [rather, perhaps, in feats\nof archery or military exercises].\n\n\u201cAs numerous meetings for disorderly mirth are apt to engender\ntumult, when the minds of the people came to be agitated with\nreligious controversy, it was found necessary to repress the\ngame[104] of Robin Hood by public statute. The populace were by no\nmeans willing to relinquish their favourite amusement. Year after\nyear the magistrates of Edinburgh were obliged to exert their\nauthority[105] in repressing this game; often ineffectually. In the\nyear 1561, the mob were so enraged at being disappointed in making\na Robin Hood, that they rose in mutiny, seized on the city gates,\ncommitted robberies upon strangers; and one of the {cx} ringleaders\nbeing condemned by the magistrates to be hanged, the mob forced\nopen the jail, set at liberty the criminal and all the prisoners,\nand broke in pieces the gibbet erected at the cross for executing\nthe malefactor. They next assaulted the magistrates, who were[106]\nsitting in the council-chamber, and who fled to the Tolbooth for\nshelter, where the mob attacked them, battering the doors, and\npouring stones through the windows. Application was made to the\ndeacons of the corporations to appease the tumult. Remaining,\nhowever, unconcerned spectators, they made this answer: \u2018They\nwill be magistrates alone; let them rule the people alone.\u2019 The\nmagistrates were kept in confinement till they made proclamation\nbe published, offering indemnity to the rioters upon laying down\ntheir arms. Still, however, so late as the year 1592, we find the\nGeneral Assembly complaining of the profanation of the sabbath, by\nmaking[107] of Robin Hood plays\u201d (Arnot\u2019s History of Edinburgh, p.\n77).\n\nNotwithstanding the above representation, it is certain that these\namusements were considerably upon the decline before the year\n1568. This appears from a poem by Alexander Scot, preserved in the\nHyndford MS. (in the Advocates\u2019 Library, compiled and written in\nthat identical year), and inaccurately printed in The Evergreen:\n\n \u201cIn May quhen men zeid everichone\n  With Robene Hoid and Littill Johne,\n  To bring in bowis and birkin bobbynis:\n  Now all sic game is fastlingis gone,\n  But gif it be amangis clovin Robbynis.\u201d\n\n\n(35)\u2005\u2014\u201c_His bow, and one of his arrows, his chair, his cap, and one\nof his slippers were preserved till within the present century._\u201d]\n\u201cWe omitted,\u201d says Ray, \u201cthe sight of Fountain\u2019s Abbey, where Robin\nHood\u2019s bow is kept\u201d (Itineraries, 1760, p. 161).\n\n\u201cHaving pleased ourselves with the antiquities of \u2018Notingham,\u2019\nwe took horse and went to visit the well and {cxi} ancient chair\nof Robin Hood, which is not far from hence, within the forest of\nSherwood. Being placed in the chair, we had a cap, which they say\nwas his, very formally put upon our heads, and having performed\nthe usual ceremonies befitting so great a solemnity, we receiv\u2019d\nthe freedom of the chair, and were incorporated into the society\nof that renowned brotherhood\u201d (Brome\u2019s Travels over England, &c.,\n1700, p. 85).\n\n\u201cOn one side of this forest [sci. of Sherwood] towards Nottingham,\u201d\nsays the author of \u201cThe Travels of Tom Thumb over England and\nWales\u201d (_i.e._ Robert Dodsley), \u201cI was shewn a chair, a bow, and\narrow, all said to have been his [Robin Hood\u2019s] property\u201d (p. 82).\n\n\u201cI was pleased with a slipper, belonging to the famous Robin Hood,\nshewn me, fifty years ago, at St. Ann\u2019s well, near Nottingham, a\nplace upon the borders of Sherwood forest, to which he resorted\u201d\n(Journey from Birmingham to London, by W. Hutton, Bir. 1785, p.\n174).\n\n\n(36)\u2005\u2014\u201c_Not only places which afforded him security or amusement,\nbut even the well at which he quenched his thirst, still retain his\nname._\u201d] Robin Hood\u2019s Bay is both a bay and a village on the coast\nof Yorkshire, between Whitby and Scarborough. It is mentioned by\nLeland as \u201ca fischer tounlet of 20. bootes caullid Robyn Huddes\nbay, a dok or bosom of a mile yn length\u201d (Itinerary, i. 53). \u201cWhen\nhis robberies,\u201d says Master Charlton, \u201cbecame so numerous, and\nthe outcries against him so loud, as almost to alarm the whole\nnation, parties of soldiers were sent down from London to apprehend\nhim: and then it was, that fearing for his safety, he found it\nnecessary to desert his usual haunts, and, retreating northward, to\ncross the moors that surrounded Whitby [one side whereof happens,\na little unfortunately, to lie open to the sea], where, gaining\nthe sea-coast, he always had in readiness near at hand some small\nfishing vessels, to which he could have refuge, if he found himself\npursued; for in these, putting off to sea, he looked upon himself\nas quite secure, and held the whole power of the English nation\nat defiance. The chief place of his resort {cxii} at these times,\nwhere his boats were generally laid up, was about six miles from\nWhitby, to which he communicated his name, and which is still\ncalled Robin Hood\u2019s Bay. There he frequently went a fishing in the\nsummer season, even when no enemy appeared to annoy him, and not\nfar from that place he had buts or marks set up, where he used to\nexercise his men in shooting with the long-bow.\u201d[108]\n\nNear Gloucester is \u201ca famous hill\u201d called \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s hill,\u201d\nconcerning which there is a very foolish modern song. Another\nhill of the same name exists in the neighbourhood of Castleton,\nDerbyshire.\n\n\u201cOver a spring call\u2019d Robin Hoods well (3 or 4 miles [on] this side\n[_i.e._ north] of Doncaster, and but a quarter of a mile only from\n2 towns call\u2019d Skelbrough and Bourmallis) is a very handsome stone\narch, erected by the Lord Carlisle, where passengers from the coach\nfrequently drink of the fair water, and give their charity to two\npeople who attend there\u201d (Gent\u2019s History of York. York, 1730, p.\n234).[109] {cxiii}\n\nThough there is no attendance at present, nor is the water\naltogether so fair as it might and should be, the case was\notherwise in the days of honest Barnaby.\n\n \u201cVeni Doncaster, &c.\n  Nescit sitis artem modi,\n  Puteum Roberti Hoodi\n  Veni, & liquente vena\n  Vincto[110] catino catena,\n  Tollens sitim, parcum odi,\n  Solvens obolum custodi.\u201d\n\n \u201cThence to Doncaster, &c.\n  Thirst knowes neither meane nor measure,\n  Robin Hood\u2019s well was my treasure;\n  In a[111] common dish enchained,\n  I my furious thirst restrained:\n  And because I drunk the deeper,\n  I paid two farthings to the keeper.\u201d\n\n{cxiv}\n\nHe mentions it again:\n\n \u201cNunc longinquos locus odi,\n  Vale fons Roberti Hoodi.\u201d\n\n \u201cNow I hate all foreign places,\n  Robin Hood\u2019s well, and his chaces.\u201d\n\nA different well, sacred either to Robin Hood or to St. Ann, has\nbeen already mentioned.\n\n\u201cNot far [off Bitham, in Lincolnshire] is _Robyn Huddes cros_, a\n_limes_ of the shires\u201d (Leland\u2019s Itinerary, i. 25).\n\n\n(37)\u2005\u2014\u201c_conferred as a singular distinction upon the prime minister\nto the king of Madagascar._\u201d] The natives of this island, who\nhave dealings with our people, pride themselves, it seems, in\nEnglish names, which are bestowed upon them at the discretion or\ncaprice of the sailors: and thus a venerable minister of state,\nwho should have been called Sir Robert Walpole or Cardinal Fleury,\nacquired the name of Robin Hood. Mr. Ives, by whom he is frequently\nmentioned, relates the following anecdote:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe reader will excuse my giving him another instance .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\nwhich still more strikingly displays the extreme sensibility of\nthese islanders, in respect to their king\u2019s dignity. Robin Hood\n(who seemed to act as prime minister, and negotiate most of the\nking\u2019s concerns with our agent-victualler) was one day transacting\nbusiness with another gentleman of the squadron, and they happened\nto differ so much about the value of a certain commodity, that high\nwords arose, and at length Robin Hood in the greatest agitation\nstarted from the ground where he was sitting, and swore that\nhe would immediately acquaint the king of Baba with what had\npassed. Our English gentleman, too much heated with this threat,\nand the violent altercation which had preceded it, unguardedly\nreplied, \u2018D\u2015n the king of Baba.\u2019 The eyes of Robin Hood flashed\nlike lightning, and in the most violent wrath he retorted, \u2018D\u2015n\nKing George.\u2019 At the same instant he left the spot, hurrying away\ntowards the Madagascarian cottages. Our countryman was soon struck\nwith the impropriety of his behaviour, followed and overtook the\ndisputant, and having {cxv} made all proper concessions, the affair\nwas happily terminated.\u201d[112]\n\n\n(38) \u201c_After his death his company was dispersed._\u201d] They and their\nsuccessors, disciples, or followers are supposed to have been\nafterward distinguished, from the name of their gallant leader,\nby the title of Roberdsmen. Lord Coke, who is somewhat singular\nin accusing him of living \u201cby robbery, burning of houses, felony,\nwaste and spoil, and principally by and with vagabonds, idle\nwanderers, night-walkers, and draw-latches,\u201d says that \u201calbeit he\nlived in Yorkshire, yet men of his quality took their denomination\nof him, and were called Roberdsmen throughout all England.\nAgainst these men,\u201d continues he, \u201cwas the statute of Winchester\nmade in 13 E. 1. [c. 14], for preventing of robbery, murders,\nburning of houses, &c. Also the statute of 5 E. 3. [c. 14], which\n\u2018recites\u2019 the statute of Winchester, and that there had been\ndivers manslaughters, felonies, and robberies done in times past,\nby people that be called Roberdsmen, wasters and draw-latches;\nand remedy [is] provided by that act for the arresting of them.\nAt the parliament holden 50 E. 3.,\u201d he adds, \u201cit was petitioned\nto the king that ribauds and sturdy beggars might be banished out\nof every town. The answer of the king in parliament was, touching\nribauds: The statute of Winchester and the declaration of the same\nwith other statutes of Roberdsmen, and for such as make themselves\ngentlemen, and men of armes, and archers, if they cannot so prove\ntheirselves, let them be driven to their occupation or service,\nor to the place from whence they came.\u201d He likewise notices the\nstatute of 7 R. 2. [c. 5], by which it is provided \u201cthat the\nstatutes of Roberdsmen and draw-latches be firmly holden and kept\u201d\n(3 Inst. 197).\n\nThese Roberdsmen are mentioned in Pierce the Ploughman\u2019s Crede,\nwritten about 1400:\n\n \u201cAnd right as Robartesmen raken aboute.\u201d[113]\n\n{cxvi}\n\nMr. Warton, who had once thought that the friers Robertines were\nhere meant, observes that \u201cthe expression of Robin Hoode\u2019s men,\nin Bishop Latimer\u2019s sermon, is not without an allusion to the bad\nsense of Roberdsmen\u201d (H. E. P. ii. additions, sig. d. 4). It does\nnot, however, appear that the latter word has been ever used in a\ngood one; nor is there, after all, sufficient ground for concluding\nthat these people were so named after Robin Hood.\n\n\n(39)\u2005\u2014\u201c_the honour of Little John\u2019s death and burial is contended\nfor by rival nations._\u201d] I. By England.\u2014At the village of\nHathersage, about six miles from Castleton, in Derbyshire, is\nLittle John\u2019s grave. A few years ago some curious person caused it\nto be opened, when there were found several bones of an uncommon\nsize, which he preserved; but, meeting afterwards with many unlucky\naccidents, he carefully replaced them; partly at the intercession\nof the sexton, who had taken them up for him, and who had in like\nmanner been visited with misfortunes: upon restoring the bones\nall these troubles ceased. Such is the tradition at Castleton. E.\nHargrove, in his \u201cAnecdotes of Archery,\u201d York, 1792, asserts that\n\u201cthe grave is distinguished by a large stone placed at the head,\nand another at the feet, on each of which are yet some remains\nof the letters I. L.\u201d (p. 26).[114] II. By Scotland.\u2014\u201cIn Murray\nland,\u201d according to that most veracious historian Maister Hector\nBois, \u201cis the kirke of Pette, quhare the banis of lytill Johne\nremanis in gret admiratioun of pepill. He hes bene fourtene fut\nof hycht[115] with square membris effering thairto. Vi. zeris,\u201d\ncontinues he, \u201cafore the cumyng of this {cxvii} werk to lycht\nwe saw his hanche-bane, als mekill as the haill bane of ane man:\nfor we schot our arme in the mouth thairof. Be quhilk apperis\nhow strang and square pepill grew in our regioun afore thay were\neffeminat with lust and intemperance of mouth.\u201d[116] III. By\nIreland.\u2014\u201cThere standeth,\u201d as Stanihurst relates, \u201cin Ostmantowne\ngreene an hillocke, named little John his shot. The occasion,\u201d he\nsays, \u201cproceeded of this.\n\n\u201cIn the yeare one thousand one hundred foure score and nine, there\nranged three robbers and outlaws in England, among which Robert\nHood and Little John weere cheefeteins, of all theeves doubtlesse\nthe most courteous. Robert Hood being betrayed at a nunrie in\nScotland called Bricklies, the remnant of the crue was scattered,\nand everie man forced to shift for himselfe. Whereupon Little\nJohn was faine to flee the realme by sailing into Ireland, where\nhe sojornied for a few daies at Dublin. The citizens being doone\nto understand the wandering outcast to be an excellent archer,\nrequested him hartilie to trie how far he could shoot at random;\nwho yeelding to their behest, stood on the bridge of Dublin, and\nshot to that mole hill, leaving behind him a monument, rather\nby his posteritie to be woondered, than possiblie by anie man\nliving to be counterscored. But as the repaire of so notorious a\nchampion to anie countrie would soone be published, so his abode\ncould not be long concealed: and therefore to eschew the danger of\n[the] lawes, he fled into Scotland, where he died at a towne or\nvillage called Moravie.\u201d[117] Thus Stanihurst, who is quoted by Dr.\nHanmer in his Chronicle of Ireland, p. 179, but Mr. Walker, after\nobserving that \u201cpoor Little John\u2019s great practical skill in archery\ncould not save him from an ignominious fate,\u201d says, \u201cit appeared,\nfrom some records in the Southwell family, that {cxviii} he was\npublicly executed for robbery on Arbor Hill, Dublin.\u201d[118]\n\n\n(40)\u2005\u2014\u201c_some of his descendants of the name of Nailor_,\u201d _&c._] See\nthe preface to the History of George a Green. As surnames were by\nno means in general use at the close of the twelfth century, Little\nJohn may have obtained that of Nailor from his original profession.\n\n (\u201cYe boasted worthies of the knuckle,\n   To Maggs and to the Nailor truckle.\u201d)\n\nBut however this, or the fact itself may be, a bow, said to have\nbelonged to Little John, with the name of Naylor upon it, is now,\nas the editor is informed, in the possession of a gentleman in the\nWest Riding of Yorkshire.\n\nThe quotation about whetstones is from the Sloane MS. Those,\nindeed, who recollect the equivocal meaning of the word may think\nthat this production has not been altogether confined to the grave\nof Little John.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO \u201cNOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS\u201d, pp. xiv\u2013cxviii\n\n\n [4] See Part II. Ballad 1.\n\n\n [5] All three mention a Loxley in Warwickshire, and another in\n Staffordshire (\u201cnear Needwood forest; the manor and seat of the\n Kinardsleys\u201d).\n\n\n [6] It is 1100 in the original, but that is clearly an error of the\n press.\n\n\n [7] King Edward, it is true, is introduced in the \u201cLytell Geste,\u201d\n &c., but the author has unquestionably meant the _first_ of that\n name.\n\n\n [8] Thus, likewise, in a much earlier version from the same\n immortal bard (_Homer a la mode_, 1664), we read of\n\n   \u201c\u2015\u2015greate Apollo, who\u2019s as good\n    At pricks and buts as _Robin Hood_.\u201d\n\n\n [9] _Alias_ R. G., the scurrilous and malignant editor of that\n degraded publication.\n\n\n [10] The authority cited by Grafton in 1569 as then \u201colde and\n auncient\u201d must have been at least of equal antiquity with the most\n ancient poems that Dr. P. is acquainted with.\n\n\n [11] Stukeley\u2019s Pal\u00e6ographia Britannica, No. II. p. 115. In an\n interleaved copy of Robin Hood\u2019s Garland formerly belonging to Dr.\n Stukeley, and now in the possession of Francis Douce, esquire,\n opposite the second page of the first song, is the following note\n in his own hand:\n\n  \u201cGuy earl of Warwick.\n\n  George Gamwell             Joanna =\n  of Gamwell hall _magna_           \u2502 Fitz Odoth\n  esq.                              \u2502\n                                    \u2502\n              +\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500\u2500+\n              \u2502\n      Robin Fitz Odoth\n\n  Gamwell the king\u2019s forester in Yorkshire,\n  mentioned in Camden.\n\n  See my answer, No. II. of Lady Roisia,\n  where is Robin Hood\u2019s true pedigree.\u201d\n\n The Doctor seems, by this pedigree, to have founded our hero\u2019s\n pretensions on his descent from Roisia, sister of Robert\n Fitzgilbert, husband of Alice, youngest daughter of Judith,\n Countess of Huntingdon, which, whatever it might do in those times,\n would scarcely be thought sufficient to support such a claim at\n present. Beside, though John the Scot died without issue, he left\n three sisters, all married to powerful barons, either in Scotland\n or in England, none of whom, however, assumed the title. It is,\n therefore, probable, after all, that Robin Hood derived his earldom\n by some other channel.\n\n Dr. Stukeley, whose learned labours are sufficiently known and\n esteemed, was a professed antiquary, and a beneficed clergyman\n of the Church of England. He has not, it is true, thought it\n necessary to cite any ancient or other authority in support of\n the above representations; nor is it in the editor\u2019s power to\n supply the deficiency. Perhaps, indeed, the Doctor might think\n himself entitled to expect that his own authority would be deemed\n sufficient: upon that, however, they must be content to rest. _Sit\n fides penes auctorem!_ Mr. Parkin, who published \u201cA reply to the\n peevish, weak, and malevolent objections brought by Dr. Stukeley in\n his Origines Roystonian\u00e6, No. 2\u201d (Norwich, 1748, 4to), terms \u201chis\n pedigree of Robin Hood, quite jocose, an original indeed!\u201d (See pp.\n 27, 32.)\n\n Otho and Fitz-Otho, it must be confessed, were common names among\n the Anglo-Normans,* but no such name as Othes, Ooth, Fitz-Othes,\n or Fitz-Ooth, has been elsewhere met with. Philip de Kime, also,\n was certainly a considerable landholder in the county of Lincoln in\n the time of King Henry II., but it nowhere appears, except from Dr.\n Stukeley, that his surname was Fitz-Ooth.\n\n The Doctor likewise informs us that the arms of Ralph Fitz-Ooth,\n and consequently of our hero, were \u201cg. two bendlets engrailed, o.\u201d\n\n \u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n * \u201cFilius Roberti filii Odonis est in custodia Domini Regis, et\n est vj annorum, et ipse est heres decime partis unius militis, et\n vix possunt inde habere victum suum ipse et mater sua.\u201d Rotulus de\n vidius, &c. (31 H. 2) MSS. Har. 624.\n\n\n [12] Grafton\u2019s Chronicle, p. 85.\n\n\n [13] Collec. i. 54.\n\n\n [14] See Robin Hood\u2019s Progress to Nottingham, part ii. ballad 2.\n\n\n [15] Plompton Park, upon the banks of the Peterill, in Cumberland,\n was formerly very large, and set apart by the kings of England\n for the keeping of deer. It was disafforested or disparked by\n Henry VIII. See Camden\u2019s Britannia, by Bishop Gibson, who seems to\n confound this park with Inglewood forest, a district of sixteen\n miles in length, reaching from Carlisle to Penrith, where the kings\n of England used to hunt, and Edward I. is reported to have killed\n 200 bucks in one day (_Ibid._)\n\n\n [16] _Anno 1194_] _Vicesima nona die mensis martii_ Richardus\n rex Angli\u00e6 _projectus est videre_ Clipestone, & _forrestas de_\n Sirewode, _quas ipse nunquam viderat antea: & placuerunt ei multum,\n & eodem die rediit ad_ Notingham (R. de Hoveden, Annales, p. 736).\n\n Drayton (Polyolbion, song 26) introduces Sherwood in the character\n of a nymph, who, out of disdain at the preference shown by the poet\n to a sister-forest,\n\n   \u201cAll self praise set apart, determineth to sing\n   That lusty Robin Hood, who long time like a king\n   Within her compass liv\u2019d, and when he list to range,\n   For some rich booty set, or else his air to change,\n   To Sherwood still retir\u2019d, his only standing court.\u201d\n\n\n [17] It occurs in \u201cTarlton\u2019s Newes out of Purgatory,\u201d 1630, 4to\n (entered on the Stationers\u2019 books in 1590).\n\n\n [18] It likewise gives the proverb noticed in a preceding page thus:\n\n   \u201cWere he as good as George a Greene, I would strike him sure.\u201d\n\n\n [19] There is an edition in 1706, 8vo.\n\n\n [20] Scotish Poems, i. 122.\n\n\n [21] Surely the \u201clady\u201d alluded to in the old May-game cannot be\n our Maid Marian. The earliest notice of her occurs in Barclay\u2019s\n _Egloges_, about 1500, where she is evidently connected with Robin\n Hood. See Note 26.\n\n\n [22] Without \u201cthe ancient songs,\u201d to which the Doctor refers,\n are confined to his \u201cold MS.,\u201d he evidently asserts what he\n would probably find it difficult to prove. As for the passage\n he produces, it seems nothing to the purpose; as, in the first\n place, it is apparently not \u201cantient,\u201d and, in the second, it is\n apparently not from a \u201csong of Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n\n [23] Mr. Warton, having observed that \u201cThe play of Robin and Marian\n is said to have been performed by the school-boys of Angiers,\n according to annual custom, in the year 1392: The boys were\n deguisiez, says the old French record; and they had among them un\n fillette desguisee (Carpent. Du Cange, v. Robinet-Pentecoste),\u201d\n adds, \u201cOur old character of Mayd Marian may be hence illustrated\u201d\n (His. En. po. i. 245). This, indeed, seems sufficiently plausible;\n but unfortunately the Robin and Marian of Angiers are not the Robin\n and Marian of Sherwood. The play is still extant. See Fabliaux\n ou Contes, Paris, 1781, ii. 144. There are, likewise, some very\n ancient pastoral ballads on the subject of these two lovers. See\n La Borde, _Essai sur la Musique_, ii. 163, 215. But, in fact,\n the names of _Robin_ and _Marion_ seem to have been used by the\n _chansonniers_ of antiquity like those of _Colin_ and _Ph\u0153be_, &c.\n\n\n [24] In 1592, Richard Jones, stationer, entered on the Company\u2019s\n books, \u201cA plesant fancie, or merrie conceyt, called the passion et\n morrys, daunst by a crue of 8 couple of wores.\n\n\n [25] \u201cThe quarry from whence King Wolfere fetched stones for his\n royal structure [_i.e._ Peterborough] was undoubtedly that of\n Bernach near unto Stamford .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. And I find in the charter of\n K. Edward the Confessor, which he granted to the abbot of Ramsey,\n that the abbot of Ramsey should give to the abbot and convent of\n Peterburgh 4000 eeles in the time of Lent, and in consideration\n thereof the abbot of Peterburgh should give to the abbot of Ramsey\n as much freestone from his pitts in Bernack, and as much ragstone\n from his pitts in Peterburgh as he should need. Nor did the abbot\n of Peterburgh from these pits furnish only that but other abbies\n also, as that of St. Edmunds-Bury: in memory whereof there are\n two long stones yet standing upon a balk in Castor-field, near\n unto Gunwade-ferry; which erroneous tradition hath given out to be\n draughts of arrows from Alwalton churchyard thither; the one of\n Robin Hood, and the other of Little John; but the truth is, they\n were set up for witnesses, that the carriages of stone from Bernack\n to Gunwade-ferry, to be conveyed to S. Edmunds-Bury, might pass\n that way without paying toll; and in some old terrars they are\n called S. Edmund\u2019s stones. These stones are nicked in their tops\n after the manner of arrows, probably enough in memory of S. Edmund,\n who was shot to death with arrows by the Danes\u201d (Gunton\u2019s History\n of the Church of Peterburgh, 1686, p. 4).\n\n\n [26] \u201cIn this relation,\u201d Mr. Walker observes, \u201cthe Doctor not only\n evinces his credulity, but displays his ignorance of archery; for\n the ingenious and learned Mr. Barrington, than whom no man can be\n better informed on the subject, thinks that eleven score and seven\n yards is the utmost extent that an arrow can be shot from a long\n bow\u201d (Arch\u00e6ologia, vol. viii.) According to tradition, he adds,\n Little John shot an arrow from the Old-bridge, Dublin, to the\n present site of St. Michael\u2019s church, a distance not exceeding, he\n believes, that mentioned by Mr. Barrington (Historical Essay on the\n Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish, p. 129).\n\n What Mr. Barrington \u201cthinks\u201d may be true enough, perhaps, of the\n Toxophilite Society and other modern archers; but people should not\n talk of Robin Hood who never shot in his bow. The above ingenious\n writer\u2019s censure of Dr. Hanmer\u2019s credulity and ignorance, seems to\n be misapplied, since he cannot be supposed to believe what he holds\n not for truth, and actually leaves among the lyes of the land.\n\n See also the old song, printed in the Appendix, No. 3. Drayton, who\n wrote before archery had fallen into complete disuse, says\u2014\n\n   \u201cAt marks full forty score they us\u2019d to prick and rove.\u201d\n\n That Mr. Barrington, indeed, was very ill informed on the subject\n is evident from a most scarce book in the editor\u2019s possession,\n intitled \u201cAime for the archers of St. George\u2019s fields, containing\n the names of all the marks in the same fields, with their true\n distances according to the dimensuration of the line. Formerly\n gathered by Richard Hannis, and now corrected by Thomas Bick and\n others. London, Printed by N. Howell for Robert Minehard and\n Benjamin Brownsmith, and are to be sold at the sign of the man in\n the moon in Blackman street, 1664,\u201d 16mo, where the distance from\n _Alpha_ to _Bick\u2019s memorial_ is 18 score 16 yards; and 11 score 7\n yards (though there are inferior numbers, the lowest being 9, 12)\n appears to be a very moderate shot indeed. Two of these marks are\n _Robin Hood_ and _Little John_. See also Shakespeare\u2019s _Second\n Part of K. Henry IV._, act iii. scene 2, where it is said that\n _Old Double_ \u201cwould have clapp\u2019d i\u2019 the clout at _twelve score_;\n and carry\u2019d you a forehand shaft a _fourteen_ and _fourteen and a\n half_;\u201d and the notes upon the passage in Steevens\u2019s edition, 1793.\n It is probable, after all, that the word _forty_ in Drayton is an\n error, of the transcriber or pressman, for _fourteen_.\n\n Whatever Robin Hood\u2019s father might do, there can be no question\n that the author of the old ballad in which he is mentioned (part\n ii. song 1) has \u201cshot in a lusty strong bow\u201d when he speaks of\n\n   \u201cTwo north-country miles and an inch at a shot.\u201d\n\n\n [27] Warner\u2019s Albion\u2019s England, 1602, p. 132. It is part of the\n hermit\u2019s speech to the Earl of Lancaster.\n\n\n [28] Sir Roger Williams, in his _Briefe discourse of warre_, 1590,\n has a chapter \u201cTo prooue bow-men the worst shot vsed in these\n daies.\u201d Sir John Smythe, however, was of a different opinion. See\n his \u201cDiscourses concerning the formes and effects of divers sorts\n of weapons, &c. As also, of the great sufficiencie, excellencie,\n and wonderful effects of archers,\u201d 1590, 4to. See also a different\n treatise by him upon the same subject in Num. 132 of the Harleian\n MSS.\n\n\n [29] \u201cA prince who fills the throne with a disputed title dares not\n arm his subjects, the only method of securing a people fully both\n against domestic oppression and foreign conquest\u201d (Hume\u2019s _Essays_,\n \u201cOf the Protestant Succession\u201d).\n\n\n [30] Flemings.\n\n\n [31] Breeches.\n\n\n [32] Thus also in part ii. ballad 1:\n\n   \u201cShe got on her holyday kirtle and gown\n    They were of a light Lincolne green.\u201d\n\n\n [33] In the sign of The green man and still, we perceive a huntsman\n in a green coat standing by the side of a still; in allusion,\n as it has been facetiously conjectured, to the partiality shown\n by that description of gentry to a morning dram. The genuine\n representation, however, should be the green-man (or man who deals\n in green herbs) with a bundle of peppermint or penny-royal under\n his arm, which he brings to have distilled.\n\n  \u201cAnd farewell all gaie garments now,\n       With jewels riche of rare devise:\n   Like Robin Hood, I wot not how,\n       I must goe raunge in woodmen\u2019s wyse,\n   Cladde in a cote of greene or gray,\n       And gladde to get it if i maye.\u201d\n\n     The workes of a young wyt, Done by N. B. Gent. 1577, 4to, b. l.\n\n\n [34] There appears, however, to be a town of this name in Flanders,\n which may be the place here meant. The above conjecture, therefore,\n will be received for no more than it is worth.\n\n\n [35] When Bulas, or Felix, the robber, was brought before Papinian,\n the latter asked him why he gave himself up to robbing and\n spoiling: \u201cAnd why, sir,\u201d was the answer, \u201care you \u2018a governor\u2019?\u201d\n See Dio Cassius in Severus.\n\n \u201cBecause I do that,\u201d said the pirate to Alexander, \u201cwith a single\n ship which thou dost with a great fleet, I am called a thief, and\n thou art called a king.\u201d\n\n\n [36] See Pennant\u2019s Tour in Scotland MDCCLXXII. part i. p. 404. The\n original reading, whether altered by mistake or design, is\u2014\n\n  \u201c\u2014pacisque imponere morem.\u201d\n\n One might, to the same purpose, address our hero in the words of\n Plautus (Trinummus, act iv. scene x):\n\n  \u201cAtque hanc tuam gloriam jam ante auribus acceperam, et nobiles apud\n       homines,\n   Pauperibus te parcere solitum, divites damnare atque domare.\n   Abi, laudo, scis ordine, ut \u00e6quom\u2019st,\n   Tractare homines, hoc dis dignum\u2019st, semper mendicis modesti sint.\u201d\n\n                  \u201c\u2015\u2015I\u2019ve heard before\n   This commendation of you, and from great ones,\n   That you were wont to spare the indigent,\n   And crush the wealthy.\u2014I applaud your justice\n   In treating men according to their merits.\u2014\n   \u2019Tis worthy of the gods to have respect\n   Unto the poor.\u201d\n\n\n [37]\n\n  \u201cRichard C\u0153ur de Lyon cald a king and conquerour was,\n   With Phillip king of France who did unto Jerusalemm passe:\n\n          *       *       *       *       *\n\n   In this king\u2019s time was Robyn Hood, that archer and outlawe,\n   And little John his partener eke, unto them which did drawe\n   One hondred tall and good archers, on whom foure hondred men,\n   Were their power never so strong, could not give onset then;\n   The abbots, monkes, and carles rich these onely did molest,\n   And reskewd woemen when they saw of theeves them so opprest;\n   Restoring poore men\u2019s goods, and eke abundantly releeved\n   Poore travellers which wanted food, or were with sicknes greeved.\u201d\n\n                           (Third Assertion, &c., quoted elsewhere.)\n\n\n [38] That this epitaph had been printed, or was well known, at\n least, long before the publication of Mr. Thoresby\u2019s book, if not\n before either he or Dr. Gale was born, appears from the \u201cTrue Tale\n of Robin Hood\u201d by Martin Parker, written, if not printed, as early\n as 1631. (See _post_, p. 126.) That dates, about this period,\n were frequently by _ides_ and _kalends_, see Madox\u2019s _Formulare\n Anglicanum_ (Dissertation), p. xxx. Even Arabic figures are\n produced in some of still greater antiquity; see _Collectanea de\n rebus Hibernicis_, ii. 331. Robert Grosthead, Bishop of Lincoln,\n makes use of these figures about the year 1240. Astle\u2019s _Origin of\n Writing_, p. 188.\n\n\n [39] In \u201cThe Travels of Tom Thumb over England and Wales\u201d [by Mr.\n Robert Dodsley], p. 106, is another though inferior version:\n\n  \u201cHere, under this memorial stone,\n   Lies Robert earl of Huntingdon;\n   As he, no archer e\u2019er was good,\n   And people call\u2019d him Robin Hood:\n   Such outlaws as his men and he\n   Again may England never see.\u201d\n\n\n [40] In \u201ca large folio volume of accounts kept by Mr. Philip\n Henslowe, who appears to have been proprietor of the Rose theatre\n near the Bankside in Southwark,\u201d he has entered\u2014\n\n  \u201cFeb. 1597\u20138. The first part of Robin Hood, by Anthony Mundy.\n  The second part of the downfall of earl Huntington, sirnamed\n  Robinhood, by Anthony Mundy and Henry Chettle.\u201d\n\n In a subsequent page is the following entry: \u201cLent unto Robarte\n Shawe, the 18 of Novemb. 1598, to lend unto Mr. Cheattle, upon the\n mending of the first part of Robart Hoode, the sum of xs.;\u201d and\n afterwards\u2014\u201cFor mending of Robin Hood for the corte.\u201d See Malone\u2019s\n edition of \u201cThe Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare,\u201d 1790, vol.\n i. part ii. (Emendations and additions.)\n\n\n [41] That is, the inn so called, upon Ludgate Hill. The modern\n sign, which, however, seems to have been the same 200 years ago,\n is a bell and a wild man; but the original is supposed to have\n been a beautiful Indian; and the inscription, _La belle sauvage_.\n Some, indeed, assert that the inn once belonged to a Lady Arabella\n Savage; and others, that its name, originally _The bell and\n savage_, arose (like _The George and blue boar_) from the junction\n of two inns, with those respective signs. Non nostr\u00fbm est tantas\n componere lites.\n\n\n [42] She is called the Widow Scarlet; so that Scathlocke was the\n elder brother. In fact, however, it was mere ignorance in the\n author to suppose the Scathlocke and Scarlet of the story distinct\n persons, the latter name being an evident corruption of the former;\n Scathlock, Scadlock, Scarlock, Scarlet.\n\n\n [43] In \u201cThe booke of the inventary of the goods of my lord\n admeralles men tacken the 10 of Marche in the yeare 1598,\u201d are\n the following properties for Robin Hood and his retinue in this\n identical play:\n\n  \u201c_Item_, .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. i green gown for Maryan.\n   _Item_, vi grene cottes for Roben Hoode, and iiii knaves sewtes.\n   _Item_, i hatte for Robin Hoode, i hobihorse.\n   _Item_, Roben Hoodes sewtte.\n   _Item_, the fryers trusse in Roben Hoode.\u201d\n\n                         Malone\u2019s _Shak._ II. ii. (Emen. & ad.)\n\n\n [44] George a Greene and Wakefield\u2019s pinner were one and the same\n person. The shoemaker of Bradford is anonymous.\n\n\n [45] Which, by the way, was termed a _hempen caudle_. See the\n _Second Part of K. H. VI._, act iv. scene 7. Lord-Chancellor\n Jeffries, at the revolution, was treated much in the same manner.\n One day, during his confinement in the Tower, he received a barrel\n of oysters, upon which he observed to his keeper, \u201cWell, you see, I\n have yet some friends left:\u201d at the bottom of the barrel, however,\n he found a halter; which changed his countenance, and is even\n thought to have hastened his death.\n\n\n [46] See the ballad of \u201cThe Jolly Pinder of Wakefield,\u201d part ii.\n num. iii.\n\n\n [47] Fitzwater confounds one man with another; Harold Harefoot was\n the son and successor of Canute the great.\n\n\n [48] This tradition is referred to, and the inscription given,\n in Ray\u2019s Itineraries, 1760, p. 153:\u2014\u201cWe rode through a bushet or\n common called Rodwell-hake, two miles from Leeds, where (according\n to the vulgar tradition) was once found a stag, with a ring of\n brass about its neck, having this inscription:\n\n  When Julius C\u00e6sar here was king,\n  About my neck he put this ring;\n  Whosoever doth me take,\n  Let me go for C\u00e6sar\u2019s sake.\u201d\n\n In The Midwife, or Old Woman\u2019s Magazine (vol. i. p. 250), Mrs.\n Midnight, in a letter \u201cTo the venerable society of antiquarians,\u201d\n containing a description of C\u00e6sar\u2019s camp on Windsor forest, has\n the following passage: \u201cThere have been many extraordinary things\n discovered about this camp. One thing, I particularly remember, was\n a deer of about sixteen hundred years old. .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. This deer it\n seems was a favourite of C\u00e6sar\u2019s, and on that account he bedecked\n her neck with a golden collar and an inscription, which I shall by\n and by take notice of; she had been frequently taken, but when the\n hunters, the peasants, and poor people saw the golden collar on her\n neck, they readily let her go again. However, as she continually\n increased in strength and in bulk, as well as in age, after the\n course of about fifteen or sixteen centuries, the flesh and skin\n were entirely grown over this collar, so that it could not be\n discover\u2019d till after she was kill\u2019d, and then to the surprise of\n the virtuosi it appear\u2019d with this inscription:\n\n  When Julius C\u00e6sar reigned here,\n  Then was I a little deer;\n  If any man should me take,\n  Let me go for C\u00e6sar\u2019s sake.\n\n \u201cThis collar, which is of pure gold, I am told weighs thirty\n ounces, and as the blood of the creature still appears fresh upon\n it, I believe it may be as valuable as any of your gimcracks;\n however, there will be no harm in my sending of it to you; and if\n I can procure it, you may depend on my taking the utmost care of\n it.\u201d As no notice is announced of this wonderful piece of antiquity\n in the voluminous and important lucubrations of the above learned\n body, it most probably never came into their possession; which\n is very much to be lamented, as it would have been an admirable\n companion for _Hardecnute\u2019s chamber-pot_, _King Edward the first\u2019s\n finger_, and other similar curiosities.\n\n Juvenal des Ursins gravely relates that in the year 1380 a hart was\n taken at Senlis with a chain about his neck inscribed \u201c_C\u00e6sar hoc\n me donavit_.\u201d*\n\n Upton, to be even with him, supposes a hart to have been taken at\n Bagshot near Windsor, with a motto on the collar in the French\n language, which proves the ancient Romans were familiar therewith\n long before it existed:\n\n  \u201c_Julius C\u00e6sar, quant jeo fus petis,\n   Cest coler suz mon col ad mys._\u201d\u2020\n\n This _dictator perpetuo_, in fact, seems to have collared every\n hart he took. The family of _Pompei_ in Italy use two harts for\n their supporters on whose collars were the letters N. M. T., in\n memory of one on whose collar were these words: \u201cN_emo_ M_e_\n T_angat_, _C\u00e6saris sum_.\u201d Anstis, ii. 113.\n\n The original of all these stories is to be found in Pliny, who\n says: \u201cIt is generally held and confessed that the stagge or hind\n live long; for an hundred yeer after Alexander the great, some\n were taken with golden collars about their necks, overgrowne now\n with haire and growne within the skin: which collars the said king\n had done upon them\u201d (Naturall Historie, by Holland, 1601, B. 8,\n c. 32). Pausanias, moreover, speaking of one Leocydas, who fought\n for the Megalopolitans, in conjunction with Lydiades, against\n the Laced\u00e6monians (about the year 243 before Christ), says he\n was reported to be the descendant in the ninth degree of that\n Arcesilaus, who living in Lycosura saw that stag which is sacred to\n the goddess Despoine worn out with old age. This stag, he adds, had\n a collar on its neck with the following inscription:\n\n  Caught young, when Agapenor sail\u2019d for Troy.\n\n By which, he concludes, it is evident that a stag lives much longer\n than an elephant (B. 8, c. 10).\n\n \u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n * Histoire de Charles VI.\n\n \u2020 Upton de re militari, p. 119.\n\n\n [49] Robin, in the old legend, expresses his regard for this order\n of men (concerning which the reader may consult an ingenious\n \u201cEssay\u201d in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i., and\n some \u201cObservations\u201d in a collection of ancient songs, printed in\n 1790):\n\n  \u201cWhether he be messengere,\n    Or a man that myrthes can,\n  Or yf he be a pore man,\n    Of my good he shall have some.\u201d\n\n\n [50] This play is entered in Master Henslowe\u2019s account-book with\n the date of December 1600. See Malone\u2019s Shakespeare, vol. ii. part\n ii. (Emen. & ad.)\n\n\n [51] \u201cThe Triumphes of Reunited Britannia. A pageant in honour of\n Sir Leonard Holliday, lord mayor.\u201d 1605.\n\n\n [52] Henry Fitz-Alwine Fitz-Liefstane, goldsmith, first mayor of\n London, was appointed to that office by King Richard I. in 1189,\n and continued therein till the 15th of King John, 1212, when he\n \u201cdeceased, and was buried in the priorie of the holy trinitie,\n neare unto Aldgate\u201d (Stow\u2019s Survey, 1598, p. 418). His relationship\n with Robin Hood is merely poetical, and invented by Mundy \u201cfor\n the nonce;\u201d though it is by no means improbable that they were\n acquainted, and that our hero might have occasionally dined at the\n Mansion-house on a Lord Mayor\u2019s day.\n\n\n [53] Jonson was led into this mistake by the old play of Robin\n Hood. See before, p. lv.\n\n\n [54] This play appears to have been performed upon the stage after\n the Restoration. The prologue and epilogue (spoken by Mr. Portlock)\n are to be found in num. 1009 of the Sloane MSS. It was republished,\n with a continuation and notes, by Mr. Waldron, of Drury-lane\n Theatre, in 1783.\n\n\n [55] A most stupid pantomime on this subject, under the title of\n \u201cMerry Sherwood, or Harlequin, forester,\u201d was performed in December\n 1795, at the Theatre-royal, Covent-garden.\n\n\n [56] 1st edit. 1550, fo. xxvi. b. (Randolf is misprinted Rand\n of.) Subsequent editions, even of the same year, reading only\n \u201cRandall of Chester.\u201d Mr. Warton (History of English Poetry, ii.\n 179) makes this genius, whom he calls a frier, say \u201cthat he is\n well acquainted with the rimes of Randall of Chester;\u201d and these\n rimes he, whimsically enough, conjectures to be the old Chester\n Whitsun plays; which, upon very idle and nonsensical evidence,\n he supposes to have been written by Randal Higden, the compiler\n of the Polychronicon. Of course, if this absurd idea were at all\n well founded, the rimes of Robin Hood must likewise allude to\n certain Yorkshire or Nottinghamshire plays, written by himself.\n The \u201cRandolf erl of Chester\u201d here meant is Randal Blundevile, the\n last earl of that name, who had been in the Holy Land, was a great\n warrior and patriot, and died in 1231.\n\n The reading of the original edition is confirmed by a very old\n manuscript in the Cotton Library (Vespasian, B. XVI.) differing\n considerably from the printed copies, which gives the passage thus:\n\n  \u201cI can nouzt perfiitli my pater-noster as a prest it syngeth:\n   I can rymes of Robyn Hood, of Rondolf erl of Chestre,\n   Ac of oure lorde ne of oure ladi the leste that ever was maked.\u201d\n\n (See also Caligula, A. XI.)\n\n The speaker himself could have told Mr. Warton he was no frier:\n\n  \u201cI have ben prieste & person passynge thyrty winter,\n   Yet can I nether solfe, ne singe, ne sayntes lyves read;\n   But I can find in a fielde or in a furlong an hare,\n   Better than in Beatus vir or in Beati omnes\n   Construe one clause well, & kenne it to my parishens.\u201d\n\n\n [57] \u201cDe quibus stolidum wigus hianter in com\u0153diis & trag\u00e6diis\n prurienter festum faciunt, & super ceteras \u2018romancias mimos &\n bardanos cantitare delectantur\u201d (Scotichronicon, \u00e0 Hearne, p. 774).\n Comedies and tragedies are\u2014not dramatic compositions, but\u2014poems of\n a comic or serious cast. Romance in Spanish, and romance in French,\n signify\u2014not a tale of chivalry, but\u2014a vulgar ballad, at this day.\n\n\n [58] \u201cRebus hujus Roberti gestis tota Britannia in cantibus utitur\u201d\n (Majoris Britanni\u00e6 Historia, Edin. 1740, p. 128).\n\n\n [59] Hystory of Scotland, Edin. 1541, fo. The word \u201cwaithman\u201d was\n probably suggested by Andrew of Wyntown (see before, Note 3).\n It seems equivalent to the English vagabond, or perhaps outlaw.\n Waith is waif; and it is to be remembered that, in the technical\n language of the English courts, a woman is said to be waived, and\n not outlawed. \u201cIn our auld Scottish langage,\u201d says Skene, \u201cane\n _Vothman_ is ane out-law, or ane fugitive fra the lawes\u201d (_De\n verborum significatione_, Edin. 1597). It is from \u00fe\u00e6\u00f0an, _venari_,\n _fugare_. See Lye\u2019s Dictionary. The passage above quoted does not\n occur in Boise\u2019s original work.\n\n\n [60] Of this poem there have been at least five editions at London\n or Westminster, and one at Edinburgh. In a list of \u201cbookes printed\n and .\u00a0.\u00a0. sold by Jane Bell, at the east end of Christ-church\n [1655],\u201d in company with Frier Rush, The frier and the boy, &c.,\n is \u201ca book of Robin Hood and Little John.\u201d Captain Cox of Coventry\n appears to have had a copy of some old edition: see Laneham\u2019s\n Letter from Killingworth, 1575.\n\n\n [61] \u201cDescription of the Town of Tottenham-high-crosse,\u201d &c. London\n (1631, 4to), 1781, 8vo. The invaluable MS. alluded to has been\n since discovered; and the entire poem, of which Mr. Ritson has here\n given a fragment, will be found in the Appendix.\u2014ED.\n\n\n [62] The book, under the same title, printed by Wynken de Worde, in\n 1517, is a different translation in prose.\n\n\n [63] Mr. Warton reads _Toby_; and so, perhaps, it may be in former\n editions.\n\n\n [64] Honest Barnaby, _i.e._ Richard Brathwayte, who wrote or\n travelled about 1640, was well acquainted with our hero\u2019s story.\n\n  \u201cVeni Nottingham tyrones\n   Sherwoodenses sunt latrones.\n   Instar Robin Hood, & servi\n   Scarlet & Joannis Parvi;\n   Passim, sparsim, peculantur,\n   Cellis, sylvis depr\u00e6dantur.\u201d\n\n  \u201cThence to Nottingham, where rovers,\n   Highway riders, Sherwood drovers,\n   Like old Robin Hood and Scarlet,\n   Or like Little John his varlet;\n   Here and there they shew them doughty,\n   In cells and woods to get their booty.\u201d\n\n Whitlock relates that \u201cthe [parliament] committee who carried the\n propositions of peace to Oxford, had the king\u2019s answer sealed up\n and sent to them. They, upon advice together, thought it not fit\n for them to receive an answer in that manner .\u00a0.\u00a0. and made an\n address to his majesty that they might know what his answer was,\n and have a copy of it: to which his majesty replied, What is that\n to you, who are but to carry what I send, and if I will send the\n song of _Robin Hood and Little John_, you must carry it? To which\n the commissioners only said, that the business about which they\n came was of somewhat more consequence than that song\u201d (_Memorials_,\n p. 115).\n\n\n [65] There is, in fact, such a place as Barnwood forest, in\n Buckinghamshire; but no one, except Mr. Hearne, has hitherto\n supposed that part of the country to have been frequented by our\n hero. Barnwood, in the case reported by Yelverton, has clearly\n arisen from a confusion of Barnsdale and green wood. \u201cRobin Hood in\n the greenwood stood\u201d was likewise the beginning of an old song now\n lost (see _post_, p. 197): and it is not a little remarkable that\n Jefferies, serjeant, on the trial of Pilkington and others, for a\n riot, in 1683, by a similar confusion, quotes the line in question\n thus:\n\n  \u201cRobin Hood upon Greendale stood\u201d (State-trials, iii. 634).\n\n A third corruption has taken place in Parker, p. 131 (King _v._\n Cotton), though expressly cited from Yelverton, viz.\n\n  \u201cRobin Hood in Barnwell stood.\u201d\n\n The following most vulgar and indecent rime, current among the\n peasantry in the North of England, may have been intended to\n ridicule the perpetual repetition of \u201cRobin Hood in greenwood\n stood:\u201d\n\n  Robin Hood\n  In green-wood stood.\n      With his back against a tree;\n  He fell flat\n  Into a cow-plat,\n      And all besh\u2014n was he\n\n\n [66] It is possible that, amid these absurdities, there may be\n other lines of the old song of Robin Hood, which is the only reason\n for reviving them.\n\n  \u201cO sleepst thou, or wakst thou, Jeffery Cooke?\u201d\n\n occurs, likewise, in a medley of a similar description, in Pammelia\n 1609.\n\n\n [67] In \u201c_Heraclitus ridens_, or a discourse between Jest and\n Earnest,\u201d a periodical paper against the Whigs, published in 1681,\n and collected and republished in 1713 (No. 34), Jest begins singing:\n\n  \u201cBills, bows, and axes, quoth Robin Hood,\n      But I have not time to tell;\n   Yonder\u2019s the sheriff and his company,\n      But I hope all will be well.\n                Hei, down, derry, derry, down;\u201d\n\n and says, \u201cI hope I may sing of old Robin without offending a grand\n jury, or being presented for disuniting Protestants.\u201d\n\n In The Gentleman\u2019s Magazine for December 1790 is the first verse\n of a song used by the inhabitants of Helston in Cornwall on the\n celebration of an annual festivity on the 8th of May, called the\n Furry-day, supposed Flora\u2019s day, not, it is imagined, \u201cas many\n have thought, in remembrance of some festival instituted in honour\n of that goddess, but rather from the garlands commonly worn on\n that day.\u201d (See the same publication for June and October 1790.)\n This verse was the whole that Mr. Urban\u2019s correspondent could then\n recollect, but he thought he might be afterwards able \u201cto send all\n that is known of it, for,\u201d he says, \u201cit formerly was very long, but\n is now much forgotten.\u201d The stanza is as follows:\n\n  \u201cRobin Hood and Little John\n   They are both gone to fair O;\n   And we will go to the merry green-wood,\n   To see what they do there O.\n           With hel an tow,\n           And rum-be-low,\n   And chearily we\u2019ll get up,\n   As soon as any day O,\n   All for to bring the summer home,\n   The summer and the May O.\u201d\n\n \u201cAfter which,\u201d he adds, \u201cthere is something about the grey goose\n wing; from all which,\u201d he concludes, \u201cthe goddess Flora has\n nothing to say to it.\u201d She may have nothing to say to the song,\n indeed, and yet a good deal to do with the thing. But the fact\n is, that the first eight days of May, or the first day and the\n eighth, seem to have been devoted by the Celtic nations to some\n great religious ceremony. Certain superstitious observances of\n this period still exist in the Highlands of Scotland, where it is\n called the Bel-tein; Beltan, in that country, being a common term\n for the beginning of May, as \u201cbetween the Beltans\u201d is a saying\n significant of the first and eighth days of that month. The games\n of Robin Hood, as we shall elsewhere see, were, for whatever\n reason, always celebrated in May.\u2014N.B. \u201cHel-an-tow,\u201d in the above\n stanza, should be heave and how. Heave and how, and Rumbelow, was\n an ordinary chorus to old ballads, and is at least as ancient as\n the reign of Edward II., since it occurs in the stanza of a Scotish\n song, preserved by some of our old historians, on the battle of\n Bannockburn.\n\n To lengthen this long note: Among the Harleian MSS. (num. 367)\n is the fragment of \u201ca tale of Robin Hood dialouge-wise beetweene\n Watt and Jeffry. The morall is the overthrowe of the abbyes; the\n like being attempted by the Puritane, which is the wolfe, and\n the politician, which is the fox, agaynst the bushops. Robin\n Hood, bushop; Adam Bell, abbot; Little John, colleagues of the\n university.\u201d This seems to have been a common mode of satirising\n both the old Church and the reformers. In another MS. of the same\n collection (N. 207), written about 1532, is a tract entitled \u201cThe\n banckett of John the reve, unto Peirs Ploughman, Laurens Laborer,\n Thomlyn Tailyor, and Hobb of the Hille, with others;\u201d being, as Mr.\n Wanley says, a dispute concerning transubstantiation by a Roman\n Catholic. The other, indeed, is much more modern: it alludes to the\n indolence of the abbots, and their falling off from the original\n purity in which they were placed by the bishops, whom it inclines\n to praise. The object of its satire seems to be the Puritans; but\n here it is imperfect, though the lines preserved are not wholly\n destitute of poetical merit.\u2014\u201cRobin Hood and the Duke of Lancaster,\n a ballad, to the tune of The Abbot of Canterbury,\u201d 1727, is a\n satire on Sir Robert Walpole.\n\n\n [68] Chatterton, in his \u201cMemoirs of a Sad Dog,\u201d represents \u201cBaron\n Otranto\u201d (meaning the honourable Horace Walpole, now Earl of\n Orford), when on a visit to \u201cSir Stentor,\u201d as highly pleased with\n Robin Hood\u2019s ramble, \u201cmelodiously chaunted by the knight\u2019s groom\n and dairy-maid, to the excellent music of a two-stringed violin and\n bag-pipe,\u201d which transported him back \u201cto the age of his favourite\n hero, Richard the Third;\u201d whereas, says he, \u201cthe songs of Robin\n Hood were not in being till the reign of Queen Elizabeth.\u201d This,\n indeed, may be in a great measure true of those which we now have,\n but there is sufficient evidence of the existence and popularity of\n such-like songs for ages preceding; and some of these, no doubt,\n were occasionally modernised or new-written, though most of them\n must be allowed to have perished.\n\n The late Dr. Johnson, in controverting the authenticity of Fingal,\n a composition in which the author, Mr. Macpherson, has made great\n use of some unquestionably ancient Irish ballads, said, \u201cHe would\n undertake to write an epick poem on the story of Robin Hood, and\n half England, to whom the names and places he should mention in\n it are familiar, would believe and declare they had heard it from\n their earliest years\u201d (Boswell\u2019s Journal, p. 486).\n\n\n [69] The following note is inserted in the fourth edition of the\n Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, published in July 1795 (vol. i.\n p. xcvii.):\n\n \u201cOf the 24 songs in what is now called \u2018Robin Hood\u2019s Garland,\u2019\n many are so modern as not to be found in Pepys\u2019s collection,\n completed only in 1700. In the [editor\u2019s] folio MS. are ancient\n fragments of the following, viz.\u2014Robin Hood and the beggar.\u2014Robin\n Hood and the butcher.\u2014Robin Hood and fryer Tucke.\u2014Robin Hood and\n the pindar.\u2014Robin Hood and queen Catharine, in two parts.\u2014Little\n John and the four beggars, and \u201cRobine Hood his death.\u201d This last,\n which is very curious, has no resemblance to any that have yet\n been published; [it is probably num. xxviii. of part ii.], and the\n others are extremely different from the printed copies; but they\n unfortunately are in the beginning of the MS. where half of every\n leaf hath been torn away.\u201d\n\n As this MS. \u201ccontains several songs relating to the civil war\n in the last century,\u201d the mere circumstance of its comprising\n fragments of the above ballads is no proof of a higher antiquity;\n any more than its not containing \u201cone that alludes to the\n Restoration\u201d proves its having been compiled before that period; or\n than, because some of these 24 songs are not to be found in Pepys\u2019s\n collection, they are more modern than 1700. If the MS. could be\n collated, it would probably turn out that many of its contents have\n been inaccurately and unfaithfully transcribed, by some illiterate\n persons, from printed copies still extant, and, consequently, that\n it is, so far, of no authority. See the advertisement prefixed.\n\n\n [70] Mr. Warton has mistaken and misprinted this line so as to make\n it absolute nonsense.\n\n  \u201cIs not my reason good?\n   Good\u2014even good\u2014Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n                                             (His. En. po. vol. ii.)\n\n\n [71] Drayton\u2019s Polyolbion, song 26, p. 122 (supra, p. vii.)\n\n\n [72] In Churchyard\u2019s \u201cReplication onto Camel\u2019s Objections\u201d he tells\n the latter:\n\n  \u201cYour knowledge is great, your judgement is good,\n   The most of your study hath ben of Robyn Hood;\n   And Bevys of Hampton, and syr Launcelot de Lake,\n   Hath taught you full oft your verses to make.\u201d\n\n\n [73] See the original story, in which two brothers, of whom one had\n wished for as many oxen as he saw stars, the other for a pasture\n as wide as the firmament, kill each other about the pasturage of\n the oxen (from Camer. oper. subscis. cent. 1, c. 92, p. 429), in\n Wanley\u2019s Little World of Man, edition of 1774, p. 426. Camerarius,\n it seems, had the story from Scardeonius _de claris civibus\n Patavinis_, whence it is also related in the notes to Upton _de\n studio militari_; and an older, of the like kind, is in the Faceti\u00e6\n of Poggius.\n\n\n [74] \u201cDerry down is the burden of the old songs of the Druids sung\n by their Bards and Vaids, to call the people to their religious\n assemblys in the groves. Doire in Irish (the old Punic) is a grove:\n corrupted into derry. A famous Druid grove and academy at the place\n since called Londonderry from thence.\u201d\u2014MS. note by Dr. Stukeley,\n in his copy of Robin Hood\u2019s Garland. \u201cPaul, Paul, thou art beside\n thyself!\u201d\n\n\n [75] Mr. Boyd, the famous preacher in Childsdale, finding that\n several of his hearers went away after the forenoon sermon, had\n this expression in his afternoon prayers: \u201cNow, Lord, thou seest\n that many people go away from hearing thy Word; but had we told\n them stories of Robin Hood or Davie Lindsay, they had stayed; and\n yet none of these are near so good as thy Word that I preach\u201d\n (Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence, 1714, p. 156).\n\n\n [76] The Bishop grows scurrilous. \u201cI never heard,\u201d says Coke,\n attorney-general, \u201cthat Robin Hood was a traitor, they say he was\n an outlaw.\u201d (State Trials, i. 218.\u2014Raleigh had said, \u201cIs it not\n strange for me to make myself a Robin Hood, a Kett, or a Cade?\u201d)\n\n\n [77] This ballad seems to have been written in imitation of a song\n in Heywood\u2019s Rape of Lucrece, 1630, beginning\u2014\n\n  \u201cThe gentry to the King\u2019s-head,\n   The nobles to the crown,\u201d &c.\n\n\n [78] In Arnold\u2019s Essex Harmony (ii. 98) he gives the inscription,\n as a catch for three voices, of his own composition, thus:\n\n  \u201cMy beer is stout, my ale is good,\n   Pray stay and drink with Robin Hood;\n   If Robin Hood abroad is gone,\n   Pray stay and drink with Little John.\u201d\n\n\n [79] This description is finely illustrated by an excellent\n woodcut at the head of one of Anthony a Wood\u2019s old ballads in the\n Ashmoleian Museum. The frontispiece to Gervas Markham\u2019s Archerie,\n 1634, is likewise a man drawing a bow.\n\n\n [80] See \u201cThe auncient order societie and unitie laudable of prince\n Arthure and his knightly armory of the round table .\u00a0.\u00a0. Translated\n and collected by R. R. London, Imprinted by John Wolfe dwelling\n in Distaffe-lane neere the signe of the Castle, 1583.\u201d 4to, b. l.\n It appears from this publication that on the revival of London\n archery in Queen Elizabeth\u2019s time, \u201cthe worshipfull socyety of\n archers,\u201d instead of calling themselves after Robin Hood and his\n companions, took the names of \u201cthe magnificent prince Arthure and\n his knightly traine of the round table.\u201d It is, probably, to one of\n the annual meetings of this identical society that Master Shallow\n alludes in the _Second Part of King Henry IV._ \u201cI remember,\u201d\n says he, \u201cat Mile-end Green [their usual place of exercise],\u2014I\n was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur\u2019s shew,\u201d &c. (See also Steevens\u2019s\n Shakespeare, 1793, ix. 142.) The successors of the above \u201cfriendly\n and frank fellowship\u201d assumed the ridiculous appellations of Duke\n of Shoreditch, Marquis of Clerkenwell, Earl of Pankridge, &c. See\n Wood\u2019s Bowman\u2019s Glory, 1682.\n\n\n [81] Meaning that his sole or chief employment had been in\n Christmas or May games, Whitsun-ales, and such like idle\n diversions. See Original Letters, &c., ii. 134.\n\n In an old circular woodcut, preserved on the title of Robin Hood\u2019s\n Garland, 1670, as well as on that of Adam Bell, &c., printed at\n Newcastle in 1772, is the apparent representation of a May-game,\n consisting of the following personages: 1. A bishop. 2. Robin\n Hood. 3. The potter (or beggar). 4. Little John. 5. Frier Tuck. 6.\n Maid Marian. Figures 2 and 4 are distinguished by their bows and\n different size. The frier holds out a cross; and Marian has flowing\n hair, and wears a sort of coronet. But the execution of the whole\n is too rude to merit a copy.\n\n At Lord Fitzwilliams\u2019s at Richmond there is, or lately was, a\n curious painting by Vinckenbooms, representing old Richmond palace,\n with a group of morris-dancers. It has been badly engraved by\n Godfrey, who reduced the figures to too small a scale. Mr. Douce\n has a tracing from the original picture with all the figures\n distinctly marked. See a poem at the end of Hall\u2019s Downfall of\n May-games, 1661, 4to.\n\n\n [82] The precise purpose or meaning of setting up Robin Hood\u2019s\n bower has not been satisfactorily ascertained. Mr. Hearne, in an\n attempt to derive the name of \u201cThe Chiltern country\u201d (ciltern,\n Saxon) from silex, a flint, has the following words: \u201cCerte\n Silcestriam, &c. _i.e._ Certainly Silchester, in Hampshire,\n signifies nothing but the city of flints (that is, a city composed\n or built of flint-stones). And what is more, in that very Chiltern\n country you may frequently see houses built of flints, in erecting\n which, in ancient times, I suppose that many persons involved\n themselves deeply in debt, and that, in order to extricate\n themselves, they took up money at interest of I know not what great\n men, which so far disturbed their minds that they would become\n thieves and do many things in no wise agreeable to the English\n government. Hence, the nobility ordered that large woods in the\n Chiltern country should in a great measure be cut down, lest they\n should conceal any considerable body of robbers, who were wont to\n convert the same into lurking places. It concerns this matter to\n call to mind that of this sort of robbers was that Robin or Robert\n Hood, of whom the vulgar dayly sing so many wonderful things.\n He (being now made an outlaw) before he retired into the north\n parts, frequently robbing in the Chiltern country, lurked in the\n thickets thereof on purpose that he should not be taken. Thence it\n was that to us boys (exhilarating, according to custom, the mind\n with sports) certain countrymen, with whom we had accidentally\n some conversation, shewed us that sort of den or retreat (vulgarly\n called Robin Hood\u2019s bower) in Maydenhead-thicket; which thicket is\n the same that Leland in his Itinerary called Frith, by which name\n the Anglo-Saxons themselves spoke of thickets. For although fri\u00f0\n in reality signifies peace, yet since numerous groves with them\n (as well as before with the Britons) were deemed sacred, it is by\n no means to be wondered at that a great wood (because manifestly\n an asylum) should, in the judgment of the Anglo-Saxons, be called\n by no other name than fr\u00a0\u00f0es: and that Maydenhead-thicket was\n esteemed among the greater woods Leland himself is a witness.\n Rightly therefore did Robin Hood (as fri\u00f0-bena) reckon himself to\n abide there in security\u201d (Chronicon de Dunstaple, p. 387). What he\n means by all this is, doubtless, sufficiently obscure: the mere\n name, however, of Robin Hood\u2019s bower seems a very feeble authority\n for concluding that gallant outlaw to have robbed or skulked in the\n Chiltern hundreds.\n\n It may seem, perhaps, from a passage in Browne\u2019s _Britannia\u2019s\n Pastorals_ (Song 4), that _Robin Hood\u2019s bower_ was prepared for the\n reception of himself and his Marian, as king and queen of May. The\n lines are these:\n\n  \u201cAs I have seene the lady of the May\n   _Set in an arbour_, on a holy-day,\n   Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swains,\n   Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe\u2019s strains.\u201d\n\n\n [83] See Steevens\u2019s Shakespeare, 1793, x. 186.\n\n\n [84] Albion\u2019s England, 1602, p. 121. It is part of the \u201cNortherne\n man\u2019s speech against the friers.\u201d He adds:\n\n  \u201cAt Baptis-day with ale and cakes bout bonfires neighbours stood,\n   At Martle masse wa turnd a crabbe, thilke told of Roben Hood,\n   Till after long time myrke, when blest were windowes, dares and lights,\n   And pails were fild, and hathes were swept, gainst fairie elves and\n         sprits:\n   Rock and plow Mondaies gams .\u00a0.\u00a0. with saint-feasts and kirk-lights.\u201d\n\n A very learned and ingenious gentleman conceives that the\n enumeration of characters in the passage quoted in the text\n belongs solely to the _May_, and has no relation whatever to the\n _morrise_. That the two games, however, though essentially distinct\n in their origin, got somehow or other blended together appears\n unquestionable.\n\n \u201cAs fit as a _morris_ for _May-day_\u201d is one of the clown\u2019s similes\n in _All\u2019s well that ends well_ (act ii. scene 2).\n\n\n [85] \u201cThe word livery was formerly used to signify anything\n delivered; see the Northumberland Household Book, p. 60. If it ever\n bore such an acceptation at that time, one might be induced to\n suppose, from the following entries, that it here meant a badge, or\n something of that kind:\n\n  15 C. of leveres for Robin Hode   0  5   0\n  For leveres, paper and sateyn     0  0  20\n  For pynnes and leveres            0  6   5\n  For 13 C. of leverys              0  4   4\n  For 24 great lyvereys             0  0   4\n\n We are told that formerly, in the celebration of May-games, the\n youth divided themselves into two troops, the one in winter\n livery, the other in the habit of the spring. See Brand\u2019s Popular\n Antiquities, p. 261.\u201d This quotation is misapplied. Liveries,\n in the present instance, are pieces of paper or sateyn with\n some device thereon, which were distributed for money among the\n spectators. So in a passage which will be shortly quoted from Jack\n Drum\u2019s Entertainment: \u201cWell said, my boyes, I must have my lord\u2019s\n livory; what is\u2019t? a May-pole?\u201d See also Stubbs\u2019s Anatomie of\n Abuses, 1583, sig. M. 2 _b_, and Skelton\u2019s Don Quixote, part ii.\n chap. 22.\n\n\n [86] \u201cThough it varies considerably from that word, this may be a\n corruption of orpiment, which was much in use for colouring the\n morris garments.\u201d How orseden can be a corruption of orpiment is\n not very easy to conceive: it may as well be supposed to mean\n worsted or buckram. Mr. Steevens thinks that this _orseden_ is the\n _Arse-dine_ of old Joan Trash, in Jonson\u2019s Bartholomew Fair, and\n means _flame-coloured paint_, used to _hobby-horses_. The four\n giants for the revived Midsummer shew at Chester, in 1668, were \u201cto\n be cullered _tinsille arsedine_\u201d (MSS. Har. 2150, fo. 373, b.)\n\n\n [87] \u201cThe friar\u2019s coat was generally of russet, as it appears by\n the following extracts .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u201d The coat of this mock frier would,\n doubtless, be made of the same stuff as that of a real one.\n\n\n [88] \u201cMarian was the assumed name of the beloved mistress of\n Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, whilst he was in a state of outlawry,\n as Robin Hood was his. See Mr. Steevens\u2019s note to a passage in\n Shakespeare\u2019s _Henry IV._ This character in the morris-dances was\n generally represented by a boy. See Strutt\u2019s View of Customs and\n Manners, vol. iii. p. 150. It appears by one of the extracts, given\n above, that at Kingston it was performed by a woman, who was paid a\n shilling each year for her trouble.\u201d\n\n\n [89] \u201cMr. Steevens suggests, _with great probability_, that this\n word may have the same meaning as howve or houve, used by Chaucer\n for a head-dress; Maid Marian\u2019s head-dress was always very fine:\n indeed some persons have derived her name from the Italian word\n morione, a head-dress.\u201d Mr. Steevens was never less happy than he\n is in this very probable conjecture. The word howve or houve, in\n Chaucer, is a mere variation of hood: and Maid Marian\u2019s head-dress\n must, to be sure, have been \u201cvery fine\u201d when made of four yards of\n broad cloth! A huke is a woman\u2019s gown or habit. (Huke, palla, toga,\n palium Belgicis feminis usitatum.\u2014_Skin._) Skelton mentions it in\n his Elinour Rumming:\n\n  \u201cHer _huke_ of Lyncole grene.\u201d\n\n \u201cAll women in generall,\u201d says Moryson, speaking of the Netherlands,\n \u201cwhen they goe out of the house, put on a _hoyke_ or vaile, which\n covers their heads, and hangs downe vpon their backs to their\n legges,\u201d &c. (Itinerary, 1617, part 3, p. 169).\n\n Sir John Cullum seems to have mistaken Rose Sparkes\u2019 \u201cbest hook\u201d\n for a \u201chook worn at the bottom of the stays, to regulate the\n sitting of the apron\u201d (History of Hawsted, p. 25). Morione,\n in Italian, signifies a murrion or scull-cap; and though the\n derivation alluded to appears to have the sanction of Blount\u2019s\n Glosographia, nothing can be more completely absurd. _Marian_ is\n _Mary_.\n\n  \u201cAnd _Marian\u2019s_ nose looks rede and raw.\u201d\n\n\n [90] \u201cIt appears that this, as well as other games, was made a\n parish concern.\u201d\n\n\n [91] \u201cProbably gilt leather, the pliability of which was\n particularly accommodated to the motion of the dancers.\u201d\n\n\n [92] \u201cA sort of coarse linen.\u201d\n\n\n [93] \u201cProbably a Moor\u2019s coat; the word Morion is sometimes used to\n express a Moor.\u2014The morris dance is by some supposed to have been\n originally derived from Moorish-dance. Black buckram appears to\n have been much used for the dresses of the ancient mummers. One of\n the figures in Mr. Tollet\u2019s window is supposed to be a morisco.\u201d\n\n\n [94] \u201cDisard is an old word for a fool.\u201d\n\n\n [95] In Ben Jonson\u2019s Masque of the Metamorphosed Gipsies, presented\n to King James in 1621 (the very date, by the way, which appears\n on Mr. Tollet\u2019s window), we have the following dialogue between\n _Cockret_ and _Clod_:\n\n \u201c_Coc._ Oh the lord! what be these?\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n _Clo._ They should be morris-dancers by their gingle, but they have\n no napkins.\n\n _Coc._ No, nor a hobby-horse.\n\n _Clo._ Oh, he\u2019s often forgotten, that\u2019s no rule; but there is no\n _maid Marian_ nor _friar_ amongst them, which is the surer mark.\n\n _Coc._ Nor a _fool_ that I see.\u201d\u2014(_Tollet\u2019s Memoir._)\n\n\n [96] Neither is any notice taken of them, where the characters of\n the morris-dance are mentioned, in _The Two Noble Kinsmen_, by\n Shakespeare and Fletcher.\n\n\n [97] This was a usual cry on occasions of mirth and jollity. Thus,\n in the celebration of St. Stephen\u2019s day in the Inner-Temple hall,\n as we find it described in Dugdale\u2019s Origines Juridiciales: \u201cSupper\n ended, the constable-marshall \u2018presenteth\u2019 himself with drums afore\n him, mounted upon a scaffold, born by four men; and goeth three\n times round about the harthe, crying out aloud, A lord, a lord, &c.\n Then he descendeth and goeth to dance,\u201d &c. (p. 156).\n\n\n [98]\n\n  \u2015\u2015\u201c\u2019Tis meet we all go forth,\n  To view the sick and feeble parts of France:\n  And let us do it with no show of fear;\n  No, with no more, that if we heard that England\n  Were busied with a _Whitsun morris-dance_.\u201d\n\n                           Shak. _K. Hen. V._, act ii. scene 4.\n\n\n [99] Perhaps also, Robin Hood and his party had never appeared in\n company with the morris-dancers but at one particular period, in\n the beginning of May, whereas we find that _Whitsuntide_ was no\n less devoted to the latter.\n\n\n [100] It must be confessed that no other direct authority has been\n met with for constituting _Robin Hood_ and _Little John_ integral\n characters of the morris-dance. That _Maid Marian_, however, and\n the _Frier_, were almost constantly such, is proved beyond the\n possibility of a doubt; and why or how they should become so,\n without Robin Hood, at least, is unaccountable.\n\n\n [101] This county would seem to have been famous for their\n exertions a couple of centuries ago. Will Kemp the player was\n a celebrated morris-dancer; and in the Bodleian Library is the\n following scarce and curious tract by him: \u201cKemp\u2019s nine daies\n wonder performed in a daunce from London to Norwich. Containing the\n pleasure, paines and kind entertainment of William Kemp between\n London and that city in his late morrice. Wherein is somewhat set\n downe worth note; to reproove the slaunders spred of him, many\n things merry, nothing hurtfull. Written by himself to satisfie\n his friends. London, printed by E. A. for Nicholas Ling, 1600\u201d\n 4to, b. l. On the title-page is a woodcut figure of Kemp as a\n morrice-dancer, preceded by a fellow with a pipe and drum, whom\n he, in the book, calls Thomas Slye his taberer.\u2014See, in Richard\n Brathwayte\u2019s Remains after Death, 1618, some lines \u201cupon Kempe and\n his morice, with his epitaph.\u201d\n\n\n [102] \u201cOn Monday [July 30] the morris-dancers of Pendleton paid\n their annual visit in Salford. They were adorned with all the\n variety of colours that a profusion of ribbons could give them, and\n had a very showy garland.\u201d\u2014_Star_, Aug. 9, 1792.\n\n\n [103] \u201cCouncil Register, v. 1, p. 30.\u201d\n\n\n [104] \u201cMary, parliament 6, c. 61, A.D. 1555.\u201d \u201cAnentis Robert Hude,\n and abbot of Unreason. Item, It is statute and ordained, that in\n all times cumming, na maner of person be chosen Robert Hude, nor\n Little John, abbot of unreason, queenis of Maij, nor utherwise,\n nouther in burgh, nor to landwart, in onie time to cum: and gif\n ony provest, baillies, councell, and communitie, chuse sik ane\n personage as Robert Hude, Little John, abbotis of unreason, or\n queenis of Maij, within burgh, the chusers of sik sall tine their\n freedome for the space of five zeires; and utherwise salbe punished\n at the queenis grace will; and the acceptar of sik like office\n sall be banished foorth of the realme; and gif ony sik persones\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. beis chosen out-with burgh, and uthers landward townes,\n the chusers sall pay to our soveraine ladie ten poundes, and their\n persones [be] put in waird there to remaine during the queenis\n grace pleasure.\u201d Abbot of unreason is the character better known\n in England by the title of abbot or lord of misrule, \u201cwho,\u201d says\n Percy, \u201cin the houses of our nobility presided over the Christmas\n gambols, and promoted mirth and jollity at that festive season\u201d\n (Northumberland Household Book, notes, p. 441).\n\n\n [105] \u201cCouncil Register, v. 4, p. 4, 30.\u201d\n\n\n [106] \u201cKnox\u2019s History, p. 270.\u201d\n\n\n [107] \u201cBook of Universal Kirk, p. 414.\u201d See also Keith\u2019s History of\n Scotland, p. 216.\n\n\n [108] History of Whitby, York, 1779, p. 146. \u201cIt was always\n believed,\u201d adds the worthy pedagogue, \u201cthat these butts had been\n erected by him for that very purpose, till the year 1771, when this\n popular notion was discovered to be a mistake; they being no more\n than the barrows or tumuli thrown up by our pagan predecessors\n on interring their leaders or the other persons of distinction\n amongst them. However, notwithstanding this discovery, there is\n no doubt but Robin Hood made use of those houes or butts when he\n was disposed to exercise his men, and wanted to train them up in\n hitting a mark.\u201d Be that as it may, there are a few hillocks of a\n similar nature not far from Guisbrough, which likewise bear the\n name of Robin Hood\u2019s butts; and others, it is imagined, may be met\n with in other parts.\n\n\n [109]\n\n  Epigram on Robin Hood\u2019s well, \u201ca fine spring on the road,\n  ornamented by Sir John Vanbrugh;\u201d by Roger Gale, Esq. (Bib. Topo.\n  Britan. No. II. part iii. p. 427).\n\n  \u201cNympha fui quondam latronibus hospita sylv\u00e6\n      Heu nimium sociis nota, Robine, tuis.\n   Me pudet innocuos latices fudisse scelestis,\n      Jamque viatori pocula tuta fero,\n   En pietatis honos! Comes hanc mihi Carliolensis\n      \u00c6dem sacravit qu\u00e2 bibis, hospes, aquas.\u201d\n\n The same author (Gent), in his \u201clong and pathetick prologue,\u201d\n setting forth \u201cthe contingencies, vicissitudes or changes of this\n transitory life,\u201d \u201cspoken, for the most part, on Wednesday and\n Friday the 18th and 20th of February 1761, at the deep tragedy of\n beautiful, eloquent, tender-hearted, but unfortunate Jane Shore,\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. uttered and performed at his benefit\u201d .\u00a0.\u00a0. (being then\n \u00e6tatis 70, and far declined into the vale of sorrow,*) has very\n artfully contrived to introduce our hero and his famous well.\n\n  \u201cThe concave hall, \u2019mongst sources never view\u2019d,\n   Nor heard the goddesses, in merry mood,\n   At their choice viands sing bold Robin Hood:\u2020\n   Whose tomb at Kirkley\u2019s nunnery display\u2019d,\n   A false, hard-hearted, irreligious maid,\n   Who bled, and to cold death that earl betray\u2019d.\n   But fame still lasts, while country folks display\n   His limpid fountain, and loud-surging bay.\u201d\n\n \u2015\u2015\u2015\u2015\n * He died in 1778, aged 87.\n\n \u2020 \u201cOmnes agnovere deam; l\u00e6tique receptant\n    Alc\u00e6um mus\u00e6 comitem, ponuntur I\u00e2cchi\n    Crateres; flaventque scyphis Cerealia vina:\n    Accedunt vultus hilares; festique lepores,\n    Et jocus, et risus: dulci testudine Naias\n    Pulchra modos variat; furtisque insignis et arcu\n    Hodi latronis, fluvios bene nota per istos,\n    Ludicra gesta canit: resonant laquearia plausu.\u201d\n\n\n [110]\n\n  \u201cViventes ven\u00e6, spine, catinusque caten\u00e6,\n   Sunt Robin Hoodi nota troph\u00e6a sui.\u201d\n\n\n [111]\n\n  \u201cA well, thorne, dish, hung in an iron chaine,\n   For monuments of Robin Hood remaine.\u201d\n\n\n [112] Voyage from England to India, 1773, p. 8. In a subsequent\n page this great man is employed in a commerce of a more delicate,\n indeed, but, according to European notions, less honourable nature,\n which he manages with consummate address.\n\n\n [113] They likewise seem alluded to in the Vision, fo. 1, b:\n\n  \u201cAnd ryse wyth ribaudy as Rebertes knaves.\u201d\n\n\n [114] \u201cOn a loose paper, in Mr. Ashmole\u2019s handwriting, in the\n museum at Oxford, is the following little anecdote:\u2014\n\n \u201cThe famous Little John (Robin Hood\u2019s companion) lyes buried in\n Fethersedge churchyard, in the peak of Derbyshire, one stone at\n his head, another at his feet, and part of his bow hangs up in the\n chancell. Anno 1652.\u201d H. E[llis]. European Magazine, October 1794,\n p. 295.\n\n\n [115] This seems the established size of an ancient hero. The\n grave of Gawin, King Arthur\u2019s nephew, discovered in the time of\n William the Conqueror, was, according to Malmesbury, \u201c_quatuor\n decim pedes longum_\u201d (De gestis regum, l. 3). Bois, from the above\n circumstance, conceives our \u201cLitil Jhon\u201d to have been so called\n \u201c_per ironiam_.\u201d See his original work, fo. ix.\n\n\n [116] Historie of Scotland, translatit be Maister Johne Bellenden,\n Edin. 1541, fo. The luxury of his countrymen will appear a strange\n complaint in the mouth of a Scotishman of the 16th century, to such\n as believe, with the late Dr. Johnson, that they learned to plant\n kail from Cromwell\u2019s soldiers, and that \u201cwhen they had not kail\n they probably had nothing\u201d (Journey to the Western Islands, p. 55).\n\n\n [117] Description of Ireland, in Holinshed\u2019s Chronicle, 1587.\n\n\n [118] Historical Essay, &c., p. 129. This allegation demands what\n the lawyers call a _profert in curiam._ It is, however, certain\n that there have been persons who usurped the name of Little John.\n In the year 1502, \u201cabout mydsomer, was taken a felow whyche had\n renued many of Robyn Hodes pagentes, which named himselfe Grenelef\u201d\n (Fabyan\u2019s Chronicle, 1559). Therefore, beware of counterfeits!\n\n\nROBIN HOOD.\n\nPart I.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{1}\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD.\n\nPart I.\n\n\nI.\n\nA LYTELL GESTE OF ROBYN HODE.\n\nThis ancient legend is printed from the copy of an edition, in\n4to and black letter, by Wynken de Worde, preserved in the public\nlibrary at Cambridge; compared with, and, in some places, corrected\nby, another impression (apparently from the former), likewise in\n4to and black letter, by William Copland, a copy of which is among\nthe late Mr. Garrick\u2019s old plays, now in the British Museum. The\nfull title of the first edition is as follows: \u201cHere beginneth\na mery geste of Robyn Hode and his meyne, {2} and of the proude\nsheryfe of Notyngham;\u201d and the printer\u2019s colophon runs thus:\n\u201cExplycit. Kynge Edwarde and Robyn hode and Lytell Johan Enprented\nat London in Flete strete at the sygne of the sone By Wynken de\nWorde.\u201d To Copland\u2019s edition is added \u201ca newe playe for to be\nplayed in Maye games very plesaunte and full of pastyme;\u201d which\nwill be found at large in another place. No other copy of either\nedition is known to be extant; but, by the favour of the Reverend\nDr. Farmer, the editor had in his hands and gave to Mr. Douce a\nfew leaves of an old 4to black letter impression by the above\nWynken de Worde, probably in 1489, and totally unknown to Ames\nand Herbert. Another edition was printed at Edinburgh by Androw\nMyllar and Walter Chepman in 1508, a fragment whereof is in the\nAdvocates\u2019 Library there. This is probably the edition noticed\namong the tales enumerated in Wedderburn\u2019s Complainte of Scotland,\nprinted at St. Andrews in 1549, under the title of \u201cRobene Hude and\nlitil Jhone.\u201d Among the Doctor\u2019s numerous literary curiosities was\nlikewise another edition, \u201cprinted,\u201d after Copland\u2019s, \u201cfor Edward\nWhite\u201d (4to, black letter, no date, but entered in the Stationers\u2019\nbooks 13 May 1594), which hath been collated, and every variation\nworthy of notice either adopted or remarked in the margin. The only\ndeviation from all the copies (except in necessary corrections)\nis the division of stanzas, the indenting of the lines, the\naddition of points, the disuse of abbreviations, and the occasional\nintroduction or rejection of a capital letter; liberties, if they\nmay be so called, which have been taken with most of the other\npoems in this collection.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n Lithe and lysten, gentylmen,\n   That be of frebore blode\u202f;\n I shall you tell of a good yem\u00e0n,\n   His name was Robyn Hode. {3}\n\n Robyn was a proude outlawe,\n   Whyles he walked on grounde,\n So curteyse an outlawe as he was one\n   Was never none yfounde.\n\n Robyn stode in Bernysdale,\n   And lened hym to a tree,\n And by hym stode Lytell Johan,\n   A good yeman was he\u202f;\n\n And also dyde good Scathelock,\n   And Much the millers sone\u202f;\n There was no ynche of his body,\n   But it was worthe a grome.\n\n Than bespake hym Lytell Johan\n   All unto Robyn Hode,\n Mayster, yf ye wolde dyne betyme,\n   It wolde do you moch good.\n\n Then bespake good Robyn,\n   To dyne I have no lust,\n Tyll I have some bolde bar\u00f2n,\n   Or some unketh gest,\n\n [Or els some byshop or abbot][119]\n   That may paye for the best\u202f;\n Or some knyght or some squyere\n   That dwelleth here by west. {4}\n\n A good maner than had Robyn,\n   In londe where that he were,\n Every daye or he woulde dyne\n   Thre messes wolde he here\u202f:\n\n The one in the worshyp of the fader,\n   The other of the holy goost,\n The thyrde was of our dere lady,\n   That he loved of all other moste.\n\n Robyn loved our dere lady,\n   For doute of dedely synne\u202f;\n Wolde he never do company harme\n   That only woman was ynne.\n\n Mayster, than sayd Lytell Johan,\n   And we our borde shall sprede,\n Tell us whether we shall gone,\n   And what lyfe we shall lede\u202f;\n\n Where we shall take, where we shall leve,\n   Where we shall abide behynde,\n Where we shall robbe, where we shall reve,\n   Where we shall bete and bynde.\n\n Ther of no fors, sayd Robyn,\n   We shall do well ynough\u202f;\n But loke ye do no housbonde harme\n   That tylleth with his plough\u202f; {5}\n\n No more ye shall no good yem\u00e0n,\n   That walketh by grene wode shawe,\n Ne no knyght, ne no squy\u00e8r,\n   That wolde be a good felawe.\n\n These bysshoppes, and thyse archebysshoppes,\n   Ye shall them bete and bynde\u202f;\n The hye sheryfe of Notynghame,\n   Hym holde in your mynde.\n\n This worde shall be holde, sayd Lytyll Johan,\n   And this lesson shall we lere\u202f;\n It is ferre dayes, god sende us a gest,\n   That we were at our dynere.\n\n Take thy good bowe in thy hande, said Robyn,\n   Let Moche wende with the,\n And so shall Wyllyam Scathelocke,\n   And no man abyde with me\u202f;\n\n And walke up to the Sayles,\n   And so to Watlynge-strete,[120]\n And wayte after some unketh gest,\n   Up-chaunce ye mowe them mete. {6}\n\n Be he erle or ony bar\u00f2n,\n   Abbot or ony knyght,\n Brynge hym to lodge to me,\n   Hys dyner shall be dyght.\n\n They wente unto the Sayles,\n   These yemen all thre,\n They loked est, they loked west,\n   They myght no man see.\n\n But as they loked in Barnysdale,\n   By a derne strete,\n Then came there a knyght rydynge,\n   Full sone they gan hym mete.\n\n All dreri then was his[121] semblaunte,\n   And lytell was hys pryde,\n Hys one fote in the sterope stode,\n   That other waved besyde.\n\n Hys hode hangynge over hys eyen two,\n   He rode in symple aray\u202f;\n A soryer man than he was one\n   Rode never in somers-day.\n\n Lytell Johan was curteyse,\n   And set hym on his kne\u202f:\n Welcome be ye, gentyll knyght,\n   Welcome are you to me.\n\n[Illustration: COURTESY OF LITTLE JOHN.]\n\n[Illustration: COURTESY OF LITTLE JOHN.]\n\n{7}\n\n Welcome be thou to grene wood,\n   Hende knyght and fre\u202f;\n My mayster hath abyden you fastynge,\n   Syr, all these oures thre.\n\n Who is your mayster\u202f? sayd the knyght.\n   Johan sayd\u00e9, Robyn Hode.\n He is a good yeman, sayd the knyght,\n   Of hym I have herde moch good.\n\n I graunte, he sayd, with you to wende,\n   My brethren all in-fere\u202f;[122]\n My purpose was to have deyned to day\n   At Blythe or Dankastere.\n\n Forthe than went this[123] gentyll knyght,\n   With a carefull chere,\n The teres out of his eyen ran,\n   And fell downe by his lere.[124]\n\n They brought hym unto the lodge dore,\n   When Robyn gan hym se,\n Full curteysly dyde of his hode,\n   And set hym on his kne.\n\n Welcome, syr knyght, then said Robyn,\n   Welcome thou arte to me,\n I haue abyde you fastynge, syr,\n   All these houres thre.\n\n Then answered the gentyll knyght,\n   With wordes fayre and fre,\n God the save, good Robyn,\n   And all thy fayre meyn\u00e8.\n\n They washed togyder and wyped bothe,\n   And set tyll theyr dynere\u202f;\n Brede and wyne they had ynough,\n   And nombles of the dere\u202f;\n\n Swannes and fesauntes they had full good,\n   And foules of the revere\u202f;\n There fayled never so lytell a byrde,\n   That ever was bred on brere.\n\n Do gladly, syr knyght, sayd Robyn.\n   Gramercy, syr, sayd he,\n Suche a dyner had I not\n   Of all these wekes thre\u202f;\n\n If I come agayne, Robyn,\n   Here by this countr\u00e8,\n As good a dyner I shall the make,\n   As thou hast made to me.\n\n Gramercy, knyght, sayd Robyn,\n   My dyner whan I have,\n I was never so gredy, by dere worthy god,\n   My dyner for to crave. {9}\n\n But pay or ye wende, sayd Robyn,\n   Me thynketh it is good ryght\u202f;\n It was never the maner, by dere worthy god,\n   A yeman to pay[125] for a knyght.\n\n I have nought in my cofers, sayd the knyght,\n   That I may profer for shame.\n Lytell Johan, go loke, sayd Robyn,[126]\n   Ne let not for no blame.\n\n Tell me trouth, sayd Robyn,\n   So god hath parte of the.\n I have no more but ten shillings, sayd the knyght,\n   So god hath parte of me.\n\n Yf thou have no more, sayd Robyn,\n   I wyll not one peny\u202f;\n And yf thou have nede of ony more,\n   More shall I len the.\n\n Go now forth, Lytell Johan,\n   The trouthe tell thou me,\n Yf there be no more but ten shillings,\n   Not one peny that I se.\n\n Lytell Johan spred downe his mant\u00e8ll\n   Full fayre upon the grounde,\n And there he founde in the knyghtes cofer\n   But even halfe a pounde. {10}\n\n Lytyll Johan let it lye full styll,\n   And went to his mayster full lowe.\n What tydynge Johan\u202f? sayd Robyn.\n   \u201cSyr, the knyght is trewe inough.\u201d\n\n Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,\n   The knyght shall begynne\u202f;\n Moch wonder thynketh me\n   Thy clothynge is so thynne.\n\n Tell me one worde, sayd Robyn,\n   And counsell shall it be\u202f;\n I trowe thou were made a knyght of forse,\n   Or elles of yemanry\u202f;\n\n Or elles thou hast ben a sory housband,\n   And leved in stroke and stryfe\u202f;\n An okerer, or elles a lechoure, sayd Robyn,\n   With wronge hast thou lede thy lyfe.\n\n I am none of them, sayd the knyght,\n   By god that made me\u202f;\n An hondreth wynter here before,\n   Myne aunsetters knyghtes have be.\n\n But ofte it hath befal, Robyn,\n   A man hath be dysgrate\u202f;\n But god that syteth in heven above\n   May amend his state. {11}\n\n Within two or thre yere,[127] Robyn, he sayd,\n   My neyghbores well it \u2018kende,\u2019[128]\n Foure hondreth pounde of good money\n   Full wel than myght I spende.\n\n Now have I no good, sayd the knyght,\n   But my chyldren and my wyfe\u202f;\n God hath shapen such an ende,\n   Tyll god \u2018may amende[129] my lyfe.\u2019\n\n In what maner, sayd Robyn,\n   Hast thou lore thy rych\u00e8s\u202f?\n For my grete foly, he sayd,\n   And for my kindenesse.\n\n I had a sone, for soth, Robyn,\n   That sholde have ben my eyre,\n When he was twenty wynter olde,\n   In felde wolde juste full feyre\u202f;\n\n He slewe a knyght of Lancastshyre,[130]\n   And a squyre bolde\u202f;\n For to save hym in his ryght\n   My goodes beth sette and solde\u202f;\n\n My londes beth set to wedde, Robyn,\n   Untyll a certayne daye,\n To a ryche abbot here besyde,\n   Of Saynt Mary abbay. {12}\n\n What is the somme\u202f? sayd Robyn,\n   Trouthe than tell thou me.\n Syr, he sayd, foure hondred pounde,\n   The abbot tolde it to me.\n\n Now, and thou lese thy londe, sayd Robyn,\n   What shall fall of the\u202f?\n Hastely I wyll me buske, sayd the knyght,\n   Over the salte see,\n\n And se where Cryst was quycke and deed,\n   On the mounte of Caluar\u00e8.\n Fare well, frende, and have good daye,\n   It may noo[131] better be\u2015\u2015\n\n Teeres fell out of his eyen two,\n   He wolde haue gone his waye\u2015\n Farewell, frendes, and have good day,\n   I ne have more to pay.\n\n Where be[132] thy friendes\u202f? sayd Robyn.\n   \u201cSyr, never one wyll me know\u202f;[133]\n Whyle I was ryche inow at home\n   Grete bost then wolde they blowe,\n\n And now they renne awaye fro me,\n   As bestes on a rowe\u202f;\n They take no more heed of me\n   Then they me never sawe.\u201d[134] {13}\n\n For ruthe then wepte Lytell Johan,\n   Scathelocke and Much \u2018in fere.\u2019[135]\n Fyll of the best wyne,[136] sayd Robyn,\n   For here is a symple chere.\n\n Hast thou ony frendes, sayd Robyn,\n   Thy borowes that wyll be\u202f?\n I have none, then sayd the knyght,\n   But god that dyed on a tree.\n\n Do waye thy japes, sayd Robyn,\n   Therof wyll I right none\u202f;\n Wenest thou I wyll have god to borowe\u202f?\n   Peter, Poule or Johan\u202f?\n\n Nay, by hym that me made,\n   And shope both sonne and mone,\n Fynde a better borowe, sayd Robyn,\n   Or mony getest thou none.\n\n I have none other, sayd the knyght,\n   The sothe for to say,\n But yf it be our dere lady,\n   She fayled me never or this day.\n\n By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,\n   To seche all Englond thorowe,\n Yet founde I never to my pay,\n   A moch better borowe. {14}\n\n Come now forthe, Lytell Johan,\n   And goo to my tresour\u00e8,\n And brynge me foure hondred pounde,\n   And loke that it well tolde be.\n\n Forthe then wente Lytell Johan,\n   And Scathelocke went before,\n He tolde out foure houndred pounde,\n   By eyghtene score.[137]\n\n Is this well tolde\u202f? sayd lytell Much.\n   Johan sayd, What greveth the\u202f?\n It is almes to helpe a gentyll knyght\n   That is fall in povert\u00e8.\n\n Mayster, than sayd Lytell Johan,\n   His clothynge is full thynne,\n Ye must gyve the knyght a lyveray,\n   To \u2018lappe\u2019[138] his body ther in.\n\n For ye have scarlet and grene, mayster,\n   And many a ryche aray,\n There is no marchaunt in mery Engl\u00f2nde\n   So ryche, I dare well saye.\n\n Take hym thre yerdes of every coloure,\n   And loke that well mete it be.\n Lytell Johan toke none other mesure\n   But his bowe tre,\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]\n\n{15}\n\n And of every handfull that he met\n   He lept ouer fotes thre.\n What devilkyns draper, sayd litell Much,\n   Thynkyst thou to be\u202f?\n\n Scathelocke stoode full styll and lough,\n   And sayd, By god allmyght,\n Johan may gyve hym the better mesure,\n   By god, it cost him but lyght.\n\n Mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   All unto Robyn Hode,\n Ye must gyve that knight an hors,\n   To lede home al this good.\n\n Take hym a gray courser, sayd Robyn,\n   And a sadell newe\u202f;\n He is our ladyes messengere,\n   God lene[139] that he be true.\n\n And a good palfraye, sayd lytell Moch,\n   To mayntayne hym in his ryght.\n And a payre of botes, sayd Scathelocke,\n   For he is a gentyll knyght.\n\n What shalt thou gyve hym, Lytel Johan\u202f? sayd Robyn.\n   Syr, a payre of gylte spores clene,\n To pray for all this company\u202f:\n   God brynge hym out of tene\u202f! {16}\n\n Whan shall my daye be, sayd the knyght,\n   Syr, and your wyll be\u202f?\n This daye twelve moneth, sayd Robyn,\n   Under this grene wode tre.\n\n It were grete shame, sayd Robyn,\n   A knyght alone to ryde,\n Without squyer, yeman or page,\n   To walke by hys syde.\n\n I shall the lene Lytyll Johan my man,\n   For he shall be thy knave\u202f;\n In a yemans steed he may the stonde,\n   Yf thou grete nede have.\n\n\nTHE SECONDE FYTTE.\n\n Nowe is the knyght went on this way,\n   This game he thought full good,\n When he loked on Bernysdale,\n   He blyssed Robyn Hode\u202f;\n\n And whan he thought on Bernysdale,\n   On Scathelock, Much, and Johan,\n He blyssed them for the best company\n   That ever he in come. {17}\n\n Then spake that gentyll knyght,\n   To Lytel Johan gan he saye,\n To morowe I must to Yorke toune,\n   To Saynt Mary abbay\u202f;\n\n And to the abbot of that place\n   Foure hondred pounde I must pay\u202f:\n And but I be there upon this nyght\n   My londe is lost for ay.\n\n The abbot sayd to his covent,\n   There he stode on grounde,\n This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght\n   And borowed foure hondred pounde.\n\n [He borowed foure hondred pounde,]\n   Upon all his londe fre,\n But he come this ylke day\n   Dysherytye shall he be.\n\n It is full erely, sayd the pryoure,[140]\n   The day is not yet ferre gone,\n I had lever to pay an hondred pounde,\n   And lay it downe a none.\n\n The knyght is ferre be yonde the see,\n   In Englonde is his ryght,\n And suffreth honger and colde\n   And many a sory nyght\u202f; {18}\n\n It were grete pyt\u00e8, sayd the pryoure,\n   So to have his londe,\n And ye be so lyght of your conseyence\n   Ye do to him moch wronge.\n\n Thou arte euer in my berde, sayd the abbot,\n   By god and saynt Rycharde.[141]\n With that cam in a fat-heded monke,\n   The heygh selerer\u202f;\n\n He is dede or hanged, sayd the monke,\n   By god that bought me dere,\n And we shall have to spende in this place\n   Foure hondred pounde by yere.\n\n The abbot and the hy selerer,\n   Sterte forthe full bolde,\n The high justyce of Englonde\n   The abbot there dyde holde. {19}\n\n The hye justyce and many mo\n   Had take into their honde\n Holy all the knyghtes det,\n   To put that knyght to wronge.\n\n They demed the knyght wonder sore,\n   The abbot and hys meyn\u00e8\u202f:\n \u201cBut he come this ylke day\n   Dysheryte shall he be.\u201d\n\n He wyll not come yet, sayd the justyce,\n   I dare well undertake.\n But in sorowe tyme for them all\n   The knyght came to the gate.\n\n Than bespake that gentyll knyght\n   Untyll hys meyn\u00e8,\n Now put on your symple wedes\n   That ye brought fro the see.\n\n [They put on their symple wedes,]\n   And came to the gates anone,\n The porter was redy hymselfe,\n   And welcomed them everychone.\n\n Welcome, syr knyght, sayd the port\u00e8r,\n   My lorde to mete is he,\n And so is many a gentyll man,\n   For the love of the. {20}\n\n The porter swore a full grete othe,\n   By god that made me,\n Here be the best coresed hors\n   That ever yet sawe I me.\n\n Lede them into the stable, he sayd,\n   That eased myght they be.\n They shall not come therin, sayd the knyght,\n   By god that dyed on a tre.\n\n Lordes were to mete isette\n   In that abbotes hall,\n The knyght went forth and kneled downe,\n   And salved them grete and small.\n\n Do gladly, syr abbot, sayd the knyght,\n   I am come to holde my day.\n The fyrst word the abbot spake,\n   Hast thou brought my pay\u202f?\n\n Not one peny, sayd the knyght,\n   By god that maked me.\n Thou art a shrewed dettour, sayd the abbot\u202f:\n   Syr justyce, drynke to me.\n\n What doost thou here, sayd the abbot,\n   But thou haddest brought thy pay\u202f?\n For god, than sayd the knyght,\n   To pray of a lenger daye. {21}\n\n Thy daye is broke, sayd the justyce,\n   Londe getest thou none.\n \u201cNow, good syr justyce, be my frende,\n   And fende me of my fone.\u201d\n\n I am holde with the abbot, sayd the justyce,\n   Bothe with cloth and fee.\n \u201cNow, good syr sheryf, be my frende.\u201d\n   Nay for god, sayd he.\n\n \u201cNow, good syr abbot, be my frende,\n   For thy curteys\u00e8,\n And holde my londes in thy honde\n   Tyll I have made the gree\u202f;\n\n And I wyll be thy true servaunte,\n   And trewely serve the,\n Tyl ye have foure hondred pounde\n   Of money good and free.\u201d\n\n The abbot sware a full grete othe,\n   By god that dyed on a tree,\n Get the londe where thou may,\n   For thou getest none of me.\n\n By dere worthy god, then sayd the knyght,\n   That all this worlde wrought,\n But I have my londe agayne\n   Full dere it shall be bought\u202f; {22}\n\n God, that was of a mayden borne\n   Lene us[142] well to spede\u202f!\n For it is good to assay a frende\n   Or that a man have nede.\n\n The abbot lothely on hym gan loke\n   And vylaynesly hym gan \u2018call\u202f;\u2019[143]\n Out, he sayd, thou false knyght,\n   Spede the out of my hall\u202f!\n\n Thou lyest, then sayd the gentyll knyght,\n   Abbot in thy hal\u202f;\n False knyght was I never,\n   By god that made us all.\n\n Up then stode that gentyll knyght,\n   To the abbot sayd he,\n To suffre a knyght to knele so longe,\n   Thou canst no curteysye\u202f;\n\n In joustes and in tournement\n   Full ferre than have I be,\n And put myselfe as ferre in prees\n   As ony that ever I se.\n\n What wyll ye gyve more\u202f? sayd the justyce,\n   And the knyght shall make a releyse\u202f;\n And elles dare I safly swere\n   Ye holde never your londe in pees. {23}\n\n An hondred pounde, sayd the abbot.\n   The justyce said, Gyve him two.\n Nay, be god, sayd the knyght,\n   Yet gete[144] ye it not soo\u202f:\n\n Though ye wolde gyve a thousande more,\n   Yet were \u2018ye\u2019[145] never the nere\u202f:\n Shall there never be myn eyre,\n   Abbot, justyse, ne frere.\n\n He sterte hym to a borde anone,\n   Tyll a table rounde,\n And there he shoke out of a bagge\n   Even foure hondred pounde.\n\n Have here thy golde, syr abbot, sayd the knyght,\n   Which that thou lentest me\u202f;\n Haddest thou ben curteys at my comynge,\n   Rewarde sholdest thou have be.\n\n The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,\n   For all his ryall chere,\n He caste his hede on his shold\u00e8r,\n   And fast began to stare.\n\n Take me my golde agayne, sayd the abbot,\n   Syr justyce, that I toke the.\n Not a peny, sayd the justyce,\n   By god, that dyed on a tree. {24}\n\n \u201cSyr abbot, and ye men of lawe,\n   Now have I holde my daye,\n Now shall I have my londe agayne,\n   For ought that you can saye.\u201d\n\n The knyght stert out of the dore,\n   Awaye was all his care,\n And on he put his good clothynge,\n   The other he lefte there.\n\n He wente hym forthe full mery syngynge,\n   As men have tolde in tale,\n His lady met hym at the gate,\n   At home in \u2018Wierysdale.\u2019[146]\n\n Welcome, my lorde, sayd his lady\u202f;\n   Syr, lost is all your good\u202f?\n Be mery, dame, sayd the knyght,\n   And praye for Robyn Hode,\n\n That ever his soule be in blysse,\n   He holpe me out of my tene\u202f;\n Ne had not be his kyndenesse,\n   Beggers had we ben.\n\n The abbot and I acordyd ben,\n   He is served of his pay,\n The good yeman lent it me,\n   As I came by the way. {25}\n\n This knyght than dwelled fayre at home,\n   The soth for to say,\n Tyll he had got foure hondreth pounde\n   All redy for too paye.\n\n He purveyed hym an hondred bowes,\n   The strenges [were] welle dyght,\n An hondred shefe of arowes good,\n   The hedes burnyshed full bryght,\n\n And every arowe an elle longe,\n   With pecocke well ydyght,\n Inocked all with whyte sylv\u00e8r,\n   It was a semly syght.\n\n He purveyed hym an hondreth men,\n   Well harneysed in that stede,\n And hymselfe in that same sete,[147]\n   And clothed in whyte and rede.\n\n He bare a launsgay in his honde,\n   And a man ledde his male,\n And reden with a lyght songe,\n   Unto Bernysdale.\n\n As he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng,\n   And there taryed was he,\n And there was all the best yem\u00e8n,\n   Of all the west countree. {26}\n\n A full fayre game there was upset,\n   A whyte bull up ipyght\u202f;[148]\n A grete courser with sadle and brydil,\n   With golde burneyshed full bryght\u202f;\n\n A payre of gloves, a rede golde rynge,\n   A pype of wyne, in good fay\u202f:\n What man bereth him best, I wys,\n   The pryce shall bere away.\n\n There was a yeman in that place,\n   And best worthy was he,\n And for he was ferre and frend bestad,\n   Islayne he sholde have be.\n\n The knyght had reuth of this yem\u00e0n,\n   In place where that he stode,\n He said that yoman sholde have no harme,\n   For love of Robyn Hode.\n\n The knyght presed into the place,\n   An hondred folowed hym \u2018fre,\u2019[149]\n With bowes bent, and arowes sharpe,\n   For to shende that company.\n\n They sholdred all, and made hym rome,\n   To wete that he wolde say,\n He toke the yeman by the honde,\n   And gave hym all the playe\u202f; {27}\n\n He gave hym fyve marke for his wyne,\n   There it laye on the molde,\n And bad it sholde be sette a broche,\n   Drynke who so wolde.\n\n Thus longe taryed this gentyll knyght,\n   Tyll that playe was done,\n So longe abode Robyn fastynge,\n   Thre houres after the none.\n\n\nTHE THYRDE FYTTE.\n\n Lyth and lysten, gentyll men,\n   All that now be here,\n Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man,\n   Good myrthe ye shall here.\n\n It was upon a mery day,\n   That yonge men wolde go shete,[150]\n Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone,\n   And sayd he wolde them mete.\n\n Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about,\n   And alway cleft[151] the wande,\n The proude sheryf of Notyngham\n   By the markes gan stande. {28}\n\n The sheryf swore a full grete othe,\n   By hym that dyed on a tree,\n This man is the best archere\n   That yet sawe I me.\n\n Say me now, wyght yonge man,\n   What is now thy name\u202f?\n In what countre were thou[152] born,\n   And where is thy wonnynge wan\u202f?\n\n \u201cIn Holdernesse I was bore,\n   I wys all of my dame,\n Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe,\n   Whan I am at hame.\u201d\n\n \u201cSay me, Reynaud Grenelefe,\n   Wolte thou dwell with me\u202f?\n And every yere I wyll the gyve\n   Twenty marke to thy fee.\u201d\n\n I have a mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   A curteys knyght is he,\n May ye gete leve of hym,\n   The better may it bee.\n\n The sheryfe gate Lytell Johan\n   Twelve monethes of the knyght,\n Therfore he gave him ryght anone\n   A good hors and a wyght. {29}\n\n Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man,\n   He gyve us well to spede,\n But alway thought Lytell Johan\n   To quyte hym well his mede.\n\n Now so god[153] me helpe, sayd Lytel Johan,\n   And be my trewe lewt\u00e8,\n I shall be the worste servaunte to hym\n   That ever yet had he.\n\n It befell upon a wednesday,\n   The sheryfe on hontynge was gone,\n And Lytel Johan lay in his bed,\n   And was foryete at home.\n\n Therfore he was fastynge\n   Tyl it was past the none,\n Good syr stuard, I pray the,\n   Geve me to dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,\n\n It is to long for Grenelefe,\n   Fastynge so long to be\u202f;\n Therfore I pray the, stuarde,\n   My dyner gyve thou me.\n\n Shaly thou never ete ne drynke, sayd the stuarde,\n   Tyll my lord be come to towne.\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   I had lever to cracke thy crowne. {30}\n\n The butler was ful uncurteys,\n   There he stode on flore,\n He sterte to the buttery,\n   And shet fast the dore.\n\n Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,\n   His backe yede nygh on two,\n Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter,\n   The wors he sholde go.\n\n He sporned the dore with his fote,\n   It went up wel and fyne,\n And there he made a large lyveray\n   Both of ale and wyne.\n\n Syth ye wyl not dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,\n   I shall gyve you to drynke,\n And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,\n   On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk.\n\n Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke,\n   The whyle that he wolde.\n The sheryfe had in his kechyn a coke,\n   A stoute man and a bolde.\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd the coke,\n   Thou arte a shrewde hynde,\n In an housholde to dwel,\n   For to ask thus to dyne. {31}\n\n And there he lent Lytel Johan,\n   Good strokes thre.\n I make myn avowe, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   These strokes lyketh well me.\n\n Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy,\n   And so thynketh me\u202f;\n And or I passe fro this place,\n   Asayed better shalt thou be.\n\n Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,\n   The coke toke another in honde\u202f;\n They thought nothynge for to fle,\n   But styfly for to stonde.\n\n There they fought sore togyder,\n   Two myle way and more,[154]\n Myght neyther other harme done,\n   The mountenaunce of an houre.\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   And be my trewe lewt\u00e8,\n Thou art one of the best swerdemen,\n   That ever yet sawe I me.\n\n Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,\n   To grene wood thou sholdest with me,\n And two tymes in the yere thy clothynge\n   Ichaunged sholde be\u202f; {32}\n\n And every yere of Robyn Hode\n   Twenty marke to thy fee.\n Put up thy swerde, sayd the coke,\n   And felowes wyll we be.\n\n Then he fette to Lytell Johan\n   The numbles of a doo,\n Good brede and full good wyne,\n   They ete and dranke therto.\n\n And whan they had dronken well,\n   Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,\n That they wolde be with Robyn\n   That ylke same day at nyght.\n\n The dyde[155] them to the tresure hous,\n As fast as they myght gone,\n The lockes that were of good stele\n They brake them everychone\u202f;\n\n They toke away the sylver vessell,\n   And all that they myght get,\n Peces, masars, and spones,\n   Wolde they non forgete\u202f;\n\n Also they toke the good pence,\n   Thre hondred pounde and three\u202f;\n And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode,\n   Under the grene wode tre. {33}\n\n \u201cGod the save, my dere mayst\u00e8r,\n   And Cryst the save and se.\u201d\n And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,\n   Welcome myght thou be\u202f;\n\n And also be that fayre yem\u00e0n\n   Thou bryngest there with the.\n What tydynges fro Notyngham\u202f?\n   Lytell Johan, tell thou me.\n\n \u201cWell the greteth the proude sheryfe,\n   And sende the here by me\n His coke and his sylver vessell,\n   And thre hondred pounde and thre.\u201d\n\n I make myn avow to god, sayd Robyn,\n   And to the trenyt\u00e8,\n It was never by his good wyll,\n   This good is come to me.\n\n Lytell Johan hym there bethought,\n   On a shrewed wyle,[156]\n Fyve myle in the forest he ran,\n   Hym happed at his wyll\u202f;\n\n Than he met the proud sheryf,\n   Huntynge with hounde and horne,\n Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,\n   And kneled hym beforne\u202f: {34}\n\n \u201cGod the save, my dere mayst\u00e8r,\n   And Cryst the save and see.\u201d\n Raynolde Grenelefe, sayd the sheryfe,\n   Where hast thou nowe be\u202f?\n\n \u201cI have be in this forest,\n   A fayre syght can I se,\n It was one of the fayrest syghtes[157]\n   That ever yet sawe I me\u202f;\n\n Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,\n   His coloure is of grene,\n Seven score of dere upon an herde\n   Be with hym all bedene\u202f;\n\n His tynde are so sharp, mayst\u00e8r,\n   Of sexty and well mo,\n That I durst not shote for drede\n   Lest they wolde me sloo.\u201d\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd the sheryf,\n   That syght wolde I fayn se.\n \u201cBuske you thyderwarde, my dere mayst\u00e8r,\n   Anone, and wende with me.\u201d\n\n The sheryfe rode, and Lytell Johan\n   Of fote he was full smarte,\n And whan they came afore Robyn\u202f:\n   \u201cLo, here is the mayster harte\u202f!\u201d {35}\n\n Styll stode the proude sheryf,\n   A sory man was he\u202f:\n \u201cWo worthe the,[158] Raynolde Grenelefe\u202f!\n   Thou hast now betrayed me.\u201d\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Mayster, ye be to blame,\n I was mysserved of my dynere,\n   When I was with you at hame.\n\n Soone he was to super sette,\n   And served with sylver whyte\u202f;\n And whan the sheryf se his vessell,\n   For sorowe he myght not ete.\n\n Make good chere, sayd Robyn Hode,\n   Sheryfe, for charyt\u00e8,\n And for the love of Lytell Johan,\n   Thy lyfe is graunted to the.\n\n When they had supped well,\n   The day was all agone,\n Robyn commaunded Lytell Johan\n   To drawe of his hosen and his shone,\n\n His kyrtell and his cote a pye,\n   That was furred well fyne,\n And take him a grene mant\u00e8ll,\n   To lappe his body therin. {36}\n\n Robyn commaunded his wyght yong men,\n   Under the grene wood tre,\n They shall lay in that same sorte\u202f;\n   That the sheryf myght them se.\n\n All nyght laye that proud sheryf,\n   In his breche and in his sherte,\n No wonder it was in grene wode,\n   Tho his sydes do smerte.\n\n Make glad chere, sayd Robyn Hode,\n   Sheryfe, for charyt\u00e8,\n For this is our order I wys,\n   Under the grene wood tre.\n\n This is harder order, sayd the sheryfe,\n   Than ony anker or frere\u202f;\n For al the golde in mery Englonde\n   I wolde not longe dwell here.\n\n All these twelve monethes, sayd Robyn,\n   Thou shake dwell with me\u202f;\n I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,\n   An outlawe for to be.\n\n Or I here another nyght lye, sayd the sheryfe,\n   Robyn, nowe I praye the,\n Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,\n   And I forgyve it the. {37}\n\n Lete me go, then sayd the sheryf,\n   For saynt Charyt\u00e8,\n And I wyll be thy best frende\n   That ever yet had the.\n\n Thou shalte swere me an othe, sayd Robyn,\n   On my bryght bronde,\n Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,\n   By water ne by londe\u202f;\n\n And if thou fynde ony of my men,\n   By nyght or by day,\n Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere,\n   To helpe them that thou may.\n\n Now have the sheryf iswore his othe,\n   And home he began to gone,\n He was as full of grene wode\n   As ever was hepe of stone.\n\n\nTHE FOURTH FYTTE.\n\n The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame,\n   He was fayne that he was gone,\n And Robyn and his mery men\n   Went to wode anone. {38}\n\n Go we to dyner, sayd Lytell Johan.\n   Robyn Hode sayd, Nay\u202f;\n For I drede our lady be wroth with me,\n   For she sent me not my pay.\n\n Have no dout, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Yet is not the sonne at rest,\n For I dare saye, and saufly swere,\n   The knyght is trewe and trust.\n\n Take thy bowe in thy hande, sayd Robyn,\n   Let Moch wende with the,\n And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,\n   And no man abyde with me,\n\n And walke up into the Sayles,\n   And to Watlynge-strete,\n And wayte after \u2018some\u2019[159] unketh gest,\n   Up-chaunce ye may them mete.\n\n Whether he be messengere,\n   Or a man that myrthes can,\n Or yf he be a pore man,\n   Of my good he shall have some.\n\n Forth then stert Lytel Johan,\n   Half in tray and tene,\n And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,\n   Under a mantel of grene. {39}\n\n They went up to the Sayles,\n   These yemen all thre\u202f;\n They loked est, they loked west,\n   They myght no man se.\n\n But as \u2018they\u2019[160] loked in Bernysdale,\n   By the hye waye,\n Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,\n   Eche on a good palferay.\n\n Then bespake Lytell Johan,\n   To Much he gan say,\n I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,\n   That these monkes have brought our pay.\n\n Make glad chere, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   And frese our bowes of ewe,\n And loke your hertes be seker and sad,\n   Your strynges trusty and trewe.\n\n The monke hath fifty two men,\n   And seven somers full stronge,\n There rydeth no bysshop in this londe\n   So ryally, I understond.\n\n Brethern, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Here are no more but we thre\u202f:\n But we brynge them to dyner,\n   Our mayster dare we not se. {40}\n\n Bende your bowes, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Make all yon[161] prese to stonde,\n The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth\n   Is closed in my honde.\n\n Abyde, chorle monke, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   No ferther that thou gone\u202f;\n Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god,\n   Thy death is in my honde.\n\n And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Ryght under thy hattes bonde,\n For thou hast made our mayster wroth,\n   He is fastynge so longe.\n\n Who is your mayster\u202f? sayd the monke.\n   Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.\n He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,\n   Of hym herd I never good.\n\n Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,\n   And that shall rewe the\u202f;\n He is a yeman of the for\u00e8st,\n   To dyne he hath bode the.\n\n Much was redy with a bolte,\n   Redly and a none,\n He set[162] the monke to fore the brest,\n   To the grounde that he can gone. {41}\n\n Of fyfty two wyght yonge men,[163]\n   There abode not one,\n Saf a lytell page, and a grome\n   To lede the somers with Johan.[164]\n\n They brought the monke to the lodge dore,\n   Whether he were loth or lefe,\n For to speke with Robyn Hode,\n   Maugre in theyr tethe.\n\n Robyn dyde adowne his hode,\n   The monke whan that he se\u202f;\n The monke was not so curteyse,\n   His hode then let he be.\n\n He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,\n   Than said Lytell Johan.\n Thereof no force, sayd Robyn,\n   For curteysy can he none.\n\n How many men, sayd Robyn,\n   Had this monke, Johan\u202f?\n \u201cFyfty and two whan that we met,\n   But many of them be gone.\u201d\n\n Let blowe a horne, sayd Robin,\n   That felaushyp may us knowe\u202f;\n Seven score of wyght yemen,\n   Came pryckynge on a rowe, {42}\n\n And everych of them a good mant\u00e8ll\n   Of scarlet and of raye,\n All they came to good Robyn,\n   To wyte what he wolde say.\n\n They made the monke to wasshe and wype,\n   And syt at his denere,\n Robyn Hode and Lytel Johan\n   They served \u2018him\u2019[165] bothe in fere.\n\n Do gladly, monke, sayd Robyn.\n   Gramercy, syr, said he.\n \u201cWhere is your abbay, whan ye are at home,\n   And who is your avow\u00e8\u202f?\u201d\n\n Saynt Mary abbay, sayd the monke,\n   Though I be symple here.\n In what offyce\u202f? sayd Robyn.\n   \u201cSyr, the hye selerer.\u201d\n\n Ye be the more welcome, sayd Robyn,\n   So ever mote I the.\n Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,\n   This monke shall drynke to me.\n\n But I have grete mervayle, sayd Robyn,\n   Of all this longe day,\n I drede our lady be wroth with me,\n   She sent me not my pay. {43}\n\n Have no doute, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,\n   Ye have no nede I saye,\n This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,\n   For he is of her abbay.\n\n And she was a borowe, sayd Robyn,\n   Betwene a knyght and me,\n Of a lytell money that I hym lent,\n   Under the grene wode tree\u202f;\n\n And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte,\n   I praye the let me se,\n And I shall helpe the eftsones,\n   Yf thou have nede of[166] me.\n\n The monke swore a full grete othe,\n   With a sory chere,\n Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,\n   Herde I never ere.\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,\n   Monke, thou arte to blame,\n For god is holde a ryghtwys man,\n   And so is his dame.\n\n Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,\n   Thou may not say nay,\n How thou arte her servaunt,\n   And servest her every day\u202f: {44}\n\n And thou art made[167] her messengere,\n   My money for to pay,\n Therfore I cun the more thanke,\n   Thou arte come at thy day.\n\n What is in your cofers\u202f? sayd Robyn,\n   Trewe than tell thou me.\n Syr, he sayd, twenty marke,\n   Al so mote I the.\n\n Yf there be no more, sayd Robyn,\n   I wyll not one peny\u202f;\n Yf thou hast myster of ony more,\n   Syr, more I shall lende to the\u202f;\n\n And yf I fynde more, sayd Robyn,\n   I wys thou shalte it forgone\u202f;\n For of thy spendynge sylver, monk,\n   Therof wyll I ryght none.\n\n Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,\n   And the trouth tell thou me\u202f;\n If there be no more but twenty marke,\n   No peny that I se.\n\n Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,\n   As he had done before,\n And he tolde out of the monkes male,\n   Eyght hundreth pounde[168] and more. {45}\n\n Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,\n   And went to his mayster in hast\u202f;\n Syr, he sayd, the monke is trewe ynowe,\n   Our lady hath doubled your cost.\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,\n   Monke, what tolde I the\u202f?\n Our lady is the trewest wom\u00e0n,\n   That ever yet founde I me.\n\n By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,\n   To seche all Englond thorowe,\n Yet founde I never to my pay\n   A moche better borowe.\n\n Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke, sayd Robyn\u202f;\n   And grete well thy lady hende,\n And yf she have nede of[169] Robyn Hode,\n   A frende she shall hym fynde\u202f;\n\n And yf she nedeth ony more sylv\u00e8r,\n   Come thou agayne to me,\n And, by this token she hath me sent,\n   She shall have such thre.\n\n The monke was going to London ward,\n   There to holde grete mote,\n The knyght that rode so hye on hors,\n   To brynge hym under fote. {46}\n\n Whether be ye away\u202f? sayd Robyn.\n   \u201cSyr, to maners in this londe,\n Too reken with our reves,\n   That have done moch wronge.\u201d\n\n \u201cCome now forth, Lytell Johan,\n   And harken to my tale,\n A better yeman I knowe none\n   To seke a monkes male.\u201d\n\n How moch is in yonder other \u2018cofer\u202f?\u2019[170] sayd Robyn,\n   The soth must we see.\n By our lady, than sayd the monke,\n   That were no curteysye,\n\n To bydde a man to dyner,\n   And syth hym bete and bynde.\n It is our olde maner, sayd Robyn,\n   To leve but lytell behynde.\n\n The monke toke the hors with spore,\n   No lenger wolde he abyde.\n Aske to drynke, than sayd Robyn,\n   Or that ye forther ryde.\n\n Nay, for god, than sayd the monke,\n   Me reweth I cam so nere,\n For better chepe I myght have dyned,\n   In Blythe or in Dankestere. {47}\n\n Grete well your abbot, sayd Robyn,\n   And your pryour, I you pray,\n And byd hym send me such a monke,\n   To dyner every day.\n\n Now lete we that monke be styll,\n   And speke we of that knyght,\n Yet he came to holde his day\n   Whyle that it was lyght.\n\n He dyde hym streyt to Bernysdale,\n   Under the grene wode tre,\n And he founde there Robyn Hode,\n   And all his mery meyn\u00e8.\n\n The knyght lyght downe of his good palfr\u00e0y,\n   Robyn whan he gan see,\n So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,\n   And set hym on his knee.\n\n \u201cGod the save, good Robyn Hode,\n   And al this company.\u201d\n \u201cWelcome be thou, gentyll knyght,\n   And ryght welcome to me.\u201d\n\n Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,\n   To that knyght so fre,\n What nede dryveth the to grene wode\u202f?\n   I pray the, syr knyght, tell me. {48}\n\n And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,\n   Why hast thou be so longe\u202f?\n \u201cFor the abbot and the hye justyce\n   Wolde have had my londe.\u201d\n\n Hast thou thy lond agayne\u202f?[171] sayd Robyn,\n   Treuth than tell thou me.\n Ye, for god, sayd the knyght,\n   And that thanke I god and the.\n\n But take not a grefe, I have be so longe\u202f;[172]\n   I came by a wrastelynge\n And there I dyd holpe a pore yem\u00e0n,\n   With wronge was put behynde.\n\n Nay, for god, sayd Robyn,\n   Syr knyght, that thanke I the\u202f;\n What man that helpeth a good yem\u00e0n,\n   His frende than wyll I be.\n\n Have here foure hondred pounde, than sayd the knyght,\n   The whiche ye lent to me\u202f;\n And here is also twenty marke\n   For your curteysy.\n\n Nay, for god, than sayd Robyn,\n   Thou broke it well for ay,\n For our lady, by her selerer,\n   Hath sent to me my pay\u202f;\n\n{49}\n\n And yf I toke it twyse,[173]\n   A shame it were to me\u202f:\n But trewely, gentyll knyght,\n   Welcom arte thou to me.\n\n Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,\n   He leugh and had good chere.\n By my trouthe, then sayd the knyght,\n   Your money is redy here.\n\n Broke it well, sayd Robyn,\n   Thou gentyll knyght so fre\u202f;\n And welcome be thou, gentill knyght,\n   Under my trystell[174] tree.\n\n But what shall these bowes do\u202f? sayd Robyn,\n   And these arowes ifedered fre\u202f?\n By god, than sayd the knyght,\n   A pore present to the.\n\n \u201cCome now forth, Lytell Johan,\n   And go to my treasur\u00e8,\n And brynge me there foure hondred pounde,\n   The monke over-tolde it me.\n\n Have here foure hondred pounde,\n   Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,\n And bye hors and harnes good,\n   And gylte thy spores all newe\u202f: {50}\n\n And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,\n   Com to Robyn Hode,\n And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle\n   The whyles I have any good.\n\n And broke well thy four hundred pound,\n   Whiche I lent to the,\n And make thy selfe no more so bare,\n   By the counsell of me.\u201d\n\n Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,\n   The knyght all of his care.[175]\n God, that sytteth[176] in heven hye,\n   Graunte us well to fare.\n\n\nTHE FYFTH FYTTE.\n\n Now hath the knyght his leve itake,\n   And wente hym on his way\u202f;\n Robyn Hode and his mery men\n   Dwelled styll full many a day.\n\n Lyth and lysten, gentil men,\n   And herken what I shall say,\n How the proud sheryfe of Notyngham\n   Dyde crye a full fayre play\u202f; {51}\n\n That all the best archers of the north\n   Sholde come upon a day,\n And \u2018he\u2019 that shoteth \u2018alder\u2019 best[177]\n   The game shall bere away.\n\n \u201cHe that shoteth \u2018alder\u2019[178] best\n   Furthest fayre and lowe,\n At a payre of fynly buttes,\n   Under the grene wode shawe,\n\n A ryght good arowe he shall have,\n   The shaft of sylver whyte,\n The heade and the feders of ryche red golde,\n   In Englond is none lyke.\u201d\n\n This then herde good Robyn,\n   Under his trystell tre\u202f:\n \u201cMake you redy, ye wyght yonge men,\n   That shotynge wyll I se.\n\n Buske you, my mery yonge men,\n   Ye shall go with me\u202f;\n And I wyll wete the shryves fayth,\n   Trewe and yf he be.\u201d\n\n Whan they had theyr bowes ibent,\n   Theyr takles fedred fre,\n Seven score of wyght yonge men\n   Stode by Robyns kne. {52}\n\n Whan they cam to Notyngham,\n   The buttes were fayre and longe,\n Many was the bolde archere\n   That shoted with bowes stronge.\n\n \u201cThere shall but syx shote with me,\n   The other shal kepe my hede,\n And stande with good bowes bent\n   That I be not desceyved.\u201d\n\n The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende,\n   And that was Robyn Hode,\n And that behelde the proude sheryfe,\n   All by the but he stode.\n\n Thryes Robyn shot about,\n   And alway he slist[179] the wand,\n And so dyde good Gylberte,\n   With the whyte hande.\n\n Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke\n   Were archers good and fre\u202f;\n Lytell Much and good Reynolde,\n   The worste wolde they not be.\n\n Whan they had shot aboute,\n   These archours fayre and good,\n Evermore was the best,\n   Forsoth, Robyn Hode. {53}\n\n Hym was delyvered the goode ar\u00f2w,\n   For best worthy was he\u202f;\n He toke the yeft so curteysly,\n   To grene wode wolde he.\n\n They cryed out on Robyn Hode,\n   And great hornes gan they blowe.\n Wo worth the, treason\u202f! sayd Robyn,\n   Full evyl thou art to knowe.\n\n And we be thou, thou proud sheryf,\n   Thus gladdynge thy gest,\n Other wyse thou behote me\n   In yonder wylde forest\u202f;\n\n But had I the in grene wode,\n   Under my trystell tre,\n Thou sholdest leve me a better wedde\n   Than thy trewe lewt\u00e8.\n\n Full many a bowe there was bent,\n   And arowes let they glyde,\n Many a kyrtell there was rent,\n   And hurt many a syde.\n\n The outlawes shot was so stronge,\n   That no man myght them dryve,\n And the proud sheryfes men\n   They fled away full blyve.[180] {54}\n\n Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke,\n   In grene wode he wolde have be,\n Many an arowe there was shot\n   Amonge that company.\n\n Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,\n   With an arowe in his kne,\n That he myght neyther go nor ryde\u202f;\n   It was full grete pyt\u00e8.\n\n Mayster, then sayd Lytell Johan,\n   If ever thou lovest me,\n And for that ylke lordes love,\n   That dyed upon a tre,\n\n And for the medes of my servyce\n   That I have served the,\n Lete never the proude sheryf\n   Alyve now fynde me\u202f;\n\n But take out thy browne swerde,\n   And smyte all of my hede,\n And gyve me woundes dede and wyde,\n   No lyfe on me be lefte.[181]\n\n I wolde not that, sayd Robyn,\n   Johan, that thou were slawe,\n For all the golde in mery Englond,\n   Though it lay now on a rawe {55}\n\n God forbede, sayd lytell Much,\n   That dyed on a tre,\n That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,\n   Parte our company.\n\n Up he toke him on his backe,\n   And bare hym well a myle,\n Many a tyme he layd hym downe\n   And shot another whyle.\n\n Then was there a fayre cast\u00e8ll,\n   A lytell within the wode,\n Double-dyched it was about,\n   And walled, by the rode\u202f;\n\n And there dwelled that gentyll knyght,\n   Syr Rychard at the Lee,\n That Robyn had lent his good,\n   Under the grene wode tree.\n\n In he toke good Robyn,\n   And all his company\u202f:\n \u201cWelcome be thou, Robyn Hode,\n   Welcome arte thou [to] me\u202f;\n\n And moche [I] thanke the of thy comfort,\n   And of thy curteysye,\n And of thy grete kyndenesse,\n   Under the grene wode tre\u202f; {56}\n\n I love no man in all this worlde\n   So moch as I do the\u202f;\n For all the proud sheryf of Notyngham,\n   Ryght here shalt thou be.\n\n Shyt the gates, and drawe the bridge,\n   And let no man com in\u202f;\n And arme you well, and make you redy,\n   And to the walle ye wynne.\n\n For one thyng, Robyn, I the behote,\n   I swere by saynt Quyntyn,\n These twelve dayes thou wonest with me,\n   To suppe, ete, and dyne.\u201d\n\n Bordes were layed, and clothes spred,\n   Reddely and anone\u202f;\n Robyn Hode and his mery men\n   To mete gan they gone.\n\n\nTHE SYXTE FYTTE.\n\n\n Lythe and lysten, gentylmen,\n   And herken unto your songe\u202f;\n How the proude sheryfe of Notyngham,\n   And men of armes stronge, {57}\n\n Full faste came to the hye sheryfe,\n   The countre up to rout,\n And they beset the knyghts cast\u00e8ll,\n   The walles all about.\n\n The proude sheryf loude gan crye,\n   And sayd, Thou traytour knyght,\n Thou kepeste here the kynges enemye,\n   Agayne the lawes and ryght.\n\n \u201cSyr, I wyll avowe that I have done,\n   The dedes that here[182] be dyght,\n Upon all the londes that I have,\n   As I am a trewe knyght.\n\n Wende forthe, syrs, on your waye,\n   And doth no more to me,\n Tyll ye wytte our kynges wyll\n   What he woll say to the.\u201d\n\n The sheref thus had his answere,\n   With out ony leasynge,\n Forthe he yode to London toune,\n   All for to tel our kynge.\n\n There he tolde him of that knyght,\n   And eke of Robyn Hode,\n And also of the bolde archeres,\n   That noble were and good. {58}\n\n \u201cHe wolde avowe that he had done,\n   To mayntayne the outlawes stronge,\n He wolde be lorde, and set you at nought,\n   In all the north londe.\u201d\n\n I woll be at Notyngham, sayd the kynge,\n   Within this fourtynyght,\n And take I wyll Robyn Hode,\n   And so I wyll that knyght.\n\n Go home, thou proud sheryf,\n   And do as I bydde the,[183]\n And ordayne good archeres inowe,\n   Of all the wyde countree.\n\n The sheryf had his leve itake,\n   And went hym on his way\u202f:\n And Robyn Hode to grene wode [went]\n   Upon a certayn day\u202f;\n\n And Lytell Johan was hole of the arowe,\n   That shote was in his kne,\n And dyde hym strayte to Robyn Hode,\n   Under the grene wode tre.\n\n Robyn Hode walked in the foreste,\n   Under the leves grene,\n The proude sheryfe of Notyngham,\n   Therfore he had grete tene.\n\n[Illustration: _E. Buckman sc._\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE LADY.]\n\n[Illustration: _E. Buckman sc._\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE LADY]\n\n{59}\n\n The sheryf there fayled of Robyn Hode,\n   He myght not have his pray,\n Then he awayted that gentyll knyght,\n   Bothe by nyght and by daye.\n\n Ever he awayted that gentyll knyght,\n   Syr Rychard at the Lee\u202f;\n As he went on haukynge by the ryver syde,\n   And let his haukes flee,\n\n Toke he there this gentyll knyght,\n   With men of armes stronge,\n And lad hym home to Notyngham warde,\n   Ibonde both fote and honde.[184]\n\n The sheryf swore a full grete othe,\n   By hym that dyed on a tre,\n He had lever than an hondrede pounde,\n   That Robyn Hode had he.[185]\n\n Then the lady, the knyghtes wyfe,\n   A fayre lady and fre,\n She set her on a gode palfr\u00e0y,\n   To grene wode anon rode she.\n\n When she came to the for\u00e8st,\n   Under the grene wode tre,\n Founde she there Robyn Hode,\n   And all his fayre meyn\u00e8. {60}\n\n \u201cGod the save, good Robyn Hode,[186]\n   And all thy company\u202f;\n For our dere ladyes[187] love,\n   A bone graunte thou me.\n\n Let[188] thou never my wedded lorde\n   Shamfully slayne to be\u202f;[189]\n He is fast ibounde to Notyngham warde,\n   For the love of the.\u201d\n\n Anone then sayd good Robyn,\n   To that lady fre,\n What man hath your lorde itake\u202f?\n   The proude shirife, than sayd she.[190]\n\n [The proude sheryfe hath hym itake]\n   Forsoth as I the say\u202f;\n He is not yet thre myles,\n   Passed on \u2018his\u2019[191] waye.\n\n Up then sterte good Robyn,\n   As a man that had be wode\u202f:\n \u201cBuske you, my mery younge men,\n   For hym that dyed on a rode\u202f; {61}\n\n And he that this sorowe forsaketh,\n   By hym that dyed on a tre,\n And by him that al thinges maketh,\n   No lenger shall dwell with me.\u201d[192]\n\n Sone there were good bowes ibent,\n   Mo than seven score,\n Hedge ne dyche spared they none,\n   That was them before.\n\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,\n   The knyght wolde I fayn se,\n And yf I may hym take,\n   Iquyt than shall he[193] bee.\n\n And whan they came to Notyngham,\n   They walked in the strete,\n And with the proud sheryf, I wys,\n   Sone gan they mete.\n\n Abyde, thou proud sheryf, he sayd,\n   Abyde and speake with me,\n Of some tydynges of our kynge,\n   I wolde fayne here of the.\n\n This seven yere, by dere worthy god,\n   Ne yede I so fast on fote,\n I make myn avowe to god, thou proud sheryfe,\n   \u2018It\u2019[194] is not for thy good. {62}\n\n Robyn bent a good bowe,\n   An arrowe he drewe at his wyll,\n He hyt so the proud sheryf,\n   Upon the grounde he lay full styll\u202f;\n\n And or he myght up aryse,\n   On his fete to stonde,\n He smote of the sheryves hede,\n   With his bryght bronde.\n\n \u201cLye thou there, thou proud sheryf,\n   Evyll mote thou thryve\u202f;\n There myght no man to the trust,\n   The whyles thou were alyve.\u201d\n\n His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes,\n   That were so sharpe and kene,\n And layde on the sheryves men,\n   And dryved them downe bydene.\n\n Robyn stert to that knyght,\n   And cut a two his bonde,[195]\n And toke hym in his hand a bowe,\n   And bade hym by hym stonde.\n\n \u201cLeve thy hors the behynde,\n   And lerne for to renne\u202f;\n Thou shalt with me to grene wode,\n   Through myre, mosse and fenne\u202f; {63}\n\n Thou shalt with me to grene wode,\n   Without ony leasynge,\n Tyll that I have gete us grace,\n   Of Edwarde our comly kynge.\u201d\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH FYTTE\n\n The kynge came to Notynghame,\n   With knyghtes in grete araye,\n For to take that gentyll knyght,\n   And Robyn Hood, yf[196] he may.\n\n He asked men of that countr\u00e8,\n   After Robyn Hode,\n And after that gentyll knyght,\n   That was so bolde and stout.\n\n Whan they had tolde hym the case,\n   Our kynge understonde ther tale,\n And seased in his honde\n   The knyghtes londes all,\n\n All the passe of Lancasshyre,\n   He went both ferre and nere,\n Tyll he came to Plomton parke,\n   He faylyd many of his dere {64}\n\n There our kynge was wont to se\n   Herdes many one,\n He coud unneth fynde one dere,\n   That bare ony good horne.\n\n The kynge was wonder wroth withall,\n   And swore by the trynyt\u00e8,\n \u201cI wolde I had Robyn Hode,\n   With eyen I myght hym se\u202f;\n\n And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hede\n   And brynge it to me,\n He shall have the knyghtes londes,\n   Syr Rycharde at the Le\u202f;\n\n I gyve it hym with my chart\u00e8r,\n   And sele it with my honde,\n To have and holde for ever-more,\n   In all mery Englonde.\u201d\n\n Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,\n   That was treue in his fay,\n A, my lege lorde the kynge,\n   One worde I shall you say\u202f;\n\n There is no man in this countr\u00e8\n   May have the knyghtes londes,\n Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,\n   And here a bowe in his hondes\u202f; {65}\n\n That he ne shall lese his hede,\n   That is the best ball in his hode\u202f:\n Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,\n   That ye wyll any good.\n\n Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,\n   In Notyngham, and well more,\n Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,\n   In what countre that he were\u202f;\n\n But alway went good Robyn\n   By halke and eke by hyll,\n And alway slewe the kynges dere,\n   And welt them at his wyll.\n\n Than bespake a proude fostere,\n   That stode by our kynges kne,\n If ye wyll se good Robyn,\n   Ye must do after me\u202f;\n\n Take fyve of the best knyghtes\n   That be in your lede,\n And walke downe by \u2018yon\u2019[197] abbay,\n   And gete you monkes wede.\n\n And I wyll be your ledes man,\n   And lede you the way,\n And or ye come to Notyngham,\n   Myn hede then dare I lay, {66}\n\n That ye shall mete with good Robyn,\n   On lyve yf that he be,\n Or ye come to Notyngham,\n   With eyen ye shall hym se.\n\n Full hastly our kynge was dyght,\n   So were his knyghtes fyve,\n Everych of them in monkes wede,\n   And hasted them thyder blyth.\n\n Our kynge was grete above his cole,\n   A brode hat on his crowne,\n Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,\n   They rode up in-to the towne.\n\n Styf botes our kynge had on,\n   Forsoth as I you say,\n He rode syngynge to grene wode,\n   The covent was clothed in graye,\n\n His male hors, and his grete som\u00e8rs,\n   Folowed our kynge behynde,\n Tyll they came to grene wode,\n   A myle under the lynde,\n\n There they met with good Robyn,\n   Stondynge on the waye,\n And so dyde many a bolde archere,\n   For soth as I you say. {67}\n\n Robyn toke the kynges hors,\n   Hastely in that stede,\n And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,\n   A whyle ye must abyde\u202f;\n\n We be yemen of this foreste,\n   Under the grene wode tre,\n We lyve by our kynges dere,\n   Other shyft have not we\u202f;[198]\n\n And ye have chyrches and rentes both,\n   And gold full grete plent\u00e8\u202f;\n Gyve us some of your spendynge,\n   For saynt Charyt\u00e8.[199]\n\n Than bespake our cumly kynge,\n   Anone than sayd he,\n I brought no more to grene wode,\n   But forty pounde with me\u202f; {68}\n\n I have layne at Notyngham,\n   This fourtynyght with our kynge,\n And spent I have full moche good,\n   On many a grete lordynge\u202f;\n\n And I have but forty pounde,\n   No more than have I me,\n But yf I had an hondred pounde,\n   I would geve it to the.[200]\n\n Robyn toke the forty pounde,\n   And departed it in two partye,\n Halfendell he gave his mery men,\n   And bad them mery to be.\n\n Full curteysly Robyn gan say,\n   Syr, have this for your spendyng,\n We shall mete a nother day.\n   Gramercy, than sayd our kynge\u202f;\n\n But well the greteth Edwarde our kynge,\n   And sent to the his seale,\n And byddeth the com to Notyngham,\n   Both to mete and mele.\n\n He toke out the brode tarpe,[201]\n   And sone he lete hym se\u202f;\n Robyn coud his courteysy,\n   And set hym on his kne\u202f: {69}\n\n \u201cI love no man in all the worlde\n   So well as I do my kynge,\n Welcome is my lordes seale\u202f;\n   And, monke, for thy tydynge,\n\n Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,\n   To day thou shalt dyne with me,\n For the love of my kynge,\n   Under my trystell tre.\u201d\n\n Forth he lad our comly kynge,\n   Full fayre by the honde,\n Many a dere there was slayne,\n   And full fast dyghtande.\n\n Robyn toke a full grete horne,\n   And loude he can blowe,\n Seven score of wyght yonge men,\n   Came redy on a rowe,\n\n All they kneeled on theyr kne,\n   Full fayre before Robyn.\n The kygne sayd hymselfe untyll,\n   And swore by saynt Austyn,\n\n Here is a wonder semely syght,\n   Me thynketh, by goddes pyne\u202f;\n His men are more at his byddynge,\n   Then my men be at myn. {70}\n\n Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght,\n   And therto gan they gone,\n They served our kynge with al theyr myght,\n   Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.\n\n Anone before our kynge was set\n   The fatte venyson,\n The good whyte brede, the good red wyne,\n   And therto the fyne ale browne.[202]\n\n Make good chere, sayd Robyn,\n   Abbot, for charyt\u00e8\u202f;\n And for this ylke tydynge,\n   Blyssed mote thou be.\n\n Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,\n   Or thou hens wende,\n Than thou may enfourme our kynge,\n   Whan ye togyder lende.\n\n Up they sterte all in hast,\n   Theyr bowes were smartly bent,\n Our kynge was never so sore agast,\n   He wende to have be shente.\n\n Two yerdes there were up set,\n   There to gan they gange\u202f;\n By fifty pase, our kynge sayd,\n   The merkes were to longe. {71}\n\n On every syde a rose garlonde,\n   They shot under the lyne.\n Who so fayleth of the rose garlonde, sayd Robyn,\n   His takyll he shall tyne,\n\n And yelde it to his mayster,\n   Be it never so fyne,\n For no man wyll I spare,\n   So drynke I ale or wyne.\n\n And bere a buffet on his hede\n   I wys[203] ryght all bare.\n And all that fell in Robyns lote,\n   He smote them wonder sare.\n\n Twyse Robyn shot aboute,\n   And ever he cleved the wande,\n And so dyde good Gylberte,\n   With the whyte[204] hand.\n\n Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,\n   For nothyng wolde they spare,\n When they fayled of the garlonde,\n   Robyn smote them full sare.\n\n At the last shot that Robyn shot,\n   For all his frendes fare,\n Yet he fayled of the garlonde,\n   Thre fyngers and mare. {72}\n\n Than bespake good Gylberte,\n   And thus he gan say\u202f:\n Mayster, he sayd, your takyll is lost,\n   Stand forth and take your pay.\n\n If it be so, sayd Robyn,\n   That may no better be\u202f;\n Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,\n   I pray the, syr, serve thou me.\n\n It falleth not for myn order, sayd our kynge,\n   Robyn, by thy leve,\n For to smyte no good yem\u00e0n,\n   For doute I sholde hym greve.\n\n Smyte on boldely, sayd Robyn,\n   I give the large leve.\n Anone our kynge, with that worde,\n   He folde up his sleve,\n\n And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,\n   To grounde he yede full nere.\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,\n   Thou arte a stalworthe frere\u202f;\n\n There is pith in thyn arme, sayd Robyn,\n   I trowe thou canst well shote.\n Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode\n   Togeder than they met. {73}\n\n Robyn behelde our comly kynge\n   Wystly in the face,\n So dyde syr Richarde at the Le,\n   And kneled downe in that place\u202f;\n\n And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,\n   Whan they se them knele.\n \u201cMy lorde the kynge of Englonde,\n   Now I knowe you well.\u201d\n\n Mercy, then Robyn sayd to our kynge,\n   Under your trystyll tre,\n Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,\n   For my men and me\u202f!\n\n Yes, for god, sayd Robyn,\n   And also god me save\u202f;\n I aske mercy, my lorde the kynge,\n   And for my men I crave.\n\n Yes, for god, than sayd our kynge,\n   Thy peticion I graunt the,\n With that thou leve the grene wode,\n   And all thy company\u202f:\n\n And come home, syr, to my courte,\n   And there dwell with me.[205]\n I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,\n   And ryght so shall it be\u202f; {74}\n\n I wyll come to your courte,\n   Your servyse for to se,\n And brynge with me of my men\n   Seven score and thre.\n\n But me lyke well your servyse,\n   I come agayne full soone,\n And shote at the donne dere,\n   As I am wonte to done.\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH FYTTE.\n\n Haste thou ony grene cloth, sayd our kynge,\n   That thou wylte sell nowe to me\u202f?\n Ye, for god, sayd Robyn,\n   Thyrty yerdes and thre.\n\n Robyn, sayd our kynge,\n   Now pray I the,\n To sell me some of that cloth,\n   To me and my meyn\u00e8.\n\n Yes, for god,[206] then sayd Robyn,\n   Or elles I were a fole\u202f;\n Another day ye wyll me clothe,\n   I trowe, ayenst the Yole. {75}\n\n The kynge kest of his cote then,\n   A grene garment he dyde on,\n And every knyght had so, I wys,\n   They clothed them full soone.[207]\n\n Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,\n   They kest away theyr graye.\n Now we shall to Notyngham,\n   All thus our kynge gan say.\n\n Theyr bowes bente and forth they went,\n   Shotynge all in-fere,\n Towarde the towne of Notyngham,\n   Outlawes as they were.\n\n Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,\n   For soth as I you say,\n And they shote plucke-buffet,\n   As they went by the way\u202f;\n\n And many a buffet our kynge wan\n   Of Robyn Hode that day\u202f;\n And nothynge spared good Robyn\n   Our kynge in his pay.\n\n So god me helpe, sayd our kynge,\n   Thy game is nought to lere,\n I sholde not get a shote of the,\n   Though I shote all this yere. {76}\n\n All the people of Notyngham\n   They stode and behelde,\n They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene\n   That covered all the felde\u202f;\n\n Than every man to other gan say,\n   I drede our kynge be slone\u202f;\n Come Robyn Hode to the towne, I wys,\n   On lyve he leveth not one.[208]\n\n Full hastly they began to fle,\n   Both yemen and knaves,\n And olde wyves that myght evyll goo,\n   They hypped on theyr staves.\n\n The kynge loughe[209] full fast,\n   And commanded theym agayne\u202f;\n When they se our comly kynge,\n   I wys they were full fayne.\n\n They ete and dranke, and made them glad,\n   And sange with notes hye.\n Than bespake our comly kynge\n   To syr Rycharde at the Lee\u202f:\n\n He gave hym there his londe agayne,\n   A good man he bad hym be.\n Robyn thanked our comly kynge,\n   And set hym on his kne. {77}\n\n Had Robyn dwelled in the kynges courte\n   But twelve monethes and thre,\n That he had spent an hondred pounde,\n   And all his mennes fe.\n\n In every place where Robyn came,\n   Ever more he layde downe,\n Both for knyghtes and for squyres,\n   To gete hym grete renowne.\n\n By than the yere was all agone,\n   He had no man but twayne,\n Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,\n   Wyth hym all for to gone.\n\n Robyn sawe yonge men shote,\n   Full fayre[210] upon a day,\n Alas\u202f! than sayd good Robyn,\n   My welthe is went away.\n\n Somtyme I was an archere good,\n   A styffe and eke a stronge,\n I was commytted[211] the best archere,\n   That was in mery Englonde.\n\n Alas\u202f! then sayd good Robyn,\n   Alas and well a woo\u202f!\n Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge,\n   Sorowe wyll me sloo. {78}\n\n Forth than went Robyn Hode,\n   Tyll he came to our kynge\u202f:\n \u201cMy lorde the kynge of Englonde,\n   Graunte me myn askynge.\n\n I made a chapell in Bernysdale,\n   That semely is to se,\n It is of Mary Magdalene,\n   And thereto wolde I be\u202f;\n\n I myght never in this seven nyght,\n   No tyme to slepe ne wynke,\n Nother all these seven dayes,\n   Nother ete ne drynke.\n\n Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,\n   I may not be therfro,\n Barefote and wolwarde I have hyght\n   Thyder for to go.\u201d\n\n Yf it be so, than sayd our kynge,\n   It may no better be\u202f;\n Seven nyght I gyve the leve,\n   No lengre, to dwell fro me.\n\n Gramercy, lorde, then sayd Robyn,\n   And set hym on his kne\u202f;\n He toke his leve full courteysly,\n   To grene wode then went he. {79}\n\n Whan he came to grene wode,\n   In a mery mornynge,\n There he herde the notes small\n   Of byrdes mery syngynge.\n\n It is ferre gone, sayd Robyn,\n   That I was last here,\n Me lyste a lytell for to shote\n   At the donne dere.\n\n Robyn slewe a full grete harte,\n   His horne than gan he blow,\n That all the outlawes of that for\u00e8st,\n   That horne coud they knowe,\n\n And gadred them togyder,\n   In a lytell throwe,\n Seven score of wight yonge men,\n   Came redy on a rowe\u202f;\n\n And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,\n   And set them on theyr kne\u202f:\n Welcome, they sayd, our mayst\u00e8r,\n   Under this grene wode tre.\n\n Robyn dwelled in grene wode,\n   Twenty yere and two,\n For all drede of Edwarde our kynge\n   Agayne wolde he not goo. {80}\n\n Yet he was begyled, I wys,\n   Through a wycked wom\u00e0n,\n The pryoresse of Kyrkesly,\n   That nye was of his kynne,\n\n For the love of a knyght,\n   Syr Roger of Donkest\u00e8r,[212]\n That was her owne speciall,\n   Full evyll mote they \u2018fare.\u2019[213]\n\n They toke togyder theyr counsell\n   Robyn Hode for to sle,\n And how they myght best do that dede,\n   His banis for to be.\n\n Than bespake good Robyn,\n   In place where as he stode,\n To morow I muste to Kyrkesley,\n   Craftely to be leten blode.\n\n Sir Roger of Donkestere,\n   By the pryoresse he lay,\n And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode\n   Through theyr false playe.\n\n Cryst have mercy on his soule,\n   That dyed on the rode\u202f!\n For he was a good outlawe,\n   And dyde pore men moch god.\n\n{81}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nII.\n\nROBYN HODE [AND THE POTTER].\n\nThis curious, and hitherto unpublished, and even unheard of, old\npiece is given from a manuscript among Bishop More\u2019s collections,\nin the public library of the University of Cambridge (Ee. 4. 35).\nThe writing, which is evidently that of a vulgar and illiterate\nperson, appears to be of the age of Henry the Seventh, that is,\nabout the year 1500; but the composition (which he has irremediably\ncorrupted) is probably of an earlier period, and much older, no\ndoubt, than \u201cThe Play of Robyn Hode,\u201d which seems allusive to the\nsame story. At the end of the original is \u201cExpleycyt Robyn Hode.\u201d\n{82}\n\n In schomer, when the leves spryng,\n   The bloschems on every bowe,\n So merey doyt the berdys syng,\n   Yn wodys merey now.\n\n Herkens, god yemen,\n   Comley, cortessey, and god,\n On of the best that yever bar bou,\n   Hes name was Roben Hode.\n\n Roben Hood was the yemans name,\n   That was boyt corteys and fre\u202f;\n For the loffe of owr ladey,\n   All wemen werschep \u2018he.\u2019[214]\n\n Bot as the god yeman stod on a day,\n   Among hes mery man\u00e8y,\n He was war of a prowd potter,\n   Cam dryfyng owyr the \u2018ley.\u2019[215]\n\n Yonder comet a prod potter, seyde[216] Roben,\n   That long hayt hantyd this wey,\n He was never so corteys a man\n   On peney of pawage to pay. {83}\n\n Y met hem bot at Wentbreg, seyde[217] Lytyll John,\n   And therfor yeffell mot he the,\n Seche thre strokes he me gafe,\n   Yet they cleffe by my seydys.\n\n Y ley forty shillings, seyde Lytyll John,\n   To pay het thes same day,\n Ther ys nat a man among hus[218] all\n   A wed schall make hem ley.[219]\n\n Her ys forty shillings, seyde Rob\u00e8n,\n   Mor, and thow dar say,\n That y schall make that prowde pott\u00e8r,\n   A wed to me schall he ley.\n\n Ther thes money they leyde,\n   They toke het a yeman to kepe\u202f;\n Roben befor the potter he breyde,\n   \u2018And up to hem can lepe.\u2019[220]\n\n Handys apon hes horse he leyde,\n   And bad \u2018hem\u2019[221] stonde foll stell.\n The potter schorteley to hem seyde,\n   Felow, what ys they well\u202f?\n\n All thes thre yer, and mor, potter, he seyde,\n   Thow hast hantyd thes wey,\n Yet wer tow never so cortys a man\n   One peney of pauage to pay. {84}\n\n What ys they name, seyde the potter,\n   For pauage thow aske of me\u202f?\n \u201cRoben Hod ys mey name,\n   A wed schall thow leffe me.\u201d\n\n Wed well y non leffe, seyde the potter,\n   Nor pavag well y non pay\u202f;\n Awey they honde fro mey horse,\n   Y well the tene eyls, be mey fay.\n\n The potter to hes cart he went,\n   He was not to seke,\n A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent,\n   Befor Roben he \u2018lepe.\u2019[222]\n\n Roben howt with a swerd bent,\n   A bokeler on hes honde [therto]\u202f;\n The potter to Roben he went,\n   And seyde, Felow, let mey horse go.\n\n Togeder then went thes two yemen,\n   Het was a god seyt to se\u202f;\n Therof low Robyn hes men,\n   Ther they stod onder a tre.\n\n Leytell John to hes felowhes[223] seyde,\n   Yend potter welle steffeley stonde.\n The potter, with a caward stroke,\n   Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde\u202f; {85}\n\n And[224] ar Roben meyt get hen agen,\n   Hes bokeler at hes fette,\n The potter yn the neke hem toke,\n   To the gronde sone he yede.\n\n That saw Roben hes men,\n   As thay stode ender a bow\u202f;\n Let us helpe owr master, seyed Lytell John,\n   Yonder potter els well[225] hem sclo.\n\n These yemen went[226] with a breyde,\n   To \u2018ther\u2019[227] master they cam.\n Leytell John to hes master seyde,\n   Ho haet the wager won\u202f?\n\n Schall y haff yowr forty shillings, seyde Lytel[228] John,\n   Or ye, master, schall haffe myne\u202f?\n Yeff they wer a hundred, seyde Rob\u00e8n,\n   Y feythe, they ben all theyne.\n\n Het ys fol leytell cortesey, seyde the potter,\n   As y haffe harde weyse men saye,\n Yeff a por yeman com drywyng ower the wey,\n   To let hem of hes gorney.\n\n Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt, seyde Roben,\n   Thow seys god yemenrey\u202f;[229]\n And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day,\n   Thow schalt never be let for me. {86}\n\n Y well prey the, god potter,\n   A felischepe well thow haffe\u202f?\n Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne\u202f;\n   Y well go to Notynggam.\n\n Y grant[230] therto, seyde the potter,\n   Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode\u202f;\n Bot thow can sell mey pottes well,\n   Com ayen as thow yode.[231]\n\n Nay, be mey trowt, seyde Roben,\n   And then y bescro mey hede,\n Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen,\n   And eney weyffe well hem chepe.\n\n Than spake Leytell John,\n   And all hes felowhes heynd,\n Master, be well war of the screffe of Notynggam,\n   For he ys leytell howr frende.\n\n Thorow the helpe of howr ladey,\n   Felowhes, let me alone\u202f;\n Heyt war howte, seyde Roben,\n   To Notynggam well y gon.\n\n Robyn went to Notynggam,\n   Thes pottes for to sell\u202f;\n The potter abode with Robens men,\n   Ther he fered not eylle.[232] {87}\n\n Tho Roben droffe on hes wey,\n   So merey ower the londe.\n Heres mor and affter ys to saye,\n   The best ys beheynde.\n\n\n[THE SECOND FIT.]\n\n When Roben cam to Notynggam,\n   The soyt yef y scholde saye,\n He set op hes horse anon,\n   And gaffe hem hotys and haye.\n\n Yn the medys of the towne,\n   Ther he schowed hes war,\n Pottys\u202f! pottys\u202f! he gan crey foll sone,\n   Haffe hansell for the mar.\n\n Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate,\n   Schowed he hes chaffar\u202f;\n Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow,\n   And chepyd fast of hes war.\n\n Yet, Pottys, gret chepe\u202f! creyed Robyn,\n   Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde.\n And all that saw[233] hem sell,\n   Seyde he had be no potter long. {88}\n\n The pottys that wer werthe pens feyfte,\n   He solde tham for pens thre\u202f:\n Preveley seyde man and weyffe,\n   Ywnder potter schall never the.\n\n Thos Roben solde foll fast,\n   Tell he had pottys bot feyffe\u202f;\n Op he hem toke of his car,\n   And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe.\n\n Therof sche was foll fayne,\n   Gereamarsey, sir, than seyde sche,[234]\n When ye com to thes contre ayen,\n   Y schall bey of \u2018they\u2019[235] pottys, so mot y the.\n\n Ye schall haffe of the best, seyde Roben,\n   And swar be the treneyt\u00e8.\n Foll corteysley \u2018she\u2019[236] gan hem call,\n   Come deyne with the screfe and me.\n\n Godamarsey, seyde Roben,\n   Yowr bedyng schall be doyn.\n A mayden yn the pottys gan ber,\n   Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon.\n\n Whan Roben ynto the hall cam,\n   The screffe sone he met,\n The potter cowed of corteysey,\n   And sone the screffe he gret.\n\n[Illustration: THE BANQUET.]\n\n[Illustration: THE BANQUET.]\n\n{89}\n\n \u201cLoketh[237] what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me\u202f!\n   Feyffe pottys smalle and grete\u202f!\u201d\n He ys fol welcom, seyd the screffe,\n   Let os was, and \u2018go\u2019[238] to mete.\n\n As they sat at her methe,\n   With a nobell cher,\n Two of the screffes men gan speke\n   Off a gret wag\u00e8r,\n\n Was made the thother daye,\n   Off a schotyng was god and feyne,[239]\n Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye,\n   Who scholde thes wager wen.\n\n Styll than sat thes prowde potter,\n   Thos than thowt he,\n As y am a trow Cerstyn man,\n   Thes schotyng well y se.\n\n When they had fared of the best,\n   With bred and ale and weyne,\n To the \u2018bottys they\u2019[240] made them prest,\n   With bowes and boltys[241] foll feyne.\n\n The screffes men schot foll fast,\n   As archares that weren godde,\n Ther cam non ner ney the marke\n   Bey halfe a god archares bowe. {90}\n\n Stell then stod the prowde potter,\n   Thos than seyde he,\n And y had a bow, be the rode,\n   On schot scholde yow se.\n\n Thow schall haffe a bow, seyde the screffe,\n   The best that thow well cheys of thre\u202f:\n Thow semyst[242] a stalward and a stronge,\n   Asay schall thow be.\n\n The screffe comandyd a yeman that stod hem bey\n   Affter bowhes to wende\u202f;\n The best bow that the yeman browthe\n   Roben set on a stryng.\n\n \u201cNow schall y wet and thow be god,\n   And polle het op to they ner.\u201d\n So god me helpe, seyde the prowde pott\u00e8r,\n   Thys ys bot rygzt weke ger.\n\n To a quequer Roben went,\n   A god bolt owthe he toke,\n So ney on to the marke he went,\n   He fayled not a fothe.\n\n All they schot abowthe agen,\n   The screffes men and he,\n Off the marke he welde not fayle,\n   He cleffed the preke on thre. {91}\n\n The screffes men thowt gret schame,\n   The potter the mastry wan\u202f;\n The screffe lowe and made god game,\n   And seyde, Potter, thow art a man\u202f;\n Thow art worthey to ber a bowe,\n   Yn what plas that thow \u2018gang.\u2019[243]\n\n Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,\n   Forsoyt, he seyde, and that a godde\u202f;\n Yn mey cart ys the bow\n   That \u2018I had of Robyn Hode.\u2019[244]\n\n Knowest thow Robyn Hode\u202f? seyde the screffe,\n   Potter, y prey the tell thou me.\n \u201cA hundred torne y haffe schot with hem,\n   Under hes tortyll tre.\u201d\n\n Y had lever nar a hundred ponde, seyde the screffe,\n   And swar be the trenit\u00e8,\n [Y had lever nar a hundred ponde, he seyde,]\n   That the fals owtelawe stod be me.\n\n And ye well do afftyr mey red, seyde the potter,\n   And boldeley go with me,\n And to morow, or we het bred,\n   Roben Hode wel we se. {92}\n\n Y well queyt the, kod the screffe,\n   And swere be god of meythe.[245]\n Schetyng thay left, and hom they went,\n   Her scoper was redey deythe.\n\n Upon the morow, when het was day,\n   He boskyd hem forthe to reyde\u202f;\n The potter hes carte forthe gan ray,\n   And wolde not [be] leffe beheynde.\n\n He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe,\n   And thankyd her of all thyng\u202f:\n \u201cDam, for mey loffe, and ye well thys wer,\n   Y geffe yow her a golde ryng.\u201d\n\n Gramarsey, seyde the weyffe,\n   Sir, god eylde het the.\n The screffes hart was never so leythe,\n   The feyr forest to se.\n\n And when he cam ynto the foreyst,\n   Yonder the leffes grene,\n Berdys ther sange on bowhes prest,\n   Het was gret goy to sene.\n\n Her het ys merey to be,[246] seyde Roben,\n   For a man that had hawt to spende\u202f:\n Be mey horne \u2018we\u2019[247] schal awet\n   Yeff Roben Hode be \u2018ner hande.\u2019 {93}\n\n Roben set hes horne to hes[248] mowthe,\n   And blow a blast that was foll god,\n That herde hes men that ther stode,\n   Fer[249] downe yn the wodde.\n I her mey master, seyde Leytyll John\u202f:\n   They ran as thay wer wode.\n\n Whan thay to thar master cam,\n   Leytell John wold not spar\u202f:\n \u201cMaster, how haffe yow far yn Notynggam\u202f?\n   Haffe[250] yow solde yowr war\u202f?\u201d\n\n \u201cYe, be mey trowthe, Leytyll[251] John,\n   Loke thow take no car\u202f;\n Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,\n   For all howr chaffar.\u201d\n\n He ys foll wellcom, seyde Lytyll John,\n   Thes tydyng ys foll godde.\n The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde\n   [He had never sene Roben Hode].\n\n \u201cHad I west[252] that beforen,\n   At Notynggam when we wer,\n Thow scholde not com yn feyr forest\n   Of all thes thowsande eyr.\u201d {94}\n\n That wot y well, seyde Roben,\n   Y thanke god that y be[253] her\u202f;\n Therfor schall ye leffe yowr horse with hos,\n   And all your hother ger.\n\n That fend I godys forbode, kod the screffe,\n   So to lese mey godde.\n \u201cHether ye[254] cam on horse foll hey,\n   And hom schall ye go on fote\u202f;\n And gret well they weyffe at home,\n   The woman ys foll godde.\n\n Y schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,[255]\n   Het hambellet as the weynde\u202f;\n Ner for the loffe of yowr weyffe,\n   Off mor sorow scholde yow seyng.\u201d\n\n Thes parted Robyn Hode and the screffe,\n   To Notynggam he toke the waye\u202f;\n Hes weyffe feyr welcomed hem hom,\n   And to hem gan sche saye\u202f:\n\n Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst\u202f?\n   Haffe ye browt Roben hom\u202f?\n \u201cDam, the deyell spede hem, bothe bodey and bon,\n   Y haffe hade a foll grete skorne. {95}\n\n Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod,\n   He hayt take het fro me,\n All bot this feyr palffrey,\n   That he hayt sende to the.\u201d\n\n With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng,\n   And swhar be hem that deyed on tre\u202f:\n \u201cNow haffe you payed for all the pottys\n   That Roben gaffe to me.\n\n Now ye be com hom to Notynggam,\n   Ye schall haffe god ynowe.\u201d\n Now speke we of Roben Hode,\n   And of the pottyr onder the grene bowhe.[256]\n\n \u201cPotter, what was they pottys worthe\n   To Notynggam that y ledde with me\u202f?\u201d\n They wer worth two nobellys, seyd he,\n   So mot y treyffe or the\u202f;\n So cowde y had for tham,\n   And y had ther be.[257]\n\n Thow schalt hafe ten ponde, seyde Roben,\n   Of money feyr and fre\u202f:\n And yever whan thow comest to grene wod,\n   Wellcom, potter, to me. {96}\n\n Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter,\n   Ondernethe the grene wod tre.\n God haffe mersey on Roben Hodys solle,\n   And saffe all god yemanrey\u202f! {97}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR.\n\nThis poem, a North-country (or perhaps Scotish) composition of\nsome antiquity, is given from a modern copy printed at Newcastle,\nwhere it was accidentally picked up: no other edition having\nbeen ever seen or heard of. The corruptions of the press being\nequally numerous and minute, some of the most trifling have been\ncorrected without notice. But it may be proper to mention that each\nline of the printed copy is here thrown into two: a step which,\nthough absolutely necessary from the narrowness of the page, is\nsufficiently justified by the frequent recurrence of the double\nrime. The division of stanzas was conceived to be a still further\nimprovement.\u2014The original title is, \u201cA Pretty Dialogue betwixt\nRobin Hood and a Beggar.\u201d\n\nA similar story (\u201cComment un moine se d\u00e9barasse des voleurs\u201d) may\nbe found in \u201cLe Moyen de Parvenir,\u201d i. 304 (edit. 1739). {98}\n\n Lyth and listen, gentlemen,\n   That be of high born blood,\n I\u2019ll tell you of a brave boot\u00ecng\n   That befell Robin Hood.\n\n Robin Hood upon a day,\n   He went forth him alone,\n And as he came from Barnsdale\n   Into fair even\u00ecng,\n\n He met a beggar on the way,\n   Who sturdily could gang\u202f;\n He had a pike-staff in his hand\n   That was both stark and strang\u202f;\n\n A clouted clock about him was,\n   That held him frae the cold,\n The thinnest bit of it, I guess,\n   Was more than twenty fold.\n\n His meal-poke hang about his neck,\n   Into a leathern whang,\n Well fasten\u2019d to a broad bucle,\n   That was both stark and \u2018strang.\u2019\n\n He had three hats upon his head,\n   Together sticked fast,\n He car\u2019d neither for wind nor wet,\n   In lands where\u2019er[258] he past. {99}\n\n Good Robin cast him in the way,\n   To see what he might be,\n If any beggar had mon\u00e8y,\n   He thought some part had he.\n\n Tarry, tarry, good Robin says,\n   Tarry, and speak with me.\n He heard him as he heard him not,\n   And fast on his way can hy.\n\n \u2019Tis be not so, says [good] Rob\u00ecn,\n   Nay, thou must tarry still.\n By my troth, said the bold begg\u00e0r,\n   Of that I have no will.\n\n It is far to my lodging house,\n   And it is growing late,\n If they have supt e\u2019er I come in\n   I will look wondrous blate.\n\n Now, by my truth, says good Rob\u00ecn,\n   I see well by thy fare,\n If thou shares well to thy supp\u00e8r,\n   Of mine thou dost not care,\n\n Who wants my dinner all this day\n   And wots not where to ly,\n And would I to the tavern go,\n   I want money to buy. {100}\n\n Sir, you must lend me some mon\u00e8y\n   Till we meet again.\n The beggar answer\u2019d cankardly,\n   I have no money to lend\u202f:\n\n Thou art a young man as I,\n   And seems to be as sweer\u202f;\n If thou fast till thou get from me,\n   Thou shalt eat none this year.\n\n Now, by my truth, says [good] Rob\u00ecn,\n   Since we are assembled so,\n If thou hast but a small farth\u00ecng,\n   I\u2019ll have it e\u2019er thou go.\n\n Come, lay down thy clouted cloak,\n   And do no longer stand,\n And loose the strings of all thy pokes,\n   I\u2019ll ripe them with my hand.\n\n And now to thee I make a vow,\n   If \u2018thou\u2019 make any din,\n I shall see a broad arr\u00f2w,\n   Can pierce a beggar\u2019s skin.\n\n The beggar smil\u2019d, and answer made,\n   Far better let me be\u202f;\n Think not that I will be afraid,\n   For thy nip crooked tree\u202f; {101}\n\n Or that I fear thee any whit,\n   For thy curn nips of sticks,\n I know no use for them so meet\n   As to be puding-pricks.\n\n Here I defy thee to do me ill,\n   For all thy boisterous fair,\n Thou\u2019s get nothing from me but ill,\n   Would\u2019st thou seek evermair.\n\n Good Robin bent his noble bow,\n   He was an angery man,\n And in it set a broad arr\u00f2w\u202f;\n   Lo\u202f! e\u2019er \u2019twas drawn a span,\n\n The beggar, with his noble tree,\n   Reach\u2019d him so round a rout,\n That his bow and his broad arr\u00f2w\n   In flinders flew about.\n\n Good Robin bound him to his brand,\n   But that prov\u2019d likewise vain,\n The beggar lighted on his hand\n   With his pike-staff again\u202f:\n\n [I] wot he might not draw a sword\n   For forty days and mair.\n Good Robin could not speak a word,\n   His heart was ne\u2019er so sair. {102}\n\n He could not fight, he could not flee,\n   He wist not what to do\u202f;\n The beggar with his noble tree\n   Laid lusty slaps him to.\n\n He paid good Robin back and side,\n   And baist him up and down,\n And with his pyke-staff laid on loud,\n   Till he fell in a swoon.\n\n Stand up, man, the beggar said,\n   \u2019Tis shame to go to rest\u202f;\n Stay till thou get thy money told,\n   I think it were the best\u202f:\n\n And syne go to the tavern house,\n   And buy both wine and ale\u202f;\n Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse,\n   Thou hast been at the dale.\n\n Good Robin answer\u2019d ne\u2019er a word,\n   But lay still as a stane\u202f;\n His cheeks were pale as any clay,\n   And closed[259] were his een.\n\n The beggar thought him dead but fail,\n   And boldly bound his way.\u2014\n I would ye had been at the dale,\n   And gotten part of the play. {103}\n\n\nTHE SECOND PART.\n\n Now three of Robin\u2019s men, by chance,\n   Came walking by the way,\n And found their master in a trance,\n   On ground where that he lay.\n\n Up have they taken good Rob\u00ecn,\n   Making a piteous bear,\n Yet saw they no man there at whom\n   They might the matter spear.\n\n They looked him all round about,\n   But wound on him saw \u2018nane,\u2019\n Yet at his mouth came bocking out\n   The blood of a good vain.\n\n Cold water they have gotten syne,\n   And cast unto his face\u202f;\n Then he began to hitch his ear,\n   And speak within short space.\n\n Tell us, dear master, said his men,\n   How with you stands the case.\n Good Robin sigh\u2019d e\u2019er he began\n   To tell of his disgrace. {104}\n\n \u201cI have been watchman in this wood\n   Near hand this twenty year,\n Yet I was never so hard bestead\n   As ye have found me here\u202f;\n\n A beggar with a clouted clock,\n   Of whom I fear\u2019d no ill\n Hath with his pyke-staff cla\u2019d my back,\n   I fear \u2019twill never be well.\n\n See, where he goes o\u2019er yon hill,\n   With hat upon his head\u202f;\n If e\u2019er ye lov\u2019d your master well,\n   Go now revenge this deed\u202f;\n\n And bring him back again to me,\n   If it lie in your might,\n That I may see, before I die,\n   Him punish\u2019d in my sight\u202f:\n\n And if you may not bring him back,\n   Let him not go loose on\u202f;\n For to us all it were great shame\n   If he escape again.\u201d\n\n \u201cOne of us shall with you remain,\n   Because you\u2019re ill at ease,\n The other two shall bring him back,\n   To use him as you please.\u201d {105}\n\n Now, by my truth, says good Rob\u00ecn,\n   I true there\u2019s enough said\u202f;\n And he get scouth to wield his tree,\n   I fear you\u2019ll both be paid.\n\n \u201cBe not fear\u2019d, our mast\u00e8r,\n   That we two can be dung\n With any bluter base begg\u00e0r,\n   That has nought but a rung.\n\n His staff shall stand him in no stead,\n   That you shall shortly see,\n But back again he shall be led,\n   And fast bound shall he be,\n To see if ye will have him slain,\n   Or hanged on a tree.\u201d\n\n \u201cBut cast you sliely in his way,\n   Before he be aware,\n And on his pyke-staff first hands lay,\n   Ye\u2019ll speed the better far.\u201d\n\n Now leave we Robin with this man,\n   Again to play the child,\n And learn himself to stand and gang\n   By halds, for all his eild.\n\n Now pass we to the bold begg\u00e0r,\n   That raked o\u2019er the hill,\n Who never mended his pace more,\n   Then he had done no ill. {106}\n\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n And they have taken another way,[260]\n   Was nearer by miles three.\n\n They stoutly ran with all their might,\n   Spared neither dub \u2018nor\u2019 mire,\n They started at neither how nor height,\n   No travel made them tire,\n\n Till they before the beggar wan,\n   And cast them in his way\u202f;\n A little wood lay in a glen,\n   And there they both did stay\u202f;\n\n They stood up closely by a tree,\n   In each side of the gate,\n Untill the beggar came them nigh,\n   That thought of no such late\u202f:\n\n And as he was betwixt them past,\n   They leapt upon him baith\u202f;\n The one his pyke-staff gripped fast,\n   They feared for its skaith.\n\n The other he held in his sight\n   A drawen durk to his breast,\n And said, False \u2018carel,\u2019 quit thy staff,\n   Or I shall be thy priest. {107}\n\n His pyke-staff they have taken him frae,\n   And stuck it in the green,\n He was full loath to let it gae,\n   An better might it been.\n\n The beggar was the feardest man\n   Of any that e\u2019er might be,\n To win away no way he can,\n   Nor help him with his tree.\n\n Nor wist he wherefore he was ta\u2019en,\n   Nor how many was there\u202f;\n He thought his life days had been gane,\n   He grew into dispair.\n\n Grant me my life, the beggar said,\n   For him that dy\u2019d on the tree,\n And hold away that ugly knife,\n   Or else for fear I\u2019ll die.\n\n I griev\u2019d you never in all my life,\n   Neither by late or air,\n You have great sin if you would slay\n   A silly poor begg\u00e0r.\n\n Thou lies, false lown, they said again,\n   For all that may be sworn\u202f;\n Thou hast \u2018near\u2019 slain the gentlest man\n   Of one that e\u2019er was born\u202f; {108}\n\n And back again thou shall be led,\n   And fast bound shalt thou be,\n To see if he will have thee slain,\n   Or hanged on a tree.\n\n The beggar then thought all was wrong,\n   They were set for his wrack,\n He saw nothing appearing then\n   But ill upon warse back.\n\n Were he out of their hands, he thought,\n   And had again his tree,\n He should not be led back for nought,\n   With such as he did see.\n\n Then he bethought him on a wile,\n   If it could take effect,\n How he might the young men beguile,\n   And give them a begeck.[261]\n\n Thus to do them shame for ill\n   His beastly breast was bent,\n He found the wind blew something shrill,\n   To further his intent.\n\n He said, Brave gentlemen, be good,\n   And let a poor man be\u202f:\n When ye have taken a beggar\u2019s blood,\n   It helps you not a flee. {109}\n\n It was but in my own defence,\n   If he has gotten skaith\u202f;\n But I will make a recompence\n   Is better for you baith.\n\n If ye will set me fair and free,\n   And do me no more dear,\n An hundred pounds I will you give,\n   And much more odd silv\u00e8r,\n\n That I have gather\u2019d this many years,\n   Under this clouted cloak,\n And hid up wonder privately,\n   In bottom of my poke.\n\n The young men to the council yeed,[262]\n   And let the beggar gae\u202f;\n They wist full well he had no speed\n   From them to run away.\n\n They thought they would the money take,\n   Come after what so may\u202f;\n And yet they would not take him back,\n   But in that place him slay.\n\n By that good Robin would not know\n   That they had gotten coin,\n It would content him [well] to show\n   That there they had him slain, {110}\n\n They said, False carel, soon have done,\n   And tell forth thy mon\u00e8y,\n For the ill turn that thou hast done\n   It\u2019s but a simple plee.\n\n And yet we will not have thee back,\n   Come after what so may,\n If thou will do that which thou spak,[263]\n   And make us present pay.\n\n O then he loosed his clouted clock,\n   And spread it on the ground,\n And thereon lay he many a poke,\n   Betwixt them and the wind.\n\n He took a great bag from his hals,[264]\n   It was near full of meal,\n Two pecks in it at least there was,\n   And more, I wot full well.\n\n Upon this cloak he set it down,\n   The mouth he opened wide,\n To turn the same he made him bown,[265]\n   The young men ready spy\u2019d\u202f;\n\n In every hand he took a nook\n   Of that great leathren \u2018mail,\u2019[266]\n And with a fling the meal he shook\n   Into their face all hail\u202f: {111}\n\n Wherewith he blinded them so close,\n   A stime they could not see\u202f;\n And then in heart he did rejoice,\n   And clap\u2019d his lusty tree.\n\n He thought if he had done them wrong,\n   In mealing of their cloaths,[267]\n For to strike off the meal again\n   With his pyke-staff he goes.\n\n E\u2019er any of them could red their een,\n   Or a glimmring might see,\n Ilke one of them a dozen had,\n   Well laid on with his tree.\n\n The young men were right swift of foot,\n   And boldly bound away,\n The beggar could them no more hit,\n   For all the haste he may.\n\n What\u2019s all this haste\u202f? the beggar said,\n   May not you[268] tarry still,\n Untill your money be received\u202f?\n   I\u2019ll pay you with good will.\n\n The shaking of my pokes, I fear,\n   Hath blown into your een\u202f;\n But I have a good pyke-staff here\n   Can ripe them out full clean. {112}\n\n The young men answered never a word,\n   They were dum as a stane\u202f;\n In the thick wood the beggar fled,\n   E\u2019er they riped their een\u202f:\n\n And syne the night became so late,\n   To seek him was in vain\u202f:\n But judge ye if they looked blate\n   When they cam home again.\n\n Good Robin speer\u2019d how they had sped.[269]\n   They answered him, Full ill.\n That can not be, good Robin says,\n   Ye have been at the mill.\n\n The mill it is a meat-rife part,\n   They may lick what they please,\n Most like ye have been at the art,\n   Who would look at your \u2018claiths.\u2019[270]\n\n They hang\u2019d their heads, they drooped down,\n   A word they could not speak.\n Robin said, Because I fell a-sound,\n   I think ye\u2019ll do the like.\n\n Tell on the matter, less or more,\n   And tell me what and how\n Ye have done with the bold begg\u00e0r\n   I sent you for right now. {113}\n\n And when they told him to an end,\n   As i have said before,\n How that the beggar did them blind,\n   What \u2018mister\u2019 presses more\u202f?\n\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n And how in the thick woods he fled,\n   E\u2019er they a stime could see\u202f;\n\n And how they scarcely could win home,\n   Their bones were baste so sore\u202f;\n Good Robin cry\u2019d, Fy\u202f! out\u202f! for shame\u202f!\n   We\u2019re sham\u2019d for evermore.\n\n Altho good Robin would full fain\n   Of his wrath revenged be,\n He smil\u2019d to see his merry young men\n   Had gotten a taste of the tree.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{114}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIV.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE,\n\nis reprinted from the \u201cReliques of Ancient English Poetry,\u201d\npublished by Dr. Percy (vol. i. p. 81), who there gives it from\nhis \u201cfolio MS.\u201d as \u201cnever before printed, and \u2018carrying\u2019 marks of\nmuch greater antiquity than any of the common popular songs on this\nsubject.\u201d\n\nAs for Guy of Gisborne, the only further memorial which has\noccurred concerning him is in an old satirical piece by William\nDunbar, a celebrated Scotish poet of the 15th century, on one\n\u201cSchir Thomas Nory\u201d (MS. Maitland, p. 3; MSS. More, Ll. 5, 10),\nwhere he is named along with our hero, Adam Bell, and other\nworthies, it is conjectured, of a similar stamp, but whose merits\nhave not, less fortunately, come to the knowledge of posterity.\n{115}\n\n \u201cWas nevir WEILD ROBEINE under bewch,\n Nor yitt Roger of Clekkinslewch,\n   So bauld a bairne as he\u202f;\n GY OF GYSBURNE, na Allane Bell,\n Na Simones sones of Quhynsell,\n   Off thocht war nevir so slie.\u201d\n\nGisborne is a market-town in the West Riding of the county of York,\non the borders of Lancashire.\n\nIn the fourth edition of the publication above referred to, which\nappeared in July 1795, it is acknowleged that \u201csome liberties\nwere, by the editor, taken with this ballad, which in this edition\nhath been brought nearer to the folio MS.\u201d The new readings have\ntherefore been introduced into the present text.\n\n Whan shaws beene sheene, and shraddes[271] full fayre,\n   And leaves both large and longe,\n Itt\u2019s merrye walkyng in the fayre forr\u00e8st\n   To heare the small birdes songe.\n\n The woodweele sang, and wold not cease,\n   Sitting upon the spraye,\n Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,\n   In the greenwood where he lay.\n\n Now, by my faye, sayd jollye Rob\u00ecn,\n   A sweaven I had this night\u202f;\n I dreamt me of tow wighty yem\u00e8n,\n   That fast with me can fight. {116}\n\n Methought they did me beate and binde,\n   And tooke my bowe me froe\u202f;\n Iff I be Robin alive in this lande,\n   Ile be wroken on them towe.\n\n Sweavens are swift, master, quoth John,\n   As the wind that blowes ore a hill\u202f;\n For iff itt be never so loude this night,\n   To-morrow it may be still.\n\n \u201cBuske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,\n   And John shall goe with mee,\n For Ile goe seeke yond wighty yeom\u00e8n,\n   In greenwood where they bee.\u201d\n\n Then they cast on theyr gownes of grene,\n   And tooke theyr bowes each one\u202f;\n And they away to the greene forr\u00e8st\n   A shooting forth are gone\u202f;\n\n Untill they came to the merry greenwood,\n   Where they had gladdest to bee,\n There they were ware of a wight yeom\u00e0n,\n   His body leaned to a tree.\n\n A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,\n   Of manye a man the bane\u202f;\n And he was clad in his capull hyde,\n   Topp and tayll and mayne. {117}\n\n Stand you still, master, quoth Little John,\n   Under this tree so grene,\n And I will go to yond wight yeom\u00e0n,\n   To know what he doth meane.\n\n \u201cAh\u202f! John, by me thou settest noe store,\n   And that I farley finde\u202f:\n How offt send I my men before,\n   And tarry my selfe behinde\u202f?\n\n It is no cunning a knave to ken,\n   And a man but heare him speake\u202f;\n And it were not for bursting of my bowe,\n   John, I thy head wold breake.\u201d\n\n As often wordes they breeden bale,\n   So they parted Robin and John\u202f:\n And John is gone to Barnesdale\u202f;\n   The gates he knoweth eche one.\n\n But when he came to Barnesdale,\n   Great heavinesse there he hadd,\n For he found tow of his own fell\u00f2wes,\n   Were slaine both in a slade.\n\n And Scarlette he was flying a-foote\n   Fast over stocke and stone,\n For the proud sheriffe with seven score men\n   Fast after him is gone. {118}\n\n One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John,\n   With Christ his might and mayne\u202f;\n Ile make yond sheriffe that flyes soe fast,\n   To stopp he shall be fayne.\n\n Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,\n   And fetteled him to shoote\u202f:\n The bow was made of tender boughe,\n   And fell downe at his foote.\n\n \u201cWoe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,\n   That ever thou grew on a tree\u202f!\n For now this day thou art my bale,\n   My boote when thou shold bee.\u201d\n\n His shoote it was but loosely shott,\n   Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,\n For itt mett one of the sheriffes men,\n   Good William a Trent was slaine.\n\n It had bene better of William a Trent\n   To have bene abed with sorrowe,\n Than to be that day in the greenwood slade\n   To meet with Little Johns arrowe.\n\n But as it is said, when men be mett\n   Fyve can doe more than three,\n The sheriffe hath taken Little John,\n   And bound him fast to a tree. {119}\n\n \u201cThou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,\n   And hanged hye on a hill.\u201d\n But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John,\n   If it be Christ his will.\n\n Lett us leave talking of Little John,\n   And thinke of Robin Hood,\n How he is gone to the wight yeom\u00e0n,\n   Where under the leaves he stood.\n\n Good morrowe, good fellowe, sayd Robin so fayre,\n   Good morrowe, good fellow, quo\u2019 he\u202f:[272]\n Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande,\n   A good archere thou sholdst bee.\n\n I am wilfulle of my waye, quo\u2019 the yem\u00e0n,\n   And of my morning tyde.\n Ile lead thee through the wood, sayd Robin\u202f;\n   Good fellow, Ile be thy guide.\n\n I seeke an outlawe, the straunger sayd,\n   Men call him Robin Hood\u202f;\n Rather Ild meet with that proud outl\u00e0we\n   Than fortye pound soe good. {120}\n\n \u201cNow come with me, thou wighty yem\u00e0n\n   And Robin thou soone shalt see\u202f;\n But first let us some pastime find\n   Under the greenwood tree.\n\n First let us some masterye make\n   Among the woods so even,\n We may chance to meet with Robin Hood\n   Here at some unsett steven.\u201d\n\n They cutt them down two summer shroggs,\n   That grew both under a breere,\n And sett them threescore rood in twaine,\n   To shoote the prickes y-fere.\n\n Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood,\n   Leade on, I do bidd thee.\n Nay, by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd,\n   My leader thou shalt bee.\n\n The first time Robin shot at the pricke,\n   He mist but an inch it fro\u202f:\n The yeoman he was an archer good,\n   But he cold never shoote soe.\n\n The second shoote had the wightye yem\u00e0n,\n   He shot within the garl\u00e0nd\u202f:\n But Robin he shott far better than hee,\n   For he clave the good pricke-wande. {121}\n\n A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd\u202f;\n   Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode\u202f;\n For an thy hart be as good as thy hand,\n   Thou wert better than Robin Hoode.\n\n Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he,\n   Under the leaves of lyne.\n Nay, by my faith, quoth bold Robin,\n   Till thou have told me thine.\n\n I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee,\n   And Robin to take Ime sworne\u202f;\n And when I am called by my right name\n   I am Guy of good Gisb\u00f2rne.\n\n My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin,\n   By thee I set right nought\u202f:\n I am Robin Hood of Barn\u00e8sdale,\n   Whom thou so long hast sought.\n\n He that had neyther beene kythe nor kin,\n   Might have seen a full fayre fight,\n To see how together these yeomen went\n   With blades both browne and bright.\n\n To see how these yeomen together they fought\n   Two howres of a summers day\u202f:\n Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy\n   Them fettled to flye away. {122}\n\n Robin was reachles on a roote\n   And stumbled at that tyde\u202f;\n And Guy was quicke and nimble withall,\n   And hitt him ore the left syde.\n\n Ah, deere ladye, sayd Robin Hood tho,\n   Thou art both[273] mother and may,\n I think it was never mans destinye\n   To dye before his day.\n\n Robin thought on our ladye deere,\n   And soone leapt up againe,\n And strait he came with a[n] awkwarde[274] stroke,\n   And he sir Guy[275] hath slayne.\n\n He took sir Guys head by the hayre,\n   And sticked itt upon his bowes end\u202f:\n \u201cThou hast beene a traytor all thy life,\n   Which thing must have an end.\u201d {123}\n\n Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,\n   And nicked sir Guy in the face,\n That he was never on woman born\n   Cold tell whose head it was.\n\n Sayes, Lye there, lye there, now sir Guye,\n   And with me be not wrothe\u202f;\n Iff thou have had the worst strokes at my hand,\n   Thou shalt have the better clothe.\n\n Robin did off his gown of greene,\n   And on sir Guy did it throwe,\n And he put on that capull hyde,\n   That cladd him topp to toe.\n\n \u201cThe bowe, the arrowes, and little horne,\n   Now with me I will beare\u202f;\n For I will away to Barn\u00e8sdale,\n   To see how my men doe fare.\u201d\n\n Robin Hood sett Guyes horne to his mouth,\n   And a loude blast in it did blow\u202f:\n That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,\n   As he leaned under a lowe.\n\n Hearken, hearken, sayd the sheriffe,\n   I heare nowe tydings good,\n For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blow,\n   And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. {124}\n\n Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,\n   Itt blowes soe well in tyde,\n And yonder comes that wightye yeom\u00e0n,\n   Cladd in his capull hyde.\n\n Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy,\n   Aske what thou wilt of mee.\n O I will none of thy gold, sayd Robin,\n   Nor I will none of thy fee\u202f:\n\n But now I have slaine the master, he sayes,\n   Let me goe strike the knave\u202f;\n For this is all the meede I aske\u202f;\n   Nor no other will I have.\n\n Thou art a madman, sayd the sheriffe,\n   Thou sholdst have had a knightes fee\u202f:\n But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad,\n   Well granted it shal bee.\n\n When Little John heard his master speake,\n   Well knewe he it was his steven\u202f:\n Now shall I be looset, quoth Little John,\n   With Christ his might in heaven.\n\n Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John,\n   He thought to loose him belive\u202f;\n The sheriffe and all his companye\n   Fast after him did drive. {125}\n\n Stand abacke, stand abacke, sayd Rob\u00ecn\u202f;\n   Why draw you mee so neere\u202f?\n It was never the use in our country\u00e8,\n   Ones shrift another shold heere.\n\n But Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,\n   And losed John hand and foote,\n And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand,\n   And bade it be his boote.\n\n Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand,\n   His boltes and arrowes eche one\u202f:\n When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow,\n   He fettled him to be gone.\n\n Towards his house in Nottingham towne,\n   He fled full fast away\u202f;\n And soe did all the companye\u202f:\n   Not one behind wold stay.\n\n But he cold neither runne soe fast,\n   Nor away soe fast cold ryde,\n But Little John with an arrowe soe broad,\n   He shott him into the \u2018backe\u2019-syde.[276]\n\n{126}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nV.\n\nA TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD:\n\nOR,\n\nA briefe touch of the life and death of that renowned outlaw Robert\nearl of Huntingdon, vulgarly called Robin Hood, who lived and dyed\nin A. D. 1198,[277] being the 9th year of king Richard the first,\ncommonly called Richard C\u0153ur de Lyon.\n\nCarefully collected out of the truest writers of our English\nChronicles: and published for the satisfaction of those who desire\ntruth from falshood.\n\nBY MARTIN PARKER. {127}\n\nThis poem, given from an edition in black letter printed for I.\nClarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger, 1686, remaining in the\ncurious library left by Anthony a Wood, appears to have been first\nentered on the hall-book of the Stationers\u2019 Company the 29th of\nFebruary 1631.\n\nMartin Parker was a great writer of ballads, several of which, with\nhis initials subjoined, are still extant in the Pepysian and other\ncollections. (See \u201cAncient Songs,\u201d 1829, ii. p. 263.) Dr. Percy\nmentions a little miscellany intitled, \u201cThe garland of withered\nroses, by Martin Parker, 1656.\u201d The editor has, likewise, seen\n\u201cThe nightingale warbling forth her own disaster, or the rape of\nPhilomela: newly written in English verse by Martin Parker, 1632;\u201d\nand, on the 24th of November 1640, Mr. Oulton enters at Stationers\u2019\nHall \u201ca book called The true story of Guy earle of Warwicke, in\nprose, by Martyn Parker.\u201d\n\nAt the end of this poem the author adds \u201cThe epitaph which the\nprioress of the monastry of Kirkslay in Yorkshire set over Robin\nHood, which,\u201d he says, \u201c(as is before mentioned) was to be read\nwithin these hundred years, though in old broken English, much to\nthe same sence and meaning.\u201d He gives it thus:\n\n\u201cDecembris quarto die, 1198. anno regni Richardi primi 9.\n\n \u201cRobert earl of Huntington\n \u201cLies under this little stone,\n \u201cNo archer was like him so good;\n \u201cHis wildness named him Robin Hood;\n \u201cFull thirteen years, and something more,\n \u201cThese northern parts he vexed sore;\n \u201cSuch outlaws as he and his men\n \u201cMay England never know again.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome other superstitious words,\u201d he adds, \u201cwere in, which I,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cthought fit to leave out.\u201d Now, under this precise gentleman\u2019s\nfavour, one would be glad to know what these same \u201csuperstitious\nwords\u201d were; there not being anything of the {128} kind in Dr.\nGale\u2019s copy, which seems to be the original, and which is shorter\nby two lines than the above. Thirteen should be thirty.\n\n Both gentlemen, and yeomen bold,\n   Or whatsoever you are,\n To have a stately story told\n   Attention now prepare\u202f:\n\n It is a tale of Robin Hood,\n   Which i to you will tell\u202f;\n Which, being rightly understood,\n   I know will please you well.\n\n This Robin (so much talked on)\n   Was once a man of fame,\n Instiled earl of Huntington,\n   Lord Robin Hood by name.\n\n In courtship and magnificence\n   His carriage won him praise,\n And greater favour with his prince\n   Than any in \u2018those\u2019[278] days.\n\n In bounteous liberality\n   He too much did excell,\n And loved men of quality\n   More than exceeding well. {129}\n\n His great revenues all he sold\n   For wine and costly chear\u202f;\n He kept three hundred bow-men bold,\n   He shooting lov\u2019d so dear.\n\n No archer living in his time\n   With him might well compare\u202f;\n He practis\u2019d all his youthful prime\n   That exercise most rare.\n\n At last, by his profuse expence,\n   He had consum\u2019d his wealth\u202f;\n And, being outlaw\u2019d by his prince,\n   In woods he liv\u2019d by stealth.\n\n The abbot of Saint Maries rich,\n   To whom he money ought,\n His hatred to the earl was such\n   That he his downfal wrought.\n\n So being outlaw\u2019d (as \u2019tis told)\n   He with a crew went forth\n Of lusty cutters stout and bold,\n   And robbed in the North.\n\n Among the rest one Little John,\n   A yeoman bold and free,\n Who could (if it stood him upon)\n   With ease encounter three. {130}\n\n One hundred men in all he got,\n   With whom (the story says)\n Three hundred common men durst not\n   Hold combat any waies.\n\n They Yorkshire woods frequented much,\n   And Lancashire also,\n Wherein their practises were such\n   That they wrought muckle woe.\n\n None rich durst travel to and fro,\n   Though ne\u2019r so strongly arm\u2019d,\n But by these thieves (so strong in show)\n   They still were rob\u2019d and harm\u2019d.\n\n His chiefest spight to th\u2019 clergy was,\n   That liv\u2019d in monstrous pride\u202f:\n No one of them he would let pass\n   Along the highway side,\n\n But first they must to dinner go,\n   And afterwards to shrift\u202f:\n Full many a one he served so,\n   Thus while he liv\u2019d by theft.\n\n No monks nor fryers he would let go\n   Without paying their fees\u202f:\n If they thought much to be used so,\n   Their stones he made them lese. {131}\n\n For such as they the country fill\u2019d\n   With bastards in those days\u202f:\n Which to prevent, these sparks did geld\n   All that came in their ways.[279]\n\n But Robin Hood so gentle was,\n   And bore so brave a mind,\n If any in distress did pass,\n   To them he was so kind,\n\n That he would give and lend to them,\n   To help them in their need\u202f;\n This made all poor men pray for him,\n   And wish he well might speed.\n\n The widow and the fatherless\n   He would send means unto\u202f;\n And those whom famine did oppress\n   Found him a friendly foe. {132}\n\n Nor would he do a woman wrong,\n   But see her safe convey\u2019d\u202f:\n He would pr\u00f3tect with power strong\n   All those who crav\u2019d his aid.\n\n The abbot of Saint Maries then,\n   Who him undid before,\n Was riding with two hundred men,\n   And gold and silver store\u202f:\n\n But Robin Hood upon him set,\n   With his couragious sparks,\n And all the coyn perforce did get,\n   Which was twelve thousand marks.\n\n He bound the abbot to a tree,\n   And would not let him pass,\n Before that to his men and he\n   His lordship had said mass\u202f:\n\n Which being done, upon his horse\n   He set him fast astride,\n And with his face tow\u00e0rds his a\u2014\n   He forced him to ride.\n\n His men were forced to be his guide,\n   For he rode backward home\u202f:\n The abbot, being thus villify\u2019d,\n   Did sorely chafe and fume.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE ABBOT.]\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE ABBOT.]\n\n{133}\n\n Thus Robin Hood did vindicate\n   His former wrongs receiv\u2019d\u202f:\n For \u2019twas this covetous prel\u00e0te\n   That him of land bereav\u2019d.\n\n The abbot he rode to the king,\n   With all the haste he could\u202f;\n And to his grace he every thing\n   Exactly did unfold\u202f:\n\n And said that if no course were ta\u2019n,\n   By force or stratagem,\n To take this rebel and his train,\n   No man should pass for them.\n\n The king protested by and by\n   Unto the abbot then,\n That Robin Hood with speed should dye,\n   With all his merry men.\n\n But e\u2019re the king did any send,\n   He did another feat,\n Which did his grace much more offend,\n   The fact indeed was great\u202f:\n\n For in a short time after that\n   The kings receivers went\n Towards London with the coyn they got\n   For\u2019s highness northern rent\u202f: {134}\n\n Bold Robin Hood and Little John,\n   With the rest of their train,\n Not dreading law, set them upon,\n   And did their gold obtain.\n\n The king much moved at the same,\n   And the abbots talk also,\n In this his anger did proclaim,\n   And sent word to and fro,\n\n That whosoever alive or dead\n   Could bring bold Robin Hood,\n Should have one thousand marks well paid\n   In gold and silver good.\n\n This promise of the king did make\n   Full many yeomen bold\n Attempt stout Robin Hood to take\n   With all the force they could.\n\n But still when any came to him\n   Within the gay green wood,\n He entertainment gave to them\n   With venison fat and good\u202f;\n\n And shew\u2019d to them such martial sport\n   With his long bow and arrow,\n That they of him did give report,\n   How that it was great sorow {135}\n\n That such a worthy man as he\n   Should thus be put to shift,\n Being a late lord of high degree,\n   Of living quite bereft.\n\n The king to take him more and more\n   Sent men of mickle might\u202f;\n But he and his still beat them sore,\n   And conquered them in fight\u202f:\n\n Or else with love and courtesie,\n   To him he won their hearts.\n Thus still he liv\u2019d by robbery\n   Throughout the northern parts\u202f;\n\n And all the country stood in dread\n   Of Robin Hood and\u2019s men\u202f:\n For stouter lads ne\u2019r liv\u2019d by bread\n   In those days, nor since then.\n\n The abbot, which before i nam\u2019d,\n   Sought all the means he could\n To have by force this rebel ta\u2019n,\n   And his adherents bold.\n\n Therefore he arm\u2019d five hundred men,\n   With furniture compleat\u202f;\n But the outlaws slew half of them,\n   And made the rest retreat, {136}\n\n The long bow and the arrow keen\n   They were so us\u2019d unto\n That still he kept the forrest green\n   In spight o\u2019 th\u2019 proudest foe.\n\n Twelve of the abbots men he took,\n   Who came to have him ta\u2019n,\n When all the rest the field forsook,\n   These he did entertain\n\n With banqueting and merriment,\n   And, having us\u2019d them well,\n He to their lord them safely sent,\n   And will\u2019d them him to tell,\n\n That if he would be pleas\u2019d at last\n   To beg of our good king,\n That he might pardon what was past,\n   And him to favour bring,\n\n He would surrender back again\n   The mony which before\n Was taken by him \u2018and his\u2019 men\n   From him and many more.\n\n Poor men might safely pass by him,\n   And some that way would chuse,\n For well they knew that to help them\n   He evermore did use. {137}\n\n But where he knew a miser rich\n   That did the poor oppress,\n To feel his coyn his hands did itch,\n   He\u2019d have it, more or less\u202f:\n\n And sometimes, when the high-way fail\u2019d,\n   Then he his courage rouzes,\n He and his men have oft assaild\n   Such rich men in their houses\u202f:\n\n So that, through dread of Robin then,\n   And his adventurous crew,\n The misers kept great store of men,\n   Which else maintain\u2019d but few.\n\n King Richard, of that name the first,\n   Sirnamed C\u0153ur de Lyon,\n Went to defeat the Pagans curst,\n   Who kept the coasts of Sion.\n\n The bishop of Ely, chancellor,\n   Was left a vice-roy here,\n Who, like a potent emperor,\n   Did proudly domineer.\n\n Our chronicles of him report,\n   That commonly he rode\n With a thousand horse from court to court,\n   Where he would make abode. {138}\n\n He, riding down towards the north,\n   With his aforesaid train,\n Robin and his men did issue forth,\n   Them all to entertain\u202f;\n\n And with the gallant gray-goose wing\n   They shew\u2019d to them such play\n That made their horses kick and fling,\n   And down their riders lay,\n\n Full glad and fain the bishop was,\n   For all his thousand men,\n So seek what means he could to pass\n   From out of Robins ken.\n\n Two hundred of his men were kill\u2019d,\n   And fourscore horses good,\n Thirty, who did as captives yield,\n   Were carried to the green wood\u202f;\n\n Which afterwards were ransomed,\n   For twenty marks a man\u202f:\n The rest set spurs to horse and fled\n   To th\u2019 town of Warrington.\n\n The bishop, sore inraged, then\n   Did, in king Richards name,\n Muster up a power of northern men,\n   These outlaws bold to tame. {139}\n\n But Robin with his courtesie\n   So won the meaner sort,\n That they were loath on him to try\n   What rigour did import.\n\n So that bold Robin and his train\n   Did live unhurt of them,\n Until king Richard came again\n   From fair Jerusalem\u202f:\n\n And then the talk of Robin Hood\n   His royal ears did fill\u202f;\n His grace admir\u2019d that i\u2019 th\u2019 green wood\n   He was continued still.\n\n So that the country far and near\n   Did give him great applause\u202f;\n For none of them need stand in fear,\n   But such as broke the laws.\n\n He wished well unto the king,\n   And prayed still for his health,\n And never practis\u2019d any thing\n   Against the common-wealth.\n\n Only, because he was undone\n   By th\u2019 cruel clergy then,\n All means that he could think upon\n   To vex such kind of men, {140}\n\n He enterpriz\u2019d with hateful spleen\u202f;\n   For which he was to blame,\n For fault of some to wreak his teen\n   On all that by him came.\n\n With wealth that he by roguery got\n   Eight alms-houses he built,\n Thinking thereby to purge the blot\n   Of blood which he had spilt.\n\n Such was their blind devotion then,\n   Depending on their works\u202f;\n Which if \u2019twere true, we Christian men\n   Inferiour were to Turks.\n\n But, to speak true of Robin Hood,\n   And wrong him not a jot,\n He never would shed any mans blood\n   That him invaded not.\n\n Nor would he injure husbandmen,\n   That toil at cart and plough\u202f;\n For well he knew wer\u2019t not for them\n   To live no man knew how.\n\n The king in person, with some lords,\n   To Nottingham did ride,\n To try what strength and skill affords\n   To crush this outlaws pride. {141}\n\n And, as he once before had done,\n   He did again proclaim,\n That whosoever would take upon\n   To bring to Nottingham,\n\n Or any place within the land,\n   Rebellious Robin Hood,\n Should be preferr\u2019d in place to stand\n   With those of noble blood.\n\n When Robin Hood heard of the same,\n   Within a little space,\n Into the town of Nottingham\n   A letter to his grace\n\n He shot upon an arrow head,\n   One evening cunningly\u202f;\n Which was brought to the king, and read\n   Before his majesty.\n\n The tenour of this letter was\n   That Robin would submit,\n And be true liegeman to his grace\n   In any thing that\u2019s fit,\n\n So that his highness would forgive\n   Him and his merry men all\u202f;\n If not, he must i\u2019 th\u2019 green wood live,\n   And take what chance did fall. {142}\n\n The king would feign have pardoned him,\n   But that some lords did say,\n This president will much condemn\n   Your grace another day.\n\n While that the king and lords did stay\n   Debating on this thing,\n Some of these outlaws fled away\n   Unto the Scottish king.\n\n For they suppos\u2019d, if he were ta\u2019n\n   Or to the king did yield,\n By th\u2019 commons all the rest of \u2019s train\n   Full quickly would be quell\u2019d.\n\n Of more than full an hundred men,\n   But forty tarried still,\n Who were resolv\u2019d to stick to him,\n   Let Fortune work her will.\n\n If none had fled, all for his sake\n   Had got their pardon free\u202f;\n The king to favour meant to take\n   His merry men and he.\n\n But e\u2019re the pardon to him came\n   This famous archer dy\u2019d\u202f:\n His death and manner of the same\n   I\u2019le presently describe. {143}\n\n For, being vext to think upon\n   His followers revolt,\n In melancholy passi\u00f2n\n   He did recount his fault.\n\n Perfidious traytors\u202f! said he then,\n   In all your dangers past\n Have i you guarded as my men,\n   To leave me thus at last\u202f!\n\n This sad perplexity did cause\n   A feaver, as some say,\n Which him unto confusion draws,\n   Though by a stranger way.\n\n This deadly danger to prevent,\n   He hie\u2019d him with all speed\n Unto a nunnery, with intent\n   For his healths-sake to bleed.\n\n A faithless fryer did pretend\n   In love to let him blood,\n But he by falshood wrought the end\n   Of famous Robin Hood.\n\n The fryer, as some say, did this\n   To vindicate the wrong\n Which to the clergy he and his\n   Had done by power strong. {144}\n\n Thus dyed he by treachery,\n   That could not die by force\u202f;\n Had he liv\u2019d longer, certainly\n   King Richard, in remorse,\n\n Had unto favour him receiv\u2019d,\n   \u2018His\u2019 brave men elevated\u202f:\n \u2019Tis pitty he was of life bereav\u2019d\n   By one which he so hated.\n\n A treacherous leach this fryer was,\n   To let him bleed to death\u202f;\n And Robin was, methinks, an ass\n   To trust him with his breath.\n\n His corps the prioress of the place,\n   The next day that he dy\u2019d,\n Caused to be buried, in mean case,\n   Close by the high-way side.\n\n And over him she caused a stone\n   To be fixt on the ground,\n An epitaph was set thereon,\n   Wherein his name was found\u202f;\n\n The date o\u2019 th\u2019 year and day also,\n   She made to be set there\u202f:\n That all, who by the way did go,\n   Might see it plain appear. {145}\n\n That such a man as Robin Hood\n   Was buried in that place\u202f;\n And how he lived in the green wood\n   And robbed for a space.\n\n It seems that though the clergy he\n   Had put to mickle woe,\n He should not quite forgotten be\n   Although he was their foe.\n\n This woman, though she did him hate,\n   Yet loved his memory\u202f;\n And thought it wondrous pitty that\n   His fame should with him dye.\n\n This epitaph, as records tell,\n   Within this hundred years,\n By many was discerned well,\n   But time all things out-wears.\n\n His followers, when he was dead,\n   Were some repriev\u2019d to grace\u202f;\n The rest to foreign countries fled,\n   And left their native place.\n\n Although his funeral was but mean,\n   This woman had in mind,\n Least his fame should be buried clean\n   From those that came behind. {146}\n\n For certainly, before nor since,\n   No man e\u2019re understood,\n Under the reign of any prince,\n   Of one like Robin Hood.\n\n Full thirteen years, and something more,\n   These outlaws lived thus\u202f;\n Feared of the rich, loved of the poor\u202f:\n   A thing most marvellous.\n\n A thing impossible to us\n   This story seems to be\u202f;\n None dares be now so venturous,\n   But times are chang\u2019d we see.\n\n We that live in these later days\n   Of civil government,\n If need be, have an hundred ways\n   Such outlaws to prevent.\n\n In those days men more barbarous were,\n   And lived less in awe\u202f;\n Now (god be thanked) people fear\n   More to offend the law.\n\n No waring guns were then in use,\n   They dreamt of no such thing\u202f;\n Our Englishmen in fight did use\n   The gallant gray-goose wing\u202f; {147}\n\n In which activity these men,\n   Through practise, were so good,\n That in those days none equal\u2019d them,\n   Especially Robin Hood.\n\n So that, it seems, keeping in caves,\n   In woods and forests thick,\n They\u2019d beat a multitude with staves,\n   Their arrows did so prick\u202f:\n\n And none durst neer unto them come,\n   Unless in courtesie\u202f;\n All such he bravely would send home\n   With mirth and jollity\u202f:\n\n Which courtesie won him such love,\n   As i before have told,\n \u2019Twas the chief cause that he did prove\n   More prosperous than he could.[280]\n\n Let us be thankful for these times\n   Of plenty, truth and peace\u202f;\n And leave our great and horrid crimes,\n   Least they cause this to cease.\n\n I know there\u2019s many feigned tales\n   Of Robin Hood and \u2019s crew\u202f;\n But chronicles, which seldome fails,\n   Reports this to be true. {148}\n\n Let none then think this is a lye,\n   For, if \u2019twere put to th\u2019 worst,\n They may the truth of all descry\n   I\u2019 th\u2019 reign of Richard the first.\n\n If any reader please to try,\n   As i direction show,\n The truth of this brave history,\n   He\u2019l find it true I know.\n\n And i shall think my labour well\n   Bestow\u2019d to purpose good,\n When\u2019t shall be said that i did tell\n   True tales of Robin Hood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO \u201cPART THE FIRST\u201d, pp. 1\u2013148\n\n\n [119] The irregularity or defect of the versification, in this and\n similar passages, is probably owing to the loss of a line.\n\n\n [120] This seems to have been, and, in many parts, is still, the\n name generally used by the vulgar for Erming Street. The course of\n the real Watling Street was from Dover to Chester.\n\n The Sayles appears to be some place in the neighbourhood of\n Barnsdale, but no mention of it has elsewhere occurred: though, it\n is believed, there is a field so called not far from Doncaster.\n\n\n [121] All his. PCC.\n\n\n [122] So R. [Rastall.] all thre. W. C. [de Worde and Copland.]\n\n\n [123] This. R. that. W. C.\n\n\n [124] Ere. R.\n\n\n [125] To pay. R. pay. W. C.\n\n\n [126] Robyn. R. Robyn Hoode. W. C.\n\n\n [127] Two yere. R.\n\n\n [128] Knowe. OCC.\n\n\n [129] It may amende. OCC.\n\n\n [130] Lancasesshyre. R.\n\n\n [131] Not. W. C.\n\n\n [132] By. W. C.\n\n\n [133] So R. knowe me. W. C.\n\n\n [134] The fragment of Rastall\u2019s edition ends here.\n\n\n [135] Also. PCC.\n\n\n [136] Wyme. PCC.\n\n\n [137] _i.e._ by so many score to the hundred, or three hundred\n for one. It is certainly a very hyperbolical expression: but he\n measures the cloth in the same way.\n\n\n [138] Helpe. W. wrappe. C.\n\n\n [139] Leue. W. lende. C.\n\n\n [140] The prior, in an abbey, was the officer immediately under the\n abbot; in priories and conventual cathedrals he was the superior.\n\n\n [141] This was a \u201cS. Richard, king and confessour, sonne to\n Lotharius king of Kent, who, for the love of Christ, taking upon\n him a long peregrination, went to Rome for devotion to that sea,\n and in his way homward, died at Luca, about the year of Christ,\n seaven hundred and fifty, where his body is kept untill this day\n with great veneration, in the oratory and chappell of S. Frigidian,\n and adorned with an epitaph both in verse and prose\u201d (English\n Martyrologe, 1608).\n\n There were other saints of the same name, as Richard de la Wich,\n bishop of Chichester, canonised in 1262; and Richard, bishop of St.\n Andrews in Calabria. See Drayton\u2019s Polyolbion, song 24.\n\n\n [142] Leue. W. Sende us. C.\n\n\n [143] Loke. W. C.\n\n\n [144] Grete. W. get. C.\n\n\n [145] Thou. PCC.\n\n\n [146] Uterysdale. O. CC. Wierysdale is the name of a forest in\n Lancashire: though it appears, in a subsequent part of this poem,\n that the knight\u2019s castle was in Nottinghamshire.\n\n\n [147] Sute. C.\n\n\n [148] I up pyght. W. up ypyght. C.\n\n\n [149] Fere. W. in fere. C.\n\n\n [150] Shote. W.\n\n\n [151] He sleste (sliced?) W.\n\n\n [152] Thou wast. C. wast thou. Wh.\n\n\n [153] Ge. W. f. God.\n\n\n [154] _i.e._ while a man might have walked two miles and upward.\n\n\n [155] Hyed, C.\n\n\n [156] Whyle. W.\n\n\n [157] Syght. W. sightes. C.\n\n\n [158] Wo the worth. W.\n\n\n [159] Such. W.\n\n\n [160] He. Old copies.\n\n\n [161] You. W. Make you yonder preste. C.\n\n\n [162] Set. \u2018shet\u2019?\n\n\n [163] Yemen. C.\n\n\n [164] Lytell Johan, O. CC.\n\n\n [165] Them. O. CC.\n\n\n [166] To. W.\n\n\n [167] Nade. W. not in C.\n\n\n [168] Eyght pounde. W.\n\n\n [169] To. W.\n\n\n [170] Corser. W. courser. C.\n\n\n [171] Gayne. W.\n\n\n [172]\n\n  But take not a grefe, sayd the knyght,\n    That I have be so longe.\n                             O. CC.\n\n\n [173] I twyse. W.\n\n\n [174] Thi trusty. C.\n\n\n [175] This care. W.\n\n\n [176] Syt. W.\n\n\n [177]\n\n  And that shoteth al ther best. W.\n\n  And they that shote al of the best. C.\n\n\n [178] Al theyre. W. al of the. C.\n\n\n [179] They slist. W. he clefte. C.\n\n\n [180] Belyve. C.\n\n\n [181] That I after eate no bread. C.\n\n\n [182] Thou. W.\n\n\n [183] The bydde. OCC.\n\n\n [184] Honde and fote. W. foote and hande. C.\n\n\n [185] That he had Robyn Hode. W.\n\n\n [186] God the good Robyn. W.\n\n\n [187] Lady. W.\n\n\n [188] Late.\n\n\n [189] Shamly I slayne be. W.\n\n\n [190] For soth as I the say. W.\n\n\n [191] Your. W. You may them over take. C.\n\n\n [192] Shall he never in grene wode be Nor longer dwell with me. W.\n\n\n [193] It. W.\n\n\n [194] At. W. That. C.\u2014good] boote. Wh.\n\n\n [195] Hoode. W. bande. C.\n\n\n [196] And yf. W.\n\n\n [197] Your. OCC.\n\n\n [198] Under the grene wode tre. W.\n\n\n [199] This saint is also mentioned by Chaucer in the Sompnour\u2019s\n tale; by Spenser, in his 5th eclogue; in the Downfall of Robert\n Earl of Huntington, 1601; and in one of Ophelia\u2019s songs in Hamlet.\n (See a note upon this last passage in the edition of 1793, vol. xv.\n p. 163.) Mr. Steevens\u2019s assertion that \u201cSaint Charity is a known\n saint among the Roman Catholics,\u201d may be supported by infallible\n authority. \u201cWe read,\u201d says Dr. Douglas, \u201cin the Martyrology on\n the first of August\u2014Rom\u00e6 passio sanctarum virginum, Fidei, Spei,\n et Charitatis, qu\u00e6 sub Hadriano principe martyris coronam adept\u00e6\n sunt\u201d (Criterion, p. 68). Pierre Nadal, commonly called Petrus de\n Natalibus, in his Catalogus Sanctorum, has given the history of the\n saints Faith, Hope, and Charity, the daughters of St. Sophia (or\n Wisdom). Nothing can be too absurd for superstition.\n\n\n [200] I vouche it halfe on the. W.\n\n\n [201] Seale. C.\n\n\n [202] And browne. W.\n\n\n [203] A wys, W. For that shall be his fyne. C.\n\n\n [204] Good whyte. W. lilly white. C.\n\n\n [205] And therto sent I me. W.\n\n\n [206] Good. OCC.\n\n\n [207] Another had full sone. W.\n\n\n [208] Lefte never one. W.\n\n\n [209] Lughe. W.\n\n\n [210] Ferre. W.\n\n\n [211] Commended for. C.\n\n\n [212] Donkesley. W.\n\n\n [213] The. OCC.\n\n\n [214] Ye.\n\n\n [215] Lefe.\n\n\n [216] Syde.\n\n\n [217] Syde.\n\n\n [218] Hys.\n\n\n [219] Leffe.\n\n\n [220] A bad hem stond stell.\n\n\n [221] The potter.\n\n\n [222] Leppyd.\n\n\n [223] Felow he.\n\n\n [224] A.\n\n\n [225] Seyde hels.\n\n\n [226] Went yemen.\n\n\n [227] Thes.\n\n\n [228] Lytl.\n\n\n [229] Yemerey.\n\n\n [230] Grat.\n\n\n [231] Yede.\n\n\n [232] This stanza is misplaced in the MS., coming after the first\n verse at top of page.\n\n\n [233] Say.\n\n\n [234] Seyde sche s\u2019 than.\n\n\n [235] The.\n\n\n [236] He.\n\n\n [237] Loseth.\n\n\n [238] To.\n\n\n [239] These two lines are transposed in the MS.\n\n\n [240] Pottys the.\n\n\n [241] Bolt yt.\n\n\n [242] Senyst.\n\n\n [243] Goe.\n\n\n [244] That Robyng gaffe me.\n\n\n [245] Mey they.\n\n\n [246] Se.\n\n\n [247] He.\n\n\n [248] Her.\n\n\n [249] For.\n\n\n [250] How haffe.\n\n\n [251] I leyty.\n\n\n [252] He had west.\n\n\n [253] That ye be.\n\n\n [254] y.\n\n\n [255] The MS. repeats this line after the following: Het ambellet\n be mey sey.\n\n\n [256] Bowhes.\n\n\n [257] Be ther.\n\n\n [258] Wher\u2019e.\n\n\n [259] Closd. We might read: And clos\u2019d were [baith] his een.\n\n\n [260] The preceding lines of this stanza are wanting in the\n original.\n\n\n [261] Gave, begack.\n\n\n [262] Yeen.\n\n\n [263] Spok.\n\n\n [264] Half.\n\n\n [265] Bound.\n\n\n [266] Bag.\n\n\n [267] Cloath.\n\n\n [268] Thou.\n\n\n [269] Speed.\n\n\n [270] Cloaths.\n\n\n [271] \u201cIt should perhaps be swards, _i.e._ the surface of the\n ground, viz. \u2018when the fields are in their beauty.\u2019\u201d\u2014PERCY. Rather\n shrobbes (shrubs). The plural of sward was never used by any writer\n whatever. For shaws the MS. has shales.\n\n\n [272] Dr. Percy, by the marks he has bestowed on this line, seems\n to consider it as the yeoman\u2019s reply; but it seems rather a\n repetition of Robin\u2019s complimentary address.\n\n\n [273] This in the three former editions of the \u201cReliques\u201d is\n improperly altered to \u2018but.\u2019\n\n\n [274] So, according to Percy, reads his MS. He has altered it to\n \u2018backward.\u2019\n\n\n [275] The title of SIR, Dr. Percy says, was not formerly peculiar\n to knights; it was given to priests, and sometimes to very inferior\n personages. If the text did not seem to be in favour of the latter\n part of this assertion, one might reasonably question its truth.\n Another instance, at least, it is believed, admitting this to be\n one, which is by no means certain, cannot be produced.\n\n\n [276] Sic PC. quere the MS.\n\n\n [277] An absurd mistake, scarcely worth notice in this place, and\n which the reader will have it in his own power to correct.\n\n\n [278] Our.\n\n\n [279] There is no authority for imputing this execrable practice\n to our hero or his companions, in any one single instance. If,\n however, the lex talionis were at all justifiable, they certainly\n had sufficient provocation to exercise it\u2014not, indeed, upon the\n clergy, in particular, but upon the king, his ministers, judges,\n and nobles. \u201cThe ancient punishment for killing the king\u2019s deer,\u201d\n says Dr. Percy, \u201cwas loss of eyes and castration: a punishment far\n worse than death!\u201d\n\n\n [280] _i.e._ than he could otherwise have been.\n\n{149}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD.\n\nPart II.\n\n\nI.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S BIRTH, BREEDING, VALOUR, AND MARRIAGE.\n\nFrom a black letter copy in the large and valuable collection of\nold ballads late belonging to Thomas Pearson, Esq., and now in\nthe possession of the Duke of Roxburghe. This is the collection\nmentioned in the Harleian Catalogue, and would seem to be the\ngreater part of that originally made by old Bagford (see Hearne\u2019s\nAppendix to Hemingi Chartularium, p. 662), another volume or two\nhaving come, with the rest of his typographical collections, to the\nBritish Museum. The three vols. which went to Osborne were probably\nbought of him by Mr. West, at whose sale they {150} were purchased\nby Major Pearson, by whom the collection was new-arranged,\nornamented, and improved.\n\nIn reading this song, we are admonished by the editor of the\ncollection of old ballads printed in 1723 (who thinks it \u201cthe most\nbeautiful and one of the oldest extant, written on that subject\u201d)\nto observe one thing, \u201cand that is, between some of the stanzas\nwe must suppose a considerable time to pass. Clorinda,\u201d he says,\n\u201cmight be [thought] a very forward girl, if between Robin Hood\u2019s\nquestion and her answer we did not suppose two or three hours\nto have been spent in courtship; and between Robin Hood\u2019s being\nentertained at Gamwell-hall and his having ninety-three bowmen in\nSherwood, we must allow some years.\u201d\n\nWith respect to its antiquity, Dr. Percy, in the new edition of his\n\u201cReliques of Ancient English Poetry\u201d (vol. i. p. xcvii.), expresses\na very different opinion; since, according to him, it \u201cseems of\nmuch later date than most of the others, and can scarce be older\nthan the reign of King Charles I.; FOR,\u201d says he, \u201cKing James I.\nhad no issue after his accession to the throne of England:\u201d an\nobservation which, if any way to the purpose, is certainly NOT\nTRUE. \u201cIt may even,\u201d he continues, \u201chave been written since the\nRestoration, and only express the wishes of the nation for issue on\nthe marriage of their favourite King Charles II. on his marriage\n(_sic_) with the infanta of Portugal.\u201d However this may be, the\nwriter\u2019s having deviated from \u201call the old traditions concerning\nthis celebrated outlaw,\u201d is no proof that he was \u201cignorant\u201d of\nthem; and that Dr. Percy chooses to \u201cthink it is not found in\nthe Pepys Collection\u201d only shows conjecture to be easier than\ninvestigation. \u261e\u202fIn the second volume of that collection, any\nperson disposed to the search will find at least TWO COPIES of it,\nboth in black letter.\n\nThe full title of the original is: \u201cA new ballad of bold Robin\nHood; shewing his birth, breeding, valour, and marriage at Titbury\nBull-running. Calculated for the meridian of Staffordshire, but may\nserve for Derbyshire or Kent.\u201d {151}\n\n Kind gentlemen, will you be patient awhile\u202f?\n   Ay, and then you shall hear anon\n A very good ballad of bold Robin Hood,\n   And of his man brave Little John.\n\n In Locksly town, in merry Nottinghamshire,\n   In merry sweet Locksly town,\n There bold Robin Hood he was born and was bred,\n   Bold Robin of famous renown.\n\n The father of Robin a forrester was,\n   And he shot in a lusty strong bow\n Two north-country miles and an inch at a shot,\n   As the Pinder of Wakefield does know.\n\n For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh,\n   And William of \u2018Clowdesle,\u2019[281]\n To shoot with our forrester for forty mark,\n   And the forrester beat them all three.\n\n His mother was neece to the Coventry knight,\n   Which Warwickshire men call sir Guy\u202f;\n For he slew the blue bore that hangs up at the gate,\n   Or mine host of the Bull tells a lie. {152}\n\n Her brother was Gamwel, of Great Gamwel-hall,\n   A noble house-keeper was he,\n Ay, as ever broke bread in sweet Nottinghamshire,\n   And a \u2019squire of famous degree.\n\n The mother of Robin said to her husb\u00e0nd,\n   My honey, my love, and my dear,\n Let Robin and I ride this morning to Gamwel,\n   To taste of my brother\u2019s good cheer.\n\n And he said, I grant thee thy boon, gentle Joan,\n   Take one of my horses, I pray\u202f:\n The sun is arising, and therefore make haste,\n   For to-morrow is Christmas-day.\n\n Then Robin Hood\u2019s father\u2019s grey gelding was brought,\n   And sadled and bridled was he\u202f;\n God-wot a blue bonnet, his new suit of cloaths,\n   And a cloak that did reach to his knee.\n\n She got on her holyday kirtle and gown,\n   They were of a light Lincoln green\u202f;\n The cloath was homespun, but for colour and make\n   It might \u2018have beseemed\u2019[282] our queen.\n\n And then Robin got on his basket-hilt sword,\n   And his dagger on his tother side\u202f;\n And said, My dear mother, let\u2019s haste to be gone,\n   We have forty long miles to ride. {153}\n\n When Robin had mounted his gelding so grey,\n   His father, without any trouble,\n Set her up behind him, and bad her not fear,\n   For his gelding \u2018had\u2019 oft carried double.\n\n And when she was[283] settled, they rode to their neighbours,\n   And drank and shook hands with them all\u202f;\n And then Robin gallopt, and never gave o\u2019re,\n   Till they lighted at Gamwel-hall.\n\n And now you may think the right worshipful squire\n   Was joyful his sister to see\u202f;\n For he kist her, and kist her, and swore a great oath,\n   Thou art welcome, kind sister, to me.\n\n To-morrow, when mass had been said at the chappel,\n   Six tables were covered in the hall,\n And in comes the squire, and makes a short speech,\n   It was, Neighbours, you\u2019re welcome all.\n\n But not a man here shall taste my March beer,\n   Till a Christmas carrol he does sing.\n Then all clapt their hands, and theys houted and sung,\n   Till the hall and the parlour did ring.\n\n Now mustard and brawn, roast beef and plumb pies\n   Were set upon every table\u202f;\n And noble George Gamwel said, Eat and be merry,\n   And drink too as long as you\u2019re able. {154}\n\n When dinner was ended, his chaplain said grace,\n   And, Be merry, my friends, said the squire\u202f;\n It rains and it blows, but call for more ale,\n   And lay some more wood on the fire.\n\n And now call ye Little John hither to me,\n   For Little John is a fine lad,\n At gambols and juggling, and twenty such tricks,\n   As shall make you both merry and glad.\n\n When Little John came, to gambols they went,\n   Both gentlemen, yeomen, and clown\u202f;\n And what do you think\u202f? Why, as true as I live,\n   Bold Robin Hood put them all down.\n\n And now you may think the right worshipful squire\n   Was joyful this sight for to see\u202f;\n For he said, Cousin Robin, thou\u2019st go no more home,\n   But tarry and dwell here with me\u202f:\n\n Thou shalt have my land when I die, and till then,\n   Thou shalt be the staff of my age.\n Then grant me my boon, dear uncle, said Robin,\n   That Little John may be my page.\n\n And he said, Kind cousin, I grant thee thy boon\u202f;\n   With all my heart, so let it be.\n Then come hither, Little John, said Robin Hood,\n   Come hither my page unto me\u202f: {155}\n\n Go fetch me my bow, my longest long bow,\n   And broad arrows, one, two, or three.\n For when \u2019tis fair weather we\u2019ll into Sherwood,\n   Some merry pastime to see.\n\n When Robin Hood came into merry Sherwood,\n   He winded his bugle so clear\u202f;\n And twice five and twenty good yeomen and bold,\n   Before Robin Hood did appear.\n\n Where are your companions all\u202f? said Robin Hood,\n   For still I want forty and three.\n Then said a bold yeoman, Lo, yonder they stand,\n   All under the[284] green wood tree.\n\n As that word was spoke, Clorinda came by,\n   The queen of the shepherds was she\u202f;\n And her gown was of velvet as green as the grass,\n   And her buskin did reach to her knee.\n\n Her gate it was graceful, her body was straight,\n   And her countenance free from pride\u202f;\n A bow in her hand, and a quiver of arrows\n   Hung dangling by her sweet side.\n\n Her eye-brows were black, ay, and so was her hair,\n   And her skin was as smooth as glass\u202f;\n Her visage spoke wisdom, and modesty too\u202f:\n   Sets with Robin Hood such a lass\u202f! {156}\n\n Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, whither away\u202f?\n   O whither, fair lady, away\u202f?\n And she made him answer, To kill a fat buck\u202f;\n   For to-morrow is Titbury day.\n\n Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, wander with me\n   A little to yonder green bower\u202f;\n There set down to rest you, and you shall be sure\n   Of a brace or a \u2018leash\u2019[285] in an hour.\n\n And as we were going tow\u00e0rds the green bower,\n   Two hundred good bucks we espy\u2019d\u202f;\n She chose[286] out the fattest that was in the herd,\n   And she shot him through side and side.\n\n By the faith of my body, said bold Robin Hood,\n   I never saw woman like thee\u202f;\n And com\u2019st thou from east, or com\u2019st thou from west,\n   Thou needst not beg venison of me.\n\n However, along to my bower you shall go,\n   And taste of a forrester\u2019s meat\u202f:\n And when we came thither we found as good cheer\n   As any man needs for to eat.\n\n For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold,\n   Cream clouted, and honey-combs plenty\u202f;\n And the servitors they were, besides Little John,\n   Good yeomen, at least four and twenty. {157}\n\n Clorinda said, Tell me your name, gentle sir\u202f:\n   And he said, \u2019Tis bold Robin Hood\u202f:\n Squire Gamwel\u2019s my uncle, but all my delight\n   Is to dwell in the merry Sherwood\u202f;\n\n For \u2019tis a fine life, and \u2019tis void of all strife.\n   So \u2019tis, sir, Clorinda reply\u2019d.\n But oh\u202f! said bold Robin, how sweet would it be,\n   If Clorinda would be my bride\u202f!\n\n She blusht at the motion\u202f; yet, after a pause,\n   Said, Yes, sir, and with all my heart.\n Then let us send for a priest, said Robin Hood,\n   And be married before we do part.\n\n But she said, It may not be so, gentle sir,\n   For I must be at Titbury feast\u202f;\n And if Robin Hood will go thither with me,\n   I\u2019ll make him the most welcome guest.\n\n Said Robin Hood, Reach me that buck, Little John,\n   For I\u2019ll go along with my dear\u202f;\n And bid my yeomen kill six brace of bucks,\n   And meet me to-morrow just here.\n\n Before he had ridden five Staffordshire miles,\n   Eight yeomen, that were too bold,\n Bid Robin Hood stand, and deliver his buck\u202f:\n   A truer tale never was told. {158}\n\n I will not, faith, said bold Robin\u202f; come, John,\n   Stand by me, and we\u2019ll beat \u2019em all.\n Then both drew their swords, and so cut \u2019em, and slasht \u2019em,\n   That five out of them did fall.\n\n The three that remain\u2019d call\u2019d to Robin for quarter,\n   And pitiful John begg\u2019d their lives\u202f:\n When John\u2019s boon was granted, he gave them good counsel,\n   And sent them all home to their wives.\n\n This battle was fought near to Titbury town,\n   When the bagpipes baited the bull\u202f;\n I\u2019m the king of the fidlers, and I swear \u2019tis truth,\n   And I call him that doubts it a gull\u202f:[287]\n\n For I saw them fighting, and fiddled the while\u202f;\n   And Clorinda sung \u201cHey derry down\u202f!\n The bumkins are beaten, put up thy sword, Bob,\n   And now let\u2019s dance into the town.\u201d\n\n Before we came in we heard a great shouting,\n   And all that were in it look\u2019d madly\u202f;\n For some were on bull-back, some dancing a morris,\n   And some singing _Arthur-a-Bradley_.[288] {159}\n\n And there we see Thomas, our justices clerk,\n   And Mary, to whom he was kind\u202f;\n For Tom rode before her, and call\u2019d Mary madam,\n   And kiss\u2019d her full sweetly behind\u202f:\n\n And so may your worships. But we went to dinner,\n   With Thomas and Mary, and Nan\u202f;\n They all drank a health to Clorinda, and told her,\n   Bold Robin Hood was a fine man.\n\n When dinner was ended, sir Roger, the parson\n   Of Dubbridge, was sent for in haste\u202f:\n He brought his mass-book, and he bad them take hands,\n   And joyn\u2019d them in marriage full fast.\n\n And then, as bold Robin Hood and his sweet bride\n   Went hand in hand to the green bower,\n The birds sung with pleasure in merry Sherwood,\n   And \u2019twas a most joyful hour.\n\n And when Robin came in sight of the bower,\n   Where are my yeomen\u202f? said he\u202f:\n And Little John answer\u2019d, Lo, yonder they stand,\n   All under the green-wood-tree.\n\n Then a garland they brought her by two and by two,\n   And plac\u2019d them all on the bride\u2019s head\u202f:\n The music struck up, and we all fell to dance,\n   \u2019Till the bride and bridegroom were a-bed. {160}\n\n And what they did there must be counsel to me,\n   Because they lay long the next day\u202f;\n And I had haste home, but I got a good piece\n   Of bride-cake, and so came away.\n\n Now, out, alas\u202f! I had forgotten to tell ye,\n   That marry\u2019d they were with a ring\u202f;\n And so will Nan Knight, or be buried a maiden\u202f:\n   And now let us pray for the king\u202f;\n\n That he may get children, and they may get more,\n   To govern and do us some good\u202f:\n And then I\u2019ll make ballads in Robin Hood\u2019s bower\n   And sing \u2019em in merry Sherwood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{161}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nII.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S PROGRESS TO NOTTINGHAM.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\nIt is there said to go \u201cTo the tune of Bold Robin Hood;\u201d and the\nchorus is repeated in every stanza. To the above title are added\nthe following doggerel lines:\n\n Where hee met with fifteen forresters all on a row,\n And hee desired of them some news for to know,\n But with crosse grain\u2019d words they did him thwart,\n For which at last hee made them smart.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n Robin Hood he was and a tall young man,\n           _Derry derry down_,\n   And fifteen winters old\u202f;\n And Robin Hood he was a proper young man,\n   Of courage stout and bold.\n           _Hey down, derry derry down._ {162}\n\n Robin hee[1] would and to fair Nottingham,\n   With the general for to dine\u202f;\n There was hee aware of fifteen forrest\u00e8rs,\n   And a drinking bear, ale, and wine.\n\n What news\u202f? What news\u202f? said bold Robin Hood.\n   \u201cWhat news fain wouldest thou know\u202f?\u201d\n Our king hath provided a shooting match,\n   And I\u2019m ready with my bow.\n\n We hold it in scorn, said the forrest\u00e8rs,\n   That ever a boy so young\n Should bear a bow before our king,\n   That\u2019s not able to draw one string.\n\n I\u2019le hold you twenty marks, said bold Robin Hood,\n   By the leave of our lady,\n That I\u2019le hit a mark a hundred rod,\n   And I\u2019le cause a hart to dye.\n\n We\u2019l hold you twenty mark, then said the forrest\u00e8rs,\n   By the leave of our lady,\n Thou hit\u2019st not the marke a hundred rod,\n   Nor causest a hart to dye.\n\n Robin he[289] bent up a noble bow,\n   And a broad arrow he let flye,\n He hit the mark a hundred rod,\n   And he caused a hart to dye. {163}\n\n Some say hee brake ribs one or two,\n   And some say hee brake three\u202f;\n The arrow within the hart would not abide,\n   But it glanced in two or three.\n\n The hart did skip, and the hart did leap,\n   And the hart lay on the ground\u202f;\n The wager is mine, said bold Robin Hood,\n   If\u2019t were for a thousand pound.\n\n The wager\u2019s none of thine, then said the forrest\u00e8rs,\n   Although thou beest in haste\u202f;\n Take up thy bow, and get thee hence,\n   Lest wee thy sides do baste.\n\n Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow,\n   And his broad arrows all amain\u202f;\n And Robin he[1] laught, and begun [for] to smile,\n   As hee went over the plain.\n\n Then Robin he[1] bent his noble bow,\n   And his broad arrows he let flye,\n Till fourteen of these fifteen forrest\u00e8rs\n   Upon the ground did lye.\n\n He that did this quarrel first begin\n   Went tripping over the plain\u202f;\n But Robin he[290] bent his noble bow,\n   And hee fetcht him back again. {164}\n\n You said I was no archer, said Robin Hood,\n   But say so now again\u202f:\n With that he sent another arr\u00f2w,\n   That split his head in twain.\n\n You have found mee an archer, saith Robin Hood,\n   Which will make your wives for to wring,\n And wish that you had never spoke the word,\n   That I could not draw one string.\n\n The people that lived in fair Nottingh\u00e0m\n   Came running out amain,\n Supposing to have taken bold Robin Hood,\n   With the forresters that were slain.\n\n Some lost legs, and some lost arms,\n   And some did lose their blood\u202f;\n But Robin hee took up his noble bow,\n   And is gone to the merry green wood.\n\n They carried these forresters into fair Nottingh\u00e0m,\n   As many there did know\u202f;\n They dig\u2019d them graves in their church-yard,\n   And they buried them all a-row.\n\n\u2042 The paragraph of which the following is an extract appeared in\nthe evening paper intitled \u201cThe Star,\u201d April 23, 1796: \u201cA few\ndays ago as some labourers were digging in a garden at Fox-lane,\nnear Nottingham, they discovered six human skeletons entire,\ndeposited in regular order side by side, supposed {165} to be\npart of the fifteen foresters that were killed by Robin Hood.\nNear the above place anciently stood a church, built in the early\nages of Christianity, dedicated to St. Michael, which was totally\ndemolished at the Reformation. .\u00a0.\u00a0. No doubt but the bones in\nquestion were properly buried in St. Michael\u2019s churchyard. The\nproprietors of the garden humanely ordered the pit where the bones\nwere found to be filled up, being unwilling to disturb the relics\nof humanity and the ashes of the dead.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{166}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD, WITH ROBIN HOOD, SCARLET, AND JOHN.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in Anthony a Wood\u2019s collection,\ncompared with two others in the British Museum, one in black\nletter. It should be sung \u201cTo an excellent tune,\u201d which has not\nbeen recovered.\n\nSeveral lines of this ballad are quoted in the two old plays of\nthe \u201cDownfall\u201d and \u201cDeath of Robert, Earle of Huntington,\u201d 1601,\n4to, b. l., but acted many years before. It is also alluded to in\nShakespeare\u2019s Merry Wives of Windsor, act i. scene 1, and again in\nhis Second Part of King Henry IV., act v. scene 3.\n\nIn 1557 certain \u201cballets\u201d are entered on the books of the\nStationers\u2019 Company \u201cto John Wallye and Mrs. Toye,\u201d one of which is\nentitled \u201cOf wakefylde and a grene:\u201d meaning apparently the ballad\nhere reprinted. {167}\n\n In Wakefield there lives a jolly pind\u00e8r,\n     In Wakefield all on a green,\n     In Wakefield all on a green\u202f:\n\n There is neither knight nor squire, said the pind\u00e8r,\n     Nor baron that is so bold,\n     Nor baron that is so bold,\n Dare make a tresp\u00e0ss to the town of Wakefield,\n     But his pledge goes to the pinfold, &c.\n\n All this beheard three witty young men,\n   \u2019Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John\u202f;\n With that they espy\u2019d the jolly pind\u00e8r,\n   As he sat under a thorn.\n\n Now turn again, turn again, said the pind\u00e8r,\n   For a wrong way you have gone\u202f;\n For you have forsaken the kings highway,\n   And made a path over the corn.\n\n O that were a shame, said jolly Robin,\n   We being three, and thou but one.\n The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot,\n   \u2019Twas thirty good foot and one.\n\n He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,\n   And his foot against a stone, {168}\n\n And there he fought a long summers day,\n   A summers day so long,\n Till that their swords on their broad buckl\u00e8rs\n   Were broke fast into their hands.[291]\n\n Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said bold Robin Hood,\n   And my merry men every one\u202f;\n For this is one of the best pind\u00e8rs,\n   That ever I tryed with sword.\n\n And wilt thou forsake thy pinders craft,\n   And live in the green-wood with me\u202f?\n \u201cAt Michaelmas next my cov\u2019nant comes out,\n   When every man gathers his fee\u202f;\n\n Then I\u2019le take my blew blade all in my hand,\n   And plod to the green-wood with thee.\u201d\n Hast thou either meat or drink, said Robin Hood,\n   For my merry men and me\u202f?\n\n I have both bread and beef, said the pind\u00e8r,\n   And good ale of the best.\n And that is meat good enough, said Robin Hood,\n   For such unbidden \u2018guests.\u2019\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE PINDER.]\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE PINDER.]\n\n{169}\n\n \u201cO wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft,\n   And go to the green-wood with me\u202f?\n Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year,\n   The one green, the other brown.\u201d\n\n \u201cIf Michaelmas day was come and gone,\n   And my master had paid me my fee,\n Then would I set as little by him,\n   As my master doth by me.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{170}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIV.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP,\n\n\u201cShewing how Robin Hood went to an old woman\u2019s house and changed\ncloaths with her to scape from the bishop; and how he robbed the\nbishop of all his gold, and made him sing a mass. To the tune of\nRobin Hood and the Stranger.\u201d From an old black letter copy in the\ncollection of Anthony a Wood.\n\n Come, gentlemen all, and listen awhile,\n       _Hey down, down, an a down_,\n   And a story ile to you unfold\u202f;\n Ile tell you how Robin Hood served the bishop,\n   When he robbed him of his gold. {171}\n\n As it fell out on a sun-shining day,\n   When Ph\u0153bus was in \u2018his\u2019 prime,\n Then Robin Hood, that archer good,\n   In mirth would spend some time.\n\n And as he walk\u2019d the forrest along,\n   Some pastime for to spy,\n There was he aware of a proud bish\u00f2p,\n   And all his company.\n\n O what shall I do, said Robin Hood then,\n   If the bishop he doth take me\u202f?\n No mercy he\u2019l show unto me, I know,\n   But hanged I shall be.\n\n Then Robin was stout, and turned him about,\n   And a little house there he did spy\u202f;\n And to an old wife, for to save his life,\n   He loud began for to cry.\n\n Why, who art thou\u202f? said the old wom\u00e0n,\n   Come tell to me for good.\n \u201cI am an out-law, as many do know,\n   My name it is Robin Hood\u202f;\n\n And yonder\u2019s the bishop and all his men,\n   And if that I taken be,\n Then day and night he\u2019l work my spight,\n   And hanged I shall be.\u201d {172}\n\n If thou be Robin Hood, said the old wife,\n   As thou \u2018dost\u2019 seem to be,\n I\u2019le for thee provide, and thee I will hide,\n   From the bishop and his company.\n\n For I remember, \u2018one\u2019 Saturday night,\n   Thou brought me both shoos and hose\u202f;\n Therefore I\u2019le provide thy person to hide,\n   And keep thee from thy foes.\n\n \u201cThen give me soon thy coat of gray,\n   And take thou my mantle of green\u202f;\n Thy spindle and twine unto me resign,\n   And take thou my arrows so keen.\u201d\n\n And when Robin Hood was so araid,\n   He went straight to his company,\n With his spindle and twine, he oft lookt behind,\n   For the bishop and his company.\n\n O who is yonder, quoth little John,\n   That now comes over the lee\u202f?\n An arrow I will at her let flie,\n   So like an old witch looks she.\n\n O hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood then,\n   And shoot not thy arrows so keen\u202f;\n I am Robin Hood, thy master good,\n   And quickly it shall be seen. {173}\n\n The bishop he came to the old womans house,\n   And called, with furious mood,\n Come let me soon see, and bring unto me\n   That traitor Robin Hood.\n\n The old woman he set on a milk-white steed,\n   Himselfe on a dapple gray\u202f;\n And for joy he had got Robin Hood,\n   He went laughing all the way.\n\n But as they were riding the forrest along,\n   The bishop he \u2018chanc\u2019d\u2019 for to see\n A hundred brave bowmen bold,\n   Stand under the green-wood tree.\n\n O who is yonder, the bishop then said,\n   That\u2019s ranging within yonder wood\u202f?\n Marry, says the old woman, I think it to be\n   A man call\u2019d Robin Hood.\n\n Why, who art thou, the bishop he said,\n   Which I have here with me\u202f?\n \u201cWhy, I am an old woman, thou cuckoldly bishop,\n   Lift up my leg and see.\u201d\n\n Then woe is me, the bishop he said,\n   That ever I saw this day\u202f!\n He turn\u2019d him about, but Robin stout\n   Call\u2019d him, and bid him stay. {174}\n\n Then Robin took hold of the bishop\u2019s horse,\n   And ty\u2019d him fast to a tree\u202f;\n Then Little John smil\u2019d his master upon,\n   For joy of that company.\n\n Robin Hood took his mantle from\u2019s back,\n   And spread it upon the ground,\n And out of the bishops portmantle he\n   Soon told five hundred pound.\n\n Now let him go, said Robin Hood.\n   Said little John, That may not be\u202f;\n For I vow and protest he shall sing us a mass,\n   Before that he goe from me.\n\n Then Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand,\n   And bound him fast to a tree,\n And made him sing a mass, god wot,\n   To him and his yeomandree.\n\n And then they brought him through the wood,\n   And set him on his dapple gray,\n And gave him the tail within his hand,\n   And bade him for Robin Hood pray.\n\n{175}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nV.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony Wood.\nThe tune is \u201cRobin Hood and the Begger.\u201d\n\n Come, all you brave gallants, listen awhile,\n       _With hey down, down, an a down_,\n   That are \u2018this bower\u2019[292] within\u202f;\n For of Robin Hood, that archer good,\n   A song I intend for to sing.\n\n Upon a time it chanced so,\n   Bold Robin in [the] forrest did \u2019spy\n A jolly butch\u00e8r, with a bonny fine mare,\n   With his flesh to the market did hye. {176}\n\n Good morrow, good fellow, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   What food hast [thou], tell unto me\u202f?\n Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell,\n   For I like well thy company.\n\n The butcher he answer\u2019d jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   No matter where I dwell\u202f;\n For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham\n   I am going, my flesh to sell.\n\n What is [the] price of thy flesh\u202f? said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Come tell it soon unto me\u202f;\n And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear,\n   For a butcher fain would I be.\n\n The price of my flesh, the butcher repli\u2019d,\n   I soon will tell unto thee\u202f;\n With my bonny mare, and they are not too dear,\n   Four mark thou must give unto me.\n\n Four mark I will give me, saith jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Four mark it shall be thy fee\u202f;\n The mony come count, and let me mount,\n   For a butcher I fain would be.\n\n Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone,\n   His butchers trade to begin\u202f;\n With good intent to the sheriff he went,\n   And there he took up his inn. {177}\n\n When other butchers they opened their meat,\n   Bold Robin he then begun\u202f;\n But how for to sell he knew not well,\n   For a butcher he was but young.\n\n When other butchers no meat could sell,\n   Robin got both gold and fee\u202f;\n For he sold more meat for one peny\n   Then others could do for three.\n\n But when he sold his meat so fast,\n   No butcher by him could thrive\u202f;\n For he sold more meat for one peny\n   Than others could do for five.\n\n Which made the butchers of Nottingham\n   To study as they did stand,\n Saying, Surely he \u2018is\u2019 some prodigal,\n   That hath sold his fathers land.\n\n The butchers stepped to jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Acquainted with him for to be\u202f;\n Come, brother, one said, we be all of one trade,\n   Come, will you go dine with me\u202f?\n\n Accurst of his heart, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   That a butcher doth deny\u202f;\n I will go with you, my brethren true,\n   As fast as I can hie. {178}\n\n But when to the sheriffs house they came.\n   To dinner they hied apace,\n And Robin Hood he the man must be\n   Before them all to say grace.\n\n Pray god bless us all, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   And our meat within this place\u202f;\n A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood\n   And so I do end my grace.\n\n Come fill us more wine, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Let us be merry while we do stay\u202f;\n For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear,\n   I vow I the reckning will pay.\n\n Come, \u2018brothers,\u2019 be merry, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Let us drink, and never give ore\u202f;\n For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way,\n   If it cost me five pounds and more.\n\n This is a mad blade, the butchers then said.\n   Saies the sheriff, He is some prodigal,\n That some land has sold for silver and gold,\n   And now he doth mean to spend all.\n\n Hast thou any horn beasts, the sheriff repli\u2019d,\n   Good fellow, to sell unto me\u202f?\n \u201cYes, that I have, good master sheriff,\n   I have hundreds two or three, {179}\n\n And a hundred aker of good free land,\n   If you please it to see\u202f:\n And Ile make you as good assurance of it,\n   As ever my father made me.\u201d\n\n The sheriff he saddled his good palfr\u00e8y,\n   And, with three hundred pound in gold,\n Away he went with bold Robin Hood,\n   His horned beasts to behold.\n\n Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride,\n   To the forrest of merry Sherwood,\n Then the sheriff did say, God bless us this day,\n   From a man they call Robin Hood\u202f!\n\n But when a little farther they came,\n   Bold Robin he chanced to spy\n A hundred head of good red deer,\n   Come tripping the sheriff full nigh.\n\n \u201cHow like you my horn\u2019d beasts, good master sheriff\u202f?\n   They be fat and fair for to see.\u201d\n \u201cI tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone,\n   For I like not thy company.\u201d\n\n Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,\n   And blew but blasts three\u202f;\n Then quickly anon there came Little John,\n   And all his company. {180}\n\n What is your will, master\u202f? then said Little John,\n   Good master, come tell unto me.\n \u201cI have brought hither the sheriff of Nottingham\n   This day to dine with thee.\u201d\n\n He is welcome to me, then said Little John,\n   I hope he will honestly pay\u202f;\n I know he has gold, if it be but well told,\n   Will serve us to drink a whole day.\n\n Then Robin took his mantle from his back,\n   And laid it upon the ground\u202f;\n And out of the sheriffs portmantle\n   He told three hundred pound.\n\n Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood,\n   And set him on his dapple gray\u202f;\n \u201cO have me commended to your wife at home\u202f:\u201d\n   So Robin went laughing away.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{181}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nVI.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE TANNER;\n\nOR,\n\nROBIN HOOD MET WITH HIS MATCH:\n\n\u201cA merry and pleasant song relating the gallant and fierce combat\nfought between Arthur Bland, a tanner of Nottingham, and Robin\nHood, the greatest and most noblest archer of England. Tune is,\nRobin Hood and the Stranger.\u201d From an old black letter copy in the\ncollection of Anthony a Wood.\n\n In Nottingham there lives a jolly tann\u00e8r,\n       _With a hey down, down, a down, down_,\n   His name is Arthur-a-Bland\u202f;\n There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire\n   Dare bid bold Arthur stand. {182}\n\n With a long pike-staff upon his should\u00e8r,\n   So well he can clear his way\u202f;\n By two and by three he makes them to flee,\n   For he hath no list to stay.\n\n And as he went forth, in a summers morning,\n   Into the \u2018forrest of merry\u2019 Sherwood,\n To view the red deer, that range here and there,\n   There met he with bold Robin Hood.\n\n As soon as bold Robin \u2018he did\u2019[293] espy,\n   He thought some sport he would make,\n Therefore out of hand he bid him to stand,\n   And thus to him \u2018he\u2019 spake\u202f:\n\n Why, what art thou, thou bold fell\u00f2w,\n   That ranges so boldly here\u202f?\n In sooth, to be brief, thou lookst like a thief,\n   That comes to steal our kings deer.\n\n For I am a keeper in this forrest,\n   The king puts me in trust\n To look to his deer, that range here and there\u202f;\n   Therefore stay thee I must.\n\n \u201cIf thou beest a keeper in this forr\u00e8st,\n   And hast such a great command,\n \u2018Yet\u2019 thou must have more partakers in store,\n   Before thou make me to stand.\u201d {183}\n\n \u201cNay, I have no more partakers in store,\n   Or any that I do not need\u202f;\n But I have a staff of another oke graff,\n   I know it will do the deed.\n\n For thy sword and thy bow I care not a straw,\n   Nor all thine arrows to boot\u202f;\n If I get a knop upon the bare scop,\n   Thou can\u2019st as well sh\u2014e as shoote.\u201d\n\n Speak cleanly, good fellow, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   And give better terms to me\u202f;\n Else Ile thee correct for thy neglect,\n   And make thee more mannerly.\n\n Marry gep with a wenion\u202f! quod Arthur-a-Bland,\n   Art thou such a goodly man\u202f?\n I care not a fig for thy looking so big,\n   Mend thou thyself where thou can.\n\n Then Robin Hood he unbuckled his belt,\n   And laid down his bow so long\u202f;\n He took up a staff of another oke graff,\n   That was both stiff and strong.\n\n Ile yield to thy weapon, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Since thou wilt not yield to mine\u202f;\n For I have a staff of another oke graff,\n   Not half a foot longer then thine. {184}\n\n But let me measure, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Before we begin our fray\u202f;\n For I\u2019le not have mine to be longer then thine,\n   For that will be counted foul play.\n\n I pass not for length, bold Arthur reply\u2019d,\n   My staff is of oke so free\u202f;\n Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf,\n   And I hope it will knock down thee.\n\n Then Robin could no longer forbear,\n   He gave him such a knock,\n Quickly and soon the blood came down,\n   Before it was ten a clock.\n\n Then Arthur he soon recovered himself,\n   And gave him such a knock on the crown,\n That from every side of bold Robin Hoods head,\n   The blood came trickling down.\n\n Then Robin raged like a wild boar,\n   As soon as he saw his own blood\u202f:\n Then Bland was in hast he laid on so fast,\n   As though he had been cleaving of wood.\n\n And about, and about, and about they went,\n   Like two wild bores in a chase,\n Striving to aim each other to maim,\n   Leg, arm, or any other place. {185}\n\n And knock for knock they lustily dealt,\n   Which held for two hours and more\u202f;\n That all the wood rang at every bang,\n   They ply\u2019d their work so sore.\n\n Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood,\n   And let thy quarrel fall\u202f;\n For here we may thrash our bones all to mesh,\n   And get no coyn at all\u202f:\n\n And in the forrest of merry Sherwood\n   Heareafter thou shalt be free.\n \u201cGod a mercy for \u2018nought,\u2019 my freedom I bought,\n   I may thank my staff, and not thee.\u201d\n\n What tradesman art thou\u202f? said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Good fellow, I prithee me show\u202f;\n And also me tell, in what place thou dost dwel\u202f:\n   For both of these fain would I know.\n\n I am a tanner, bold Arthur reply\u2019d,\n   In Nottingham long have I wrought\u202f;\n And if thou\u2019lt come there, I vow and swear,\n   I will tan thy hide for \u2018nought.\u2019\n\n God-a-mercy, good fellow, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Since thou art so kind and free\u202f;\n And if thou wilt tan my hide for \u2018nought,\u2019\n   I will do as much for thee. {186}\n\n And if thou\u2019lt forsake thy tanners trade,\n   And live in the green wood with me,\n My name\u2019s Robin Hood, I swear by the \u2018rood,\u2019\n   I will give thee both gold and fee.\n\n If thou be Robin Hood, bold Arthur reply\u2019d,\n   As I think well thou art,\n Then here\u2019s my hand, my name\u2019s Arthur-a-Bland,\n   We two will never depart.\n\n But tell me, O tell me, where is Little John\u202f?\n   Of him fain would I hear\u202f;\n For we are alide by the mothers side,\n   And he is my kinsman dear.\n\n Then Robin Hood blew on the beugle horn,\n   He blew full lowd and shrill\u202f;\n But quickly anon appear\u2019d Little John,\n   Come tripping down a green hill\u202f;\n\n O what is the matter\u202f? then said Little John,\n   Master, I pray you tell\u202f:\n Why do you stand with your staff in your hand\u202f?\n   I fear all is not well.\n\n \u201cO man I do stand, and he makes me to stand,\n   The tanner that stands thee beside\u202f;\n He is a bonny blade, and master of his trade,\n   For soundly he hath tan\u2019d my hide.\u201d {187}\n\n He is to be commended, then said Little John,\n   If such a feat he can do\u202f;\n If he be so stout, we will have a bout,\n   And he shall tan my hide too.\n\n Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood,\n   For as I do understand,\n He\u2019s a yeoman good, of thine own blood,\n   For his name is Arthur-a-Bland.\n\n Then Little John threw his staff away,\n   As far as he could it fling,\n And ran out of hand to Arthur-a-Bland,\n   And about his neck did cling.\n\n With loving respect, there was no neglect,\n   They were neither \u2018nice\u2019 nor coy,\n Each other did face with a lovely grace,\n   And both did weep for joy.\n\n Then Robin Hood took \u2018them both\u2019 by the hands,\n   And danc\u2019d round about the oke tree\u202f:\n \u201cFor three merry men, and three merry men,\n   And three merry men we be\u202f:\n\n And ever hereafter as long as we live,\n   We three will be \u2018as\u2019 one\u202f;\n The wood it shall ring, and the old wife sing,\n   Of Robin Hood, Arthur, and John.\u201d {188}\n\n[Music]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{189}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nVII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE TINKER.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the library of Anthony a Wood. The\nfull title is\u2014\n\n \u201cA new song to drive away cold winter,\n Between Robin Hood and the jovial tinker\u202f:\n     How Robin by a wile\n     The Tinker he did cheat\u202f;\n     But at the length as you shall hear\n     The Tinker did him beat\u202f;\n     Whereby the same they did then so agree,\n     They after liv\u2019d in love and unity.\n\n To the tune of, In summer time.\u201d\n\n In summer time, when leaves grow green,\n     _Down, a down, a down_.\n   And birds sing on every tree,\n     _Hey down, a down, a down_. {190}\n\n Robin Hood went to Nottingham,\n   _Down, a down, a down_.\n   As fast as hee could dree.\n       _Hey down, a down, a down_.\n\n And as hee came to Nottingham,\n   A tinker he did meet,\n And seeing him a lusty blade,\n   He did him kindly greet.\n\n Where dost thou live\u202f? quoth Robin Hood,\n   I pray thee now mee tell\u202f:\n Sad news I hear there is abroad,\n   I fear all is not well.\n\n What is that news\u202f? the tinker said,\n   Tell mee without delay\u202f:\n I am a tinker by my trade,\n   And do live at Banbur\u00e0.\n\n As for the news, quoth Robin Hood,\n   It is but as I hear,\n Two tinkers were set ith\u2019 stocks,\n   For drinking ale and \u2018beer.\u2019\n\n If that be all, the tinker he said,\n   As I may say to you,\n Your news is not worth a f\u2014t,\n   Since that they all bee true. {191}\n\n For drinking good ale and \u2018beer,\u2019\n   You will not lose your part.\n No, by my faith, quoth Robin Hood,\n   I love it with all my heart.\n\n What news abroad\u202f? quoth Robin Hood,\n   Tell me what thou dost hear\u202f:\n Seeing thou goest from town to town,\n   Some news thou need not fear.\n\n All the news I have, the tinker said,\n   I hear it is for good,\n It is to seek a bold outl\u00e0w,\n   Which they call Robin Hood.\n\n I have a warrand from the king,\n   To take him where I can\u202f;\n If you can tell me where hee is,\n   I will make you a man.\n\n The king would give a hundred pound\n   That he could but him see\u202f;\n And if wee can but now him get,\n   It will serve thee and mee.\n\n Let me see that warrant, said Robin Hood,\n   Ile see if it bee right\u202f;\n And I will do the best I can\n   For to take him this night. {192}\n\n That will I not, the tinker said,\n   None with it I will trust\u202f;\n And where hee is if you\u2019ll not tell,\n   Take him by force I must.\n\n But Robin Hood perceiving well\n   How then the game would go,\n \u201cIf you would go to Nottingham,\n   We shall find him I know.\u201d\n\n The tinker had a crab-tree staff,\n   Which was both good and strong,\n Robin hee had a good strong blade\u202f;\n   So they went both along.\n\n And when they came to Nottingham,\n   There they both tooke their inn\u202f;\n And they called for ale and wine,\n   To drink it was no sin.\n\n But ale and wine they drank so fast,\n   That the tinker hee forgot\n What thing he was about to do\u202f;\n   It fell so to his lot,\n\n That, while the tinker fell asleep,\n   \u2018Robin\u2019 made haste[294] away,\n And left the tinker in the lurch,\n   For the great shot to pay. {193}\n\n But when the tinker waken\u00e8d,\n   And saw that he was gone,\n He call\u2019d then even for his host,\n   And thus hee made his moan\u202f:\n\n I had a warrant from the king,\n   Which might have done me good,\n That is to take a bold outl\u00e0w,\n   Some call him Robin Hood\u202f:\n\n But now my warrant and mony\u2019s gone,\n   Nothing I have to pay\u202f;\n And he that promis\u2019d to be my friend,\n   He is gone and fled away.\n\n That friend you tell on, said the host,\n   They call him Robin Hood\u202f;\n And when that first hee met with you,\n   He ment you little good.\n\n \u201cHad I but known it had been hee,\n   When that I had him here,\n Th\u2019 one of us should have tri\u2019d our might\n   Which should have paid full dear.\n\n In the mean time I will away,\n   No longer here Ile bide,\n But I will go and seek him out,\n   Whatever do me betide. {194}\n\n But one thing I would gladly know,\n   What here I have to pay.\u201d\n Ten shillings just, then said the host,\n   \u201cIle pay without delay\u202f;\n\n Or elce take here my working-bag,\n   And my good hammer too\u202f;\n And if that I light but on the knave,\n   I will then soon pay you.\u201d\n\n The onely way, then said the host,\n   And not to stand in fear,\n Is to seek him among the parks,\n   Killing of the kings deer.\n\n The tinker hee then went with speed,\n   And made then no delay,\n Till he had found \u2018bold\u2019 Robin Hood,\n   That they might have a fray.\n\n At last hee spy\u2019d him in a park,\n   Hunting then of the deer.\n What knave is that, quoth Robin Hood,\n   That doth come mee so near\u202f?\n\n No knave, no knave, the tinker said,\n   And that you soon shall know\u202f;\n Whether of us hath done any wrong,\n   My crab-tree staff shall show. {195}\n\n Then Robin drew his gallant blade,\n   Made then of trusty steel\u202f:\n But the tinker he laid on so fast,\n   That he made Robin reel.\n\n Then Robins anger did arise,\n   He fought right manfully,\n Until he had made the tink\u00e8r\n   Almost then fit to fly.\n\n With that they had a bout again,\n   They ply\u2019d their weapons fast\u202f;\n The tinker threshed his bones so sore,\n   He made him yeeld at last.\n\n A boon, a boon, Robin hee cryes,\n   If thou wilt grant it mee.\n Before I do it, the tinker said,\n   Ile hang thee on this tree.\n\n But the tinker looking him about,\n   Robin his horn did blow\u202f;\n Then came unto him Little John,\n   And William Scadlock too.\n\n What is the matter, quoth Little John,\n   You sit on th\u2019 highway side\u202f?\n \u201cHere is a tinker that stands by,\n   That hath paid well my hide.\u201d {196}\n\n That tinker then, said Little John,\n   Fain that blade I would see,\n And I would try what I could do,\n   If hee\u2019l do as much for me.\n\n But Robin hee then wish\u2019d them both\n   They should the quarrel cease,\n \u201cThat henceforth wee may bee as one,\n   And ever live in peace.\n\n And for the jovial tinkers part,\n   A hundred pounds Ile give\n In th\u2019 year [for] to maintain him on,\n   As long as he doth live.\n\n In manhood he is a mettled man,\n   And a mettle man by trade\u202f;\n Never thought I that any man\n   Should have made mee so afraid.\n\n And if hee will bee one of us,\n   Wee will take all one fare\u202f;\n And whatsoever wee do get\n   He shall have his full share.\u201d\n\n So the tinker was content\n   With them to go along,\n And with them a part to take\u202f:\n   And so I end my song.\n\n{197}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nVIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND ALLIN \u2018A\u2019 DALE:\n\n\u201cOr a pleasant relation how a young gentleman, being in love with a\nyoung damsel, \u2018she\u2019 was taken from him to be an old knight\u2019s bride:\nand how Robin Hood, pittying the young man\u2019s case, took her from\nthe old knight, when they were going to be marryed, and restored\nher to her own love again. To a pleasent northern tune, Robin Hood\nin the green-wood stood.\n\n Bold Robin Hood he did the young man right,\n And took the damsel from the doting knight.\u201d\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in Major Pearson\u2019s collection.\n\n Come listen to me, you gallants so free,\n   All you that love mirth for to hear,\n And I will tell you of a bold outl\u00e0w,\n   That lived in Nottinghamshire. {198}\n\n As Robin Hood in the forest stood,\n   All under the green wood tree,\n There he was aware of a brave young man,\n   As fine as fine might be.\n\n The youngster was cloathed in scarlet red,\n   In scarlet fine and gay\u202f;\n And he did frisk it over the plain,\n   And chanted a round-de-lay.\n\n As Robin Hood next morning stood\n   Amongst the leaves so gay,\n There did [he] espy the same young man\n   Come drooping along the way.\n\n The scarlet he wore the day before\n   It was clean cast away\u202f;\n And at every step he fetcht a sigh,\n   \u201cAlack and a well a day\u202f;\u201d\n\n Then stepped forth brave Little John,\n   And \u2018Midge\u2019[295] the millers son,\n Which made the young man bend his bow,\n   When as he see them come.\n\n Stand off, stand off, the young man said,\n   What is your will with me\u202f?\n \u201cYou must come before our master straight,\n   Under yon green wood tree.\u201d {199}\n\n And when he came bold Robin before,\n   Robin askt him courteously,\n O, hast thou any money to spare\n   For my merry men and me\u202f?\n\n I have no money, the young man said,\n   But five shillings and a ring\u202f;\n And that I have kept this seven long years,\n   To have it at my wedding.\n\n Yesterday I should have married a maid,\n   But she from[296] me was tane,\n And chosen to be an old knights delight,\n   Whereby my poor heart is slain.\n\n What is thy name\u202f? then said Robin Hood,\n   Come tell me, without any fail.\n By the faith of my body, then said the young man,\n   My name it is Allin a Dale.\n\n What will thou give me, said Robin Hood,\n   In ready gold or fee,\n To help thee to thy true love again,\n   And deliver her unto thee\u202f?\n\n I have no money, then quoth the young man,\n   No ready gold nor fee,\n But I will swear upon a book\n   Thy true servant for to be. {200}\n\n \u201cHow many miles is it to thy true love\u202f?\n   Come tell me without guile.\u201d\n By the faith of my body, then said the young man,\n   It is but five little mile.\n\n Then Robin he hasted over the plain,\n   He did neither stint nor lin,\n Until he came unto the church,\n   Where Allin should keep his wedding.\n\n What hast thou here\u202f? the bishop then said,\n   I prithee now tell unto me.\n I am a bold harper, quoth Robin Hood,\n   And the best in the north country.\n\n O welcome, O welcome, the bishop he said,\n   That musick best pleaseth me.\n You shall have no musick, quoth Robin Hood,\n   Till the bride and the bridegroom I see.\n\n With that came in a wealthy knight,\n   Which was both grave and old,\n And after him a finikin lass,\n   Did shine like the glistering gold.\n\n This is not a fit match, quod bold Robin Hood,\n   That you do seem to make here,\n For since we are come into the church,\n   The bride shall chuse her own dear. {201}\n\n Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,\n   And blew blasts two or three\u202f;\n When four and twenty bowmen bold\n   Came leaping over the lee.\n\n And when they came into the church-yard,\n   Marching all on a row,\n The first man was Allin a Dale,\n   To give bold Robin his bow.\n\n This is thy true love, Robin he said,\n   Young Allin, as I hear say,\n And you shall be married at \u2018this\u2019 same time,\n   Before we depart away.\n\n That shall not be, the bishop he said,\n   For thy word shall not stand\u202f;\n They shall be three times askt in the church,\n   As the law is of our land.\n\n Robin Hood pull\u2019d off the bishops coat,\n   And put it upon Little John\u202f;\n By the faith of my body, then Robin said,\n   This \u2018cloth\u2019 does make thee a man.\n\n When Little John went into the quire,\n   The people began to laugh\u202f;\n He askt them seven times in the church,\n   Lest three times should not be enough. {202}\n\n Who gives me this maid\u202f? said Little John.\n   Quoth Robin Hood, That do I\u202f;\n And he that takes her from Allin a Dale,\n   Full dearly he shall her buy.\n\n And thus having ended this merry wedd\u00ecng,\n   The bride lookt like a queen\u202f;\n And so they return\u2019d to the merry green-wood,\n   Amongst the leaves so green.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{203}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIX.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE SHEPHERD.\n\n\u201cShewing how Robin Hood, Little John, and the Shepherd fought a\nsore combate.\n\n The shepherd fought for twenty pound, and Robin for bottle\n     and bag,\n But the shepherd stout, gave them the rout, so sore they\n     could not wag.\n Tune is, Robin Hood and Queen Katherine.\u201d\n\nFrom two old black letter copies, one of them in the collection of\nAnthony a Wood, the other in that of Thomas Pearson, Esq. At the\nhead of the former is a fine cut of Robin Hood.\n\n All gentlemen, and yeomen good,\n       _Down, a down, a down, a down,_\n   I wish you to draw near\u202f;\n For a story of gallant bold Robin Hood\n   Unto you I will declare.\n       _Down a, &c._ {204}\n\n As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along,\n   Some pastime for to spie,\n There he was aware of a jolly sheph\u00e8rd,\n   That on the ground did lie.\n\n Arise, arise, cried jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   And now come let me see\n What\u2019s in thy bag and bottle\u202f; I say,\n   Come tell it unto me.\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that to thee\u202f? thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   Tell me as I do stand\u202f:\n What hast thou to do with by bag and bottle\u202f?\n   Let me see thy command.\u201d\n\n \u201cMy sword, which hangeth by my side,\n   Is my command I know\u202f;\n Come, and let me taste of thy bottle,\n   Or it may breed thy woe.\u201d\n\n \u201cThe devil a drop, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   Of my bottle thou shalt see,\n Until thy valour here be tried,\n   Whether thou wilt fight or flee.\u201d\n\n What shall we fight for\u202f? cries Robin Hood,\n   Come tell it soon to me\u202f;\n Here is twenty pound in good red gold,\n   Win it and take it thee. {205}\n\n The shepherd stood all in a maze,\n   And knew not what to say\u202f:\n \u201cI have no money, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   But bag and bottle ile lay.\u201d\n\n \u201cI am content, thou shepherd swain,\n   Fling them down on the ground\u202f;\n But it will breed thee mickle pain,\n   To win my twenty pound.\u201d\n\n \u201cCome draw thy sword, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   Thou standest too long to prate\u202f;\n This hook of mine shall let thee know,\n   A coward I do hate.\u201d\n\n So they fell to it, full hardy and sore,\n   It was on a summers day,\n From ten till four in the afternoon\n   The shepherd held him play.\n\n Robins buckler prov\u2019d his \u2018chief\u2019[297] defence,\n   And saved him many a bang,\n For every blow the shepherd gave\n   Made Robins sword cry twang.\n\n Many a sturdie blow the shepherd gave,\n   And that bold Robin found,\n Till the blood ran trickling from his head,\n   Then he fell to the ground. {206}\n\n \u201cArise, arise, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   And thou shalt have fair play,\n If thou wilt yield before thou go,\n   That I have won the day.\u201d\n\n A boon, a boon, cry\u2019d bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   If that a man thou be,\n Then let me have my beugle horn,\n   And blow but blasts three.\n\n Then said the shepherd to bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   To that I will agree\u202f;\n \u2018For\u2019 if thou shouldst blow till to-morrow morn,\n   I scorn one foot to flee.\n\n Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth,\n   And he blew with mickle main,\n Until he espied Little John\n   Come tripping over the plain.\n\n \u201cO who is yonder, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   That comes down yonder hill\u202f?\u201d\n \u201cYonder is John, bold Robin Hoods man,\n   Shall fight with thee thy fill.\u201d\n\n What is the matter\u202f? saies Little John,\n   Master, come tell to me.\n My case is bad, cries Robin Hood,\n   For the shepherd hath conquered me. {207}\n\n I am glad of that, cries Little John\u202f:\n   Shepherd, turn thou to me\u202f;\n For a bout with thee I mean to have,\n   Either come fight or flee.\n\n \u201cWith all my heart, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   For it never shall be said\n That a shepherds hook of thy sturdy look\n   Will one jot be dismaied.\u201d\n\n So they fell to it, full hardy and sore,\n   Striving for victorie.\n Ile know, says John, ere we give o\u2019er,\n   Whether thou wilt fight or flee.\n\n The shepherd gave John a sturdie blow,\n   With his hook under the chin.\n Beshrew thy heart, said little John,\n   Thou basely dost begin.\n\n Nay, that is nothing, said the sheph\u00e8rd,\n   Either yield to me the daie,\n Or I will bang thy back and sides,\n   Before thou goest thy way.\n\n What\u202f! dost thou think, thou proud fellow,\n   That thou canst conquer me\u202f?\n Nay, thou shalt know, before thou go,\n   Ile fight before ile flee. {208}\n\n Again the shepherd laid on him,\n   \u2018Just as he first begun.\u2019\n Hold thy hand, cry\u2019d bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   I will yield the wager won.\n\n With all my heart, said Little John,\n   To that I will agree\u202f;\n For he is the flower of shepherd swains,\n   The like I did never see.\n\n Thus have you heard of Robin Hood,\n   Also of Little John\u202f;\n How a shepherd swain did conquer them\u202f:\n   The like was never known.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{209}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nX.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTALL FRYER.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood;\ncorrected by a much earlier one in the Pepysian Library, printed by\nH. Gosson, about the year 1610; compared with a later one in the\nsame collection. The full title is: \u201cThe famous battell betweene\nRobin Hood and the curtall fryer. To a New Northerne tune.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe curtail fryer,\u201d Dr. Stukeley says, \u201cis a cordelier, from the\ncord or rope which they wore round their wast, to whip themselves\nwith. They were,\u201d adds he, \u201cof the Franciscan order.\u201d Our fryer,\nhowever, is undoubtedly so called from his \u201ccurtall dogs,\u201d or curs,\nas we now say (Courtalt, F.) In fact, he is no fryer at all, but a\nmonk of Fountains Abbey, which was of the Cistercian order. {210}\n\n In summer time, when leaves grow green,\n   And flowers are fresh and gay,\n Robin Hood and his merry men\n   [They] were disposed to play.\n\n Then some would leape, and some would runne,\n   And some would use artillery\u202f:\n \u201cWhich of you can a good bow draw,\n   A good arch\u00e8r for to be\u202f?\n\n Which of you can kill a bucke,\n   Or who can kill a doe\u202f;\n Or who can kill a hart of Greece\n   Five hundreth foot him fro\u202f?\u201d\n\n Will Scadl\u00f2cke he kild a bucke\n   And Midge he kild a doe\u202f;\n And Little John kild a hart of Greece,\n   Five hundreth foot him fro.\n\n Gods blessing on thy heart, said Robin Hood,\n   That hath such a shot for me\u202f;\n I would ride my horse a hundred miles,\n   To find one could match thee.\n\n That caused Will Scadl\u00f2cke to laugh,\n   He laught full heartily\u202f:\n \u201cThere lives a curtall fryer in Fountaines-Abbey\n   Will beate both him and thee. {211}\n\n The curtall fryer in Fountaines-Abbey\n   Well can a strong bow draw,\n He will beat you and your yeom\u00e8n,\n   Set them all on a row.\u201d\n\n Robin Hood he tooke a solemne oath,\n   It was by Mary free,\n That he would neither eate nor drinke,\n   Till the fryer he did see.\n\n Robin Hood put on his harnesse good,\n   On his head a cap of steel,\n Broad sword and buckler by his side,\n   And they became him weele.\n\n He tooke his bow into his hand,\n   It was made of a trusty tree,\n With a sheafe of arrowes at his belt,\n   And to Fountaine-Dale went he.\n\n And comming unto Fountaine-Dale,\n   No farther he would ride\u202f;\n There he was aware of the curtall fryer,\n   Walking by the water side.\n\n The fryer had on a harnesse good,\n   On his head a cap of steel,\n Broad sword and buckler by his side,\n   And they became him weele. {212}\n\n Robin Hood lighted off his horse,\n   And tyed him to a thorne\u202f:\n \u201cCarry me over the water, thou curtall fryer,\n   Or else thy life\u2019s forlorne.\u201d\n\n The fryer tooke Robin Hood on his backe,\n   Deepe water he did bestride,\n And spake neither good word nor bad,\n   Till he came at the other side.\n\n Lightly leapt Robin offe the fryers backe\u202f;\n   The fryer said to him againe,\n Carry me over this water, [thou] fine fell\u00f2w,\n   Or it shall breed thy paine.\n\n Robin Hood took the fryer on his backe,\n   Deepe water he did bestride,\n And spake neither good word nor bad,\n   Till he came at the other side.\n\n Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods backe,\n   Robin Hood said to him againe,\n Carry me over this water, thou curtall fryer,\n   Or it shall breede thy pain.\n\n The fryer tooke Robin on\u2019s backe againe,\n   And stept in to the knee.\n Till he came at the middle streame,\n   Neither good nor bad spake he, {213}\n\n And comming to the middle streame,\n   There he threw Robin in\u202f:\n \u201cAnd chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fell\u00f2w,\n   Whether thou wilt sink or swim.\u201d\n\n Robin Hood swam to a bush of broome,\n   The fryer to a wigger-wand\u202f;\n Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore,\n   And took his bow in his hand.\n\n One of his best arrowes under his belt\n   To the fryer he let fly\u202f;\n The curtall fryer, with his steele buckl\u00e8r,\n   Did put that arrow by.\n\n \u201cShoot on, shoot on, thou fine fell\u00f2w,\n   Shoot as thou hast begun,\n If thou shoot here a summers day,\n   Thy marke I will not shun.\u201d\n\n Robin Hood shot passing well,\n   Till his arrows all were gane\u202f;\n They tooke their swords and steele buckl\u00e8rs,\n   They fought with might and maine,\n\n From ten o\u2019th\u2019 clock that [very] day,\n   Till four i\u2019 th\u2019 afternoon\u202f;\n Then Robin Hood came to his knees,\n   Of the fryer to beg a boone. {214}\n\n \u201cA boone, a boone, thou curtall fryer,\n   I beg it on my knee\u202f;\n Give me leave to set my horne to my mouth,\n   And to blow blasts three.\u201d\n\n That I will do, said the curtall fryer,\n   Of my blasts I have no doubt\u202f;\n I hope thoult blow so passing well,\n   Till both thy eyes fall out.\n\n Robin Hood set his horne to his mouth,\n   He blew out blasts three\u202f;\n Halfe a hundreth yeomen, with bowes bent,\n   Came raking over the lee.\n\n Whose men are these, said the fry\u00e8r,\n   That come so hastily\u202f?\n These men are mine, said Robin Hood\u202f;\n   Fryer, what is that to thee\u202f?\n\n A boone, a boone, said the curtall fryer,\n   The like I gave to thee\u202f;\n Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth,\n   And to whute whues three.\n\n That will I doe, said Robin Hood,\n   Or else I were to blame\u202f;\n Three whues in a fryers fist\n   Would make me glad and faine. {215}\n\n The fryer set his fist to his mouth,\n   And whuted whues three\u202f:\n Half a hundred good band-dogs\n   Came running over the lee.\n\n \u201cHere\u2019s for every man a dog,\n   And I myselfe for thee.\u201d\n Nay, by my faith, said Robin Hood,\n   Fryer, that may not be.\n\n Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did goe,\n   The one behind, the other before,\n Robin Hoods mantle of Lincolne greene\n   Off from his backe they tore.\n\n And whether his men shot east or west,\n   Or they shot north or south,\n The curtall dogs, so taught they were,\n   They kept \u2018the\u2019 arrows in their mouth.\n\n Take up thy dogs, said Little John,\n   Fryer, at my bidding be.\n Whose man art thou, said the curtall fryer,\n   Comes here to prate with me\u202f?\n\n \u201cI am Little John, Robin Hoods man,\n   Fryer, I will not lie\u202f;\n If thou take not up thy dogs soone,\n   I\u2019le take up them and thee.\u201d {216}\n\n Little John had a bow in his hand,\n   He shot with might and main\u202f;\n Soon halfe a score of the fryers dogs\n   Lay dead upon the plain.\n\n Hold thy hand, good fellow, said the curtall fryer,\n   Thy master and I will agree\u202f;\n And we will have new orders taken,\n   With all the hast may be.\n\n \u201cIf thou wilt forsake fair Fountaines-dale,\n   And Fountaines-Abbey free,\n Every Sunday throwout the yeere,\n   A noble shall be thy fee\u202f:\n\n And every holliday through the yeere,\n   Changed shall thy garment be,\n If thou wilt goe to faire Nottingh\u00e0m,\n   And there remaine with me.\u201d\n\n This curtall fryer had kept Fountaines-dale\n   Seven long yeeres and more,\n There was neither knight, lord, nor earle,\n   Could make him yeeld before.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{217}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXI.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE STRANGER.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\nThe title now given to this ballad is that which it seems to have\noriginally borne, having been foolishly altered to \u201cRobin Hood\nnewly revived.\u201d The circumstances attending the second part will be\nexplained in a note.\n\nThe tune is already inserted, at the end of \u201cRood Hood and the\nTanner.\u201d\n\n Come listen awhile, you gentlemen all,\n     _With a hey down, down, a down, down_,\n   That are this bower within,\n For a story of gallant bold Robin Hood,\n   I purpose now to begin. {218}\n\n What time of day\u202f? quod Robin Hood then.\n   Quoth Little John, \u2019Tis in the prime.\n \u201cWhy then we will to the green wood gang,\n   For we have no vittles to dine.\u201d\n\n As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along,\n   It was in the mid of the day,\n There he was met of a deft young man,\n   As ever walkt on the way.\n\n His doublet was of silk \u2018\u2019tis\u2019 said,\n   His stockings like scarlet shone\u202f;\n And he walked on along the way,\n   To Robin Hood then unknown.\n\n A herd of deer was in the bend,\n   All feeding before his face\u202f:\n \u201cNow the best of you ile have to my dinner,\n   And that in a little space.\u201d\n\n Now the stranger he made no mickle adoe,\n   But he bends and a right good bow,\n And the best of all the herd he slew,\n   Forty good yards him froe.[298]\n\n Well shot, well shot, quod Robin Hood then,\n   That shot it was shot in time\u202f;\n And if thou wilt accept of the place,\n   Thou shalt be a bold yeoman of mine. {219}\n\n Go play the chiven, the stranger said,\n   Make haste and quickly go,\n Or with my fist, be sure of this,\n   Ile give thee buffets sto\u2019.\n\n Thou had\u2019st not best buffet me, quod Robin Hood,\n   For though I seem forlorn,\n Yet I have those will take my part,\n   If I but blow my horn.\n\n Thou wast not best wind thy horn, the stranger said,\n   Beest thou never so much in haste,\n For I can draw out a good broad sword,\n   And quickly cut the blast.\n\n Then Robin Hood bent a very good bow,\n   To shoot, and that he would fain\u202f;\n The stranger he bent a very good bow,\n   To shoot at bold Robin again.\n\n Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, quod Robin Hood,\n   To shoot it would be in vain\u202f;\n For if we should shoot the one at the other,\n   The one of us may be slain.\n\n But let\u2019s take our swords and our broad buckl\u00e8rs,\n   And gang under yonder tree,\n As I hope to be sav\u2019d, the stranger he said,\n   One foot I will not flee. {220}\n\n Then Robin Hood lent the stranger a blow,\n   \u2019Most scar\u2019d him out of his wit\u202f:\n Thou never felt blow, the stranger he said,\n   That shall be better quit.\n\n The stranger he drew out a good broad sword,\n   And hit Robin on the crown,\n That from every haire of bold Robins head\n   The blood ran trickling down.\n\n God a mercy, good fellow\u202f! quod Robin Hood then,\n   And for this that thou hast done,\n Tell me, good fellow, what thou art,\n   Tell me where thou doest won.\n\n The stranger then answered bold Robin Hood,\n   Ile tell thee where I do dwell\u202f;\n In Maxwell town I was bred and born,\n   My name is young Gamwell.\n\n For killing of my own fathers stew\u00e0rd,\n   I am forc\u2019d to this English wood,\n And for to seek an uncle of mine,\n   Some call him Robin Hood.\n\n \u201cBut \u2018art thou\u2019 a cousin of Robin Hood then\u202f?\n   The sooner we should have done.\u201d\n As I hope to be sav\u2019d, the stranger then said,\n   I am his own sisters son. {221}\n\n But, lord\u202f! what kissing and courting was there,\n   When these two cousins did greet\u202f!\n And they went all that summers day,\n   And Little John did [not] meet.\n\n But when they met with Little John,\n   He \u2018unto them\u2019 did say,\n O master, pray where have you been,\n   You have tarried so long away\u202f?\n\n I met with a stranger, quod Robin Hood,\n   Full sore he hath beaten me.\n Then I\u2019le have a bout with him, quod Little John,\n   And try if he can beat me.\n\n Oh [no], oh no, quoth Robin Hood then,\n   Little John, it may [not] be so\u202f;\n For he is my own dear sisters son,\n   And cousins I have no mo.\n\n But he shall be a bold yeoman of mine,\n   My chief man next to thee\u202f;\n And I Robin Hood, and thou Little John,\n   And \u2018Scadlock\u2019 he shall be.\n\n And weel be three of the bravest outl\u00e0ws\n   That live in the north country,\n If \u2018you will\u2019 hear more of bold Robin Hood,\n   In \u2018the\u2019 second part it will be. {222}\n\n\n[PART THE SECOND.[299]]\n\n Now Robin Hood, Will Scadlock, and Little John,\n   Are walking over the plain,\n With a good fat buck, which Will Scadl\u00f2ck\n   With his strong bow had slain. {223}\n\n Jog on, jog on, cries Robin Hood,\n   The day it runs full fast\u202f;\n For tho\u2019 my nephew me a breakfast gave,\n   I have not yet broke my fast.\n\n Then to yonder lodge let us take our way,\n   I think it wondrous good,\n Where my nephew by my bold yeom\u00e8n\n   Shall be welcom\u2019d unto the green-wood. {224}\n\n With that he took \u2018his\u2019 bugle-horn,\n   Full well he could it blow\u202f;\n Streight from the woods came marching down\n   One hundred tall fellows and mo.\n\n Stand, stand to your arms, says Will Scadl\u00f2ck,\n   Lo\u202f! the enemies are within ken.\n With that Robin Hood he laugh\u2019d aloud,\n   Crying, They are my bold yeom\u00e8n.\n\n Who, when they arriv\u2019d, and Robin espy\u2019d,\n   Cry\u2019d, Master, what is your will\u202f?\n We thought you had in danger been,\n   Your horn did sound so shrill.\n\n Nay nay, now nay, quoth Robin Hood,\n   The danger is past and gone\u202f;\n I would have you welcome my nephew here,\n   That has paid me two for one.\n\n In feasting and sporting they passed the day,\n   Till Ph\u0153bus sunk into the deep\u202f;\n Then each one to his quarters hy\u2019d,\n   His guard there for to keep.\n\n Long had they not walked within the green-wood,\n   But Robin he soon espy\u2019d,\n A[300] beautiful damsel all alone,\n   That on a black palfrey did ride. {225}\n\n Her riding-suit was of a sable hew black,\n   Cypress over her face,\n Through which her rose-like cheeks did blush,\n   All with a comely grace.\n\n Come tell me the cause, thou pretty one,\n   Quoth Robin, and tell me aright,\n From whence thou comest, and whither thou goest,\n   All in this mournful plight\u202f?\n\n From London I came, the damsel reply\u2019d,\n   From London upon the Thames,\n Which circled is, O grief to tell\u202f!\n   Besieg\u2019d with foreign arms,\n\n By the proud prince of Arragon,\n   Who swears by his martial hand\n To have the princess to his spouse,\n   Or else to waste this land\u202f;\n\n Except such champions can be found,\n   That dare fight three to three,\n Against the prince, and giants twain,\n   Most horrid for to see\u202f;\n\n Whose grisly looks, and eyes like brands,\n   Strike terrour where they come,\n With serpents hissing on their helms,\n   Instead of feathered plume. {226}\n\n The princess shall be the victor\u2019s prize,\n   The king hath vow\u2019d and said,\n And he that shall the conquest win,\n   Shall have her to his bride.\n\n Now we are four damsels sent abroad,\n   To the east, west, north, and south,\n To try whose fortune is so good\n   To find these champions \u2018out.\u2019[301]\n\n But all in vain we have sought about,\n   For none so bold there are\n That dare adventure life and blood,\n   To free a lady fair.\n\n When is the day\u202f? quoth Robin Hood,\n   Tell me this and no more.\n On Midsummer next, the dam\u2019sel said,\n   Which is June the twenty-four.\n\n With that the tears trickled down her cheeks,\n   And silent was her tongue\u202f;\n With sighs and sobs she took her leave,\n   Away her palfrey sprung.\n\n The news struck Robin to the heart,\n   He fell down on the grass,\n His actions and his troubled mind\n   Shew\u2019d he perplexed was. {227}\n\n Where lies your grief\u202f? quoth Will \u2018Scadl\u00f2ck,\u2019\n   O, master, tell to me\u202f:\n If the damsels eyes have pierc\u2019d your heart,\n   I\u2019ll fetch her back to thee.\n\n Now nay, now nay, quoth Robin Hood,\n   She doth not cause my smart\u202f;\n But \u2019tis the poor distressed princ\u00e8ss,\n   That wounds me to the heart\u202f;\n\n I\u2019ll go fight the [prince and] giants all,\n   To set the lady free.\n The devil take my soul, quoth Little John,\n   If I part with thy company.\n\n Must I stay behind\u202f? quoth Will Scadl\u00f2ck,\n   No, no, that must not be\u202f;\n I\u2019le make the third man in the fight,\n   So we shall be three to three.\n\n These words cheer\u2019d Robin to the heart,\n   Joy shone within his face,\n Within his arms he hugg\u2019d them both,\n   And kindly did imbrace.\n\n Quoth he, We\u2019ll put on mothley grey,\n   And long staves in our hands,\n A scrip and bottle by our sides,\n   As come from the holy land. {228}\n\n So may we pass along the high-way,\n   None will ask us from whence we came,\n But take us pilgrims for to be,\n   Or else some holy men.\n\n Now they are on their journey gone,\n   As fast as they may speed,\n Yet for all their haste, ere they arriv\u2019d,\n   The princess forth was led,\n\n To be deliver\u2019d to the prince,\n   Who in the list did stand,\n Prepar\u2019d to fight, or else receive\n   His lady by the hand.\n\n With that he walk\u2019d about the lists,\n   With giants by his side\u202f:\n Bring forth, said he, your champions,\n   Or bring me forth my bride.\n\n This is the four and twentieth day,\n   The day prefixt upon\u202f:\n Bring forth my bride, or London burns,\n   I swear by \u2018Alcaron.\u2019[302] {229}\n\n Then cries the king, and queen likewise,\n   Both weeping as they \u2018spake,\u2019 {230}\n Lo\u202f! we have brought our daughter dear,\n   Whom we are forc\u2019d to forsake.\n\n With that stept out bold Robin Hood,\n   Crys, My liege, it must not be so\u202f:\n Such beauty as the fair princ\u00e8ss\n   Is not for a tyrants mow.\n\n The prince he then began to storm,\n   Cries, Fool, fanatick, baboon\u202f![303]\n How dare thou stop my valours prize\u202f?\n   I\u2019ll kill thee with a frown.\n\n Thou tyrant Turk, thou infidel,\n   Thus Robin began to reply,\n Thy frowns I scorn\u202f; lo\u202f! here\u2019s my gage,\n   And thus I thee defie.\n\n And for those two Goliahs there,\n   That stand on either side,\n Here are two little Davids by,\n   That soon can tame their pride.\n\n Then the king did for armour send,\n   For lances, swords, and shields\u202f;\n And thus all three in armour bright,\n   Came marching to the field. {231}\n\n The trumpets began to sound a charge,\n   Each singled out his man\u202f;\n Their arms in pieces soon were hew\u2019d,\n   Blood sprang from every vain.\n\n The prince he reacht Robin Hood a blow,\n   He struck with might and main,\n Which forc\u2019d him to reel about the field,\n   As though he had been slain.\n\n God-a-mercy, quoth Robin, for that blow\u202f!\n   The quarrel shall soon be try\u2019d\u202f;\n This stroke shall shew a full divorce\n   Betwixt thee and thy bride.\n\n So from his shoulders he\u2019s cut his head,\n   Which on the ground did fall,\n And grumbling sore at Robin Hood,\n   To be so dealt withal.\n\n The giants then began to rage\n   To see their prince lie dead\u202f:\n Thou\u2019s be the next, quoth Little John,\n   Unless thou well guard thy head.\n\n With that his faulchion he wherl\u2019d about,\n   It was both keen and sharp\u202f;\n He clave the giant to the belt,\n   And cut in twain his heart. {232}\n\n Will Scadlock well had play\u2019d his part,\n   The giant he had brought to his knee\u202f;\n Quoth Will, The devil cannot break his fast,\n   Unless he have you all three.\n\n So with his faulchion he run him through,\n   A deep and \u2018ghastly\u2019 wound\u202f;\n Who dam\u2019d and foam\u2019d, curst and blasphem\u2019d,\n   And then fell to the ground.\n\n Now all the lists with shouts were fill\u2019d,\n   The skies they did resound,\n Which brought the princess to herself,\n   Who had fal\u2019n in a swound.\n\n The king and queen, and princess fair,\n   Came walking to the place,\n And gave the champions many thanks,\n   And did them further grace.\n\n Tell me, quoth the king, whence you are,\n   That thus disguised came,\n Whose valour speaks that noble blood\n   Doth run through every vain.\n\n A boon, a boon, quoth Robin Hood,\n   On my knees I beg and crave.\n By my crown, quoth the king, I grant,\n   Ask what, and thou shalt have. {233}\n\n Then pardon I beg for my merry men,\n   Which are in the green-wood,\n For Little John and Will Scadlock,\n   And for me, bold Robin Hood.\n\n Art thou Robin Hood\u202f? quoth the king\u202f;\n   For the valour thou hast shewn,\n Your pardons I do freely grant,\n   And welcome every one,\n\n The princess I promise the victor\u2019s prize,\n   She cannot have you all three.\n She shall chuse, quoth Robin. Said Little John,\n   Then little share falls to me.\n\n Then did the princess view all three,\n   With a comely lovely grace,\n And took Will Scadlock by the hand,\n   Saying, Here I make my choice.\n\n With that a noble lord stept forth,\n   Of Maxfield earl was he,\n Who look\u2019d Will Scadlock in the face,\n   And wept most bitterly.\n\n Quoth he, I had a son like thee,\n   Whom I lov\u2019d wondrous well,\n But he is gone, or rather dead,\n   His name it is young Gamwell. {234}\n\n Then did Will Scadlock fall on his knees,\n   Cries, Father\u202f! father\u202f! here,\n Here kneels your son, your young Gamw\u00e8ll,\n   You said you lov\u2019d so dear.\n\n But, lord\u202f! what imbracing and kissing was there,\n   When all these friends were met\u202f!\n They are gone to the wedding, and so to [the] bedding\u202f:\n   And so I bid you good night.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{235}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND QUEEN KATHERINE.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in a private collection, compared\nwith another in that of Anthony a Wood. The full title is:\n\u201cRenowned Robin Hood; Or, His famous archery truly related in the\nworthy exploits he acted before Queen Katherine, he being an outlaw\nman; and how he obtained his own and his fellows pardon. To a new\ntune.\u201d\n\nIt is scarcely worth observing that there was no queen-consort\nnamed KATHERINE before Henry the Fifth\u2019s time; but as Henry the\nEighth had no less than three wives so called, the name would be\nsufficiently familiar to our ballad-maker.\n\n Gold tane from the kings harbengers,\n     _Downe, a downe, a downe_,\n   As seldome hath beene seene,\n     _Downe, a downe, a downe_,\n And carried by bold Robin Hood\n   For a present to the queene,\n     _Downe, a downe, a downe_. {236}\n\n If that I live a yeare to an end,\n   Thus gan queene Katherine say,\n Bold Robin Hood, I will be thy friend,\n   And all thy yeomen gay.\n\n The queene is to her chamber gone,\n   As fast as she can wen\u202f;\n She calls unto her lovely page,\n   His name was Richard Patrington.\n\n \u201cCome thou hither to mee, thou lovely page,\n   Come thou hither to mee\u202f;\n For thou must post to Nottingham.\n   As fast as thou can dree\u202f;\n\n And as thou goest to Nottingham,\n   Search all the English wood,\n Enquire of one good yeoman or another,\n   That can tell thee of Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n Sometimes hee went, sometimes hee ran,\n   As fast as hee could win\u202f;\n And when hee came to Nottingham,\n   There hee tooke up his inne.\n\n And when he came to Nottingham,\n   And had tooke up his inne,\n He cals for a pottle of Rhenish wine,\n   And dranke a health to his queene. {237}\n\n There sate a yeoman by his side,\n   Tell mee, sweet page, said hee,\n What is thy businesse and the cause,\n   So far in the north countrey\u202f?\n\n This is my businesse and the cause,\n   Sir, I\u2019le tell it you for good,\n To enquire of one good yeoman or another,\n   To tell mee of Robin Hood.\n\n \u201cIle get my horse betimes in the morne,\n   By it be break of day,\n And I will shew thee bold Robin Hood,\n   And all his yeomen gay.\u201d\n\n When that he came at Robin Hoods place,\n   Hee fell down on his knee\u202f:\n \u201cQueen Katherine she doth greet you well,\n   She greets you well by mee\u202f;\n\n She bids you post to fair London court,\n   Not fearing any thing\u202f;\n For there shall be a little sport,\n   And she hath sent you her ring.\u201d\n\n Robin Hood tooke his mantle from his back,\n   It was of the Lincolne greene,\n And sent it by this lovely page,\n   For a present unto the queene. {238}\n\n In summer time, when leaves grow green,\n   It\u2019s a seemely sight to see,\n How Robin Hood himselfe had drest,\n   And all his yeomandry.\n\n He clothed his men in Lincolne greene,\n   And himselfe in scarlet red\u202f;\n Blacke hats, white feathers, all alike,\n   Now bold Robin Hood is rid\u202f:\n\n And when hee came at Londons court,\n   Hee fell downe on his knee.\n Thou art welcome, Locksly, said the queen,\n   And all thy good \u2018yeomandree.\u2019\n\n The king is into Finsbury field[304]\n   Marching in battle-ray,\n And after follows bold Robin Hood,\n   And all his yeomen gay. {239}\n\n Come hither, Tepus, said the king,\n   Bow-bearer after mee\u202f;\n Come measure me out with this line,\n   How long our mark must be.\n\n What is the wager\u202f? said the queene,\n   That must I now know here.\n \u201cThree hundred tun of Rhenish wine,\n   Three hundred tun of beere\u202f;\n\n Three hundred of the fattest harts\n   That run on Dallom-lee.\u201d[305]\n That\u2019s a princely wager, said the king,\n   That needs must I tell thee. {240}\n\n With that bespake one Clifton then,\n   Full quickly and full soone,\n Measure no markes for us, most soveraigne liege,\n   Wee\u2019l shoot at sun and moone.\n\n \u201cFull fifteene score your marke shall be,\n   Full fifteene score shall stand.\u201d\n Ile lay my bow, said Clifton then,\n   Ile cleave the willow wand.\n\n With that the kings archers led about,\n   While it was three, and none\u202f;\n With that the ladies began to shout,\n   \u201cMadam, your game is gone.\u201d\n\n A boone, a boone, queene Katherine cries,\n   I crave it on my bare knee\u202f;\n Is there any knight of your privy couns\u00e8l\n   Of queen Katherines part will be\u202f?\n\n Come hither to mee, sir Richard Lee,\n   Thou art a knight full good\u202f;\n For I do knowe by thy pedigree\n   Thou sprung\u2019st from Gowers blood.\n\n Come hither to me, thou bishop of Herefordshire\u202f:\n   For a noble priest was hee.\n By my silver miter, said the bishop then,\n   Ile not bet one peny. {241}\n\n The king hath archers of his own,\n   Full ready and full light,\n And these be strangers every one,\n   No man knowes what they hight.\n\n What wilt thou bet\u202f? said Robin Hood,\n   Thou seest our game the worse.\n By my silver miter, then said the bishop,\n   All the money within my purse.\n\n What is in thy purse\u202f? said Robin Hood,\n   Throw it downe on the ground.\n Fifteen score nobles, said the bishop\u202f;\n   It\u2019s neere an hundred pound.[306]\n\n Robin Hood took his bagge from his side,\n   And threw it downe on the greene\u202f:\n William Scadlocke then went smiling away,\n   \u201cI know who this money must win.\u201d\n\n With that the kings archers led about,\n   While it was three and three\u202f;\n With that the ladies gave a shout,\n   \u201cWoodcock, beware thy knee\u202f!\u201d {242}\n\n It is three and three, now, said the king,\n   The next three pays for all.\n Robin Hood went and whisper\u2019d the queen,\n   The kings part shall be but small.\n\n Robin Hood hee led about,\n   Hee shot it under hand\u202f;\n And Clifton with a bearing arrow,\n   Hee clave the willow wand.\n\n And little Midge, the millers son,\n   Hee shot not much the worse\u202f;\n He shot within a finger of the prick\u202f:\n   \u201cNow, bishop, beware thy purse\u202f!\u201d\n\n A boone, a boone, queene Katherine cries,\n   I crave \u2018it\u2019 on my bare knee,\n That you will angry be with none\n   That are of my partie.\n\n \u201cThey shall have forty daies to come,\n   And forty daies to goe,\n And three times forty to sport and play\u202f;\n   Then welcome friend or foe.\u201d\n\n Thou art welcome, Robin Hood, said the queene,\n   And so is Little John,\n And so is Midge, the millers son\u202f;\n   Thrice welcome every one. {243}\n\n Is this Robin Hood\u202f? now said the king,\n   For it was told to me\n That he was slain in the palace gates,\n   So far in the north country.\n\n Is this Robin Hood\u202f? quoth the bishop then,\n   As \u2018it seems\u2019[307] well to be\u202f:\n Had I knowne \u2018it\u2019 had been that bold outl\u00e0w,\n   I would not [have] bet one peny.\n\n Hee tooke me late one Saturday at night,\n   And bound mee fast to a tree,\n And made mee sing a masse, God wot,\n   To him and his \u2018yeomandree.\u2019\n\n What, an if I did, saies Robin Hood,\n   Of that masse I was faine\u202f;\n For recompence of that, he saies,\n   Here\u2019s halfe thy gold againe.\n\n Now nay, now nay, saies Little John,\n   Master, that shall not be\u202f;\n We must give gifts to the kings offic\u00e8rs\u202f;\n   That gold will serve thee and mee.\n\n{244}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S CHASE:\n\n\u201cOr, a merry progress between Robin Hood and King Henry: Shewing\nhow Robin Hood led the king his chase from London to London; and\nwhen he had taken his leave of the queen, he returned to merry\nSherwood. To the tune of Robin Hood and the Beggar.\u201d\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\n\n Come, you gallants all, to you I do call,\n     _With hey down, down, an a down_,\n   That now \u2018are\u2019 in this place\u202f;\n For a song I will sing of Henry the king,\n   How he did Robin Hood chase. {245}\n\n Queen Katherin she a match did[308] make,\n   As plainly doth appear,\n For three hundred tun of good red wine,\n   And three [hundred] tun of beere.\n\n But yet her archers she had to seek,\n   With their bows and arrows so good\u202f;\n But her mind it was bent with a good intent,\n   To send for bold Robin Hood.\n\n But when bold Robin he came there,\n   Queen Katherin she did say,\n Thou art welcome, Locksley, said the queen,\n   And all thy yeomen gay.\n\n For a match of shooting I have made,\n   And thou on my part must be.\n \u201cIf I miss the mark, be it light or dark,\n   Then hanged I will be.\u201d\n\n But when the game came to be played,\n   Bold Robin he then drew nigh,\n With his mantle of green, most brave to be seen,\n   He let his arrows fly.\n\n And when the game it ended was,\n   Bold Robin wan it with a grace\u202f;\n But after the king was angry with him,\n   And vowed he would him chace. {246}\n\n What though his pardon granted was,\n   While he with him did stay\u202f;\n But yet the king was vexed at him,\n   When as he was gone his way.\n\n Soon after the king from the court did hye,\n   In a furious angry mood,\n And often enquired both far and near\n   After bold Robin Hood.\n\n But when the king to Nottingham came,\n   Bold Robin was in the wood\u202f:\n O, come now, said he, and let me see\n   Who can find me bold Robin Hood.\n\n But when that bold Robin he did hear\n   The king had him in chase,\n Then said Little John, \u2019Tis time to be gone,\n   And go to some other place.\n\n And away they went from merry Sherwood,\n   And into Yorkshire he did hye\u202f;\n And the king did follow, with a hoop and a hallow,\n   But could not come him nigh.\n\n Yet jolly Robin he passed along,\n   \u2018And went strait\u2019 to Newcastle town\u202f;\n And there \u2018he\u2019 stayed hours two or three,\n   And \u2018then\u2019 to Barwick \u2018is\u2019[309] gone. {247}\n\n When the king did see how Robin did flee,\n   He was vexed wondrous sore\u202f;\n With a hoop and a hallow he vowed to follow,\n   And take him, or never give ore.\n\n Come now let\u2019s away, then crys Little John,\n   Let any man follow that dare\u202f;\n To Carlisle we\u2019l hye, with our company,\n   And so then to Lancast\u00e8r.\n\n From Lancaster then to Chester they went,\n   And so did king Henry\u202f;\n But Robin [went] away, for he durst not stay,\n   For fear of some treachery.\n\n Says Robin, Come let us for London goe,\n   To see our noble queens face,\n It may be she wants our company,\n   Which makes the king so us chase.\n\n When Robin he came queene Katherin before,\n   He fell low upon his knee\u202f:\n \u201cIf it please your grace, I am come to this place\n   For to speak with king Henry.\u201d\n\n Queen Katherine answered bold Robin[310] again,\n   The king is gone to merry Sherwood\u202f;\n And when he went away to me he did say,\n   He would go and seek Robin Hood. {248}\n\n \u201cThen fare you well, my gracious queen,\n   For to Sherwood I will hye apace\u202f;\n For fain would I see what he would with me,\n   If I could but meet with his grace.\u201d\n\n But when king Henry he came home,\n   Full weary, and vexed in mind,\n And that he did hear Robin had been there,\n   He blamed dame Fortune unkind.\n\n You\u2019re welcome home, \u2018queen\u2019 Katherin cryed,\n   Henry, my soveraign liege\u202f;\n Bold Robin Hood, that archer good,\n   Your person hath been to seek.\n\n But when king Henry he did \u2018hear,\u2019\n   That Robin had been there him to seeke,\n This answer he gave, He\u2019s a cunning knave,\n   For I have sought him this whole three weeks.\n\n A boon\u202f! a boon\u202f! \u2018queen\u2019 Katherin cry\u2019d,\n   I beg it here \u2018of\u2019 your grace,\n To pardon his life, and seek not strife\u202f:\n   And so endeth Robin Hoods chase.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{249}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXIV.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S GOLDEN PRIZE.\n\n    \u201cHe met two priests upon the way,\n     And forced them with him to pray;\n     For gold they prayed, and gold they had,\n     Enough to make bold Robin glad;\n     His share came to four hundred pound,\n     That then was told upon the ground.\n     Now mark, and you shall hear the jest,\n     You never heard the like exprest.\n\n Tune is, Robin Hood was a tall young man, &c.\u201d\n\nThis ballad (given from an old black letter copy in the collection\nof Anthony a Wood) was entered (amongst others) in the Stationers\u2019\nbook, by Francis Coule, 13th June 1631, and by Francis Grove, 2d\nJune 1656.\n\n I have heard talk of Robin Hood,\n     _Derry, derry down_,\n   And of brave Little John,\n Of fryer Tuck, and Will Scarl\u00e8t,\n   Loxley, and maid Mari\u00f2n. {250}\n\n But such a tale as this before\n   I think was never knone\u202f:\n For Robin Hood disguised himself,\n   And \u2018from\u2019[311] the wood is gone.\n\n Like to a fryer bold Robin Hood\n   Was accoutered in his array\u202f;\n With hood, gown, beeds, and crucifix,\n   He past upon the way.\n\n He had not gone miles two or three,\n   But it was his chance to spy\n Two lusty priests, clad all in black,\n   Come riding gallantly.\n\n _Benedicite_, then said Robin Hood,\n   Some pitty on me take\u202f;\n Cross you my hand with a silver groat,\n   For our dear ladies sake.\n\n For I have been wandring all this day,\n   And nothing could I get\u202f;\n Not so much as one poor cup of drink,\n   Nor bit of bread to eat.\n\n Now, by our holy dame, the priests repli\u2019d,\n   We never a peny have\u202f;\n For we this morning have been rob\u2019d,\n   And could no money save. {251}\n\n I am much afraid, said bold Robin Hood,\n   That you both do tell a lie\u202f;\n And now before you do go hence,\n   I am resolv\u2019d to try.\n\n When as the priests heard him say so,\n   Then they rode away amain\u202f;\n But Robin Hood betook to his heels,\n   And soon overtook them again.\n\n Then Robin Hood laid hold of them both,\n   And pull\u2019d them down from their horse\u202f:\n O spare us, fryer\u202f! the priests cry\u2019d out,\n   On us have some remorse\u202f!\n\n You said you had no mony, quoth he,\n   Wherefore, without delay,\n We three will fall down on our knees,\n   And for mony we will pray.\n\n The priests they could not him gainsay,\n   But down they kneeled with speed\u202f:\n Send us, O send us, then quoth they,\n   Some mony to serve our need.\n\n The priests did pray with a mournful chear,\n   Sometimes their hands did wring\u202f;\n Sometimes they wept, and cried aloud,\n   Whilst Robin did merrily sing. {252}\n\n When they had been praying an hours space,\n   The priests did still lament\u202f;\n Then quoth bold Robin, Now let\u2019s see\n   What mony heaven hath us sent.\n\n We will be sharers all alike\n   Of [the] mony that we have\u202f;\n And there is never a one of us\n   That his fellow shall deceive.\n\n The priests their hands in their pockets put,\n   But mony would find none\u202f:\n We\u2019l search ourselves, said Robin Hood,\n   Each other, one by one.\n\n Then Robin[312] took pains to search them both,\n   And he found good store of gold,\n Five hundred peeces presently\n   Upon the grass was told.\n\n Here is a brave show, said Robin Hood,\n   Such store of gold to see,\n And you shall each one have a part,\n   Cause you prayed so heartily.\n\n He gave them fifty pounds a-peece,\n   And the rest for himself did keep\u202f:\n The priests [they] durst not speak one word,\n   But they sighed wondrous deep.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE FRIARS.]\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND THE FRIARS]\n\n{253}\n\n With that the priests rose up from their knees,\n   Thinking to have parted so\u202f:\n Nay, nay, says Robin Hood, one thing more\n   I have to say ere you go.\n\n You shall be sworn, said bold Robin Hood,\n   Upon this holy grass,\n That you will never tell lies again,\n   Which way soever you pass.\n\n The second oath that you here must take,\n   That all the days of your lives,\n You shall never tempt maids to sin,\n   Nor lie with other mens wives.\n\n The last oath you shall take, it is this,\n   Be charitable to the poor\u202f;\n Say, you have met with a holy fryar,\n   And I desire no more.\n\n He set them on their horses again,\n   And away then they did ride\u202f;\n And he return\u2019d to the merry green-wood,\n   With great joy, mirth, and pride.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{254}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXV.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S RESCUING WILL STUTLY.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\nThe full title is: \u201cRobin Hood his rescuing Will Stutly from the\nsheriff and his men, who had taken him prisoner, and was going to\nhang him. To the tune of Robin Hood and Queen Katherine.\u201d[313]\n\n When Robin Hood in the green wood liv\u2019d,\n     _Derry, derry down_,\n   Under the green wood tree,\n Tidings there came to him with speed,\n   Tidings for certainty\u202f;\n     _Hey down, derry, derry down_\u202f; {255}\n\n That Will Stutly surprized was,\n   And eke in prison lay\u202f;\n Three varlets that the sheriff had hired,\n   Did likely him betray\u202f:\n\n \u201cI, and to-morrow hanged must be,\n   To-morrow as soon as it is day\u202f;\n Before they could this victory get,\n   Two of them did Stutly slay.\u201d\n\n When Robin Hood he heard this news,\n   Lord\u202f! he was grieved sore\u202f;\n And to his merry men he did say,\n   (Who altogether swore),\n\n That Will Stutly should rescued be,\n   And be brought \u2018back\u2019 again\u202f;\n Or else should many a gallant wight\n   For his sake there be slain.\n\n He cloathed himself in scarlet \u2018red,\u2019\n   His men were all in green\u202f;\n A finer shew, throughout the world,\n   In no place could be seen.\n\n Good lord\u202f! it was a gallant sight\n   To see them all on a row\u202f;\n With every man a good broad sword,\n   And eke a good yew bow. {256}\n\n Forth of the green wood are they gone,\n   Yea all couragiously,\n Resolving to bring Stutly home,\n   Or every man to die.\n\n And when they came the castle neer,\n   Whereas Will Stutly lay,\n I hold it good, saith Robin Hood,\n   Wee here in ambush stay,\n\n And send one forth some news to hear,\n   To yonder palmer fair,\n That stands under the castle wall,\n   Some news he may declare.\n\n With that steps forth a brave young man,\n   Which was of courage bold,\n Thus did hee speak to the old man\u202f:\n   I pray thee, palmer old,\n\n Tell me, if that thou rightly ken,\n   When must Will Stutly die,\n Who is one of bold Robin\u2019s men,\n   And here doth prisoner lie\u202f?\n\n Alack\u202f! alass\u202f! the palmer said,\n   And for ever wo is me\u202f!\n Will Stutly hanged must be this day,\n   On yonder gallows-tree. {257}\n\n O had his noble master known,\n   He would some succour send\u202f;\n A few of his bold yeomandree\n   Full soon would fetch him hence.\n\n I, that is true, the young man said\u202f;\n   I, that is true, said he\u202f;\n Or, if they were neer to this place,\n   They soon would set him free.\n\n But fare \u2018thee\u2019 well, thou good old man,\n   Farewell, and thanks to thee\u202f;\n If Stutly hanged be this day,\n   Reveng\u2019d his death will be.\n\n Hee was no sooner from the palmer gone,\n   But the gates \u2018were\u2019 open\u2019d wide,\n And out of the castle Will Stutly came,\n   Guarded on every side.\n\n When hee was forth of the castle come,\n   And saw no help was nigh,\n Thus he did say to the sher\u00ecff,\n   Thus he said gallantly\u202f:\n\n Now seeing that I needs must die,\n   Grant me one boon, said he,\n For my noble master nere had a man,\n   That yet was hang\u2019d on the tree. {258}\n\n Give me a sword all in my hand,\n   And let mee be unbound,\n And with thee and thy men Ile fight,\n   Till I lie dead on the ground.\n\n But his desire he would not grant,\n   His wishes were in vain\u202f;\n For the sheriff had sworn he hanged should be,\n   And not by the sword be slain.\n\n Do but unbind my hands, he saies,\n   I will no weapons crave,\n And if I hanged be this day,\n   Damnation let me have.\n\n O no, O no, the sheriff said,\n   Thou shalt on the gallows die,\n I, and so shall thy master too,\n   If ever in me it lie.\n\n O, dastard coward\u202f! Stutly cries,\n   Thou faint-heart pesant slave\u202f!\n If ever my master do thee meet,\n   Thou shalt thy paiment have.\n\n My noble master \u2018doth thee\u2019 scorn,\n   And all thy \u2018coward\u2019 crew\u202f;\n Such silly imps unable are,\n   Bold Robin to subdue. {259}\n\n But when he was to the gallows come,\n   And ready to bid adiew,\n Out of a bush leaps Little John,\n   And comes Will Stutly \u2018to\u2019\u202f:\n\n \u201cI pray thee, Will, before thou die,\n   Of thy dear friends take leave\u202f:\u2014\n I needs must borrow him for a while,\n   How say you, master \u2018shrieve\u2019\u202f?\u201d\n\n Now, as I live, the sheriff he said,\n   That varlet will I know\u202f;\n Some sturdy rebell is that same,\n   Therefore let him not go.\n\n Then Little John most hastily,\n   Away cut Stutly\u2019s bands,\n And from one of the \u2018sheriffs\u2019 men,\n   A sword twicht from his hands.\n\n \u201cHere, Will, here, take thou this same,\n   Thou canst it better sway\u202f;\n And here defend thyself awhile,\n   For aid will come straightway.\u201d\n\n And there they turn\u2019d them back to back,\n   In the middle of them that day,\n Till Robin Hood approached near,\n   With many an archer gay. {260}\n\n With that an arrow by them flew,\n   I wist from Robin Hood\u202f;\n Make haste, make haste, the sheriff he said,\n   Make haste, for it is good.\n\n The sheriff is gon, his \u2018doughty\u2019[314] men\n   Thought it no boot to stay,\n But, as their master had them taught,\n   \u2018They\u2019 run full fast away.\n\n O stay, O stay, Will Stutly said,\n   Take leave ere you depart\u202f;\n You neere will catch bold Robin Hood,\n   Unless you dare him meet.\n\n O ill betide you, quoth Robin Hood,\n   That you so soon are gone\u202f;\n My sword may in the scabbord rest,\n   For here our work is done.\n\n I little thought, \u2018Will Stutly said,\u2019[315]\n   When I came to this place,\n For to have met with Little John,\n   Or seen my masters face.\n\n Thus Stutly was at liberty set,\n   And safe brought from his foe\u202f:\n \u201cO thanks, O thanks to my mast\u00e8r,\n   Since here it was not so\u202f: {261}\n\n And once again, my fellows [all],\n   We shall in the green woods meet,\n Where we [will] make our bow-strings twang,\n   Musick for us most sweet.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{262}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXVI.\n\nTHE NOBLE FISHER-MAN;\n\nOR,\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S PREFERMENT:\n\n\u201cShewing how he won a prize on the sea, and how he gave the one\nhalfe to his dame, and the other to the building of almes-houses.\nThe tune is, In summer time, &c.\u201d\n\nFrom three old black letter copies, one in the collection of\nAnthony a Wood, another in the British Museum, and the third in a\nprivate collection.\n\n In summer-time, when leaves grow green,\n   When they doe grow both green and long,\u2014\n Of a bold outlaw, call\u2019d Robin Hood,\n   It is of him I sing this song,\u2014 {263}\n\n When the lilly leafe, and the \u2018eglantine,\u2019\n   Doth bud and spring with a merry cheere,\n This outlaw was weary of the wood-side,\n   And chasing of the fallow-deere.\n\n \u201cThe fisher-men brave more mony have\n   Than any merchants two or three\u202f;\n Therefore I will to Scarborough go,\n   That I a fisherman brave may be.\u201d\n\n This outlaw called his merry men all,\n   As they sate under the green-wood tree\u202f:\n \u201cIf any of you have gold to spend,\n   I pray you heartily spend it with me.\u201d\n\n Now, quoth Robin Hood, Ile to Scarborough go,\n   It seems to be a very faire day.\n \u2018He\u2019 tooke up his inne at a widdow-womans house,\n   Hard by upon the water gray\u202f:\n\n Who asked of him, Where wert thou borne\u202f?\n   Or tell to me where dost thou fare\u202f?\n I am a poor fisherman, said he then,\n   This day intrapped all in care.\n\n \u201cWhat is thy name, thou fine fell\u00f2w,\n   I pray thee heartily tell it to mee\u202f?\u201d\n \u201cIn my own country, where I was borne,\n   Men call me Simon over the Lee.\u201d {264}\n\n Simon, Simon, said the good-wife,\n   I wish thou mayest well brook thy name.\n The out-law was ware of her courtesie,\n   And rejoyced he had got such a dame.\n\n \u201cSimon, wilt thou be my man\u202f?\n   And good round wages Ile give thee\u202f;\n I have as good a ship of my own,\n   As any sails upon the sea\u202f:\n\n Anchors and planks thou shalt not want,\n   Masts and ropes that are so long.\u201d\n And if you thus do furnish me,\n   Said Simon, nothing shall goe wrong.\n\n They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,\n   More of a day then two or three\u202f;\n When others cast in their baited hooks,\n   The bare lines into the sea cast he.\n\n It will be long, said the master then,\n   Ere this great lubber do thrive on the sea\u202f;\n I\u2019le assure you he shall have no part of our fish,\n   For in truth he is no part worthy.\n\n O woe is me\u202f! said Simon then,\n   This day that ever I came here\u202f!\n I wish I were in Plompton parke,\n   In chasing of the fallow deere. {265}\n\n For every clowne laughs me to scorne,\n   And they by me set nought at all\u202f;\n If I had them in Plompton park,\n   I would set as little by them all.\n\n They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,\n   More of a day then two or three\u202f:\n But Simon espyed a ship of warre,\n   That sayled towards them most valorously.\n\n O woe is me\u202f! said the master then,\n   This day that ever I was borne\u202f!\n For all our fish we have got to day,\n   Is every bit lost and forlorne.\n\n For your French robbers on the sea,\n   They will not spare of us one man,\n But carry us to the coast of France,\n   And ligge us in the prison strong.\n\n But Simon said, Doe not feare them,\n   Neither, mast\u00e8r, take you no care\u202f;\n Give me my bent bow in my hand,\n   And never a Frenchman will I spare.\n\n \u201cHold thy peace, thou long lubb\u00e8r,\n   For thou art nought but brags and boast\u202f;\n If I should cast thee over-board,\n   There\u2019s but a simple lubber lost.\u201d {266}\n\n Simon grew angry at these words,\n   And so angry then was he,\n That he took his bent bow in his hand,\n   And in the ship-hatch goe doth he.\n\n Master, tye me to the mast, saith he,\n   That at my mark I may stand fair,\n And give me my bent bow in my hand,\n   And never a Frenchman will I spare.\n\n He drew his arrow to the very head,\n   And drew it with all might and maine,\n And straightway in the twinkling of an eye,\n   \u2018To\u2019 the Frenchmans heart the \u2018arrow\u2019s gane.\u2019[316]\n\n The Frenchman fell down on the ship-hatch,\n   And under the hatches \u2018there\u2019 below\u202f;\n Another Frenchman, that him espy\u2019d,\n   The dead corpse into the sea doth throw.\n\n O master, loose me from the mast, he said,\n   And for them all take you no care\u202f;\n For give me my bent bow in my hand,\n   And never a Frenchman will I spare.\n\n Then streight [they] boarded the French ship,\n   They lyeing all dead in their sight\u202f;\n They found within \u2018that\u2019 ship of warre,\n   Twelve thousand pound of mony bright. {267}\n\n The one halfe of the ship, said Simon then,\n   Ile give to my dame and [her] children small\u202f;\n The other halfe of the ship Ile bestow\n   On you that are my fellowes all.\n\n But now bespake the master then,\n   For so, Simon, it shall not be,\n For you have won it with your own hand,\n   And the owner of it you shall bee.\n\n \u201cIt shall be so, as I have said\u202f;\n   And, with this gold, for the opprest\n An habitation I will build,\n   Where they shall live in peace and rest.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{268}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXVII.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S DELIGHT:\n\n\u201cOr, a merry combat fought between Robin Hood, Little John, and\nWill Scarelock, and three stout Keepers in Sheerwood Forrest.\n\n Robin was valiant and stout,\n   So was Scarelock and John in the field,\n But these Keepers stout did give them rout,\n   And made them all for to yield.\n But after the battel ended was,\n   Bold Robin did make them amends,\n For claret and sack they did not lack,\n   So drank themselves good friends.\n\nTo the tune of, Robin Hood and Queen Katherine; or, Robin Hood and\nthe Shepheard.\u201d\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\n{269}\n\n There\u2019s some will talk of lords and knights,\n     _Doun, a doun, a doun_,\n   And some of yeomen good\u202f;\n But I will tell you of Will Scarl\u00f2ck,\n   Little John, and Robin Hood.\n     _Doun, a doun, a doun, a doun._\n\n They were outlaws, \u2019tis well known,\n   And men of a noble blood\u202f;\n And many a time was their valour shown\n   In the forrest of merry Sheerwood.\n\n Upon a time it chanced so,\n   As Robin[317] would have it be,\n They all three would a walking go,\n   The pastime for to see.\n\n And as they walked the forest along,\n   Upon a Midsummer day,\n There was they aware of three keep\u00e8rs,\n   Clad all in green aray.\n\n With brave long faucheons by their sides\n   And forrest-bills in hand,\n They call\u2019d aloud to those bold outl\u00e0ws,\n   And charged them to stand. {270}\n\n Why, who are you, cry\u2019d bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   That \u2018speak\u2019 so boldly here\u202f?\n \u201cWe three belong to King Henry,\n   And are keepers of his deer.\u201d\n\n The devil \u2018you are\u202f!\u2019 sayes Robin Hood,\n   I am sure that it is not so\u202f;\n We be the keepers of this forr\u00e8st,\n   And that you soon shall know.\n\n Come, your coats of green lay on the ground,\n   And so will we all three,\n And take your swords and bucklers round,\n   And try the victory.\n\n We be content, the keepers said,\n   We be three, and you no less,\n Then why should we be of you afraid,\n   \u2018As\u2019 we never did transgress\u202f?\n\n \u201cWhy, if you be three keepers in this forr\u00e8st,\n   Then we be three rangers good,\n And will make you know before you do go,\n   You meet with bold Robin Hood.\u201d\n\n \u201cWe be content, thou bold outl\u00e0w,\n   Our valour here to try,\n And will make you know, before we do go,\n   We will fight before we will fly. {271}\n\n Then, come draw your swords, you bold outl\u00e0ws,\n   No longer stand to prate,\n But let us try it out with blows,\n   For cowards we do hate.\n\n Here is one of us for Will Scarl\u00f2ck,\n   And another for Little John,\n And I myself for Robin Hood,\n   Because he is stout and strong.\u201d\n\n So they fell to it hard and sore,\n   It was on a Midsummers day\u202f;\n From eight of the clock till two and past,\n   They all shewed gallant play.\n\n There Robin, and Will, and Little John,\n   They fought most manfully,\n Till all their winde was spent and gone,\n   Then Robin aloud did cry\u202f:\n\n O hold, O hold, cries bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   I see you be stout men\u202f;\n Let me blow one blast on my bugle-horn,\n   Then Ile fight with you again.\n\n \u201cThat bargain\u2019s to make, bold Robin Hood,\n   Therefore we it deny\u202f;\n Thy blast upon the bugle-horn\n   Cannot make us fight or fly. {272}\n\n Therefore fall on, or else be gone,\n   And yield to us the day\u202f:\n It never shall be said that we are afraid\n   Of thee, nor thy yeomen gay.\u201d\n\n If that be so, cries bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   Let me but know your names,\n And in the forrest of merry Sheerwood,\n   I shall extol your fames.\n\n And with our names, one of them said,\n   What hast thou here to do\u202f?\n Except that you wilt fight it out,\n   Our names thou shalt not know.\n\n We will fight no more, sayes bold Rob\u00ecn,\n   You be men of valour stout\u202f;\n Come and go with me to Nottingham,\n   And there we will fight it out.\n\n With a but of sack we will bang it \u2018about,\u2019\n   To see who wins the day\u202f;\n And for the cost make you no doubt,\n   I have gold \u2018enough\u2019 to pay.\n\n And ever hereafter so long as we live,\n   We all will brethren be\u202f;\n For I love these men with heart and hand,\n   That will fight and never flee. {273}\n\n So, away they went to Nottingh\u00e0m,\n   With sack to make amends\u202f;\n For three days they the wine did chase,\n   And drank themselves good friends.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{274}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR.\n\n\u201cShewing how Robin Hood and the Beggar fought, and how he changed\ncloaths with the Beggar, and how he went a begging to Nottingham;\nand how he saved three brethren from being hang\u2019d for stealing of\ndeer. To the tune of Robin Hood and the Stranger.\u201d\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood.\n\n Come and listen, you gentlemen all,\n     _Hey down, down, an a down_,\n   That mirth do love for to hear,\n And a story true Ile tell unto you,\n   If that you will but draw near. {275}\n\n In elder times, when merriment was,\n   And archery was holden good,\n There was an outl\u00e0w, as many \u2018do\u2019 know,\n   Which men called Robin Hood.\n\n Upon a time it chanced so,\n   Bold Robin was merry disposed,\n His time for to spend he did intend\n   Either with friends or foes.\n\n Then he got upon a gallant brave steed,\n   The which was worth angels ten,\n With a mantle of green, most brave to be seen,\n   He left all his merry men.\n\n And riding towards Nottingham,\n   Some pastime for to \u2019spy,\n There was he aware of a jolly begg\u00e0r,\n   As ere he beheld with his eye.\n\n An old pacht coat the beggar had on,\n   Which he daily did use to wear\u202f;\n And many a bag about him did wag,\n   Which made Robin[318] to him repair.\n\n God speed, God speed, said Robin Hood,\n   What countryman\u202f? tell to me.\n \u201cI am Yorkshire, sir\u202f; but, ere you go far,\n   Some charity give unto me.\u201d {276}\n\n Why, what wouldst thou have\u202f? said Robin Hood,\n   I pray thee tell unto me.\n No lands nor livings, the beggar he said,\n   But a penny for charitie.\n\n I have no money, said Robin Hood then,\n   But a ranger within the wood\u202f;\n I am an outlaw, as many do know,\n   My name it is Robin Hood.\n\n But yet I must tell the, bonny begg\u00e0r,\n   That a bout with [thee] I must try\u202f;\n Thy coat of grey, lay down I say,\n   And my mantle of green shall lye by.\n\n Content, content, the beggar he cry\u2019d,\n   Thy part it will be the worse\u202f;\n For I hope this bout to give thee the rout,\n   And then have at thy purse.\n\n So the beggar he had a mickle long staffe,\n   And Robin[319] a nut-brown sword\u202f;\n So the beggar drew nigh, and at Robin let fly,\n   But gave him never a word.\n\n Fight on, fight on, said Robin Hood then,\n   This game well pleaseth me.\n For every blow that Robin gave,\n   The beggar gave buffets three. {277}\n\n And fighting there full hard and sore,\n   Not far from Nottingham town,\n They never fled, till from Robin Hoods head\n   The blood came trickling down.\n\n O, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood then,\n   And thou and I will agree.\n If that be true, the beggar he said,\n   Thy mantle come give unto me.\n\n Now a change, a change, cri\u2019d Robin Hood,\n   Thy bags and coat give me\u202f;\n And this mantle of mine Ile to thee resign,\n   My horse and my braverie.\n\n When Robin[320] had got the beggars clothes,\n   He looked round about\u202f;\n Methinks, said he, I seem to be\n   A beggar brave and stout.\n\n For now I have a bag for my bread,\n   So I have another for corn\u202f;\n I have one for salt, and another for malt,\n   And one for my little horn.\n\n And now I will a begging goe,\n   Some charitie for to find.\n And if any more of Robin you\u2019ll know,\n   In \u2018the\u2019 second part \u2019tis behind. {278}\n\n Now Robin he is to Nottingham bound,\n   With his bag hanging down to his knee,\n His staff, and his coat, scarce worth a groat,\n   Yet merrilie passed he.\n\n As Robin he passed the streets along,\n   He heard a pittiful cry\u202f;\n Three brethren dear, as he did hear,\n   Condemned were to dye.\n\n Then Robin he highed to the sheriffs [house],\n   Some reliefe for to seek\u202f;\n He skipt, and leapt, and capered full high,\n   As he went along the street.\n\n But when to the sheriffs doore he came,\n   There a gentleman fine and brave,\n Thou beggar, said he, come tell unto me\n   What it is thou wouldest have.\n\n No meat, nor drink, said Robin Hood then,\n   That I come here to crave\u202f;\n But to get the lives of yeomen three,\n   And that I fain would have.\n\n That cannot be, thou bold begg\u00e0r,\n   Their fact it is so clear\u202f;\n I tell to thee, they hanged must be,\n   For stealing of our king\u2019s deer. {279}\n\n But when to the gallows they did come,\n   There was many a weeping eye\u202f:\n O, hold your peace, said Robin Hood then,\n   For certain \u2018they shall\u2019 not dye.\n\n Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth,\n   And he blew out blastes three,\n Till a hundred bold archers brave\n   Came kneeling down to his knee.\n\n What is your will, mast\u00e8r\u202f? they said,\n   We are at your command.\n Shoot east, shoot west, said Robin Hood then,\n   And see you spare no man.\n\n Then they shot east, and they shot west,\n   Their arrows were so keen\u202f;\n The sheriffe he, and his companie,\n   No longer \u2018could\u2019 be seen.\n\n Then he stept to those brethren three,\n   And away he has them tane\u202f;\n The sheriffe was crost, and many a man lost,\n   That dead lay on the plain.\n\n And away they went into the merry green wood,\n   And sung with a merry glee\u202f;\n And Robin Hood took these brethren good\n   To be of his yeomandrie.\n\n{280}\n\n[Illustration]\n\nXIX.\n\nLITTLE JOHN AND THE FOUR BEGGARS.\n\nFrom an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood:\nthe full title being, \u201cA new merry song of Robin Hood and Little\nJohn, shewing how Little John went a begging, and how he fought\nwith the four beggers, and what a prize he got of the four beggers.\nThe tune is, Robin Hood and the Begger.\u201d\n\n All you that delight to spend some time,\n     _With a hey down, down, a down, down_,\n   A merry song for to sing,\n Unto me draw neer, and you shall hear\n   How Little John went a begg\u00ecng. {281}\n\n As Robin Hood walked the forest along,\n   And all his yeomandree.\n Sayes Robin, Some of you must a begging go,\n   And, Little John, it must be thee.\n\n Sayes John, If I must a begging go,\n   I will have a palmer\u2019s weed,\n With a staff and a coat, and bags of all sort,\n   The better then I may speed.\n\n Come, give me now a bag for my bread,\n   And another for my cheese,\n And one for a peny, when as I get any,\n   That nothing I may leese.\n\n Now Little John he is a begging gone,\n   Seeking for some relief\u202f;\n But of all the beggers he met on the way,\n   Little John he was the chief.\n\n But as he was walking himself alone,\n   Four beggers he chanced to spy,\n Some deaf, and some blind, and some came behind\u202f;\n   Sayes John, Heres a brave company.\n\n Good-morrow, said John, my brethren dear,\n   Good fortune I had you to see\u202f;\n Which way do you go\u202f? pray let me know,\n   For I want some company. {282}\n\n O\u202f! what is here to do\u202f? then said Little John\u202f:\n   Why ring all these bells\u202f? said he\u202f;\n What dog is a hanging\u202f? Come, let us be ganging,\n   That we the truth may see.\n\n Here is no dog a hanging, then one of them said,\n   Good fellow, we tell unto thee\u202f;\n But here is one dead, that will give us cheese and bread,\n   And it may be one single penny,\n\n We have brethren in London, another he said,\n   So have we in Coventry,\n In Barwick and Dover, and all the world over,\n   But ne\u2019er a crookt carril like thee.\n\n Therefore stand thee back, thou crooked car\u00e8l,\n   And take that knock on the crown.\n Nay, said Little John, Ile not yet be gone,\n   For a bout will I have of you round.\n\n Now have at you all, then said Little John,\n   If you be so full of your blows\u202f;\n Fight on all four, and nere give ore,\n   Whether you be friends or foes.\n\n John nipped the dumb, and made him to rore,\n   And the blind \u2018he made to\u2019[321] see\u202f;\n And he that a cripple had been seven years,\n   He made run then faster than he. {283}\n\n And flinging them all against the wall,\n   With many a sturdie bang,\n It made John sing, to hear the gold ring,\n   Which again the walls cryed twang.\n\n Then he got out of the beggers cloak,\n   Three hundred pound in gold,\n Good fortune had I, then said Little John,\n   Such a good sight to behold.\n\n But what found he in the beggar\u2019s bag\n   But three hundred pound and three\u202f?\n \u201cIf I drink water while this doth last,\n   Then an ill death may I dye\u202f:\n\n And my begging trade I will now give ore,\n   My fortune hath bin so good\u202f;\n Therefore Ile not stay, but I will away,\n   To the forrest of merry Sherwood.\u201d\n\n And when to the forrest of Sherwood he came,\n   He quickly there did see\n His master good, bold Robin Hood,\n   And all his company.\n\n What news\u202f? What news\u202f? then said Robin Hood,\n   Come, Little John, tell unto me\u202f;\n How hast thou sped with thy beggers trade\u202f?\n   For that I fain would see. {284}\n\n No news but good, said Little John,\n   With begging ful wel I have sped\u202f;\n Six hundred and three I have here for thee,\n   In silver and gold so red.\n\n \u2018Then\u2019 Robin Hood took Little John by the hand,\n   And danced about the oak tree\u202f:\n \u201cIf we drink water while this doth last,\n   Then an il death may we die.\u201d\n\n So to conclude my merry new song,\n   All you that delight it to sing\u202f;\n \u2019Tis of Robin Hood, that archer good,\n   And how Little John went a begg\u00ecng.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{285}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXX.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER:\n\nOR,\n\nTRUE FRIENDSHIP AFTER A FIERCE FIGHT.\n\nNo ancient copy of this ballad having been met with, it is given\nfrom an edition of \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s Garland,\u201d printed some years since\nat York. The tune is Arthur a Bland.\n\n When Ph\u0153bus had melted the \u2018sickles\u2019 of ice,\n       _With a hey down, &c._\n   And likewise the mountains of snow,\n Bold Robin Hood he would ramble away,\n   To frolick abroad with his bow. {286}\n\n He left all his merry men waiting behind,\n   Whilst through the green vallies he pass\u2019d,\n Where he did behold a forester bold,\n   Who cry\u2019d out, Friend, whither so fast\u202f?\n\n I am going, quoth Robin, to kill a fat buck,\n   For me and my merry men all\u202f;\n Besides, ere I go, I\u2019ll have a fat doe,\n   Or else it shall cost me a fall.\n\n You\u2019d best have a care, said the forester then,\n   For these are his majesty\u2019s deer\u202f;\n Before you shall shoot, the thing I\u2019ll dispute,\n   For I am head forester here.\n\n These thirteen long summers, quoth Robin, I\u2019m sure,\n   My arrows I here have let fly,\n Where freely I range\u202f; methinks it is strange\n   You should have more power than I.\n\n This forest, quoth Robin, I think is my own,\n   And so are the nimble deer too\u202f;\n Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear,\n   I\u2019ll not be affronted by you.\n\n The forester he had a long quarter-staff,\n   Likewise a broad sword by his side\u202f;\n Without more ado, he presently drew\n   Declaring the truth should be try\u2019d. {287}\n\n Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best,\n   Thus, ere he would take any wrong,\n His courage was flush, he\u2019d venture a brush,\n   And thus they fell to it ding dong.\n\n The very first blow that the forester gave,\n   He made his broad weapon cry twang\u202f;\n \u2019Twas over the head, he fell down for dead,\n   O that was a damnable bang\u202f!\n\n But Robin he soon recovered himself,\n   And bravely fell to it again\u202f;\n The very next stroke their weapons they broke,\n   Yet never a man there was slain.\n\n At quarter-staff then they resolved to play,\n   Because they would have the other bout\u202f;\n And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood,\n   Unwilling he was to give out.\n\n Bold Robin he gave him very hard blows,\n   The other return\u2019d them as fast\u202f;\n At every stroke their jackets did smoke\u202f;\n   Three hours the combat did last\n\n At length in a rage the forester grew,\n   And cudgel\u2019d bold Robin so sore,\n That he could not stand, so shaking his hand,\n   He cry\u2019d, Let us freely give o\u2019er. {288}\n\n Thou art a brave fellow, I needs must confess\n   I never knew any so good\u202f;\n Thou art fitting to be a yeoman for me,\n   And range in the merry green wood.\n\n I\u2019ll give thee this ring as a token of love,\n   For bravely thou hast acted thy part\u202f;\n That man that can fight, in him I delight,\n   And love him with all my whole heart.\n\n Robin Hood set his bugle-horn to his mouth,\n   A blast then he merrily blows\u202f;\n His yeomen did hear, and strait did appear\n   A hundred with trusty long bows.\n\n Now Little John came at the head of them all,\n   Cloath\u2019d in a rich mantle of green\u202f;\n And likewise the rest were gloriously drest,\n   A delicate sight to be seen\u202f!\n\n Lo\u202f! these are my yeomen, said bold Robin Hood,\n   And thou shalt be one of the train\u202f:\n A mantle and bow, and quiver also,\n   I give them whom I entertain.\n\n The forester willingly enter\u2019d the list,\n   They were such a beautiful sight\u202f;\n Then with a long bow they shot a fat doe,\n   And made a rich supper that night. {289}\n\n What singing and dancing was in the green wood,\n   For joy of another new mate\u202f!\n With might and delight they spent all the night,\n   And liv\u2019d at a plentiful rate.\n\n   The forester ne\u2019er was so merry before,\n As then he was with these brave souls,\n   Who never would fail, in wine, beer, or ale,\n To take off their cherishing bowls.\n\n Then Robin Hood gave him a mantle of green,\n   Broad arrows, and curious long bow\u202f:\n This done, the next day, so gallant and gay,\n   He marched them all on a row.\n\n Quoth he, My brave yeomen, be true to your trust,\n   And then we may range the woods wide.\n They all did declare, and solemnly swear,\n   They would conquer, or die by his side.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{290}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXI.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN:\n\n\u201cBeing an account of their first meeting, their fierce encounter,\nand conquest. To which is added, their friendly agreement; and how\nhe came to be called Little John. Tune of Arthur a Bland.\u201d\n\nThis ballad is named in a schedule of such things under an\nagreement between W. Thackeray and others in 1689 (Col. Pepys. vol.\n5), but is here given as corrected from a copy in the \u201cCollection\nof Old Ballads,\u201d 1723.\n\nThe notion that Little John obtained this appellation, ironically,\nfrom his superior stature, though doubtless ill-founded, is of\nconsiderable antiquity. See \u201cNotes and Illustrations to the Life,\u201d\np. cxvi.\n\n When Robin Hood was about twenty years old,\n     _With a hey down, down, and a down_\u202f;\n   He happen\u2019d to meet Little John,\n A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade,\n   For he was a lusty young man. {291}\n\n Tho\u2019 he was call\u2019d Little, his limbs they were large,\n   And his stature was seven foot high\u202f;\n Whereever he came, they quak\u2019d at his name,\n   For soon he would make them to fly.\n\n How they came acquainted, I\u2019ll tell you in brief,\n   If you would but listen awhile\u202f;\n For this very jest, among all the rest,\n   I think it may cause you to smile.\n\n For Robin Hood said to his jolly bowm\u00e8n,\n   Pray tarry you here in this grove\u202f;\n And see that you all observe well my call,\n   While thorough the forest I rove.\n\n We have had no sport for these fourteen long days,\n   Therefore now abroad will I go\u202f;\n Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat,\n   My horn I will presently blow.\n\n Then did he shake hands with his merry men all,\n   And bid them at present good b\u2019 w\u2019ye\u202f:\n Then, as near the brook his journey he took,\n   A stranger he chanc\u2019d to espy.\n\n They happen\u2019d to meet on a long narrow bridge,\n   And neither of them would give way\u202f;\n Quoth bold Robin Hood, and sturdily stood,\n   I\u2019ll shew you right Nottingham-play. {292}\n\n With that from his quiver an arrow he drew,\n   A broad arrow with a goose-wing.\n The stranger reply\u2019d, I\u2019ll liquor thy hide,\n   If thou offer to touch the string.\n\n Quoth bold Robin Hood, Thou dost prate like an ass,\n   For were I to bend but my bow,\n I could send a dart, quite thro\u2019 thy proud heart,\n   Before thou could\u2019st strike me one blow.\n\n Thou talk\u2019st like a coward, the stranger reply\u2019d\u202f;\n   Well arm\u2019d with a long bow you stand,\n To shoot at my breast, while I, I protest,\n   Have nought but a staff in my hand.\n\n The name of a coward, quoth Robin, I scorn,\n   Therefore my long bow I\u2019ll lay by\u202f;\n And now, for thy sake, a staff will I take,\n   The truth of thy manhood to try.\n\n Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees,\n   And chose him a staff of ground oak\u202f;\n Now this being done, away he did run\n   To the stranger, and merrily spoke\u202f:\n\n Lo\u202f! see my staff is lusty and tough,\n   Now here on the bridge we will play\u202f;\n Whoever falls in, the other shall win\n   The battle, and so we\u2019ll away. {293}\n\n With all my whole heart, the stranger reply\u2019d,\n   I scorn in the least to give out\u202f;\n This said, they fell to\u2019t without more dispute,\n   And their staffs they did flourish about.\n\n At first Robin he gave the stranger a bang,\n   So hard that he made his bones ring\u202f:\n The stranger he said, This must be repaid,\n   I\u2019ll give you as good as you bring.\n\n So long as I am able to handle a staff,\n   To die in your debt, friend, I scorn.\n Then to it each goes, and follow\u2019d their blows,\n   As if they\u2019d been threshing of corn.\n\n The stranger gave Robin a crack on the crown,\n   Which caused the blood to appear\u202f;\n Then Robin enrag\u2019d, more fiercely engag\u2019d,\n   And follow\u2019d his blows more severe.\n\n So thick and so fast did he lay it on him,\n   With a passionate fury and ire\u202f;\n At every stroke he made him to smoke,\n   As if he had been all on fire.\n\n O then into fury the stranger he grew,\n   And gave him a damnable look,\n And with it a blow that laid him full low,\n   And tumbl\u2019d him into the brook. {294}\n\n I prithee, good fellow, O where art thou now\u202f?\n   The stranger, in laughter, he cry\u2019d.\n Quoth bold Robin Hood, Good faith, in the flood,\n   And floating along with the tide.\n\n I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul,\n   With thee I\u2019ll no longer contend\u202f;\n For needs must I say, thou hast got the day,\n   Our battel shall be at an end.\n\n Then unto the bank he did presently wade,\n   And pull\u2019d himself out by a thorn\u202f;\n Which done, at the last he blow\u2019d a loud blast\n   Straitway on his fine bugle-horn\u202f:\n\n The eccho of which through the vallies did fly,\n   At which his stout bowmen appear\u2019d,\n All cloathed in green, most gay to be seen,\n   So up to their master they steer\u2019d.\n\n O, what\u2019s the matter\u202f? quoth William Stutely,\n   Good master, you are wet to the skin.\n No matter, quoth he, the lad which you see\n   In fighting hath tumbl\u2019d me in.\n\n He shall not go scot-free, the others reply\u2019d\u202f;\n   So strait they were seizing him there,\n To duck him likewise\u202f: but Robin Hood cries,\n   He is a stout fellow\u202f; forbear. {295}\n\n There\u2019s no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid\u202f;\n   These bowmen upon me do wait\u202f;\n There\u2019s threescore and nine\u202f; if thou wilt be mine,\n   Thou shalt have my livery strait,\n\n And other accoutrements fit for a man\u202f;\n   Speak up, jolly blade, never fear\u202f:\n I\u2019ll teach you also the use of the bow,\n   To shoot at the fat fallow deer.\n\n O, here is my hand, the stranger reply\u2019d,\n   I\u2019ll serve you with all my whole heart\u202f;\n My name is John Little, a man of good mettle\u202f;\n   Ne\u2019re doubt me, for I\u2019ll play my part.\n\n His name shall be alter\u2019d, quoth William Stutely,\n   And I will his godfather be\u202f;\n Prepare then a feast, and none of the least,\n   For we will be merry, quoth he.\n\n They presently fetch\u2019d him a brace of fat does,\n   With humming strong liquor likewise\u202f;\n They lov\u2019d what was good\u202f; so, in the green wood,\n   This pretty sweet babe they baptize.\n\n He was, I must tell you, but seven foot high,\n   And, may be, an ell in the waste\u202f;\n A sweet pretty lad\u202f: much feasting they had\u202f;\n   Bold Robin the christ\u2019ning grac\u2019d, {296}\n\n With all his bowmen, which stood in a ring,\n   And were of the Nottingham breed\u202f;\n Brave Stutely came then, with seven yeom\u00e8n,\n   And did in this manner proceed\u202f:\n\n This infant was called John Little, quoth he\u202f;\n   Which name shall be changed anon\u202f:\n The words we\u2019ll transpose\u202f; so whereever he goes,\n   His name shall be call\u2019d Little John.\n\n They all with a shout made the elements ring\u202f;\n   So soon as the office was ore,\n To feasting they went, with true merriment,\n   And tippl\u2019d strong liquor gillore.\n\n Then Robin he took the pretty sweet babe,\n   And cloath\u2019d him from top to the toe,\n In garments of green, most gay to be seen,\n   And gave him a curious long bow.\n\n \u201cThou shalt be an archer, as well as the best,\n   And range in the green wood with us\u202f;\n Where we\u2019ll not want gold nor silver, behold,\n   While bishops have ought in their purse.\n\n We live here like \u2018squires, or lords of renown,\n   Without ere a foot of free land\u202f;\n We feast on good cheer, with wine, ale, and beer,\n   And ev\u2019ry thing at our command.\u201d {297}\n\n Then musick and dancing did finish the day\u202f;\n   At length, when the sun waxed low,\n Then all the whole train the grove did refrain,\n   And unto their caves they did go.\n\n And so, ever after, as long as he liv\u2019d,\n   Altho\u2019 he was proper and tall,\n Yet, nevertheless, the truth to express,\n   Still Little John they did him call.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{298}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD.\n\nThis excellent ballad, given from the common edition of\nAldermary-church-yard (compared with the York copy), is supposed to\nbe modern; the story, however, seems alluded to in the ballad of\n\u201cRenowned Robin Hood.\u201d The full title is \u201cThe Bishop of Hereford\u2019s\nentertainment by Robin Hood and Little John, &c. in merry\nBarnsdale.\u201d The tune is added from an engraved sheet.\n\n Some they will talk of bold Robin Hood,\n   And some of barons bold\u202f;\n But I\u2019ll tell you how he serv\u2019d the bishop of Heref\u00f2rd,\n   When he robb\u2019d him of his gold. {299}\n\n As it befel, in merry Barnsdale,\n   \u2018All\u2019 under the green-wood-tree,\n The bishop of Hereford was to come by,\n   With all his company.\n\n Come, kill [me] a ven\u2019son, said bold Robin Hood,\n   Come, kill me a good fat deer,\n The bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day,\n   And he shall pay well for his cheer.\n\n We\u2019ll kill a fat ven\u2019son, said bold Robin Hood,\n   And dress it by the highway side\u202f;\n And we will watch the bishop narrowly,\n   Lest some other way he should ride.\n\n Robin Hood dress\u2019d himself in shepherd\u2019s attire,\n   With six of his men also\u202f;\n And, when the bishop of Hereford came by,\n   They about the fire did go.\n\n O what is the matter\u202f? then said the bish\u00f2p,\n   Or for whom do you make this a-do\u202f?\n Or why do you kill the king\u2019s ven\u2019son,\n   When your company is so few\u202f?\n\n We are sheph\u00e8rds, said bold Robin Hood,\n   And we keep sheep all the year,\n And we are disposed to be merry this day,\n   And to kill of the king\u2019s fat deer. {300}\n\n You are brave fellows\u202f! said the bish\u00f2p,\n   And the king of your doings shall know\u202f:\n Therefore make haste, and come along with me,\n   For before the king you shall go.\n\n O pardon, O pardon, said bold Robin Hood,\n   O pardon, I thee pray\u202f;\n For it becomes not your lordships coat\n   To take so many lives away.\n\n No pardon, no pardon, said the bish\u00f2p,\n   No pardon I thee owe\u202f;\n Therefore make haste, and come along with me,\n   For before the king you shall go.\n\n Then Robin set his back against a tree,\n   And his foot against a thorn,\n And from underneath his shepherds coat\n   He pull\u2019d out a bugle-horn.\n\n He put the little end to his mouth,\n   And a loud blast did he blow,\n Till threescore and ten of bold Robin\u2019s men\n   Came running all on a row\u202f;\n\n All making obeysance to bold Robin Hood\u202f;\n   \u2019Twas a comely sight for to see.\n What is the matter, master, said Little John,\n   That you blow so hastily\u202f? {301}\n\n \u201cO here is the bishop of Heref\u00f2rd,\n   And no pardon we shall have.\u201d\n Cut off his head, master, said Little John,\n   And throw him into his grave.\n\n O pardon, O pardon, said the bish\u00f2p,\n   O pardon I thee pray\u202f;\n For if I had known it had been you,\n   I\u2019d have gone some other way.\n\n No pardon, no pardon, said bold Robin Hood,\n   No pardon I thee owe\u202f;\n Therefore make haste, and come along with me,\n   For to merry Barnsdale you shall go.\n\n Then Robin he took the bishop by the hand,\n   And led him to merry Barnsdale\u202f;\n He made him to stay and sup with him that night,\n   And to drink wine, beer, and ale.\n\n Call in a reckoning, said the bish\u00f2p,\n   For methinks it grows wond\u2019rous high.\n Lend me your purse, master, said Little John,\n   And I\u2019ll tell you bye and bye.\n\n Then Little John took the bishop\u2019s cloak,\n   And spread it upon the ground,\n And out of the bishop\u2019s portmantua\n   He told three hundred pound. {302}\n\n Here\u2019s money enough, master, said Little John,\n   And a comely sight \u2019tis to see\u202f;\n It makes me in charity with the bish\u00f2p,\n   Tho\u2019 he heartily loveth not me.\n\n Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand,\n   And he caused the music to play\u202f;\n And he made the [old] bishop to dance in his boots,\n   And glad he could so get away.\n\n[Music]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{303}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD RESCUING THE WIDOW\u2019S THREE SONS FROM THE SHERIFF WHEN\nGOING TO BE EXECUTED.\n\nThis ballad, from the York edition of \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s Garland,\u201d is\nprobably one of the oldest extant of which he is the subject. In\nthe more common editions is a modernised copy, in which the \u201csilly\nold woman\u201d is converted into \u201ca gay lady;\u201d but even this is more\nancient than many of the pieces here inserted, and is entitled, by\nits merit, to a place in the Appendix.\n\nThe circumstance of Robin\u2019s changing clothes with the palmer is,\npossibly, taken from an old romance intitled \u201cThe noble hystory\nof the moost excellent and myghty prynce and hygh renowmed knyght\nkynge Ponthus of Galyce and of lytell Brytayne, Enprynted at London\nin Flete strete at the sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de Worde, In\nthe yere of our lorde god, M.CCCCC.XI.,\u201d 4to, b. l., sig. I. 6:\n\u201cAnd as he [Ponthus] rode he met with a poore palmer beggynge his\nbrede the whiche had his gowne all to clouted and an olde pylled\nhatte, so he alyght and sayd to the palmer, frende we shall make a\nchaunge of all our garmentes, for {304} ye shall have my gowne and\nI shall have yours and your hatte. A syr sayd the palmer ye bourde\nyou with me. In good fayth sayd Ponthus I do not, so he dyspoyled\nhym and cladde hym with all his rayment, and he put vpon hym the\npoore mannes gowne, his gyrdell, his hosyn, his shone, his hatte,\nand his bourden.\u201d\n\n There are twelve months in all the year,\n   As I hear many say,\n But the merriest month in all the year\n   Is the merry month of May.\n\n Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone\n   With a link a down, and a day,\n And there he met a silly old woman\n   Was weeping on the way.\n\n \u201cWhat news\u202f? what news\u202f? thou silly old woman,\n   What news hast thou for me\u202f?\u201d\n Said she, There\u2019s three squires in Nottingham town,\n   To-day \u2018are\u2019[322] condemned to die.\n\n Oh, have they parishes burnt\u202f? he said,\n   Or have they ministers slain\u202f?\n Or have they robbed any virg\u00ecn\u202f?\n   Or with other men\u2019s wives have lain\u202f?\n\n \u201cThey have no parishes burnt, good sir,\n   Nor yet have ministers slain,\n Nor have they robbed any virg\u00ecn,\n   Nor with other men\u2019s wives have lain.\u201d {305}\n\n Oh, what have they done\u202f? said Robin Hood,\n   I pray thee tell to me.\n \u201cIt\u2019s for slaying of the kings fallow deer,\n   Bearing their long bows with thee.\u201d\n\n Dost thou not mind, old woman, he said,\n   Since thou made me sup and dine\u202f?\n By the truth of my body, quoth bold Robin Hood,\n   You could not tell it in better time.\n\n Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,\n   With a link, a down, and a \u2018day,\u2019[323]\n And there he met with a silly old palmer,\n   Was walking along the highway.\n\n \u201cWhat news\u202f? what news\u202f? thou silly old man,\n   What news, I do thee pray\u202f?\u201d\n Said he, Three squires in Nottingham town,\n   Are condemn\u2019d to die this day.\n\n \u201cCome change thy apparel with me, old man,\n   Come change thy apparel for mine\u202f;\n Here is forty shillings in good silv\u00e8r,\n   Go drink it in beer or wine.\u201d\n\n Oh, thine apparel is good, he said,\n   And mine is ragged and torn\u202f;\n Wherever you go, wherever you ride,\n   Laugh ne\u2019er an old man to scorn. {306}\n\n \u201cCome change thy apparel with me, old churl,\n   Come change thy apparel with mine\u202f;\n Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold,\n   Go feast thy brethren with wine.\u201d\n\n Then he put on the old man\u2019s hat,\n   It stood full high on the crown\u202f;\n \u201cThe first bold bargain that I come at,\n   It shall make thee come down.\u201d\n\n Then he put on the old man\u2019s cloak,\n   Was patch\u2019d black, blew, and red\u202f;\n He thought it no shame, all the day long,\n   To wear the bags of bread.\n\n Then he put on the old man\u2019s breeks,\n   Was patch\u2019d from ballup to side\u202f:\n By the truth of my body, bold Robin can say,\n   This man lov\u2019d little pride.\n\n Then he put on the old man\u2019s hose,\n   Were patch\u2019d from knee to wrist\u202f:\n By the truth of my body, said bold Robin Hood,\n   I\u2019d laugh if I had any list.\n\n Then he put on the old man\u2019s shoes,\n   Were patch\u2019d both beneath and aboon\u202f;\n Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,\n   It\u2019s good habit that makes a man. {307}\n\n Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,\n   With a link a down and a down,\n And there he met with the proud sher\u00ecff,\n   Was walking along the town.\n\n Oh \u2018Christ you\u2019 save, oh, sheriff, he said,[324]\n   Oh \u2018Christ you save and\u2019 see\u202f;\n And what will you give to a silly old man\n   To-day will your hangman be\u202f?\n\n Some suits, some suits, the sheriff he said,\n   Some suits, I\u2019ll give to thee\u202f;\n Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,\n   To-day\u2019s a hangman\u2019s fee.\n\n Then Robin he turns him round about,\n   And jumps from stock to stone\u202f:\n By the truth of my body, the sheriff he said,\n   That\u2019s well jumpt, thou nimble old man.\n\n I was ne\u2019er a hangman in all my life,\n   Nor yet intends to trade\u202f;\n But curst be he, said bold Robin,\n   That first a hangman was made.\n\n I\u2019ve a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,\n   And a bag for barley and corn\u202f;\n A bag for bread, and a bag for beef,\n   And a bag for my little small horn. {308}\n\n I have a horn in my pock\u00e8t.\n   I got it from Robin Hood,\n And still when I set it to my mouth,\n   For \u2018thee\u2019[325] it blows little good.\n\n \u201cOh, wind thy horn, thou proud fell\u00f2w,\n   Of thee I have no doubt\u202f;\n I wish that thou give such a blast,\n   Till both thy eyes fall out.\u201d\n\n The first loud blast that he did blow,\n   He blew both loud and shrill\u202f;\n A hundred and fifty of Robin Hoods men\n   Came riding over the hill.\n\n The next loud blast that he did give,\n   He blew both loud and amain,\n And quickly sixty of Robin Hoods men,\n   Came shining over the plain.\n\n Oh, who are \u2018those,\u2019 the sheriff he said,\n   Come tripping over the lee\u202f?\n They\u2019re my attendants, brave Robin did say,\n   They\u2019ll pay a visit to thee.\n\n They took the gallows from the slack,\n   They set it in the glen,\n They hang\u2019d the proud sher\u00ecff on that,\n   Releas\u2019d their own three men.\n\n{309}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN.\n\nThis ballad, which has never been inserted in any of the\npublications intitled \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s Garland\u201d (and, perhaps, was\nnot worth inserting here), is given from an old black letter copy\nin the collection of Anthony a Wood. Its full title is, \u201cA famous\nbattle between Robin Hood and Maid Marian; declaring their love,\nlife, and liberty. Tune, Robin Hood Reviv\u2019d\u201d (see before, p. 217).\n\n A bonny fine maid of a noble degree,\n     _With a hey down, down, a down, down_,\n   Maid Marian call\u2019d by name,\n Did live in the North, of excellent worth,\n   For shee was a gallant dame. {310}\n\n For favour and face, and beauty most rare,\n   Queen Hellen shee did excell\u202f:\n For Marian then was prais\u2019d of all men,\n   That did in the country dwell.\n\n \u2019Twas neither Rosamond nor Jane Shore,\n   Whose beauty was clear and bright,\n That could surpass this country lass,\n   Beloved of lord and knight.\n\n The earl of Huntington, nobly born,\n   That came of noble blood,\n To Marian went, with a good intent,\n   By the name of Robin Hood.\n\n With kisses sweet their red lips did meet,\n   For she and the earl did agree\u202f;\n In every place, they kindly embrace,\n   With love and sweet unity.\n\n But fortune bearing these lovers a spight,\n   That soon they were forced to part\u202f:\n To the merry green wood then went Robin Hood,\n   With a sad and sorrowfull heart.\n\n And Marian, poor soul, was troubled in mind,\n   For the absence of her friend\u202f;\n With finger in eye, shee often did cry,\n   And his person did much comend. {311}\n\n Perplexed and vexed, and troubled in mind,\n   Shee drest herself like a page,\n And ranged the wood, to find Robin Hood,\n   The bravest of men in that age.\n\n With quiver and bow, sword, buckler, and all,\n   Thus armed was Marian most bold,\n Still wandering about to find Robin out,\n   Whose person was better then gold.\n\n But Robin Hood, hee himself had disguis\u2019d,\n   And Marian was strangly attir\u2019d,\n That they prov\u2019d foes, and so fell to blowes,\n   Whose vallour bold Robin admir\u2019d.\n\n They drew out their swords, and to cutting they went,\n   At least an hour or more,\n That the blood ran apace from bold Robins face,\n   And Marian was wounded sore.\n\n O hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood,\n   And thou shalt be one of my string,\n To range in the wood with bold Robin Hood,\n   And hear the sweet nightingall sing.\n\n When Marian did hear the voice of her love,\n   Herself shee did quickly discover,\n And with kisses sweet she did him greet,\n   Like to a most loyall lover. {312}\n\n When bold Robin Hood his Marian did see,\n   Good lord, what clipping was there\u202f!\n With kind embraces, and jobbing of faces,\n   Providing of gallant cheer.\n\n For Little John took his bow in his hand,\n   And \u2018wandred\u2019[326] in the wood,\n To kill the deer, and make good chear,\n   For Marian and Robin Hood.\n\n A stately banquet \u2018they\u2019 had full soon,\n   All in a shaded bower,\n Where venison sweet they had to eat,\n   And were merry that present hour.\n\n Great flaggons of wine were set on the board,\n   And merrily they drunk round\n Their boules of sack, to strengthen the back,\n   Whilst their knees did touch the ground.\n\n First Robin Hood began a health\n   To Marian his onely dear\u202f;\n And his yeomen all, both comly and tall,\n   Did quickly bring up the rear\u202f:\n\n For in a brave venie they tost off the bouls,\n   Whilst thus they did remain\u202f;\n And every cup, as they drunk up,\n   They filled with speed again. {313}\n\n At last they ended their merryment,\n   And went to walk in the wood,\n Where Little John, and Maid Mari\u00e0n,\n   Attended on bold Robin Hood.\n\n In sollid content together they liv\u2019d,\n   With all their yeomen gay\u202f;\n They liv\u2019d by \u2018their\u2019 hands, without any lands,\n   And so they did many a day.\n\n But now to conclude an end I will make,\n   In time as I think it good\u202f;\n For the people that dwell in the North can tell\n   Of Marian and bold Robin Hood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{314}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXV.\n\nTHE KING\u2019S DISGUISE, AND FRIENDSHIP WITH ROBIN HOOD,\n\nfrom the common collection of Aldermary-church-yard, seems to be\ntaken from the old legend in Part I., and to have been written by\nsome miserable retainer to the press, merely to eke out the book;\nbeing, in fact, a most contemptible performance.\n\nThe two concluding lines (the same with those of the next ballad)\nrefer to song xxvii., which they have once immediately preceded.\n\n King Richard hearing of the pranks\n   Of Robin Hood and his men,\n He much admir\u2019d, and more desired\n   To see both him and them. {315}\n\n Then, with a dozen of his lords,\n   To Nottingham he rode\u202f;\n When he came there, he made good cheer,\n   And took up his abode.\n\n He having staid there some time,\n   But had no hopes to speed,\n He and his lords, with one accord,\n   All put on monks weeds.\n\n From Fountain-abbey they did ride,\n   Down to Barnsdale\u202f;\n Where Robin Hood prepared stood\n   All company to assail.\n\n The king was higher than the rest,\n   And Robin thought he had\n An abbot been whom he had seen,\n   To rob him he was glad.\n\n He took the king\u2019s horse by the head,\n   Abbot, says he, abide\u202f;\n I am bound to rue such knaves as you,\n   That live in pomp and pride.\n\n But we are messengers from the king,\n   The king himself did say\u202f;\n Near to this place his royal grace\n   To speak with thee does stay. {316}\n\n God save the king, said Robin Hood,\n   And all that wish him well\u202f;\n He that does deny his sovereignty,\n   I wish he was in hell.\n\n Thyself thou cursedst, says the king,\n   For thou a traitor art.\n \u201cNay, but that you are his messenger,\n   I swear you lie in heart.\n\n For I never yet hurt any man\n   That honest is and true\u202f;\n But those who give their minds to live\n   Upon other mens due.\n\n I never hurt the \u2018husbandmen\u2019\n   That use to till the ground\u202f:\n Nor spill their blood who range the wood,\n   To follow hawk or hound.\n\n My chiefest spite to clergy is,\n   Who in these days bear great sway\u202f;\n With fryars and monks, with their fine sprunks,\n   I make my chiefest prey.\u201d\n\n But I am very glad, says Robin Hood,\n   That I have met you here\u202f;\n Come, before we end, you shall, my friend,\n   Taste of our green-wood cheer. {317}\n\n The king he then did marvel much,\n   And so did all his men\u202f;\n They thought with fear, what kind of cheer,\n   Robin would provide for them.\n\n Robin took the kings horse by the head,\n   And led him to his tent\u202f:\n Thou wouldst not be so us\u2019d, quoth he,\n   But that my king thee sent.\n\n Nay, more than that, quoth Robin Hood,\n   For good king Richards sake,\n If you had as much gold as ever I told,\n   I would not one penny take.\n\n Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,\n   And a loud blast he did blow,\n Till a hundred and ten of Robin Hoods men,\n   Came marching all of a row.\n\n And when they came bold Robin before,\n   Each man did bend his knee\u202f:\n O, thought the king, \u2019tis a gallant thing,\n   And a seemly sight to see.\n\n Within himself the king did say,\n   These men of Robin Hoods\n More humble be than mine to me\u202f;\n   So the court may learn of the woods. {318}\n\n So then they all to dinner went,\n   Upon a carpet green\u202f;\n Black, yellow, red, finely mingl\u00e8d,\n   Most curious to be seen.\n\n Venison and fowls were plenty there,\n   With fish out of the river\u202f:\n King Richard swore, on sea or shore,\n   He never was feasted better.\n\n Then Robin takes a cann of ale\u202f:\n   \u201cCome, let us now begin\u202f;\n And every man shall have his cann\u202f:\n   Here\u2019s a health unto the king.\u201d\n\n The king himself drank to the king,\n   So round about it went\u202f;\n Two barrels of ale, both stout and stale,\n   To pledge that health was spent.\n\n And, after that, a bowl of wine\n   In his hand took Robin Hood\u202f;\n Until I die, I\u2019ll drink wine, said he,\n   While I live in the green wood.\n\n Bend all your bows, said Robin Hood,\n   And with the grey-goose-wing,\n Such sport now show, as you would do\n   In the presence of the king. {319}\n\n They shewed such brave archery,\n   By cleaving sticks and wands,\n That the king did say, such men as they\n   Live not in many lands.\n\n Well, Robin Hood, then says the king,\n   If I could thy pardon get,\n To serve the king in every thing\n   Would\u2019st thou thy mind firm set\u202f?\n\n Yes, \u2018with all\u2019 my heart, bold Robin said,\n   So they flung off their hoods\u202f;\n To serve the king in every thing,\n   They swore they would spend their \u2018bloods.\u2019\n\n For a clergyman was first my bane,\n   Which makes me hate them all,\n But if you will be so kind to me,\n   Love them again I shall.\n\n The king no longer could forbear,\n   For he was mov\u2019d with \u2018ruth.\u2019\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n \u201cI am the king, \u2018your\u2019 sovereign king,\n   That appears before you all.\u201d\n When Robin saw that it was he,\n   Strait then he down did fall. {320}\n\n Stand up again, then said the king,\n   I\u2019ll thee thy pardon give\u202f;\n Stand up, my friend, who can contend,\n   When I give leave to live\u202f?\n\n So they are all gone to Nottingham,\n   All shouting as they came\u202f:\n But when the people them did see,\n   They thought the king was slain\u202f;\n\n And for that cause the outlaws were come,\n   To rule all as they list\u202f;\n And for to shun, which \u2018way\u2019 to run,\n   The people did not wist.\n\n The plowman left the plow in the fields,\n   The smith ran from his shop\u202f;\n Old folks also, that scarce could go,\n   Over their sticks did hop.\n\n The king soon did let them understand\n   He had been in the green-wood,\n And from that day, for evermore,\n   He\u2019d forgiven Robin Hood.\n\n Then [when] the people they did hear,\n   And [that] the truth was known,\n They all did sing, God save the king\u202f!\n   Hang care, the town\u2019s our own\u202f! {321}\n\n What\u2019s that Robin Hood\u202f? then said the sheriff,\n   That varlet I do hate\u202f;\n Both me and mine he caused to dine,\n   And serv\u2019d us all with one plate.\n\n Ho, ho, said Robin Hood, I know what you mean,\n   Come, take your gold again\u202f;\n Be friends with me, and I with thee,\n   And so with every man.\n\n Now, master sheriff, you are paid,\n   And since you are beginner,\n As well as you give me my due,\n   For you ne\u2019er paid for that dinner.\n\n But if \u2018that it\u2019 should please the king,\n   So much your house to grace,\n To sup with you, for, to speak true,\n   [I] know you ne\u2019er was base.\n\n The sheriff [this] could not gainsay,\n   For a trick was put upon him\u202f;\n A supper was drest, the king was a guest,\n   But he thought \u2019twould have outdone him.\n\n They are all gone to London court,\n   Robin Hood with all his train\u202f;\n He once was there a noble peer,\n   And now he\u2019s there again. {322}\n\n Many such pranks brave Robin play\u2019d,\n   While he liv\u2019d in the green wood\u202f:\n Now, my friend, attend, and hear an end\n   Of honest Robin Hood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{323}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE GOLDEN ARROW.\n\nA composition of a similar nature with the preceding, and from the\nsame authority.\n\n When as the sheriff of Nottingham\n   Was come with mickle grief,\n He talk\u2019d no good of Robin Hood,\n   That strong and sturdy thief.\n       _Fal la dal de._\n\n So unto London road he past,\n   His losses to unfold\n To king Rich\u00e0rd, who did regard\n   The tale that he had told. {324}\n\n Why, quoth the king, what shall I do\u202f?\n   Art thou not sheriff for me\u202f?\n The law is in force, to take thy course\n   Of them that injure thee.\n\n Go get thee gone, and by thyself\n   Devise some tricking game,\n For to enthral yon rebels all,\n   Go take thy course with them.\n\n So away the sheriff he return\u2019d,\n   And by the way he thought\n Of th\u2019 words of the king, and how the thing\n   To pass might well be brought.\n\n For within his mind he imagin\u00e8d,\n   That when such matches were,\n Those outlaws stout, without all doubt,\n   Would be the bowmen there.\n\n So an arrow with a golden head,\n   And shaft of silver-white,\n Who on the day should bear away\n   For his own proper right.\n\n Tidings came to bold Robin Hood,\n   Under the green-wood tree\u202f:\n \u201cCome prepare you then, my merry men,\n   We\u2019ll go yon sport to see.\u201d {325}\n\n With that stept forth a brave young man,\n   David of Doncast\u00e8r,\n Master, said he, be rul\u2019d by me,\n   From the green wood we\u2019ll not stir.\n\n To tell the truth, I\u2019m well inform\u2019d,\n   Yon match it is a wile\u202f;\n The sheriff, I wiss, devises this\n   Us archers to beguile.\n\n Thou smells of a coward, said Robin Hood,\n   Thy words do not please me\u202f;\n Come on\u2019t what will, I\u2019ll try my skill,\n   At yon brave archery.\n\n O then bespoke brave Little John,\n   Come let us thither gang\u202f;\n Come listen to me, how it shall be,\n   That we need not be ken\u2019d.\n\n Our mantles all of Lincoln-green\n   Behind us we will leave\u202f;\n We\u2019ll dress us all so several,\n   They shall not us perceive.\n\n One shall wear white, another red,\n   One yellow, another blue\u202f;\n Thus in disguise, \u2018to\u2019 the exercise\n   We\u2019ll gang, whate\u2019er insue. {326}\n\n Forth from the green wood they are gone,\n   With hearts all firm and stout,\n Resolving [then] with the sheriff\u2019s men\n   To have a hearty bout.\n\n So themselves they mixed with the rest,\n   To prevent all suspicion\u202f;\n For if they should together hold,\n   They thought it no discretion.\n\n So the sheriff \u2018looked\u2019 round about,\n   Amongst eight hundred men,\n But could not see the sight that he\n   Had long suspected then.\n\n Some said, If Robin Hood was here,\n   And all his men to boot,\n Sure none of them could pass these men,\n   So bravely they do shoot.\n\n Ay, quoth the sheriff, and scratch\u2019d his head,\n   I thought he would have been here\u202f;\n I thought he would, but tho\u2019 he\u2019s bold,\n   He durst not now appear.\n\n O that word griev\u2019d Robin Hood to the heart,\n   He vexed in his blood\u202f;\n Ere long, thought he, thou shalt well see\n   That here was Robin Hood. {327}\n\n Some cried, Blue jacket\u202f! another cried, Brown\u202f!\n   And a third cried, Brave yellow\u202f!\n But the fourth man said, Yon man in red\n   In this place has no fellow.\n\n For that was Robin Hood himself,\n   For he was cloath\u2019d in red\u202f;\n At every shot the prize he got,\n   For he was both sure and dead.\n\n So the arrow with the golden head,\n   And shaft of silver-white,\n Brave Robin Hood won, and bore with him,\n   For his own proper right.\n\n These outlaws there, that very day,\n   To shun all kinds of doubt,\n By three or four, no less nor more,\n   As they went in came out.\n\n Until they all assembled were\n   Under the green-wood shade,\n Where they \u2018report,\u2019 in pleasant sport,\n   What brave pastime they made.\n\n Says Robin Hood, all my care is,\n   How that yon sheriff may\n Know certainly that it was I\n   That bore his arrow away. {328}\n\n Says Little John, My counsel good\n   Did take effect before,\n So therefore now, if you\u2019ll allow,\n   I will advise once more.\n\n Speak on, speak on, said Robin Hood,\n   Thy wit\u2019s both quick and sound,\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n This I advise, said Little John,\n   That a letter shall be penn\u2019d,\n And when it is done, to Nottingham\n   You to the sheriff shall send.\n\n That is well advised, said Robin Hood,\n   But how must it be sent\u202f?\n \u201cPugh\u202f! when you please, \u2019tis done with ease\u202f;\n   Master, be you content.\n\n I\u2019ll stick it on my arrow\u2019s head,\n   And shoot it into the town\u202f;\n The mark must show where it must go,\n   Whenever it lights down.\u201d\n\n The project it was well perform\u2019d,\n   The sheriff that letter had,\n Which when he read, he scratch\u2019d his head,\n   And rav\u2019d like one that\u2019s mad. {329}\n\n So we\u2019ll leave him chafing in \u2018his\u2019 grease,\n   Which will do him no good\u202f:\n Now, my friends, attend, and hear the end\n   Of honest Robin Hood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{330}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXVII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE VALIANT KNIGHT.\n\n\u201cTogether with an account of his death and burial, &c. Tune of\nRobin Hood and the fifteen Foresters.\u201d From the common garland of\nAldermary-church-yard; corrected by the York copy.\n\n When Robin Hood, and his merry men all,\n       _Derry down, down_,\n   Had reigned many years,\n The king was then told that they had been bold\n   To his bishops and noble peers.\n       _Hey down, derry, derry down._ {331}\n\n Therefore they called a council of state,\n   To know what was best to be done,\n For to quell their pride, or else they reply\u2019d\n   The land would be over-run.\n\n Having consulted a whole summer\u2019s day,\n   At length it was agreed,\n That one should be sent to try the event,\n   And fetch him away with speed.\n\n Therefore a trusty and most worthy knight\n   The king was pleased to call,\n Sir William by name\u202f; when to him he came,\n   He told him his pleasure all.\n\n \u201cGo you from hence to bold Robin Hood,\n   And bid him, without more ado,\n Surrender himself, or else the proud elf\n   Shall suffer with all his crew.\n\n Take here a hundred bowmen brave,\n   All chosen men of great might,\n Of excellent art to take thy part,\n   In glittering armour most bright.\u201d\n\n Then said the knight, My sovereign liege,\n   By me they shall be led\u202f;\n I\u2019ll venture my blood against bold Robin Hood,\n   And bring him alive or dead. {332}\n\n One hundred men were chosen straight,\n   As proper as e\u2019er men saw\u202f:\n On Midsummer-day they marched away,\n   To conquer that brave outlaw.\n\n With long yew bows, and shining spears,\n   They march\u2019d with mickle pride,\n And never delay\u2019d, nor halted, nor stay\u2019d\n   Till they came to the green-wood side.\n\n Said he to his archers, Tarry here,\n   Your bows make ready all,\n That if need should be, you may follow me,\n   And see you observe my call.\n\n I\u2019ll go first in person, he cry\u2019d,\n   With the letters of my good king,\n Well sign\u2019d and seal\u2019d, and if he will yield,\n   We need not to draw one string.\n\n He wander\u2019d about till at length he came\n   To the tent of Robin Hood\u202f;\n The letter he shows\u202f; bold Robin arose,\n   And there on his guard he stood.\n\n They\u2019d have me surrender, quoth bold Robin Hood,\n   And lie at their mercy then\u202f;\n But tell them from me, that never shall be,\n   While I have full seven score men. {333}\n\n Sir William the knight, both hardy and bold,\n   He offer\u2019d to seize him there,\n Which William Locksley by fortune did see,\n   And bid him that trick to forbear.\n\n Then Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth,\n   And blew a blast or twain,\n And so did the knight, at which there in sight\n   The archers came all amain.\n\n Sir William with care he drew up his men,\n   And plac\u2019d them in battle-array\u202f;\n Bold Robin, we find, he was not behind\u202f:\n   Now this was a bloody fray.\n\n The archers on both sides bent their bows,\n   And the clouds of arrows flew\u202f;\n The very first flight that honour\u2019d knight\n   Did there bid the world adieu.\n\n Yet nevertheless their fight did last\n   From morning till almost noon\u202f;\n Both parties were stout, and loth to give out,\n   This was on the last day of June.\n\n At length they left off\u202f: one party they went\n   To London with right good will\u202f;\n And Robin Hood he to the green-wood tree,\n   And there he was taken ill. {334}\n\n He sent for a monk, to let him blood,\n   Who took his life away\u202f;\n Now this being done, his archers they run,\n   It was not a time to stay.\n\n Some got on board, and cross\u2019d the seas,\n   To Flanders, France, and Spain,\n And others to Rome, for fear of their doom,\n   But soon return\u2019d again.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n{335}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S DEATH AND BURIAL:\n\n\u201cShewing how he was taken ill, and how he went to his cousin at\nKirkley-hall, who let him blood, which was the cause of his death.\nTune of Robin Hood\u2019s Last Farewel, &c.\u201d\n\nThis very old and curious piece is preserved solely in the editions\nof \u201cRobin Hood\u2019s Garland\u201d printed at York (or such as have been\ntaken from them), where it is made to conclude with some foolish\nlines (adopted from the London copy of the preceding ballad), in\norder to introduce the epitaph. It is here given from a collation\nof two different copies, containing numerous variations, a few of\nwhich are retained in the margin.\n\n When Robin Hood and Little John,\n       _Down a down, a down, a down_,\n   Went o\u2019er yon bank of broom,\n Said Robin Hood to Little John,\n   We have shot for many a pound\u202f:\n       _Hey down, a down, a down_. {336}\n\n But I am not able to shoot one shot more,\n   My arrows will not flee\u202f;\n But I have a cousin lives down below,\n   Please god, she will bleed me.\n\n Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,\n   As fast as he can win\u202f;\n But before he came there, as we do hear,\n   He was taken very ill.\n\n And when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall,\n   He knock\u2019d all at the ring,\n But none was so ready as his cousin herself\n   For to let bold Robin in.\n\n Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin, she said,\n   And drink some beer with me\u202f?\n \u201cNo, I will neither eat nor drink,\n   Till I am blooded by thee.\u201d[327]\n\n Well, I have a room, cousin Robin, she said,\n   Which you did never see,\n And if you please to walk therein,\n   You blooded by me shall be.[328]\n\n She took him by the lilly-white hand,\n   And led him to a private room,\n And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,\n   Whilst one drop of blood would run.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND HIS BETRAYER.]\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND HIS BETRAYER.]\n\n{337}\n\n She blooded him in the vein of the arm,\n   And lock\u2019d him up in the room\u202f;\n There did he bleed all the live-long day,\n   Untill the next day at noon.\n\n He then bethought him of a casement door,\n   Thinking for to be gone\u202f;[329]\n He was so weak he could not leap,\n   Nor he could not get down.\n\n He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,\n   Which hung low down to his knee\u202f;\n He set his horn unto his mouth,\n   And blew out weak blasts three.\n\n Then Little John, when hearing him,\n   As he sat under the tree,\n \u201cI fear my master is near dead,\n   He blows so wearily.\u201d\n\n Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,\n   As fast as he can dree\u202f;\n But when he came to Kirkley-hall,\n   He broke locks two or three\u202f;\n\n Untill he came bold Robin to,\n   Then he fell on his knee\u202f;\n A boon, a boon, cries Little John,\n   Master, I beg of thee. {338}\n\n What is that boon, quoth Robin Hood,\n   Little John, thou begs of me\u202f?\n \u201cIt is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,\n   And all their nunnery.\u201d\n\n Now nay, now nay, quoth Robin Hood,\n   That boon I\u2019ll not grant thee\u202f;\n I never \u2018hurt\u2019[330] woman in all my life,\n   Nor man in woman\u2019s company.\n\n I never hurt fair maid in all my time,\n   Nor at my end shall it be\u202f;\n But give me my bent bow in my hand,\n   And a broad arrow I\u2019ll let flee\u202f:\n And where this arrow is taken up,\n   There shall my grave digg\u2019d be.\n\n Lay me a green sod under my head,\n   And another at my feet\u202f;[331]\n And lay my bent bow by my side,\n   Which was my music sweet\u202f;\n And make my grave of gravel and green,\n   Which is most right and meet.\n\n Let me have length and breadth enough,\n   With a green sod under my head\u202f;[332] {339}\n\n That they may say, when I am dead,\n   Here lies bold Robin Hood.\n\n These words they readily promis\u2019d him,\n   Which did bold Robin please\u202f:\n And there they buried bold Robin Hood,\n   Near to the fair Kirkleys.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO \u201cPART THE SECOND\u201d, pp. 148\u2013339\n\n\n [281] Clowdel le. For an account of these worthies the reader may\n consult their old metrical legend in Percy\u2019s \u201cReliques,\u201d vol. i.,\n or \u201cAncient Popular Poetry,\u201d 1791.\n\n\n [282] A beseem\u2019d.\n\n\n [283] Has.\n\n\n [284] A.\n\n\n [285] Lease.\n\n\n [286] Choose.\n\n\n [287] For an account of Tutbury bull-running, and the character of\n king of the minstrels there, see Dr. Plott\u2019s \u201cNatural History of\n Staffordshire,\u201d chap. x. \u00a7 69; Sir J. Hawkins\u2019s \u201cHistory of Music,\u201d\n vol. ii. p. 64; and Blount\u2019s \u201cAncient Tenures,\u201d by Beckwith, p.\n 303, 8vo edit.\n\n\n [288] See this old and popular ballad in the Appendix.\n\n\n [289] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [290] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [291] The editor thinks it his duty to retain, in some instances,\n even the manifest corruptions of the old copies; in hopes that\n earlier and better authorities may one day enable him to remove\n them.\n\n\n [292] In the bowers.\n\n\n [293] Did him.\n\n\n [294] Made then.\n\n\n [295] Nicke.\n\n\n [296] Soon from.\n\n\n [297] Chiefest.\n\n\n [298] Full froe.\n\n\n [299] This (from an old black letter copy in Major Pearson\u2019s\n collection) is evidently the genuine second part of the present\n ballad, although constantly printed as an independent article,\n under the title of \u201cRobin Hood, Will Scadlock, and Little\n John: Or, a narrative of their victories obtained against the\n prince of Aragon and the two giants; and how Will Scadlock\n married the princess. Tune of Robin Hood; or, Hey down, down, a\n down:\u201d Instead of which, in all former editions, are given the\n following incoherent stanzas, which have all the appearance of\n being the fragment of a quite different ballad:\u2014\n\n    Then bold Robin Hood to the north he would go,\n      With valour and mickle might,\n    With sword by his side, which oft had been tri\u2019d,\n      To fight and recover his right.\n\n    The first that he met was a bonny bold Scot,\n      His servant he said he would be.\n    No, quoth Robin Hood, it cannot be good,\n      For thou wilt prove false unto me\u202f;\n\n    Thou hast not been true to sire nor cuz.\n      Nay, marry, the Scot he said,\n    As true as your heart, Ile never part,\n      Gude master, be not afraid.\n\n    Then Robin turned his face to the east,\n      Fight on, my merry men stout\u202f:\n    Our cause is good, quod brave Robin Hood,\n      And we shall not be beaten out.\n\n    The battel grows hot on every side,\n      The Scotchman made great moan\u202f;\n    Quoth Jockey, Gude faith, they fight on each side,\n      Would I were with my wife Joan\u202f!\n\n    The enemy compast brave Robin about,\n      \u2019Tis long ere the battel ends\u202f;\n    Ther\u2019s neither will yield, nor give up the field,\n      For both are supplied with friends.\n\n    This song it was made in Robin Hoods dayes\u202f:\n      Let\u2019s pray unto Jove above,\n    To give us true peace, that mischief may cease,\n      And war may give place unto love.\n\n\n [300] Of a.\n\n\n [301] Forth.\n\n\n [302] Acaron. This termagant prince seems intended for a sort of\n Mahometan Pagan. Alcaron is a deity formed by metathesis from\n Alcoran, a book: a conversion much more ancient than the present\n ballad. Thus in the old metrical romance of \u201cThe Sowdon of\n Babyloyne,\u201d a MS. in the possession of Dr. Farmer:\n\n \u201cWhan Laban herde of this myschief,\n    A sory man was he,\n  He trumped his men to relefe,\n    For to cease that tyme mente he.\n  Mersadage kinge of Barbarye\n    He did carye to his tente,\n  And beryed him by right of Sarsenye,\n    With brennynge fire riche oynemente\u202f;\n  And songe the _dirige_ of ALKARON,\n    _That bibill is of here laye_\u202f;\n  And wayled his deth everychon,\n    Seven nyghtis and seven dayes.\u201d\n\n Here Alkaron is expressly the name of a BOOK (_i.e._ the Koran or\n Alcoran); in the following passage it is that of a GOD:\n\n \u201cNow shall ye here of Laban\u202f:\n    Whan tidynges to him were comen,\n  Tho was he a fulle sory man,\n    Whan he herde howe his vitaile were nomen,\n  And howe his men were slayne,\n    And Gye was go safe hem froo\u202f;\n  He defyed _Mahounde_, and _Apolyne_,\n    _Jubiter_, _Astarol_, and ALCARON also.\u201d\n\n Wynken de Worde printed \u201cA lytell treatyse of the Turkes law called\n Alcaron, &c.\u201d See Herbert, 224.\n\n If, however, Acaron be the true reading, we shall find an idol of\n that name in the Bible, 2 Regum i. 16, ed. Vulgate.\n\n It was, at the same time, a proper name in the East: as \u201cAccaron\n princeps insul\u00e6 Cypri\u201d is mentioned by Roger de Hoveden, 786.\n\n\n [303] We should probably read frantick baboon!\n\n\n [304] Ground near Moorfields, London, famous in old times for the\n archery practised there. \u201cIn the year 1498,\u201d says Stow, \u201call the\n gardens which had continued time out of minde, without Mooregate,\n to wit, about and beyond the lordship of Fensberry, were destroyed.\n And of them was made a plaine field for archers to shoote in.\u201d\n Survay of London, 1598, p. 351. See also p. 77, where it is\n observed that \u201cabout the feast of S. Bartlemew .\u00a0.\u00a0. the officers\n of the city .\u00a0.\u00a0. were challengers of all men in the suburbes,\n .\u00a0.\u00a0. before the \u2018lord\u2019 maior, aldermen, and sheriffes, in FENSBERY\n FIELDE, to shoote the standarde, broade arrow, and flight, for\n games.\u201d There is a tract intitled, \u201cAyme for Finsburie archers, or\n an alphabetical table of the names of every marke within the same\n fields, with the true distances, both by the map, and dimensuration\n with the line. Published for the ease of the skilfull, and behoofe\n of the yoonge beginners in the famous exercise of archerie, by J.\n J. and E. B. To be sold at the signe of the Swan in Grub-street, by\n F. Sergeant, 1594.\u201d 16mo. Republished by R. F. 1604; and again by\n James Partridge, 1628, 12mo.\n\n These famous archers are mentioned by Ben Jonson (Every Man in his\n Humour, act i. scene 1): \u201cBecause I dwell at Hogsden I shall keep\n company with none but the archers of Finsbury.\u201d\n\n The practice of shooting here is alluded to by Cotton in his\n Virgile Travestie (b. iv.), 1667:\n\n  \u201cAnd arrows loos\u2019d from Grub-street bow,\n   In FINSBURY, to him are slow;\u201d\n\n and continued till within the memory of persons now living.\n\n\n [305] The situation of this chase cannot be ascertained. There is\n an ancient family seat in Westmoreland called Dalham-tower.\n\n\n [306] Either the bishop was a very bad reckoner, or there is some\n mistake in the copy: three hundred nobles are exactly a hundred\n pounds. The common editions read ninety-nine angels, which would be\n no more than \u00a349, 10s. No such coin or denomination, however, as\n either angel or noble existed in Robin Hood\u2019s time.\n\n\n [307] I see.\n\n\n [308] Then did.\n\n\n [309] He .\u00a0. was.\n\n\n [310] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [311] To.\n\n\n [312] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [313] See before, p. 235.\n\n\n [314] Doubtless.\n\n\n [315] When I came here.\n\n\n [316] Doth .\u00a0.\u00a0. arrow gain.\n\n\n [317] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [318] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [319] He had.\n\n\n [320] Robin Hood.\n\n\n [321] That could not.\n\n\n [322] Is.\n\n\n [323] Down a.\n\n\n [324]\n\n  Oh save, oh save, oh sheriff he said,\n  Oh save and you may see.\n\n\n [325] Me.\n\n\n [326] Wandring.\n\n\n [327] Till I blood letted be.\n\n\n [328] You blood shall letted be.\n\n\n [329] Get down.\n\n\n [330] Burnt. This stanza is omitted in one edition.\n\n\n [331]\n\n  With verdant sods most neatly put,\n    Sweet as the green wood tree.\n\n\n [332] This line is manifestly impertinent and corrupt. We might\n read:\n\n  With a stone upon the sod.\n\n{341}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE PLAYE OF ROBYN HODE\n\nis printed by Copland at the end of his edition of the \u201cMery\nGeste,\u201d &c., inserted in the present volume. It seems to be\ncomposed, certainly with little improvement, partly from the\nballad of \u201cRobin Hood and the Curtall Frier\u201d (see before, p. 209),\nor rather, perhaps, some still older piece on the same subject,\nand partly from the ancient poem of \u201cRobin Hood and the Potter\u201d\n(see p. 81). The whole title runs\u2014\u201cHere beginnethe the playe of\nRobyn Hoode, very proper to be played in Maye games.\u201d It has here\nreceived a few corrections from White\u2019s edition, 1634.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Now stand ye forth, my mery men all,\n And harke what I shall say\u202f;\n Of an adventure I shal you tell,\n The which befell this other day. {342}\n As I went by the hygh way,\n With a stout frere I met,\n And a quarter-staffe in his hande,\n Lyghtely to me he lept,\n And styll he bade me stande\u202f;\n There were strypes two or three,\n But I cannot tell who had the worse,\n But well I wote the horeson lept within me,\n And fro me he toke my purse.\n Is there any of my mery men all,\n That to that frere wyll go,\n And bryng him to me forth withall,\n Whether he wyll or no\u202f?\n\nLYTELL JOHN.\n\n Yes, mayster, I make god avowe,\n To that frere wyll I go,\n And bring him to you,\n Whether he wyl or no.\n\nFRYER TUCKE.\n\n _Deus hic, deus hic_, god be here\u202f!\n Is not this a holy worde for a frere\u202f?\n God save all this company\u202f!\n But am not I a jolly fryer\u202f?\n For I can shote both farre and nere,\n And handle the sworde and buckl\u00e8r,\n And this quarter-staffe also.\n If I mete with a gentylman or yem\u00e0n, {343}\n I am not afrayde to loke hym upon,\n Nor boldly with him to carpe\u202f;\n If he speake any wordes to me,\n He shall have strypes two or thre,\n That shal make his body smarte.\n But, maisters,[333] to shew you the matter,\n Wherefore and why I am come hither,\n In fayth I wyl not spare\u202f:\n I am come to seke a good yeman,\n In Bernisdale men sai is his habitacion,\n His name is Robyn Hode.\n And if that he be better man than I,\n His servaunt wyll I be, and serve him truely\u202f;\n But if that I be better man than he,\n By my truth my knave shall he be,\n And leade these dogges all three.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Yelde the, fryer, in thy long cote.\n\nFRYER TUCKE.\n\n I beshrew thy hart, knave, thou hurtest my throt.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n I trowe, fryer, thou beginnest to dote\u202f;\n Who made the so malapert and so bolde,\n To come into this forest here,\n Amonge my falowe dere\u202f? {344}\n\nFRYER.\n\n Go louse the, ragged knave,\n If thou make mani wordes, I will geve the on the eare,\n Though I be but a poore fryer.\n To seke Robyn Hode I am com here,\n And to him my hart to breke.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Thou lousy frer, what wouldest thou with hym\u202f?\n He never loved fryer, nor none of freiers kyn.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Avaunt, ye ragged knave\u202f!\n Or ye shall have on the skynne.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Of all the men in the morning thou art the worst,\n To mete with the I have no lust\u202f;\n For he that meteth a frere or a fox in the morning,\n To spede ill[334] that day he standeth in jeoperdy\u202f:\n Therfore I had lever mete with the devil of hell,\n Fryer, I tell the as I thinke,\n Then mete with a fryer or a fox\n In a mornyng, or I drynk.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Avaunt, thou ragged knave, this is but a mock,\n If thou make mani words thou[335] shal have a knock. {345}\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Harke, frere, what I say here,\n Over this water thou shalt me bere,\n The brydge is borne away.\n\nFRYER.\n\n To say naye I wyll not,\n To let the of thine oth it were great pitie and sin,\n But up on a fryers backe, and have even in.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Nay, have over.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Now am I, frere, within, and thou, Robin, without,\n To lay the here I have no great doubt.\n Now art thou, Robyn, without, and I, frere, within,\n Lye ther, knave\u202f; chose whether thou wilte sinke or swym.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Why, thou lowsy frere, what hast thou done\u202f?[336]\n\nFRYER.\n\n Mary, set a knave over the shone.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Therfore thou shalt abye. {346}\n\nFRYER.\n\n Why, wylt thou fyght a plucke\u202f?\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n And god send me good lucke.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Than have a stroke for fryer Tucke.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Holde thy hande, frere, and here me speke.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Saye on, ragged knave,\n Me semeth ye begyn to swete.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n In this forest I have a hounde,\n I wyl not give him for an hundreth pound,\n Geve me leve my horne to blowe,\n That my hounde may knowe.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Blowe on, ragged knave, without any doubte,\n Untyll bothe thyne eyes starte out.\n Here be a sorte of ragged knaves come in,\n Clothed all in Kendale grene,\n And to the they take their way nowe. {347}\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Peradventure they do so.\n\nFRYER.\n\n I gave the leve to blowe at thy wyll,\n Now give me leve to whistell my fyll.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Whystell, frere, evyll mote thou fare,\n Untyll bothe thyne eyes stare.[337]\n\nFRYER.\n\n Now Cut and Bause\u202f!\n Breng forth the clubbes and staves,\n And downe with those ragged knaves\u202f!\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n How sayest thou, frere, wylt thou be my man,\n To do me the best servyse thou can\u202f?\n Thou shalt have both golde and fee,\n And also here is a lady free,\n I wyll geve her unto the,\n And her chapplayn I the make,\n To serve her for my sake.\n\nFRYER.\n\n Here is a huckle duckle, an inch above the buckle\u202f; {348}\n She is a trul of trust,[338] to serve a frier at his lust,\n A prycker, a pauncer, a terer of shetes,[339]\n A wagger of buttockes[340] when other men slepes.\n Go home, ye knaves, and lay crabbes in the fyre,\n For my lady and I wil daunce in the myre, for veri pure joye.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Lysten to [me], my mery men all,\n And harke what I shall say\u202f;\n Of an adventure I shall you tell,\n That befell this other daye.\n With a proude potter I met,\n And a rose garlande on his head,[341] {349}\n\n The floures of it shone marvaylous freshe\u202f;\n This seven yere and more he hath used this waye,\n Yet was he never so curteyse a potter,\n As one peny passage to paye.\n Is there any of my mery men all\n That dare be so bolde\n To make the potter paie passage,\n Either silver or golde\u202f?\n\nLYTELL JOHN.\n\n Not I, master, for twenty pound redy tolde,\n For there is not among us al one\n That dare medle with that potter man for man.\n I felt his handles not long agone,\n But I had lever have ben here by the,\n Therefore I knowe what he is.\n Mete him when ye wil, or mete him whan ye shal,\n He is as propre a man as ever you medle withal. {350}\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n I will lai with the, Litel John, twenti pound so read,\n If I wyth that potter mete,\n I wil make him pay passage, maugre his head.\n\nLYTELL JOHN.\n\n I consente therto, so eate I bread,\n If he pay passage maugre his head,\n Twenti pound shall ye have of me for your mede.\n\nTHE POTTERS BOYE JACKE.\n\n Out alas, that ever I sawe this daye\u202f!\n For I am clene out of my waye\n From Notyngham towne\u202f;\n If I hye me not the faster,\n Or I come there the market[342] wel be done.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Let me se, are thy[343] pottes hole and sounde\u202f?\n\nJACKE.\n\n Yea, meister, but they will not breake the ground.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n I wil them breke, for the cuckold thi maisters sake\u202f;\n And if they will not breake the grounde,\n Thou shalt have thre pence for a pound.[344] {351}\n\nJACKE.\n\n Out alas\u202f! what have ye done\u202f?\n If my maister come, he will breke your crown.\n\nTHE POTTER.\n\n Why, thou horeson, art thou here yet\u202f?\n Thou shouldest have bene at mark\u00e8t.\n\nJACKE.\n\n I met with Robin Hode, a good yem\u00e0n,\n He hath broken my pottes,\n And called you kuckolde by your name.\n\nTHE POTTER.\n\n Thou mayst be a gentylman, so god me save,\n But thou semest a noughty knave.\n Thou callest me cuckolde by my name,\n And I swere by god and saynt John\n Wyfe had I never none.\n This cannot I denye,\n But if thou be a good felowe,\n I wil sel mi horse, mi harneis, pottes and paniers to,\n Thou shalt have the one halfe and I will have the other\u202f;\n If thou be not so content,\n Thou shalt have stripes if thou were my brother.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Harke, potter, what I shall say\u202f:\n This seven yere and more thou hast used this way, {352}\n Yet were thou never so curteous to me,\n As one penny passage to paye.\n\nTHE POTTER.\n\n Why should I paye passage to thee\u202f?\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n For I am Robyn Hode, chiefe governoure\n Under the grene woode tree.\n\nTHE POTTER.\n\n This seven yere have I used this way up and downe,\n Yet payed I passage to no man,\n Nor now I wyl not beginne, so do[345] the worst you can.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Passage shalt thou pai here under the grene-wode tre,\n Or els thou shalt leve a wedde[346] with me.\n\nTHE POTTER.\n\n If thou be a good felowe, as men do the call,\n Lay awaye thy bowe,\n And take thy sword and buckeler in thy hande,\n And se what shall befall.\n\nROBYN HODE.\n\n Lyttle John, where art thou\u202f?\n\nLYTELL [JOHN].\n\n Here, mayster, I make god avowe. {353}\n I tolde you, mayster, so god me save,\n That you shoulde fynde the[347] potter a knave.\n Holde your buckeler fast in your hande,\n And I wyll styfly by you stande,\n Ready for to fyghte\u202f;\n Be the knave never so stoute,\n I shall rappe him on the snoute,\n And put hym to flyghte.\n\n\nII.\n\nA FREEMAN\u2019S SONG,\n\nFOR THREE VOICES.\n\nThis strange and whimsical performance is taken from a very rare\nand curious publication, intitled \u201cDeuteromelia: or the second part\nof musicks melodie, or melodius musicke. Of pleasant roundelaies;\nK. H. mirth, or freemens songs. And such delightfull catches.\nLondon: printed for Thomas Adams dwelling in Paules church-yard\nat the signe of the white lion, 1609.\u201d 4to. Freemen\u2019s songs is\nsupposed to be a corruption of Three men\u2019s songs, from their being\ngenerally for three voices. K. H. is King Henry\u2019s. See \u201cAncient\nSongs,\u201d ed. 1829, vol. i. p. lxxix., and vol. ii. p. 54, &c.\n\nIn the collection of old printed ballads made by Anthony a Wood is\nan inaccurate copy of this ancient and singular production, in his\nown handwriting: \u201cThis song,\u201d says he, \u201cwas esteemed an old song\nbefore the rebellion broke out in 1641.\u201d It thereby appears that\nthe first line of every stanza was \u201cto be sung thrice.\u201d Beside the\nmusic here given, there are three parts of \u201cAnother way,\u201d which it\nwas not thought necessary to insert. {354}\n\n[Music: TREBLE.\n\nBy Lands-dale hey ho, by mery Lands-dale there dwelt a jolly\nmiller, And a very good old man was hee, was he, hey ho He had, he\nhad and a sonne a, He had, he had and a sonne.]\n\n[Music: TENOR.\n\nBy Lands-dale hey ho, by mery Lands dale hey ho was he hey ho. He\nhad, he had and a sonne a]\n\n{355}\n\n[Music: BASSUS.\n\nBy Lands-dale hey ho, by mery Lands-dale, hey ho, There dwelt a\njolly miller, and a very good old man was he, hey ho, He had, he\nhad and a sonne a, he had he had, he had]\n\n He had, he had and a sonne a,\n   Men called him Renold,\n And mickle of his might\n   Was he, was he, hey ho.\n\n And from his father a wode a,\n   His fortune for to seeke,\n From mery Landsdale\n   Wode he, wode he, hey ho. {356}\n\n His father would him seeke a,\n   And found him fast asleepe.\n Among the leaves greene\n   Was he, was he, hey ho.\n\n He tooke, he tooke him up a,\n   All by the lilly-white hand,\n And set him on his feet,\n   And bad him stand, hey ho.\n\n He gave to him a benbow,\n   Made all of a trusty tree,\n And arrowes in his hand,\n   And bad him let them flee.\n\n And shoote was that that a did a,\n   Some say he shot a mile,\n But halfe a mile and more\n   Was it, was it, hey ho.\n\n And at the halfe miles end [a],\n   There stood an armed man\u202f;\n The childe he shot him through,\n   And through, and through, hey \u2018ho.\u2019\n\n His beard was all on a white a,\n   As white as whaleis bone,\n His eyes they were as cleare\n   As christall stone, hey ho. {357}\n\n And there of him they made [a]\n   Good yeoman Robin Hood,\n Scarlet, and Little John,\n   And Little John, hey ho.\n\n\nIII.\n\nA ROUND\n\nfrom \u201cPammelia. Musicks miscellanie. Or, mixed varietie of pleasant\nroundelayes, and delightfull catches, of 3. 4 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.\nparts in one. None so ordinarie as musicall, none so musical as\nnot to all very pleasing and acceptable. London Printed by William\nBarley, for R. B. and H. W. and are to be sold at the Spread Eagle\nat the great north dore of Paules, 1609,\u201d 4to, a work equally\nscarce and curious with that before cited. This, however, is only\nthe tenor part; but the words of the other parts are very trifling,\nand relate to different subjects. It is called \u201cA round of three\ncountry-dances in one.\u201d\n\n[Music:\n\nRobin Hood, Robin Hood, said Little John, Come dance before the\nqueene a: In a red petticote and a greene jacket, a white hose and\na greene a.] {358}\n\n\nIV.\n\nHEY JOLLY ROBIN.\n\nThese stanzas are supplied by \u201cA musicall dreame, or the fourth\nbooke of ayres, &c. Composed by Robert Iones. London, Imprinted\nby the assignees of William Barley, and are to be solde in Powles\nchurch-yeard, at the signe of the Crowne, 1609,\u201d fo. The music, a\ncomposition of little merit or curiosity for the present age, was\nnot transcribed.\n\n In Sherwood livde stout Robin Hood,\n   An archer great, none greater\u202f:\n His bow and shafts were sure and good,\n   Yet Cupids were much beter.\n Robin could shoot at many a hart and misse,\n Cupid at first could hit a hart of his.\n   Hey jolly Robin, hoe jolly Robin, hey jolly Robin\n         Hood,\n   Love finds out me, as well as thee, to follow me,\n         to follow me to the green wood.\n\n A noble thiefe was Robin Hoode,\n   Wise was he could deceive him\u202f;\n Yet Marrian, in his bravest mood,\n   Could of his heart bereave him.\n No greater thief lies hidden under skies\n   Then beauty closely lodgde in womens eyes.\n         Hey jolly Robin. {359}\n\n An out-law was this Robin Hood,\n   His life free and unruly\u202f;\n Yet to faire Marrian bound he stood,\n   And loves debt payed her duely.\n Whom curbe of stricktest law could not hold in\n Love with obeyednes and a winke could winne.\n       Hey jolly Robin.\n\n Now wend we home, stout Robin Hood,\n   Leave we the woods behind us\u202f;\n Love-passions must not be withstood,\n   Love every where will find us.\n I livde in fielde and towne, and so did he,\n I got me to the woods, Love followed me.\n       Hey jolly Robin.\n\n\nV.\n\nA MERRY WEDDING;\n\nOR,\n\nO BRAVE ARTHUR OF BRADLEY.\n\nThis old ballad, referred to in p. 158 of the present volume, is\ngiven from a black letter copy in a private collection, compared\nwith and very much corrected by \u201cAn antidote against melancholy:\nmade up in pills, compounded of witty ballads, jovial songs, and\nmerry catches, 1661.\u201d The running title of the volume is \u201cPills to\npurge melancholy,\u201d which was afterward borrowed by Durfey. {360}\n\nThere is a different, but probably much more modern, ballad upon\nthis popular subject, in the same measure, intitled \u201cArthur o\u2019\nBradley,\u201d and beginning,\n\n \u201cAll in the merry month of May.\u201d\n\nIn Jonson\u2019s \u201cBartholomew Fair,\u201d Moon-calf addresses Justice Overdo\nby this name: \u201cO lord! do you not know him, mistress? \u2019tis mad\nArthur of Bradley that makes the orations. Brave master, old Arthur\nof Bradley, how do you do? welcome to the fair, when shall we hear\nyou again to handle your matters with your back against a booth,\nha? I ha\u2019 been one o\u2019 your little disciples, i\u2019 my days!\u201d\n\nIn \u201cThe Honest Whore,\u201d by Decker, 1604, Bellafront, on the Duke\u2019s\nassurance that Matthio shall make her amends and marry her,\nreplies, \u201cShall he? O brave Arthur of Bradley then!\u201d\n\n See you not Pierce the piper,\n His cheeks as big as a miter,\n A piping among the swains,\n That dance on yonder plains\u202f?\n Where Tib and Tom do trip it,\n And youths to the hornpipe nip it,\n With every one his carriage,\n To go to yonder marriage\u202f;\n Not one would stay behind,\n But go with Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n Arthur had got him a lass,\n A bonnier never was\u202f; {361}\n The chief youths of the parish\n Came dancing of the morris\u202f;\n With country lasses trounsing,\n And lusty lads bounsing,\n Jumping with mickle pride,\n And each his wench by his side\u202f;\n They all were fine and gay,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n And when that Arthur was married,\n And his bride home had carried,\n The youngsters they did wait\n To help to carry up meat\u202f;\n Francis carried the furmety,\n Michael carried the mince-pye,\n Bartholomew the beef and the mustard,\n And Christopher carried the custard\u202f;\n Thus every one in his array,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n And when that dinner was ended,\n The maidens they were befriended,\n For out steps Dick the draper,\n And he bid, Strike up, scraper\u202f!\n It\u2019s best to be dancing a little,\n And then to the tavern to tipple\u202f:\n He call\u2019d for a hornpipe, {362}\n That went fine on the bagpipe\u202f;\n Then forward, piper, and play,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine, &c.\n\n Richard he did lead it,\n And Margery did tread it,\n Francis followed them,\n And after courteous Jane\u202f;\n Thus every one after another,\n As if they had been sister and brother\u202f;\n That \u2019twas great joy to see\n How well they did agree\u202f;\n And then they all did say,\n   Hay for Arthur of Bradley\u202f!\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n Then Miles in his motley breeches,\n And he the piper beseeches\n To play him _Haw-thorn buds_,\n That he and his wench might trudge\u202f:\n But Lawrence liked not that,\n No more did lusty Kate\u202f;\n For she cry\u2019d, Can\u2019st thou not hit it,\n To see how fine Thomas can trip it,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley, &c.\n\n When all the swains did see\n This mirth and merry glee,\n There was never a man did flinch, {363}\n But each one kist his wench\u202f;\n But Giles was greedy of gain,\n For he would needs kiss twain\u202f:\n Her lover seeing that,\n Did rap him over the pate,\n That he had nought to say,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n The piper lookt aside,\n And there he spied the bride,\n He thought it was a hard chance,\n That none would lead her a dance\u202f;\n But there was none durst touch her,\n Save only Bat the Butcher\u202f;\n He took her by the hand,\n And danced while he could stand\u202f:\n The bride was fine and gay,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine Arthur of Bradley, oh, &c.\n\n Then out stept Will the weaver,\n And he swore he\u2019d not leave her,\n He hopp\u2019d it all on one leg,\n For the honour of his Peg\u202f:\n But Kister in cambrick ruffe,\n He took that all in snuffe\u202f;\n For he against that day\n Had made himself fine and gay,\n His ruffe was whipt with blew, {364}\n And he cried, A new dance, a new,\n Then strike up a round-delay,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine, &c.\n\n Then gan the sun decline,\n And every one thought it time\n To go unto his home,\n And leave the bridegroom alone.\n Tut, tut, says lusty Ned,\n I\u2019le see them both in bed,\n For I\u2019le gib at a joynt,\n But I\u2019le have his codpeece-point\u202f:\n Then forward piper and play,\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine, &c.\n\n And thus the day was spent,\n And no man homeward went,\n There was such a crowding and thrusting,\n That some were in danger of bursting,\n To see them go to bed\u202f;\n For all the skill they had,\n He was got to his bride,\n And lay close to her side\u202f:\n Then got they his points and his garters,\n And cut them in pieces like martyrs\u202f;\n And then they all did play\n   For the honour of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine, &c. {365}\n\n Then Will and his sweetheart\n Did call for _Loth to depart_\u202f;\n And then they did foot it, and toss it,\n Till the cook brought in the sack-posset.\n The bride-pye was brought forth,\n A thing of mickle worth\u202f:\n And so all at the beds side\n Took leave of Arthur and his bride,\n And so went all away\n   From the wedding of Arthur of Bradley,\n   Oh fine, &c.\n\n\nVI.\n\nROBIN HOOD RESCUING THE THREE SQUIRES FROM NOTTINGHAM GALLOWS.\n\nThis song and its tune, as the editor is informed by his ingenious\nfriend Edward Williams, the Welsh bard, are well known in South\nWales by the name of \u201cMarchog glas,\u201d _i.e._ Green knight. Though\napparently ancient, it is not known to exist in black letter, nor\nhas any better authority been met with than the common collection\nof Aldermary-church-yard. See before, p. 303.\n\n Bold Robin Hood ranging the forrest all round,\n   The forrest all round ranged he\u202f;\n O there did he meet with a gay lady,\n   She came weeping along the highway. {366}\n\n Why weep you, why weep you\u202f? bold Robin he said,\n   What weep you for gold or fee\u202f?\n Or do you weep for your maidenhead,\n   That is taken from your body\u202f?\n\n I weep not for gold, the lady reply\u2019d,\n   Neither do I weep for fee\u202f;\n Nor do I weep for my maidenhead,\n   That is taken from my body.\n\n What weep you for then\u202f? said jolly Robin,\n   I prithee come tell unto me.\n \u201cOh\u202f? I do weep for my three sons,\n   For they are all condemned to die.\u201d\n\n What church have they robbed\u202f? said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Or parish-priest have they slain\u202f?\n What maids have they forced against their will\u202f?\n   Or with other mens wives have lain\u202f?\n\n No church have they robbed, this lady reply\u2019d,\n   Nor parish-priest have they slain\u202f;\n No maids have they forced against their will,\n   Nor with other mens wives have lain.\n\n What have they done then\u202f? said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Come tell me most speedily.\n \u201cOh\u202f! it is for killing the king\u2019s fallow deer,\n   \u2018That\u2019[348] they are all condemned to die.\u201d {367}\n\n Get you home, get you home, said jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   Get you home most speedily,\n And I will unto fair Nottingham go,\n   For the sake of the \u2019squires all three.\n\n Then bold Robin Hood for Nottingham goes,\n   For Nottingham town goes he,\n O there did he meet with a poor beggar-man,\n   He came creeping along the highway.\n\n \u201cWhat news, what news, thou old beggar-man\u202f?\n   What news, come tell unto me.\u201d\n \u201cO there\u2019s weeping and wailing in Nottingham [town],\n   For the death of the \u2019squires all three.\u201d\n\n This beggar-man had a coat on his back,\n   \u2019Twas neither green, yellow, nor red\u202f;\n Bold Robin Hood thought \u2019twas no disgrace\n   To be in the beggar-mans stead.\n\n \u201cCome, pull off thy coat, thou old beggar-man,\n   And thou shalt put on mine\u202f;\n And forty good shillings I\u2019ll give thee to boot,\n   Besides brandy, good beer, ale and wine.\u201d\n\n Bold Robin Hood then unto Nottingham came,\n   Unto Nottingham town came he\u202f;\n O there did he meet with great master sheriff,\n   And likewise the \u2019squires all three. {368}\n\n One boon, one boon, says jolly Rob\u00ecn,\n   One boon I beg on my knee\u202f;\n That, as for the death of these three \u2019squires,\n   Their hangman I may be.\n\n Soon granted, soon granted, says master sher\u00ecff,\n   Soon granted unto thee\u202f;\n And \u2018thou shalt\u2019[349] have all their gay cloath\u00ecng,\n   Aye, and all their white mon\u00e8y.\n\n \u201cO I will have none of their gay cloath\u00ecng,\n   Nor none of their white mon\u00e8y,\n But I\u2019ll have three blasts on my bugle-horn,\n   That their souls to heaven may flee.\u201d\n\n \u2018Then\u2019[350] Robin Hood mounted the gallows so high,\n   Where he blew loud and shrill,\n Till a hundred and ten of Robin Hoods men\n   Came marching down the green hill.\n\n Whose men are these\u202f? says master sher\u00ecff,\n   Whose men are they\u202f? tell unto me.[351]\n \u201cO they are mine, but none of thine,\n   And are come for the \u2019squires all three.\u201d\n\n O take them, O take them, says great master sheriff,\n   O take them along with thee\u202f;\n For there\u2019s never a man in fair Nottingh\u00e0m\n   Can do the like of thee.\n\n{369}\n\n\nVII.\n\nROBIN HOOD\u2019S DELIGHT.\n\nDr. Pepusch, among other very curious articles of ancient English\nmusic, was possessed of a MS. folio (supposed to be still extant),\nwhich at p. 15 contained a tune intitled \u201cRobin Hood.\u201d See\nWard\u2019s \u201cLives of the Professors of Gresham College,\u201d 1740 (an\ninterleaved copy, corrected and augmented by the author, in the\nBritish Museum). \u201cRobene Hude\u201d is likewise the name of a dance\nin Wedderburn\u2019s \u201cComplainte of Scotland,\u201d printed in 1549. The\nfollowing tune is preserved by Oswald in his \u201cCaledonian Pocket\nCompanion.\u201d\n\n[Music]\n\n{370}\n\n\nVIII.\n\nROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK.\n\nThis singularly curious and excellent poem, which is probably the\nearliest extant on the subject, was first printed in the \u201cAncient\nMetrical Tales,\u201d edited by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne (8vo, 1829),\nfrom a MS. in the library of University College, Cambridge (F.\nF. 5. 48), with which it has been since obligingly collated by\nFrederic Madden, Esq. A few lines are unfortunately rendered\nillegible by damp.\n\n In somer when the shawes be sheyne,\n   And leves be large and longe,\n Hit is fulle mery in feyre foreste\n   To here the foulys song.\n\n To se the dere draw to the dale,\n   And leve the hilles hee,\n And shadow hem in the leves grene\n   Vndur the grene wode tre.\n\n Hit befel on whitsontide,\n   Erly in a may mornyng,\n The son vp fayre can shyne,\n   And the briddis mery can syng.\n\n This is a mery mornyng, seid litulle Johne,\n   Be hym that dyed on tre,\n A more mery man than I am one\n   Lyves not in cristiant\u00e9. {371}\n\n Pluk vp thi hert my dere mayster,\n   Litulle Johne can sey,\n And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme\n   In a mornynge of may.\n\n Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,\n   And does my hert myche woo,\n That I may not so solem day\n   To mas nor matyns goo.\n\n Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,\n   Syn I my sauyour see\u202f;\n To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,\n   With the myght of mylde Mary.\n\n Then spake Moche the mylner[s] sune,\n   Euer more wel hym betyde,\n Take xii of thi wyght zemen\n   Welle weppynd be ther side.\n\n Such on wolde thi selfe slon\n   That xii dar not abyde,\n Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,\n   Be my feithe I wil non haue.\n\n But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bow\n   Til that me list to drawe\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. {372}\n\n Thou shalle beyre \u2018thin own\u2019[352] seid litulle Jon,\n   Maister & I wil beyre myne,\n And we wille shete a peny, seid litulle Jon,\n   Vnder the grene wode lyne.\n\n I wil not shete a peny, seyde Robyn Hode,\n   In feith litulle Johne with thee,\n But euer for on as thou shetes, seid Robyn,\n   In feith I hold the thre.\n\n Thus shet thei forthe these zemen too\n   Bothe at buske and brome,\n Til litulle Johne wan of his maister\n   V s. to hose and shone.\n\n A ferly strife fel them betwene\n   As they went bi the way\u202f;\n Litulle Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,\n   And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.\n\n With that Robyn Hode lyed litul Jone,\n   And smote hym with his honde,\n Litul John waxed wroth therwith,\n   And pulled out his bright bronde.\n\n Were thou not my maister, seid litulle Johne,\n   Thou shuldis by hit ful sore,\n Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,\n   For thou getes me no more. {373}\n\n Then Robyn goes to Notyngham\n   Hymselfe mornynge allone,\n And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,\n   The pathes he knowe alkone.\n\n Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,\n   Sertenly withoutene layne,\n He prayed to god and myld Mary\n   To brynge hym out saue agayne.\n\n He gos into seynt Mary[s] chirche,\n   And knelyd downe before the rode,\n Alle that euer were the churche within\n   Beheld wel Robyne Hode.\n\n Besyde hym stode a gret hedid munke,\n   I pray to god woo he be,\n Ful sone he knew gode Robyn [Hode]\n   As sone as he hym se.\n\n Out at the durre he ran\n   Ful son and anon,\n Alle the zatis of Notyngham\n   He made to be sparred euerychone.\n\n Rise vp, he seid, thou prowde schereff,\n   Buske the and make the bowne,\n I haue spyed the kynges felone,\n   For sothe he is in this towne. {374}\n\n I haue spyed the false felone\n   As he stondes at his masse,\n Hit is longe of the seide the munke,\n   And euer he fro vs passe.\n\n This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode,\n   Vndur the grene wode lynde,\n He robbyt me onys of a C pound,\n   Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.\n\n Vp then rose this prowd schereff,\n   And zade towarde hym zare\u202f;\n Many was the modur son\n   To the kyrk with hym can fare.\n\n In at the durres thei throly thrast\n   With staves ful gode \u2018ilkone\u2019[353]\n Alas, alas, seid Robyn Hode,\n   Now mysse I litulle Johne.\n\n But Robyne toke out a too-hond sworde\n   That hangit down be his kne,\n Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust\n   Thidurward wold he.\n\n Thryes thorow at them he ran,\n   Ther for sothe as I yow say,\n And woundyt many a modur sone,\n   And xii he slew that day. {375}\n\n His sworde vpon the schireff hed\n   Sertanly he brake in too\u202f;\n The smyth that the made, seid Robyn,\n   I pray god[354] wyrke hym woo.\n\n For now am I weppynlesse, seid Robyne,\n   Alasse agayn my wylle\u202f;\n But if I may fle these traytors fro,\n   I wot thei wil me kylle.\n\n Robyns men to the churche ran\n   Throout hem euer ilkon,\n Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,\n   And lay still as any stone.\n\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n Non of theym were in her mynde\n   But only litulle Jon.\n\n Let be your rule, seid litulle Jon,\n   For his luf that dyed on tre,\n Ze that shulde be duzty men\n   Hit is gret shame to se.\n\n Oure maister has bene hard bystode,\n   And zet scapyd away\n Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone,\n   And herkyn what I shal say. {376}\n\n He has seruyd our lady many a day,\n   And zet wil securly,\n Therfore I trust in her specialy\n   No wycked deth shal he dye.\n\n Therfor be glad, seid litul Johne,\n   And let this mournyng be,\n And I shall be the munkes gyde\n   With the myght of mylde Mary.\n\n And I mete hym, seid litull Johne,\n   We wille go but we too\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n\n Loke that ze kepe wel oure tristil tre\n   Vndur the levys smale,\n And spare non of his venyson\n   That gose in thys vale.\n\n Forthe thei went these zemen too,\n   Litul Johne and Moche onfere,\n And lokid on Moche emys hows\n   The hyeway lay fulle nere.\n\n Litul John stode at a window in the mornynge\n   And lokid forth at a stage,\n He was war wher the munke came ridynge,\n   And with hym a litul page. {377}\n\n Be my feith, seid litul Johne to Moche,\n   I can the tel tithyngus gode\u202f;\n I see wher the munk comys rydyng,\n   I know hym be his wyde hode.\n\n Thei went into the way these zemen bothe,\n   As curtes men and hende,\n Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke\n   As thei hade bene his frende.\n\n Fro whens come ze, seid litul Johne,\n   Tel vs tithyngus I yow pray\n Off a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode]\n   Was takyn zisturday.\n\n He robbyt me and my felowes bothe\n   Of xx marke in serten\u202f;\n If that false owtlay be takyn,\n   For sothe we wolde be fayne.\n\n So did he me, seid the munke,\n   Of a C pound and more\u202f;\n I layde furst hande hym apon,\n   Ze may thonke me therfore.\n\n I pray god thanke yow, seid litulle Johne,\n   And we wil when we may,\n We wil go with yow with your leve,\n   And brynge yow on your way. {378}\n\n For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,\n   I telle yow in certen,\n If thei wist ze rode this way,\n   In feith ze shulde be slayn.\n\n As thei went talkyng be the way,\n   The munke and litulle Johne,\n Johne toke the munkes horse be the hede\n   Ful sone and anone.\n\n Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,\n   For sothe as I yow say,\n So did Muche the litulle page,\n   For he shulde not stirre away.\n\n Be the golett of the hode\n   Johne pulled the munke downe,\n Johne was nothynge of hym agast,\n   He lete hym falle on his crowne.\n\n Litulle John was \u2018sore\u2019[355] agrevyd,\n   And drew out his swerde in hye,\n The munke saw he shulde be ded,\n   Lowd mercy can he crye.\n\n He was my maister, seid litulle Johne,\n   That thou base browzt in bale,\n Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kynge\n   For to telle hym tale. {379}\n\n Johne smote of the munkes hed,\n   No longer wolde he dwelle,\n So did Moche, the litulle page,\n   For ferd lest he wold tell.\n\n Ther thei beryed hem both\n   In nouther mosse nor lynge,\n And litulle Johne and Muche infere\n   Bare the letturs to oure kynge.\n\n .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\n   He kneled down vpon kis kne,\n God zow saue, my lege lorde,\n   Jesus yow saue and se.\n\n God yow saue, my lege kyng,\n   To speke Johne was fulle bolde\u202f;\n He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,\n   The kynge did hit unfold.\n\n The kynge red the letturs anon,\n   And seid so mot I the,\n Ther was neuer zoman in mery Inglond\n   I longut so sore to see.\n\n Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt,\n   Oure kynge can say,\n Be my trouthe, seid litulle Jone,\n   He dyed aftur the way. {380}\n\n The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jon\n   xx pound in sertan,\n And made theim zemen of the crowne,\n   And bade theim go agayn.\n\n He gaf Johne the seel in hand,\n   The scheref for to bere,\n To brynge Robyn hym to,\n   And no man do hym dere.\n\n Johne toke his leve at oure kyng,\n   The sothe as I yow say\u202f;\n The next way to Notyngham\n   To take he zede the way.\n\n Whan Johne came to Notyngham\n   The zatis were sparred ychone,\n Johne callid vp the porter,\n   He answerid sone anon.\n\n What is the cause, seid litul John,\n   Thou sparris the zates so fast\u202f?\n Because Robyn Hode,[356] seid [the] porter,\n   In depe prison is cast.\n\n Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,\n   For sothe as I yow say,\n Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,\n   And sawtene vs euery day. {381}\n\n Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,\n   And sone he hym fonde,\n He oppyned the kyngus priue seelle\n   And gaf hym in his honde.\n\n When the schereff saw the kyngus seelle\n   He did of his hode anon,\n Wher is the munke that bare the letturs\u202f?\n   He seid to litulle Johne.\n\n He is so fayn of him, seid litulle Johne,\n   For sothe as I yow sey\u202f;\n He has made hym abot of Westmynster,\n   A lorde of that abbay.\n\n The scheref made John gode chere,\n   And gaf hym wine of the best\u202f;\n At nyzt thei went to her bedde,\n   And euery man to his rest.\n\n When the scheref was on-slepe\n   Dronken of wine and ale,\n Litul Johne and Moche for sothe\n   Toke the way vnto the gale\u202f;\n\n Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,\n   And bade hym rise anon\u202f;\n He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,\n   And out of hit was gon. {382}\n\n The portere rose anon sertan,\n   As sone as he herd John calle\u202f;\n Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,\n   And bare hym to the walle.\n\n Now will I be porter, seid litul Johne,\n   And take the keyes in honde\u202f;\n He toke the way to Robyn Hode,\n   And sone he hym vnbonde.\n\n He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,\n   His hed [ther-]with for to kepe,\n And ther as the walle was lowyst\n   Anon downe can thei lepe.\n\n Be that the cok began to crow,\n   The day began to sprynge,\n The scheref fond the jaylier ded,\n   The comyn belle made he rynge.\n\n He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],\n   Whedur he be zoman or knave,\n That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode,\n   His warisone he shuld haue.\n\n For I dar neuer, said the scheref,\n   Cum before oure kynge\u202f;\n For if I do I wot serten,\n   For sothe he wil me henge. {383}\n\n The scheref made to seke Notyngham,\n   Bothe be strete and stye,\n And Robyn was in mery Scherwode\n   As lizt as lef on lynde.\n\n Then bespake gode litulle Johne\n   To Robyn Hode can he say,\n I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,\n   Quyte \u2018me\u2019[357] whan thou may.\n\n I haue done the a gode turne, said litulle Johne,\n   For sothe as I you saie,\n I haue brouzt the vndur [the] grene wode lyne,\n   Fare wel, and haue gode day.\n\n Nay be my trouthe, seid Robyn Hode,\n   So shalle hit neuer be,\n I make the maister, seid Robyne Hode,\n   Off alle my men and me.\n\n Nay be my trouthe, seid litulle Johne,\n   So shall hit neuer be,\n But lat me be a felow, seid litulle Johne,\n   No nodur kepe I\u2019ll be.\n\n Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisone\n   Sertan withoutyn layne,\n When his men saw hym hol and sounde\n   For sothe they were ful fayne. {384}\n\n They filled in wyne, and made him glad\n   Vndur the levys smale,\n And zete pastes of venysone\n   That gode was \u2018withal.\u2019[358]\n\n Than worde came to our kynge,\n   How Robyn Hode was gone,\n And how the scheref of Notyngham\n   Durst neuer loke hyme vpone.\n\n Then bespake oure cumly kynge,\n   In an angur hye,\n Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,\n   In faith so hase he me.\n\n Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,\n   And that fulle wel I se,\n Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham\n   Hye hongut shuld he be.\n\n I made hem zemen of the crowne,\n   And gaf hem fee with my hond,\n I gaf hem grithe, seid oure kyng,\n   Thorowout alle mery Inglond.\n\n I gaf hem grithe, then seid oure kyng,\n   I say, so mot I the,\n For sothe soche a zeman as he is on\n   In alle Ingland ar not thre. {385}\n\n He is trew to his maister, seid oure kynge,\n   I sey, be swete seynt Johne,\n He louys bettur Robyn Hode,\n   Then he dose vs ychone.\n\n Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,\n   Bothe in strete and stalle,\n Speke no \u2018more\u2019[359] of this matter, seid our kynge,\n   But John has begyled vs alle.\n\n Thus endys the talkyng of the munke,\n   And Robyne Hode I wysse\u202f;\n God, that is euer a crowned kyng,\n   Bryng vs alle to his blisse.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO \u201cAPPENDIX\u201d, pp. 341\u2013385\n\n\n [333] Maister. C.\n\n\n [334] Ell. C.\n\n\n [335] You. you. C.\n\n\n [336] Donee. C.\n\n\n [337] Starte. C.\n\n\n [338] A trul of trust was a common phrase. So in the ancient\n morality of the iiii elements (Sig. E iij 6):\n\n  \u201cFor to satisfye your wanton lust\n  I shall apoynt you a trull of trust,\n  Not a feyrer in this towne.\u201d\n\n Again, in Warner\u2019s Albion\u2019s England, 1602:\n\n  \u201cHow cheere you Pan, quoth Pryapus, the shameles god of lust,\n  Thus can i fit such friends as you with such a trull of trust.\u201d\n\n\n [339] Shefes. C.\n\n\n [340] Ballockes. C.\n\n\n [341] How a potter comes to be decked with so elegant and\n honourable a chaplet, does not seem easy to account for; unless for\n the reason given by Chaucer, that\n\n  \u2014\u201csoche araie costnith but lite.\u201d\n\n The poet Gower, as represented on his monument in the church of St.\n Mary-Overy, hath, according to Stow, \u201con his head a chaplet, like\n a coronet of foure roses;\u201d and it may be remembered that Copland,\n the printer of this identical May-game, dwelled \u201cat the signe of\n the rose garlande.\u201d We see, likewise, that \u201ca rose garlonde\u201d was\n set up (to be shot through, it is presumed) in the \u201cLytell Geste of\n Robyn Hode,\u201d fytte 7, v. 177. Though the fashion of wearing such\n an ornament was formerly common in France (for which see Chaucer\u2019s\n \u201cRomaunt of the Rose,\u201d a close translation from the French), and\n at a still later period in Germany, see \u201cThe Hystorye of Reynarde\n the Foxe,\u201d a translation from the language of that country, and\n Moryson\u2019s Itinerary, 1617 (part 1, p. 25, and part 3, p. 167),\n no further instance has been met with of its prevalence in this\n country.\n\n\n [342] Maryet. C.\n\n\n [343] The. C.\n\n\n [344] Not omitted in W.\n\n\n [345] To do. C. to or so omitted in W.\n\n\n [346] Wedded. C. wed. W.\n\n\n [347] Your. C.\n\n\n [348] And.\n\n\n [349] You shall.\n\n\n [350] When.\n\n\n [351] Come tell.\n\n\n [352] Th\u2019 now. MS.\n\n\n [353] Wone. MS.\n\n\n [354] I pray _to_. MS.\n\n\n [355] So. MS.\n\n\n [356] Because of Robyn Hode. MS.\n\n\n [357] The. MS.\n\n\n [358] That gode was _with ale_. MS.\n\n\n [359] Mere. MS.\n\n{387}\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY.\n\n\n_Abye_, [to suffer].\n\n_Air_, early.\n\n_Alderbest_, best of all. This phrase, which occurs in Chaucer, is\ncorrupted in De Worde\u2019s edition to \u201c_al ther_\u201d and \u201c_al theyre_,\u201d\nwhich Coplande has changed to \u201c_al of the_;\u201d whence it may be\ninferred that the expression was become already obsolete, and\nconsequently that the poem is of much greater antiquity than 1520:\nand yet Shakespeare, above half a century after, puts the word\n_Alderliefest_ into the mouth of Queen Margaret in his _Second Part\nof Henry the Sixth_.\n\n_Angels_, pieces of gold coin, value 10s.\n\n_Anker_, hermit, anchorite.\n\n_Ar_, ere.\n\n_Asay_, _Asayed_, essayed, tried, proved.\n\n_A-sound_, in a swoon.\n\n_Aunsetters_, ancestors.\n\n_Avow_, _Avowe_, protestation, confession. \u201c_I make myn avow to\nGod_,\u201d profess to God: from _aveu_, F.\n\n_Avowe_, maintain, _verbum juris_.\n\n_Avow\u00e8_, founder, patron, protector. See Spelman\u2019s _Glossary_, _v._\nADVOCATUS.\n\n_Awayte_, _Awatye me scathe_, lie in wait to do me harm.\n\n_Awayted_, lay in wait for.\n\n_Awet_, wit, know.\n\n_Awkwarde_, backward. _An awkwarde stroke_ seems to mean an unusual\nor out of the way stroke, one which the receiver could not foresee,\nbe aware of, or guard against; a sort of left or back hand stroke.\n\u201c_An_ auke _stroke_\u201d is a frequent expression in _La Mort d\u2019Arthur_.\n\n_Ayenst_, against.\n\n_Baist_, _Baste_, basted, belaboured.\n\n_Baith_, both.\n\n_Bale_, mischief, woe, sorrow, misery.\n\n_Ballup_, p. 306.\n\n_Banis_, bane, destruction.\n\n_Bear_, moan, lamentation, outcry.\n\n_Bearing_, arrow.\n\n_Bedene_, behind, one after another? {388}\n\n_Bedyng_, asking. _Your bedyng shall be doyn_, your invitation\nshall be complied with.\n\n_Beforen_, before.\n\n_Begeck_, _Give them a begeck_, play them a trick, make fools of\nthem.\n\n_Behote_, promised.\n\n_Benbow_, [a bent bow?].\n\n_Bent_, ii. 84.\n\n_Bescro_, beshrew.\n\n_Bestad_, _Ferre and friend bestad_, far from home and without a\nfriend. The passage, however, seems corrupt. Perhaps, indeed, it\nshould be _fren_ (_frend_ or _fremd_) _bestad_, _i.e._ beset or\nsurrounded by strangers. (Fremd, Saxon.) Thus, in Spenser\u2019s 4th\neclogue:\n\n \u201cSo now his friend is changed for a _fren_.\u201d\n\nAgain, in Florio\u2019s _Worlde of Wordes_, 1598: \u201c_Alieno_, an alien, a\nstranger, a forraine, a _freme_.\u201d\n\n_Bestead_, beset, put to it.\n\n_Beth_, are, be.\n\n_Blate_, sheepish or foolish, as we should now say.\n\n_Blive_, belive, immediately.\n\n_Bloschems_, blossoms.\n\n_Bluter_, p. 105.\n\n_Blyve_, fast, quickly, briskly.\n\n_Bocking_, pouring, flowing.\n\n_Bode_, bidden, invited.\n\n_Bolt_, _Bolte_, _Boltes_, _Boltys_. A bolt was an arrow of a\nparticular kind, used chiefly for shooting at birds; having a\nround or blunt head. Much\u2019s object, it has been observed, was not\nto wound, but stun, the monk, and the bolt from its shape was\npeculiarly adapted to this purpose. In other passages, however, it\nseems to mean either an arrow in general, or one used for shooting\nat a mark. \u201cI\u2019ll make a shaft or a bolt on\u2019t,\u201d which Shakespeare\nhas put into the mouth of M. Slender, appears, from Ray\u2019s\n_Collection_, to have been a common proverb.\n\n_Boote_, help.\n\n_Booting_, p. 98.\n\n_Borde_, table.\n\n_Borowe_, _Borrow_, pledge, surety, bail.\n\n_Borowehode_, suretyship.\n\n_Boskyd_, busked, prepared, got ready.\n\n_Bottle_, a small vessel, of wood or leather, in the shape of a\ncask, in which shepherds and others employed abroad in the fields\ncarry or keep their drink.\n\n_Bottys_, buts.\n\n_Bou_, bow.\n\n_Bound_, betook, went. _Boldly bound away_, briskly scampered off.\n\n_Bowe_, bough. {389}\n\n_Bown_, ready. _Bowne ye_, prepare ye, get ready.\n\n_Boyt_, both.\n\n_Breche_, breeches.\n\n_Breyde_, started, stepped hastily.\n\n_Breyde_, start, quick or hasty step.\n\n_Broke_, brook, enjoy, use, keep.\n\n_Bronde_, brand, sword.\n\n_Bushement_, ambush.\n\n_Buske_, _I wyll me buske_, _i.e._ go, betake myself. _Buske you_,\naddress or prepare yourselves, make ready.\n\n_Bydene_, one after another.\n\n_Can_, did.\n\n_Carpe_, [to speak].\n\n_Cankardly_, peevishly, with ill-temper.\n\n_Capull hyde_, horse hide. _Capal_ or _Capul_ in Irish or Erse is a\nhorse or mare, as _Kephyl_ is in Welsh.\n\n_Carel_, _Carril_, carle, old fellow.\n\n_Caward_, awkward or backward. See _Awkwarde_.\n\n_Cerstyn_, Christian.\n\n_Chaffar_, chaffer, merchandise, commodity.\n\n_Chepe_, _better chepe_, cheaper; _\u00e0 meilleur march\u00e9_, F. _Gret\nchepe_, very cheap; _\u00e0 tr\u00e8s bon march\u00e9_.\n\n_Chepe_, cheapen, buy. _Chepyd_, cheapened, bought.\n\n_Cheys_, choose.\n\n_Chiven_, p. 219.\n\n_Chorle_, churl, peasant, clown.\n\n_Cla\u2019d_, scratched.\n\n_Clock_, cloak.\n\n_Clouted_, patched.\n\n_Cole_, p. 66.\n\n_Come_, (pronounced com) came.\n\n_Command_, warrant, authority.\n\n_Commytted_, accounted.\n\n_Coresed_, p. 20.\n\n_Cortessey_, courteous. Q. _Corteysse_.\n\n_Cote a pye_, upper garment, short cloke; _courtepy_, Chaucer. See\nTyrwhitt\u2019s note, iv. 201.\n\n_Coud_, knew, understood.\n\n_Counsell_, \u201c_And counsell shall it be_,\u201d and it shall be kept\nsecret; in allusion, perhaps, to the oath of a grand juror:\u2014\u201cthe\nking\u2019s _counsel_, your fellows, and your own you shall keep\nsecret.\u201d The phrase is, however, used by Chaucer:\n\n \u201cShall it be _conseil_? sayed the firste shrewe;\n And I shall tellen thee in wordes fewe\n What we shall don, and bring it wel aboute.\u201d\n\n                                           \u2014_Pardoneres Tale._\n\n_Covent_, convent; whence our Covent Garden.\n\n_Cowed_, could, knew. _Cowed of curteysey_, understood good\nmanners. {390}\n\n_Crack_, boast.\n\n_Craftely_, skilfully, _secundum artem_.\n\n_Crouse_, brisk.\n\n_Cun_, con, owe, give.\n\n_Curn_, p. 101.\n\n_Curtall_, p. 210, 211.\n\n_Curteyse_, courteous.\n\n_Cutters_, sharking fellows; such as live by robbery or violence;\nbravos. So in the old play of _Arden of Feversham_, h. d. b. l.:\n\u201cAnd they are cutters, and may cut your throat.\u201d\n\n_Dame_, mother.\n\n_Dead_, certain; so in the common saying, \u201cAs dead as Chelsea;\u201d\n_i.e._ as certain as a situation in that hospital.\n\n_Demed_, judged.\n\n_Depart_, part, separate.\n\n_Derne_, privy, secret.\n\n_Deyell_, devil.\n\n_Deythe_, dight, dressed.\n\n_Donne_, dun.\n\n_Doyt_, doth, do.\n\n_Dree_, hye.\n\n_Dreyffe_, drive.\n\n_Dub_, shallow miry pool.\n\n_Dung_, beaten, overcome.\n\n_Durk_, dagger.\n\n_Dyght_, dressed, done.\n\n_Dyghtande_, p. 69.\n\n_Dysgrate_, disgraced, degraded. _Hath be dysgrate_, hath fallen\ninto poverty.\n\n_Een_, eyes.\n\n_Eftsones_, hereafter, afterward.\n\n_Eild_, age.\n\n_Elephant_, p. 263.\n\n_Ender_, under.\n\n_English wood._ If _Inglewood Forest_ be here intended, the Queen\nis a little out in her geography: she probably means _Sherwood_,\nbut neither was that in the page\u2019s way to Nottingham, and\n_Barnsdale_ was still farther north. See _Ancient Popular Poetry_,\n1791, p. 3.\n\n_Ere_, before.\n\n_Eylde_, yield.\n\n_Eyr_, year.\n\n_Eyre_, heir.\n\n_Fail_, _But fail_, without fail, without doubt.\n\n_Failyd_, wanted, missed.\n\n_Fair_, fare, ado.\n\n_Fare_, live.\n\n_Farley_, fairly, plainly.\n\n_Fay_, faith. {391}\n\n_Fayne_, glad.\n\n_Fe_, fee, wages.\n\n_Feardest_, fearfulest, most frightened or afraid.\n\n_Feders_, feathers.\n\n_Fend_, _Fend I godys forbode_.\n\n_Fende_, defend.\n\n_Fered_, feared, lived.\n\n_Ferre_, far. _Ferre dayes_, far in the day; _grand jour_, F.\n_Ferre gone_, long since.\n\n_Fette_, fetched.\n\n_Fetteled him_, made him ready, prepared himself, set about.\n_Fettled_, _Them fettled_, attempted, set about.\n\n_Feyffe_, five.\n\n_Finikin_, finical, fine, spruce.\n\n_Flee_, fly.\n\n_Flinders_, splinters.\n\n_Fone_, foes, enemies.\n\n_Forbode_, _Godys forbode_, \u2018prohibition or curse.\u2019 Florio, in his\nItalian dictionary, 1598, renders the phrase, _Adio non piaceia_.\nGod forbid, _Godes forbode_. In _A Briefe Conceipte of English\nPolicy_, 1581, it is corrupted to \u201c_God swarbote_.\u201d\n\n_Force_, care.\n\n_Forgone_, forego, lose.\n\n_Fors_, see _Force_.\n\n_Forsoyt_, forsooth, truly.\n\n_Foryete_, forgotten.\n\n_Fostere_, forester.\n\n_Fothe_, foot.\n\n_Frae_, from.\n\n_Frebore_, free-born, gentle.\n\n_Frese_, p. 39.\n\n_Furmety_, [_fumenty_].\n\n_Frere_, [friar].\n\n_Fynly_, goodly.\n\n_Gae_, go.\n\n_Gan_, _Gan they gone_, are they gone, did they go.\n\n_Gang_, _Gange_, go.\n\n_Gate_, _Gates_, ways, passes, paths, ridings. _Gate_ is a common\nword in the North for way.\u2014_P._\n\n_Geffe_, given.\n\n_General_, perhaps the governor, Nottingham still being a garrison\ntown.\n\n_Ger_, gear, stuff, goods, property, effects.\n\n_Gereamarsey_, see _Gramercy_.\n\n_Gillore_, plenty.\n\n_Glen_, valley.\n\n_God_, good, goods, property.\n\n_God-a-marsey_, God-a-mercy! See _Gramercy_.\n\n_Godde_, see _God_. {392}\n\n_Godys forbode._ See _Forbode_.\n\n_Gorney_, journey.\n\n_Goy_, joy.\n\n_Graff_, _Oke graff_, oak branch or sapling.\n\n_Gramercy_, thanks, or many thanks; _grand mercie_, F.\n\n_Gree_, satisfaction.\n\n_Gret_, greeted, saluted.\n\n_Gripped_, grasped, laid hold of.\n\n_Grome_, a common man.\n\n_Hail_, _All hail_, wholely, entirely.\n\n_Halds_, holds, holding-places, supports.\n\n_Halke_, perhaps haugh, low ground by the side of a river. See the\nglossary to Bishop Douglas\u2019s _Virgil_, _v._ _Hawchis_. _Halke_ with\nChaucer signifies a corner; but seems here used in opposition to\n_hill_.\n\n_Halfendell_, half.\n\n_Hals_, neck.\n\n_Hambellet_, ambleth.\n\n_Hansell._ The vendor of any wares is said to receive _hansel_ of\nhis first customer; but the meaning of the text, _Haffe hansell for\nthe mar_, is not understood, unless it can be thought to imply,\n_Give me hansel_, _i.e._ buy of my pots.\n\n_Hart of Greece_ means perhaps no more than a fat hart, for the\nsake of a quibble between Greece and grease.\n\n_Hawt_, aught, anything, something.\n\n_Hayt_, hath.\n\n_Held_, kept preserved.\n\n_Hende_, gentle, courteous.\n\n_Hent_, took, caught.\n\n_Hepe_, hip, haw, the fruit of the white thorn. So in _Gil Morice_,\na Scotish ballad:\u2014\n\n \u201cI was once AS FOW of Gill Morrice\n AS THE HIP IS O\u2019 THE STEAN.\u201d\n\n_Her_, their.\n\n_Het_, it.\n\n_Het_, eat.\n\n_Heynd_, gentle, courteous.\n\n_Heyt war howte_, p. 86.\n\n_Highed_, hyed, hastened.\n\n_Hight_, _What they hight_, what they are called.\n\n_Holde_, keep, held, retained of council.\n\n_Holy_, wholely.\n\n_Holy dame_, _Our holy dame_, p. 250, the Virgin Mary (so called);\nunless, for our \u201choly dame\u201d we should read our halidome, which may\nmean our holiness, honesty, chastity; haligoome, sanctimonia.\n\n_Hos_, _Hus_, us.\n\n_Hotys_, oats.\n\n_Housband_, _Housbonde_, manager, husbandman, peasant. {393}\n\n_How_, hill.\n\n_Howt_, out.\n\n_Hyght_, vowed, promised.\n\n_Hynde_, knave.\n\n_I_, ay.\n\n_Ibent_, bent.\n\n_Ibonde_, bound.\n\n_Ichaunged_, changed.\n\n_Idyght_, dight, dressed, prepared, made ready.\n\n_Ifedered_, feathered.\n\n_Ilke_, each.\n\n_In-fere_, together.\n\n_Inocked_, nocked, notched.\n\n_Ipyght_, _Up ipyght_, p. 26.\n\n_Iquyt_, acquitted, set at liberty.\n\n_Iswore_, sworn.\n\n_Itake_, taken.\n\n_Japes_, tricks.\n\n_Ken_, know.\n\n_Kest_, cast.\n\n_Kirtle_, upper petticoat.\n\n_Knave_, servant, man.\n\n_Kod_, quod, quoth, said.\n\n_Kyrtell_, waistcoat.\n\n_Kythe nor kin_, acquaintance nor kindred.\n\n_Lappe_, wrap.\n\n_Late_, lake, play, game.\n\n_Launsgay_, a sort of lance.\n\n_Leasynge_, lying, falsehood.\n\n_Lede_, train, suite.\n\n_Ledesman_, guide.\n\n_Lee_, plain.\n\n_Lefe_, willing. _Whether he were loth or lefe_, whether he would\nor not.\n\n_Leffe_, leave, left.\n\n_Leffes_, leaves.\n\n_Lende_, meet, encounter.\n\n_Lene_, lend.\n\n_Lere_, learn.\n\n_Lere_, cheek.\n\n_Lese_, lose.\n\n_Let_, omit, hinder, hindered.\n\n_Leugh_, laughed.\n\n_Lever_, rather.\n\n_Lewt\u00e8_, loyalty, faith, truth; _leaut\u00e9_, F.\n\n_Leythe_, light.\n\n_Ligge_, lay.\n\n_Lin_, stop, stay.\n\n_Lithe_, attend, hear, hearken. {394}\n\n_Loffe_, love.\n\n_Lore_, lost.\n\n_Lough_, _Loughe_, _Low_, laughed.\n\n_Lowe_, \u201ca little hill.\u201d\u2014_P._\n\n_Lown_, villain, knave, base fellow.\n\n_Lust_, desire, inclination.\n\n_Lyght_, light; or, perhaps, for _lyte_, little.\n\n_Lynde_, _Lyne_, the lime or linden tree; or collectively lime\ntrees, or trees in general.\n\n_Lyth_, see _Lithe_.\n\n_Lyveray_, livery, habit, delivery: the mess, portion, or quantity\nof provisions delivered out at a time by the butler was called _a\nlivery_.\n\n_Masars_, cups, vessels.\n\n_Masterye_, \u201ca trial of skill, high proof of skill.\u201d\u2014_P._\n\n_Mair_, more.\n\n_Maney_, see _Meyne_.\n\n_May_, maid.\n\n_Me_, _That ever yet sawe I me_, a gallicism; _que jamais j\u2019ai vu\nmoi_.\n\n_Meal_, oat-meal.\n\n_Meal-poke_, meal-bag, bag in which oatmeal is put.\n\n_Meat-rife._\n\n_Mede_, _To quyte hym well his mede_, to reward him to some purpose.\n\n_Medys_, midst, middle.\n\n_Meede_, reward.\n\n_Mesh_, _All to mesh_, to a mash or jelly.\n\n_Met_, _Mete_, measured.\n\n_Methe_, meat.\n\n_Meyne_, attendants, retinue; _mesnie_, F.\n\n_Meythe_, might.\n\n_Mickle_, much, great, very.\n\n_Mister_, need. It is _misters_ in the original.\n\n_Mo_, more.\n\n_Molde_, earth.\n\n_Mot_, _Mote_, might, may.\n\n_Mote_, meeting, assembly, court, audit.\n\n_Mountenaunce_, amount, duration, space.\n\n_Mow_, mouth.\n\n_Mowe_, may.\n\n_Muckle_, see _Mickle_.\n\n_Myrthes_, mirth, merriment. _A man that myrthes can_, a minstrel,\nfiddler, juggler, or the like.\n\n_Myster_, need.\n\n_Nane_, none.\n\n_Nar_, nor, than.\n\n_Ner_, ear. So in \u201c_The Romaunt of the Rose_:\u201d\n\n \u201cHe streight up to his _ere_ ydrough\n The stronge bowe.\u201d {395}\n\n_Ner_, (_ne wer it_), were it not.\n\n_Nip_, p. 100.\n\n_Nips_, p. 101.\n\n_Nobellys_, nobles. The _noble_ was a gold coin, value 6s. 8d.\n\n_Nombles_, _Numbles_, entrails; those parts which are usually baked\nin a pie: now, corruptly, called _humbles_ or _umbles_: _nombles_,\nF. Thus we say, _an Adder_, _an Apron_, _an Ouche_, instead of _a\nNadder_, (Naddre), _a Napron_, _a Nouche_: the _n_ being, through\nignorance, transferred to the article. The reverse has happened in\nthe words _A newt_, which should be written _An ewt_: a mistake the\nmore remarkable as we say and write _An eft_; both from the same\nroot: Efet, Saxon.\n\n_Obeyedores_, [_obediener_].\n\n_Okerer_, usurer.\n\n_Or_, [en].\n\n_Os_, us.\n\n_Outdone_, undone.\n\n_Owthe_, out.\n\n_Paid_, beat, beaten.\n\n_Palmer._ A _palmer_ was, properly, a pilgrim who had visited the\nHoly Land, from the palm-branch or cross which he bore as a sign of\nsuch visitation: but it is probable that the distinction between\n_palmers_ and other _pilgrims_ was never much attended to in this\ncountry. The palmer in the text seems to be no more than a common\nbeggar; as is, likewise, the one in the romance.\n\n_Partakers_, assistants, persons to take thy part.\n\n_Passe_, extent, bounds, limits, district; as the _Pas de Calais_.\nCopland\u2019s edition reads _compas_.\n\n_Pauage_, _Pavag_, _Pavage_, _Pawage_, a toll or duty payable for\nthe liberty of passing over the soil or territory of another:\n_paagium_, L.\n\n_Pay_, content, satisfaction, money.\n\n_Peces_, p. 32.\n\n_Pecocke_, _With pecocke well ydight_, handsomely dressed with\npeacock feathers. Thus Chaucer, describing his \u201c_squire\u2019s yeman_:\u201d\n\n \u201cA shefe of _peacocke arwes_ bright and kene,\n  Under his belt he bare ful thriftely.\u201d\n\nIn a little treatise of \u201c_The Hors, the Shepe, and the Ghoos_,\u201d\nprinted by Caxton, it is said\u2014\n\n \u201cThurgh all the londe of Brutes Albyon\n  For fetherd arowes as I reherce can\n  _Ghoos_ is the best to make comparison\n  Excepte fethers of _pecok_ and of _swan_.\u201d\n\n_Pinder._ The _pinder_ is the _pounder_ or _pound-keeper_; the\npetty officer of a manor, whose duty it is to impound all strange\ncattle straying upon the common, &c. {396}\n\n_Plucke-buffet_, p. 75.\n\n_Polle_, pull.\n\n_Poke_, bag.\n\n_Preke_, prick, a piece of wood in the centre of the target.\n\n_Prese_, company.\n\n_Prest_, ready, ready to go.\n\n_Puding-pricks_, skewers that fasten the pudding-bag.\n\n_Pyne_, _Goddes pyne_, Christ\u2019s passion or crucifixion.\n\n_Quequer_, quiver: Gocur, Saxon.\n\n_Queyt_, quit, recompense.\n\n_Qod_, quoth, says, said.\n\n_Raked_, walked apace.\n\n_Ray_, _Battle ray_, Battle-array. The same expression occurs in\n_The Tragicall History of Didaco and Violenta_, 1567:\n\n \u201cTo traverse forth his grounde, to place\n  His troupes _in batayle ray_.\u201d\n\n_Ray_, array, put in order.\n\n_Raye._ _Cloth of ray_ was cloth not coloured or dyed. It is\nmentioned in many old statutes in contradistinction to _cloth of\ncolour_. See 17 E. 3. c. 1, 7 H. 4. c. 10, 11 H. 4. c. 6, 1 R. 3.\nc. 8. The \u201c_reied or striped cloth_\u201d (Stow\u2019s _Survay_, 1598, p.\n436, 430) must have been very different.\n\n_Reachles_, careless, regardless, unobservant.\n\n_Red_, clear.\n\n_Reuth_, pity, compassion.\n\n_Reve_, taken by force.\n\n_Reves_, bailiffs, receivers.\n\n_Ripe_, cleanse. _Riped_, cleansed.\n\n_Rod_, poles, perches. A rod, pole, or perch is usually sixteen\nfeet and a half, but in Sherwood forest (according to Blount) it is\n21 feet, the foot there being 18 inches.\n\n_Rode_, rood, cross.\n\n_Rung_, staff.\n\n_Ryall_, royal.\n\n_Ryalty_, royalty.\n\n_Ryghtwys_, righteous, just.\n\n_Sack_, a kind of Spanish wine, perhaps sherry, formerly much drank\nin this country; very different, at least, from the sweet (or\ncanary) wine now so called.\n\n_Sair_, sore.\n\n_Salved_, (_salued_?) saluted. The word _salewed_, in this sense,\noccurs repeatedly in _The Hystorye of Reinard the Foxe_ (Pinson\u2019s\nedition); and (_vide tamen Salvid_ in the _Gesta Romanorum_, MS.\nHar. 7333, No. 48) in that of \u201c_Kynge Ponthus of Galyce_,\u201d 1511.\n\u201c_Salue_,\u201d F. i. \u201c_Salewe_,\u201d F. ii. K. Ponthus.\n\n_Scathe_, harm.\n\n_Schetyng_, shooting.\n\n_Schomer_, summer. {397}\n\n_Sclo_, slay.\n\n_Scop_, scalp, pate.\n\n_Scoper_, supper.\n\n_Scouth_, p. 105.\n\n_Serefe_, _Screffe_, sheriff.\n\n_Se_, vide _See_.\n\n_Seche_, seek.\n\n_See_, regard, protect. The same phrase occurs in Chaucer\u2019s\n_Troilus and Cresside_:\n\n \u201cMadame, quoth Pandare, God you save see.\u201d\n\n_Seker_, sure.\n\n_Selerer._ The cellarer (_celerier_, _cellararius_, or _cellarius_)\nwas that officer who furnished the convent with provisions,\n_cui potus et esc\u00e6 cura est, qui cell\u00e6 vinari\u00e6 et escari\u00e6\npr\u00e6est, promus_ (DU CANGE). He appears to have been a person of\nconsiderable trust, and to have had a principal concern in the\nmanagement of the society\u2019s revenues. See Spelman\u2019s _Glossary_,\nFuller\u2019s _Church History_, &c.\n\n_Semblaunte_, semblance, appearance.\n\n_Sene_, see.\n\n_Sete_, p. 25.\n\n_Sets._ _Sets with Roben Hood such a lass!_ probably such a lass\nwould suit or become him well; but the passage is either singular\nor corrupt.\n\n_Sette_, mortgaged.\n\n_Shawe._ _Shaw_ is usually explained by _little wood_, but\n_greenwood little wood_ would be ridiculous tautology; it may\ntherefore mean _shade_, which appears its primitive signification:\nScu\u01bfa, Saxon. See p. 327, ver. 5. _Shaws_, \u201clittle woods.\u201d\u2014P.\n\n_Shende_, hurt, annoy. _Shente_, hurt, wounded.\n\n_Shet_, shut.\n\n_Shete_, shoot.\n\n_Shone_, [shoes].\n\n_Shope_, shaped, made.\n\n_Shraddes._ See the note.\n\n_Shrewde_, _Shrewed_, unlucky.\n\n_Shrift_, confession.\n\n_Shroggs_, \u201cshrubs, thorns, briars. G. Doug. _scroggis_.\u201d\u2014P.\n\n_Shyt_, shut.\n\n_Skaith_, hurt, harm. _They feared for his skaith_, _i.e._ for the\nharm it might do them.\n\n_Slack_, low ground.\n\n_Slade_, \u201ca slip of greensward between plow-lands, or woods, &c.\u201d\u2014P.\n\n_Slawe_, _Slone_, slain.\n\n_Sle_, _Sloo_, slay.\n\n_Somers_, sumpter-horses.\n\n_Sorowe_, sorry. {398}\n\n_Sothe_, sooth, truth.\n\n_Sound_, see _A-sound_.\n\n_Soyt_, sooth, truth.\n\n_Spear_, ask. _Speer\u2019d_, asked, inquired.\n\n_Stalward_, _Stalworthe_, stout, well made.\n\n_Stane_, stone.\n\n_Stark_, stiff.\n\n_Stede_, time.\n\n_Steven._ _At some unsett-steven_, at some unlooked for time, by\nsome odd accident, by mere chance, voice.\n\n_Stime_, spark, particle or ray of light.\n\n_Stint_, stop.\n\n_Sto\u2019_, store, p. 219.\n\n_Strang_, strong.\n\n_Strete_, lane, path, way.\n\n_Sweaven_, dream.\n\n_Sweer_, p. 100.\n\n_Syne_, after, afterward, then.\n\n_Syth_, afterward.\n\n_Takles_, arrows.\n\n_Takyll_, arrow.\n\n_Tarpe_, p. 68.\n\n_Tene_, grief, sorrow, distress, vexation.\n\n_Tene_, grieve.\n\n_The_, thrive, prosper.\n\n_Thes_, thus, this.\n\n_Thos_, thus.\n\n_Throwe_, space.\n\n_To-broke_, broken.\n\n_To-hande staffe_, two-hand staff, quarter-staff.\n\n_Tortyll_, wreathed, twined, twirled, twisted; _tortill\u00e9_, F.\n\n_Tray_, anger.\n\n_Tree_, staff.\n\n_Treyffe_, thrive.\n\n_Trow_, true.\n\n_Trowet_, troth.\n\n_True_, trow, believe.\n\n_Trystell_, _Trystyll_.\n\n_Tynde_, _Tyndes_, tines, antlers, the pointed branches that issue\nfrom the main beam of a stag. \u201cIn Ynglond ther ys a shepcote, the\nwyche schepekote hayt ix dorys, & at yeuery dor stondet ix ramys, &\nevery ram hat ix ewys, & yevery ewe hathe ix lambys, & yevery lambe\nhayt ix homes, & every horne hayt ix TYNDES: what ys the somm of\nall thes belle?\u201d (MSS. More, Ee. 4. 35.)\n\n_Unketh_, uncouth, strange.\n\n_Unneth_, scarcely.\n\n_Up-chaunce_, by chance.\n\n_Venie_, _Brave venie_, merry vein, jovial humour. {399}\n\n_Wan_, _Wonnynge wan_, dwelling-place.\n\n_Wan_, got.\n\n_Warden-pies._ _Wardens_ are a species of large pears. In\nShakespeare\u2019s _Winter\u2019s Tale_, the clown, enumerating the articles\nhe had to provide for the sheep-shearing feast, says he \u201cmust have\nsaffron to colour the _warden-pies_.\u201d\n\n_Warse_, worse.\n\n_Was_, wash. \u201cAnd afterward the justices arise and _wasse_, and\ngeffe thanks unto the new serjaunts forther gode dyner\u201d (_Origines\nJuridiciales_, p. 116). This ceremony, which, in former times, was\nconstantly practised as well before as after meat, seems to have\nfallen into disuse on the introduction of forks, about the year\n1620: as before that period our ancestors supplyed the place of\nthis necessary utensil with their fingers.\n\n_Watchman_, a probable mistake for _Waithman_, outlaw. See Notes,\n&c., p. lxxiii.\n\n_Wed_, _Wedde_, pawn, pledge, or deposit. _To wedde_, in mortgage.\n_Lay my life to wedde_, pawn my life.\n\n_Weele_, well.\n\n_Welt_, _Welt them at his wyll_, did as he pleased with them, used\nthem at his pleasure.\n\n_Wed_, _Wende_, go, hye.\n\n_Wenest_, thinkest.\n\n_Wenion_, _Marry gep with a wenion!_ \u201cHe shoulde have bene at home\na preaching _with a waniant_,\u201d says Bishop Latimer, _Sermons before\nKing Edward VI._, p. 35. This phrase, _with a wannion_, is common\nin old plays, but, though its meaning be obvious, even Mr. Steevens\nis unable to \u201cexplain the word at the end of it\u201d (_Shak._ xiii.\n440). It is now corrupted to _with a vengeance_.\n\n_Went_, wended, gone.\n\n_Werschep_, worshipped, reverenced, respected.\n\n_West_, wist, known.\n\n_Wete_, know.\n\n_Whang_, _Leathern whang_, leather thong or string.\n\n_Whereas_, where.\n\n_Whute_, whistle.\n\n_Wigger wand_, wicker wand.\n\n_Wight_, _Wighty_, strong. _N.B._ The latter word seems everywhere\na mistake for the former.\n\n_Wilfulle_, doubtful.\n\n_Win_, see _Wen_.\n\n_Win_, get.\n\n_Wist_, wis, trow, believe.\n\n_Wist_, knew.\n\n_Wode_, mad.\n\n_Wodys_, woods.\n\n_Wolwarde_, wearing a flannel shirt, by way of penance. See\nSteeven\u2019s _Shakespeare_, 1793, v. 360. {400}\n\n_Won_, dwell.\n\n_Wonest_, dwellest.\n\n_Woodweele_, \u201cthe golden ouzle, a bird of the thrush kind.\u201d\u2014P.\n\n_Worthe_, _Wo worthe the_, woe be to thee.\n\n_Wrack_, ruin, destruction.\n\n_Wroken_, wreaked, revenged.\n\n_Wyght_, strong, stout.\n\n_Wynne_, go.\n\n_Wys_, trow; there is no modern word precisely synonymous.\n\n_Wyte_, _Wytte_, know.\n\n_Y_, I.\n\n_Yede_, _Yeed_, went.\n\n_Yeff_, if.\n\n_Yeffell_, evil.\n\n_Yeft_, gift.\n\n_Yemenry_, yeomanry. _Thow seys god yemenry_, thou speakest\nhonestly, fairly, sensibly, like a good yeoman.\n\n_Yend_, yon.\n\n_Yeomandree_, _Yeomandry_, yeomanry, followers.\n\n_Yerdes_, rods.\n\n_Yever_, ever.\n\n_Yfere_, together.\n\n_Ylke_, same. _Ylke same_, very same.\n\n_Ynowe_, enough.\n\n_Yode_, went.\n\n_Yole_, Christmas.\n\n_Yonder_, under.\n\n_Yong men_, yeomen (which is every where substituted in Copland\u2019s\nedition). See Spelman\u2019s _Glossary_ in the wordes _Juniores_,\n_Yeoman_; Minshen\u2019s _Guide into Tongues_, in the latter\nword; Tyrwhitt\u2019s edition of the _Canterbury Tales_, iv. 195;\nShakespeare\u2019s _Plays_, 1793, xiv. 347.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.\n EDINBURGH AND LONDON\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTE\n\nOriginal spelling and grammar have been generally retained, with\nsome exceptions noted below. Original printed page numbers are\nshown like this: {52}. Original small caps are now uppercase.\nItalics look _like this_. Footnotes have been relabeled 1\u2013359,\nand moved from within paragraphs to the ends of chapters. The\ntranscriber produced the cover image and hereby assigns it to\nthe public domain. Original page images are available from\narchive.org\u2014search for \"odcollectrobinho00ritsrich\".\n\nPage ix, List of Embellishments. The page reference for KIRKLEY\nHALL is changed from \u201cxlv\u201d to \u201cxiv\u201d.\n\nPage xxi. The Pedigree of Robin Hood in the printed book was a\ncomplicated chart, which cannot be represented properly in this\nsimple text edition. Therefore a transcription has been provided,\nbased on the geneological numbering system of Robert B. Henry\u2014see\nfor example wikipedia.org, search for Ahnentafel_with_generation.\nI apologize for any errors you might find in this transcription.\nThe Henry system starts with a progenitor, numbered 1, his/her\nchildren, numbered 11, 12, etc, followed by grandchildren 111, 112,\netc. The system ordinarily depends on knowing the order of birth\nof children to parents, but that is not provided in our book, so\nour Henry numbers are, in that respect, arbitrary, showing only\nparentage. Also, the abbreviation m. is used in this transcription,\nordinarily meaning \u201cmarried\u201d, but in this case indicating only\nparentage.\n\nPage xvii. \u201cdrowne themselves (as it were,\u201d changed to \u201cdrowne\nthemselves (as it were),\u201d, to close the left parenthesis.\n\nPage lvi. A missing left double quotation mark was inserted before\n\u2018_Rob._ Wind once more,\u2019.\n\nPage lxxiii note. Changed \u201cIt is from \u00fe\u00e6\u00f0an, _venari_, _fugare_)\u201d\nto \u201cIt is from \u00fe\u00e6\u00f0an, _venari_, _fugare_\u201d.\n\nPage c note. The phrase \u201cfr\u00a0\u00f0es\u201d, retained, might be an error;\nperhaps it should read \u201cfri\u00f0es\u201d?\n\nPage ci. \u201c16:h\u201d to \u201c16th\u201d.\n\nPage cv note. Changed \u201cin 1621 (the very date, by the way, which\nappears on Mr. Tollet\u2019s window,\u201d to \u201cin 1621 (the very date, by the\nway, which appears on Mr. Tollet\u2019s window),\u201d.\n\nPage cviii. Added right parenthesis after \u201c1783, p. 255.\u201d to\nbalance the left parenthesis before \u201cSee Steevens\u2019s\u201d.\n\nPage 164n. The original inverted asterism has been replaced with an\nasterism \u2042 in this text edition.\n\nPage 170. \u201cRobin Hdoo served\u201d to \u201cRobin Hood served\u201d.\n\nPage 188 music midi file. In bar 9, the E-sharp has been corrected\nto E-natural.\n\nPage 263n. The footnote \u201cElephant.\u201d had no anchor in the text, and\nis therefore relocated here. A volunteer suggested that it might\nattach to \u2018eglantine\u2019 in the first line on the page.\n\nPage 269n. The footnote \u201cRobin Hood.\u201d had no anchor in the text; a\nnew one was inserted after \u201cRobin\u201d in the third stanza.\n\nPage 302 midi file. In bar 6, the first note has been corrected to\na quarter-note. In bar 7, the eighth notes have been corrected to\nsixteenth notes.\n\nPage 312n. The footnote had no anchor; a new one is inserted after\n\u201cAnd \u2018wandred\u2019\u201d.\n\nPage 348n. Changed \u201clater period in Germany (see\u201d to \u201clater period\nin Germany, see\u201d\n\nPages 354, 355 midi file. The three music snippets on these pages\nare meant to be sung as a single three-part chorus, and have been\nso rendered in the midi file. Note that transcribing early music\nnotation into modern notation is not an exact science; in 1609,\nwhen this piece was published, music notation was still considered\nmore of a guide than a mandate. Therefore, adjustments were made so\nthat the sound file makes musical sense.\n\nPage 357 midi file. As with the previous piece, which was also\npublished in 1609, adjustments were made so that the sound file\nmakes musical sense.\n\nPage 387. Several entries in the Glossary ending with comma were\naltered to end with full stop.\n\nPage 393. \u201c_Lewt\u00e8_, loyal\u00a0y,\u201d changed to \u201c_Lewt\u00e8_, loyalty,\u201d.\n\nPage 396. There are in several places in this book instances of\nwords printed in mixtures of uncial, insular, and humanist type.\nThese have been rendered in common unicode characters in this text\nedition; images are provided for the html, epub, and mobi editions.\nA particularly odd instance occurs on page 396, where the Saxon\nword meaning _Quequer_ is rendered herein \u201cGocur\u201d.","title":"Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":106301}