_With hey down, down, an a down_,
That are in the bowers within;
For of Robin Hood, that archer good,
A song I intend for to sing.
Upon a time it chancèd so, 5
Bold Robin in forrest did 'spy
A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare,
With his flesh to the market did hye.
"Good morrow, good fellow," said jolly Robin,
"What food hast [thou]? tell unto me; 10
Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell,
For I like well thy company."
The butcher he answer'd jolly Robin,
"No matter where I dwell;
For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham 15
I am going, my flesh to sell."
"What's [the] price of thy flesh?" said jolly Robin,[L17]
"Come, tell it soon unto me;
And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear,
For a butcher fain would I be." 20
"The price of my flesh," the butcher repli'd,
"I soon will tell unto thee;
With my bonny mare, and they are not too dear,
Four mark thou must give unto me.
"Four mark I will give thee," saith jolly Robin, 25
"Four mark it shall be thy fee;
The mony come count, and let me mount,
For a butcher I fain would be."
Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone,
His butchers trade to begin; 30
With good intent to the sheriff he went,
And there he took up his inn.
When other butchers did open their meat,
Bold Robin he then begun;
But how for to sell he knew not well, 35
For a butcher he was but young.
When other butchers no meat could sell,
Robin got both gold and fee;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Then others could do for three. 40
But when he sold his meat so fast,
No butcher by him could thrive;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Than others could do for five.
Which made the butchers of Nottingham 45
To study as they did stand,
Saying, "Surely he 'is' some prodigal,
That hath sold his fathers land."
The butchers stepped to jolly Robin,
Acquainted with him for to be; 50
"Come, brother," one said, "we be all of one trade,
"Come, will you go dine with me?"
"Accurst of his heart," said jolly Robin,
"That a butcher doth deny;
I will go with you, my brethren true, 55
As fast as I can hie."
But when to the sheriffs house they came,
To dinner they hied apace,
And Robin Hood he the man must be
Before them all to say grace. 60
"Pray God bless us all," said jolly Robin,
"And our meat within this place;
A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood,
And so do I end my grace.
"Come fill us more wine," said jolly Robin, 65
"Let us be merry while we do stay;
For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear,
I vow I the reck'ning will pay.
"Come, 'brothers,' be merry," said jolly Robin,
"Let us drink, and never give ore; 70
For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way,
If it cost me five pounds and more."
"This is a mad blade," the butchers then said;
Saies the sheriff, "He is some prodigàl,
That some land has sold for silver and gold, 75
And now he doth mean to spend all.
"Hast thou any horn beasts," the sheriff repli'd,
"Good fellow, to sell unto me?"
"Yes, that I have, good master sheriff,
I have hundreds two or three; 80
"And a hundred aker of good free land,
If you please it to see:
And Ile make you as good assurance of it,
As ever my father made me."
The sheriff he saddled his good palfrèy, 85
And, with three hundred pound in gold,
Away he went with bold Robin Hood,
His horned beasts to behold.
Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride,
To the forrest of merry Sherwood; 90
Then the sheriff did say, "God bless us this day
From a man they call Robin Hood!"
But when a little farther they came,
Bold Robin he chancèd to spy
A hundred head of good red deer, 95
Come tripping the sheriff full nigh.
"How like you my horn'd beasts, good master sheriff?
They be fat and fair for to see;"
"I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone,
For I like not thy company." 100
Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,
And blew but blasts three;
Then quickly anon there came Little John,
And all his company.
"What is your will, master?" then said Little John,
"Good master come tell unto me;" 105
"I have brought hither the sheriff of Nottingham
This day to dine with thee."
"He is welcome to me," then said Little John,
"I hope he will honestly pay; 110
I know he has gold, if it be but well told,
Will serve us to drink a whole day."
Then Robin took his mantle from his back,
And laid it upon the ground:
And out of the sheriffs portmantle 115
He told three hundred pound.
Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood,
And set him on his dapple gray;
"O have me commended to your wife at home;"
So Robin went laughing away. 120
17. What is price.
ROBYN AND GANDELYN.
This interesting ballad (derived from a manuscript of the 15th
century,) belongs to the cycle of Robin Hood, as Mr. Wright remarks,
"at least by its subject, if not by the person whose death it
celebrates." It was first printed by Ritson in his _Ancient Songs and
Ballads_, (i. 81,) and has been again printed by Mr. Wright in a
little black-letter volume of _Songs and Carols_ (No. X); from which
we take our copy.
The similarity of the name Gandelyn to the Gamelyn of the _Cook's
Tale_, attributed to Chaucer, and the affinity of that story to the
Robin Hood ballads, are alluded to by the last-named editor. Is it
not possible that this name reappears again in the "Young Gamwell" of
_Robin Hood and the Stranger_?
The dialect of this piece is proved by an incidental coincidence, says
Mr. Wright, to be that of Warwickshire.
I herde a carpyng of a clerk
Al at zone wodes ende,
Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn
Was ther non other thynge.[L4]
_Robynn lyth in grene wode Bowndyn._
Stronge theuys wern tho chylderin non, 5
But bowmen gode and hende:
He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych,
If God wold it hem sende.
Al day wentyn tho chylderin too,
And fleych fowndyn he non, 10
Til it were ageyn euyn,
The chylderin wold gon hom:
Half a honderid of fat falyf der
He comyn azon,
And all he wern fayr and fat inow, 15
But markyd was ther non.
"Be dere Gode," seyde gode [Robyn],
"Hereof we xul haue on."
Robyn bent his joly bowe,[L19]
Therin he set a flo, 20
The fattest der of alle [the herd]
The herte he clef a-to.
He hadde not the der islawe
Ne half out of the hyde,[L24]
There cam a schrewde arwe out of the west, 25
That felde Roberts pryde.
Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west
Be euery syde;
"Hoo hat myn mayster slayin,
Ho hat don this dede? 30
Xal I neuer out of grene wode go,
Ti[l] I se [his] sydis blede."
Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west,
And sowt vnder the sunne,
He saw a lytil boy 35
He clepyn Wrennok of Doune:
A good bowe in his hond,
A brod arewe therine,
And fowre and xx goode arwys
Trusyd in a thrumme. 40
"Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,
Herof thu xalt han summe:
"Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,
Herof thu gyst plentè."
"Euere on for an other," seyde Gandeleyn, 45
"Mysaunter haue he xal fle."
"Qwerat xal our marke be?"
Seyde Gandeleyn:
"Eueryche at otheris herte,"
Seyde Wrennok ageyn. 50
"Ho xal zeue the ferste schote?"
Seyde Gandeleyn:
"And I xal zeue thè on beforn,"
Seyd Wrennok ageyn.
Wrennok schette a ful good schote, 55
And he schet not too hye;
Throw the sanchothis of his bryk,
It towchyd neyther thye.
"Now hast thu zouyn me on beforn,"
Al thus to Wrennok seyde he, 60
"And throw the myzt of our lady[L61]
A bettere I xal zeue the."
Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe,
And set therin a flo,
He schet throw his grene certyl, 65
His herte he clef on too.
"Now zalt thu neuer zelpe, Wrennok,
At ale ne at wyn,
That thu hast slawe goode Robyn
And his knaue Gandeleyn. 70
"Now xalt thu neuer zelpe, Wrennok,
At wyn ne at ale,
That thu hast slawe goode Robyn
And Gandeleyyn his knave."[L74]
_Robyn lyzth in grene wode bow[n]dyn._
4, MS. gynge.
19, MS. went.
24, cut of, Ritson.
61, MS. thu.
74, MS. knawe.
A LYTELL GESTE OF ROBYN HODE.
Three complete editions of this highly popular poem are known, all
without date. The earliest, (perhaps not later than 1520,) is by
Wynken de Worde, and has this title: _Here beginneth a mery geste of
Robyn Hode and his meyne, and of the proude sheryfe of Notyngham_. A
second is by William Copland, and is apparently made from the former.
A third was printed from Copland's, for Edward White, and though
without date is entered in the Stationers' Registers in 1594. Portions
have been preserved of two other editions, earlier than any of these
three. Ritson had in his hands a few leaves of an "old 4to.
black-letter impression," by Wynken de Worde, "probably in 1489." _The
Gest of Robyn Hode_ was also printed at Edinburgh, in 1508, by Chepman
and Myllar, who in the same year issued a considerable number of
poetical tracts. A volume of these, containing a large fragment of the
piece in question, was most fortunately recovered towards the end of
the last century, and has been reprinted in fac simile by the Messrs.
Laing, Edinburgh, 1827.
The _Lytell Geste_ is obviously to be regarded as an heroic poem,
constructed, partly or entirely, out of previously existing
unconnected "rhymes of Robin Hood." The earlier ballads employed for
this purpose have not been handed down to us in their primitive form.
Whatever this may have been, they were probably very freely treated by
the rhapsodist that strung them together, who has indeed retold the
ancient stories with such skill as might well cause the ruder
originals to be forgotten. Nevertheless, the third fit of our little
epic is indisputably of common derivation with the last part of the
older ballad of _Robin Hood and the Potter_, and other portions of
this tale occur separately in ballads, which, though modern in their
structure, may have had a source independent of the _Lytell Geste_.
It will be observed that each fit of this piece does not constitute a
complete story. Mr. Hunter has correctly enough indicated the division
into ballads as follows: The first ballad is comprised in the first
two fits, and may be called Robin Hood and the Knight; the second
ballad is the third fit, and may be called Little John and the Sheriff
of Nottinghamshire; in the fourth fit we have the ballad of Robin Hood
and the Monks of St. Mary; in the fifth and sixth, Robin Hood, the
Sheriff of Nottingham, and the Knight; the seventh and part of the
eighth contain the ballad of Robin Hood and the King; and the
remaining stanzas of the eighth the Death of Robin Hood.
Concerning the imagined historical foundation of the _Lytell Geste_,
see the general remarks on Robin Hood prefixed to this volume.
Lithe and lysten, gentylmen,
That be of frebore blode;
I shall you tell of a good yemàn,
His name was Robyn Hode.
Robyn was a proude outlawe, 5
Whyles he walked on grounde;
So curteyse an outlawe as he was one
Was never none yfounde.
Robyn stode in Bernysdale,[L9]
And lened hym to a tre, 10
And by hym stode Lytell Johan,
A good yeman was he;
And also dyde good Scathelock,
And Much the millers sone;
There was no ynche of his body, 15
But it was worthe a grome.
Than bespake hym Lytell Johan
All unto Robyn Hode,
"Mayster, yf ye wolde dyne betyme,
It wolde do you moch good." 20
Then bespake good Robyn,
"To dyne I have no lest,[L22]
Tyll I have some bolde baròn,
Or some unketh gest,
"[Or els some byshop or abbot] 25
That may paye for the best;
Or some knyght or some squyere
That dwelleth here by west."
A good maner than had Robyn,
In londe where that he were, 30
Every daye or he woulde dyne
Thre messes wolde he here:
The one in the worshyp of the fader,
The other of the holy goost,
The thyrde was of our dere lady, 35
That he loved of all other moste.
Robyn loved our dere lady;
For doute of dedely synne,
Wolde he never do company harme
That ony woman was ynne. 40
"Mayster," than sayd Lytell Johan,
"And we our borde shall sprede,
Tell us whether we shall gone,
And what lyfe we shall lede;
"Where we shall take, where we shall leve, 45
Where we shall abide behynde,
Where we shall robbe, where we shall reve,
Where we shall bete and bynde."
"Therof no fors," said Robyn,
"We shall do well ynough; 50
But loke ye do no housbonde harme
That tylleth with his plough;
"No more ye shall no good yemàn,
That walketh by grene wode shawe,
Ne no knyght, ne no squyèr, 55
That wolde be a good felawe.
"These byshoppes, and thyse archebysshoppes,
Ye shall them bete and bynde;
The hye sheryfe of Notynghame,
Hym holde in your mynde." 60
"This worde shall be holde," sayd Lytyll Johan,
"And this lesson shall we lere;
It is ferre dayes, god sende us a gest,
That we were at our dynere."
"Take thy good bowe in thy hande," said Robyn, 65
"Let Moche wende with the,
And so shall Wyllyam Scathelocke,
And no man abyde with me:
"And walke up to the Sayles,[L69]
And so to Watlynge-strete,[L70] 70
And wayte after some unketh gest,
Up-chaunce ye mowe them mete.
"Be he erle or ony baròn,
Abbot or ony knyght,
Brynge hym to lodge to me, 75
Hys dyner shall be dyght."
They wente unto the Sayles,
These yemen all thre,
They loked est, they loked west,
They myght no man see. 80
But as they loked in Barnysdale,
By a derne strete,
Then came there a knyght rydynge,
Full sone they gan hym mete.
All dreri then was his semblaunte,[L85] 85
And lytell was hys pryde,
Hys one fote in the sterope stode,
That other waved besyde.
Hys hode hangynge over hys eyen two,
He rode in symple aray; 90
A soryer man than he was one
Rode never in somers-day.
Lytell Johan was curteyse,
And set hym on his kne:
"Welcome be ye, gentyll knyght, 95
Welcome are you to me.
"Welcome be thou to grene wood,
Hende knyght and fre;
My mayster hath abyden you fastynge,
Syr, all these oures thre." 100
"Who is your mayster?" sayd the knyght.
Johan sayde, "Robyn Hode."
"He is a good yeman," sayd the knyght,
"Of hym I have herde moch good.
"I graunte," he sayd, "with you to wende, 105
My brethren, all in-fere;[L106]
My purpose was to have deyned to day
At Blythe or Dankastere."
Forthe than went this gentyll knyght,[L109]
With a carefull chere; 110
The teres out of his eyen ran,
And fell downe by his lere.[L112]
They brought hym unto the lodge dore;
When Robyn gan hym se,
Full curteysly dyde of his hode, 115
And set hym on his kne.
"Welcome, syr knyght," then said Robyn,
"Welcome thou arte to me,
I haue abyde you fastynge, syr,
All these houres thre." 120
Then answered the gentyll knyght,
With wordes fayre and fre,
"God the save, good Robyn,
And all thy fayre meynè."
They washed togyder and wyped bothe, 125
And set tyll theyr dynere;
Brede and wyne they had ynough,
And nombles of the dere.
Swannes and fesauntes they had full good,
And foules of the revere; 130
There fayled never so lytell a byrde,
That ever was bred on brere.
"Do gladly, syr knyght," sayd Robyn;
"Gramercy, syr," sayd he,
"Such a dyner had I not 135
Of all these wekes thre.
"If I come agayne, Robyn,
Here by this countrè,
As good a dyner I shall the make,
As thou hast made to me." 140
"Gramercy, knyght," sayd Robyn;
"My dyner whan I have,
I was never so gredy, by dere worthy god,
My dyner for to crave.
"But pay or ye wende," sayd Robyn, 145
"Me thynketh it is good ryght;
It was never the maner, by dere worthy god,
A yeman to pay for a knyght."[L148]
"I have nought in my cofers," sayd the knyght,
"That I may profer for shame;" 150
"Lytell Johan, go loke," sayd Robyn,[L151]
"Ne let not for no blame.
"Tell me trouth," sayd Robyn,
"So god have parte of the;"
"I have no more but ten shillings," sayd the knyght, 155
"So god have parte of me."
"Yf thou have no more," sayd Robyn,
"I wyll not one peny;
And yf thou have nede of ony more,
More shall I len the. 160
"Go now forth, Lytell Johan,
The trouthe tell thou me;
Yf there be no more but ten shillings,
Not one peny that I se."
Lytell Johan spred downe his mantell, 165
Full fayre upon the grounde,
And there he found in the knyghtes cofer
But even halfe a pounde.
Lytyll Johan let it lye full styll,
And went to his mayster full lowe: 170
"What tydynge, Johan?" sayd Robyn:
"Syr, the knyght is trewe inough."
"Fyll of the best wyne," sayd Robyn,
"The knyght shall begynne;
Moch wonder thynketh me 175
Thy clothynge is so thynne.
"Tell me one worde," sayd Robyn,
"And counsell shall it be;
I trowe thou were made a knyght of forse,[L179]
Or elles of yemanry; 180
"Or elles thou hast ben a sory housband,
And leved in stroke and stryfe;
An okerer, or elles a lechoure," sayd Robyn,
"With wronge hast thou lede thy lyfe."
"I am none of them," sayd the knyght, 185
"By god that made me;
An hondreth wynter here before,
Myne aunsetters knyghtes have be.
"But ofte it hath befal, Robyn,
A man hath be dysgrate; 190
But god that syteth in heven above
May amend his state.
"Within two or thre yere, Robyn," he sayd,[L193]
"My neyghbores well it kende,[L194]
Foure hondreth pounde of good money 195
Full wel than myghte I spende.
"Now have I no good," sayd the knyght,
"But my chyldren and my wyfe;
God hath shapen such an ende,
Tyll god may amende my lyfe."[L200] 200
"In what maner," sayd Robyn,
"Hast thou lore thy richès?"
"For my grete foly," he sayd,
"And for my kindenesse.
"I had a sone, for soth, Robyn, 205
That sholde have ben my eyre,
When he was twenty wynter olde,
In felde wolde juste full feyre.
"He slewe a knyght of Lancastshyre,[L209]
And a squyre bolde; 210
For to save hym in his ryght,
My goodes beth sette and solde.
"My londes beth set to wedde, Robyn,
Untyll a certayne daye,
To a ryche abbot here besyde, 215
Of Saynt Mary abbay."
"What is the somme?" sayd Robyn,
"Trouthe than tell thou me;"
"Syr," he sayd, "foure hondred pounde,
The abbot tolde it to me." 220
"Now, and thou lese thy londe," sayd Robyn,
"What shall fall of the?"
"Hastely I wyll me buske," sayd the knyght,
"Over the salte see,
"And se where Cryst was quycke and deed 225
On the mounte of Caluarè:
Fare well, frende, and have good daye,
It may noo better be."[L228]
Teeres fell out of his eyen two,
He wolde haue gone his waye: 230
"Farewell, frendes, and have good day,
I ne have more to pay."
"Where be thy friendes?" sayd Robyn:[L233]
"Syr, never one wyll me know;[L234]
Whyle I was ryche inow at home, 235
Grete bost then wolde they blowe.
"And now they renne awaye fro me,
As bestes on a rowe;
They take no more heed of me
Then they me never sawe." 240
For ruthe then wepte Lytell Johan,
Scathelocke and Much in fere:[L242]
"Fyll of the best wyne," sayd Robyn,[L243]
"For here is a symple chere.
"Hast thou ony frendes," sayd Robyn, 245
"Thy borowes that wyll be?"
"I have none," then sayd the knyght,
"But god that dyed on a tree."
"Do waye thy japes," sayd Robyn,
"Therof will I right none; 250
Wenest thou I wyll have god to borowe,
Peter, Poule, or Johan?
"Nay, by hym that me made,
And shope both sonne and mone;
Fynde a better borowe," sayd Robyn, 255
"Or mony getest thou none."
"I have none other," sayd the knyght,
"The sothe for to say,
But yf it be our dere lady,
She fayled me never or this day." 260
"By dere worthy god," sayd Robyn,
"To seche all England thorowe,
Yet founde I never to my pay
A moch better borowe.
"Come now forthe, Lytell Johan, 265
And goo to my tresourè,
And brynge me foure hondred pounde,
And loke that it well tolde be."
Forthe then wente Lytell Johan,
And Scathelocke went before, 270
He tolde out foure houndred pounde,
By eyghtene score.[L272]
"Is this well tolde?" said lytell Much.
Johan sayd, "What greveth the?
It is almes to helpe a gentyll knyght 275
That is fall in povertè."
"Mayster," than said Lytell Johan,
"His clothynge is full thynne;
Ye must gyve the knyght a lyveray
To lappe his body ther in.[L280] 280
"For ye have scarlet and grene, mayster,
And many a ryche aray;
There is no marchaunt in mery Englònde,
So ryche, I dare well saye."
"Take hym thre yerdes of every coloure, 285
And loke that well mete it be:"
Lytell Johan toke none other mesure
But his bowe tre.
And of every handfull that he met
He lept ouer fotes thre: 290
"What devilkyns draper," sayd litell Much,
"Thynkyst thou to be?"
Scathelocke stoode full styll and lough,
And sayd, "By god allmyght,
Johan may gyve hym the better mesure; 295
By god, it cost him but lyght."
"Mayster," sayd Lytell Johan,
All unto Robyn Hode,
"Ye must gyve that knight an hors,
To lede home al this good." 300
"Take hym a gray courser," sayd Robyn,
"And a sadell newe;
He is our ladyes messengere,
God lene that he be true."[L304]
"And a good palfraye," sayd lytell Moch, 305
"To mayntayne hym in his ryght:"
"And a payre of botes," sayd Scathelocke,
"For he is a gentyll knyght."
"What shalt thou gyve him, Lytel Johan?" sayd Robyn.
"Syr, a payre of gylte spores clene, 310
To pray for all this company:
God brynge hym out of tene!"
"Whan shall my daye be," sayd the knyght,
"Syr, and your wyll be?"
"This daye twelve moneth," sayd Robyn, 315
"Under this grene wode tre."
"It were grete shame," sayd Robyn,
"A knyght alone to ryde,
Without squyer, yeman, or page,
To walke by hys syde. 320
"I shall the lene Lytyll Johan my man,
For he shall be thy knave;
In a yemans steed he may the stonde,
Yf thou grete nede have."
9 Barnsdale is a tract of country, four or five miles broad, in the
West Riding of Yorkshire. It was, we are told, woodland until recent
inclosures, and is spoken of by Leland as a "woody and famous
forest" in the reign of Henry the Eighth. From the depths of this
retreat to Doncaster the distance is less than ten miles, and to
Nottingham, in a straight line, about fifty. A little to the north
of Barnsdale is Pontefract, and a little to the northwest is
Wakefield, and beyond this the Priory of Kirklees. Mr. Hunter, whom
we follow here, has shown by contemporary evidence that Barnsdale
was infested by robbers in the days of the Edwards. "In the last
year of the reign of King Edward the First, the bishops of St.
Andrew's and Glasgow, and the Abbot of Scone were conveyed, at the
King's charge, from Scotland to Winchester. In this journey they had
a guard, sometimes of eight archers, sometimes of twelve; but when
they had got as far south as Daventry, they had no archers at all in
attendance, and proceeded without a guard, in three days from thence
to Winchester. But when they passed from Pontefract to Tickhill, the
guard had been increased to the number of twenty archers, and the
reason given in the account of the expenses of their journey, for
this addition to the cost of the conveyance, is given in the two
words, _propter Barnsdale_."
22. lust, Ritson.
69, 70. "The Sayles," is a place no longer known, but it is certain
that there was formerly a place of the name in Barnsdale or near it.
"It was a very small tenancy of the manor of Pontefract, being not
more than the tenth of a knight's fee" (Hunter). Watling Street
stands here for the great North Road, probably a Roman highway,
which crosses Barnsdale.
85. all his. PCC.
106, so R. (ed. 1489): all three, W. C. (de Worde & Copland).
109, this, R. that, W. C.
112, ere, R.
148, to pay, R. pay, W. C.
151, Robyn, R. Robyn Hoode, W. C.
179. "This stanza is remarkable for containing a reference to one of
the old grievances of the people of England. In the reign of Henry
the Third, and his son, and grandson, the compelling persons, some
of them of no great estate, to take upon them the honour of
knighthood, or pay a large sum to be excused, was felt as a heavy
oppression."--HUNTER.
193, two yere, R.
194, knowe, OCC.
200, it may amende, OCC.
209, lancasesshyre, R.
228, not W. C.
233, by W. C.
234. So R. knowe me, W. C. The fragment of de Worde's older ed. ends
with v. 239.
242, also, PCC. for 'in fere.'
243. Wyme, PCC.
272. I.e. by so many score to the hundred. It is certainly a very
hyperbolical expression, but he measures the cloth in the same
way.--RITSON.
280, helpe, W. wrappe, C.
304. leue, W. lende, C
THE SECONDE FYTTE.
Nowe is the knyght went on his way,[L1]
This game hym thought full good;[L2]
When he loked on Bernysdale,
He blyssed Robyn Hode;
And whan he thought on Bernysdale, 5
On Scathelock, Much, and Johan,
He blyssed them for the best company
That ever he in come.
Then spake that gentyll knyght,
To Lytel Johan gan he saye, 10
"To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune,
To Saynt Mary abbay;
"And to the abbot of that place
Foure hondred pounde I must pay;
And but I be there upon this nyght 15
My londe is lost for ay."
The abbot sayd to his covent,
There he stode on grounde,
"This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght
And borowed foure hondred pounde. 20
"[He borowed foure hondred pounde,]
Upon all his londe fre,
But he come this ylke day
Dysheryte shall he be."
"It is full erely," sayd the pryoure,[L25] 25
"The day is not yet ferre gone;
I had lever to pay an hondred pounde,
And lay it downe anone.
"The knight is ferre beyonde the see,
In Englonde is his ryght, 30
And suffreth honger and colde,
And many a sory nyght.
"It were grete pytè," said the pryoure,
"So to have his londe;
And ye be so lyght of your conseyence, 35
Ye do to him moch wronge."