There was a yoman in that place,
And best worthy was he,
And for he was ferre and frembde bested,
Slayne he shulde haue be.
139
The knight had ruthe of this yoman,
In placë where he stode;
He sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme,
For loue of Robyn Hode.
140
The knyght presed in to the place,
An hundreth folowed hym [free],
With bowës bent and arowës sharpe,
For to shende that companye.
141
They shulderd all and made hym rome,
To wete what he wolde say;
He toke the yema_n_ bi the ha_n_de,
And gaue hy_m_ al the play.
142
He gaue hy_m_ fyue marke for his wyne,
There it lay on the molde.
And bad it shulde be set a broche,
Drynkë who so wolde.
143
Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght,
Tyll that play was done;
So longe abode Robyn fastinge,
Thre hourës after the none.
THE THIRDE FYTTE.
144
Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,
All that nowe be here;
Of Litell John_n_, that was the knightës man,
Goode myrth ye shall here.
145
It was vpon a mery day
That yonge men wolde go shete;
Lytell John_n_ fet his bowe anone,
And sayde he wolde them mete.
146
Thre tymes Litell John_n_ shet aboute,
And alwey he slet the wande;
The proudë sherif of Notingham
By the markës can stande.
147
The sherif swore a full greate othe:
‘By hy_m_ th_a_t dyede on a tre,
This ma_n_ is the best arschére
That euer yet sawe I [me.]
148
‘Say me nowe, wight yonge man,
What is nowe thy name?
In what countre were thou borne,
And where is thy wonynge wane?’
149
‘In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,
I-wys al of my dame;
Me_n_ cal me Reynolde Grenëlef
Whan I am at home.’
150
‘Sey me, Reyno[l]de Grenëlefe,
Wolde thou dwell with me?
And euery yere I woll the gyue
Twenty marke to thy fee.’
151
‘I haue a maister,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘A curteys knight is he;
May ye leuë gete of hym,
The better may it be.’
152
The sherif gate Litell John
Twelue monethës of the knight;
Therfore he gaue him right anone
A gode hors and a wight.
153
Nowe is Litell John the sherifës man,
God lende vs well to spede!
But alwey thought Lytell John
To quyte hym wele his mede.
154
‘Nowe so God me helpë,’ sayde Litell John,
‘And by my true leutye,
I shall be the worst seruaunt to hym
Th_a_t euer yet had he.’
155
It fell vpo_n_ a Wednesday
The sherif on huntynge was gone,
And Litel Iohn lay i_n_ his bed,
And was foriete at home.
156
Therfore he was fasti_n_ge
Til it was past the none;
‘Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the,
Gyue me my dynere,’ saide Litell John.
157
‘It is longe for Grenëlefe
Fasti_n_ge thus for to be;
Therfor I pray the, sir stuarde,
Mi dyner gif me.’
158
‘Shalt thou neuer ete ne dry_n_ke,’ saide the stuarde,
‘Tyll my lorde be come to towne:’
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide Litell John,
‘I had leuer to crake thy crowne.’
159
The boteler was full vncurteys,
There he stode on flore;
He start to the botery
And shet fast the dore.
160
Lytell John_n_ gaue the boteler suche a tap
His backe went nere in two;
Though he liued an hundred ier,
The wors shuld he go.
161
He sporned the dore w_i_t_h_ his fote;
It went ope_n_ wel and fyne;
And there he made large lyueray,
Bothe of ale and of wyne.
162
‘Sith ye wol nat dyne,’ sayde Litell John,
‘I shall gyue you to drinke;
And though ye lyue an hundred wynter,
On Lytel John_n_ ye shall thinke.’
163
Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,
The whilë that he wolde;
The sherife had i_n_ his kechy_n_ a coke,
A stoute man and a bolde.
164
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide the coke,
‘Thou arte a shrewde hynde
In ani hous for to dwel,
For to askë th_us_ to dyne.’
165
And there he lent Litell John
God[ë] strokis thre;
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Lytell John,
‘These strokis lyked well me.
166
‘Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,
And so thi_n_keth me;
And or I pas fro this place
Assayed better shalt thou be.’
167
Lytell John_n_ drew a ful gode sworde,
The coke toke another in hande;
They thought no thynge for to fle,
But stifly for to stande.
168
There they faught sore togedere
Two mylë way and well more;
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountnaunce of an owre.
169
‘I make my_n_ auowe to God,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘And by my true lewtë,
Thou art one of the best sworde-men
That euer yit sawe I [me.]
170
‘Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,
To grenë wode thou shuldest with me,
And two times in the yere thy clothinge
Chaunged shuldë be;
171
‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode
Twe_n_ty merke to thy fe:’
‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke,
‘And felowës woll we be.’
172
Thanne he fet to Lytell John_n_
The nowmbles of a do,
Gode brede, and full gode wyne;
They ete and drank theretoo.
173
And when they had dronkyn well,
Theyre trouthës togeder they plight
That they wo[l]de be with Robyn
That ylkë samë nyght.
174
They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,
As fast as they myght gone;
The lokkës, that were of full gode stele,
They brake them euerichone.
175
They toke away the siluer vessell,
And all th_a_t thei mig[h]t get;
Pecis, masars, ne sponis,
Wolde thei not forget.
176
Also [they] toke the godë pe_n_s,
Thre hundred pounde and more,
And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode,
Under the grenë wode hore.
177
‘God the saue, my derë mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell John_n_,
Welcome myght thou be.
178
‘Also be that fayre yeman
Thou bryngest there with the;
What tydyngës fro Noty[n]gham?
Lytill John_n_, tell thou me.’
179
‘Well the gretith the proudë sheryf,
And sende[th] the here by me
His coke and his siluer vessell,
And thre hundred pounde and thre.’
180
‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And to the Trenytë,
It was neuer by his gode wyll
This gode is come to me.’
181
Lytyll John_n_ there hym bethought
On a shrewde wyle;
Fyue myle i_n_ the forest he ran,
Hym happed all his wyll.
182
Than he met the proudë sheref,
Huntynge with houndes and horne;
Lytell John_n_ coude of curtesye,
And knelyd hym beforne.
183
‘God the saue, my derë mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
‘Reynolde Grenëlefe,’ sayde the shryef,
‘Where hast thou nowe be?’
184
‘I haue be in this forest;
A fayre syght can I se;
It was one of the fayrest syghtes
That euer yet sawe I me.
185
‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,
His coloure is of grene;
Seuen score of dere vpon a herde
Be with hym all bydene.
186
‘Their tyndës are so sharpe, maister,
Of sexty, and well mo,
That I durst not shote for drede,
Lest they wolde me slo.’
187
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref,
‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’
‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi derë mayster,
Anone, and we_n_de w_i_t_h_ me.’
188
The sherif rode, and Litell John_n_
Of fote he was full smerte,
And whane they came before Robyn,
‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’
189
Still stode the proudë sherief,
A sory man was he;
‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Grenëlefe,
Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’
190
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘Mayster, ye be to blame;
I was mysserued of my dynere
Whan I was w_i_t_h_ you at home.’
191
Sone he was to souper sette,
And serued well w_i_t_h_ siluer white,
And whan the sherif sawe his vessell,
For sorowe he myght nat ete.
192
‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sherif, for charitë,
And for the loue of Litill John_n_
Thy lyfe I graunt to the.’
193
Wha_n_ they had souped well,
The day was al gone;
Robyn co_m_mau_n_de[d] Litell John_n_
To drawe of his hosen and his shone;
194
His kirtell, and his cote of pie,
That was fured well and fine,
And to[ke] hy_m_ a grene ma_n_tel,
To lap his body therin.
195
Robyn com_m_au_n_dyd his wight yonge men,
Vnder the grenë-wode tree,
They shulde lye in that same sute,
That the sherif myght them see.
196
All nyght lay the proudë sherif
In his breche and in his [s]chert;
No wonder it was, in grenë wode,
Though his sydës gan to smerte.
197
‘Make glade chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sheref, for charitë;
For this is our ordre i-wys,
Vnder the grenë-wode tree.’
198
‘This is harder order,’ sayde the sherief,
‘Than any ankir or frere;
For all the golde in mery Englonde
I wolde nat longe dwell her.’
199
‘All this twelue monthes,’ sayde Robin,
‘Thou shalt dwell with me;
I shall the techë, proudë sherif,
An outlawë for to be.’
200
‘Or I be here another nyght,’ sayde the sherif,
‘Robyn, nowe pray I the,
Smyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe,
And I forgyue it the.
201
‘Lat me go,’ tha_n_ sayde the sherif,
‘For sayntë charitë,
And I woll be the best[ë] frende
That euer yet had ye.’
202
‘Thou shalt swere me an othe,’ sayde Robyn,
‘On my bright bronde;
Shalt thou neuer awayte me scathe,
By water ne by lande.
203
‘And if thou fynde any of my men,
By nyght or [by] day,
Vpon thyn othë thou shalt swere
To helpe them tha[t] thou may.’
204
Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe,
And home he began to gone;
He was as full of grenë wode
As euer was hepe of stone.
THE FOURTH FYTTE.
205
The sherif dwelled in Notingham;
He was fayne he was agone;
And Robyn and his mery men
Went to wode anone.
206
‘Go we to dyner,’ sayde Littell John_n_;
Robyn Hode sayde, Nay;
For I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,
For she sent me nat my pay.
207
‘Haue no doute, maister,’ sayde Litell John_n_;
‘Yet is nat the sonne at rest;
For I dare say, and sauely swere,
The knight is true and truste.’
208
‘Take thy bowe in thy hande,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Late Much wende with the,
And so shal Wyllyam Scarlok,
#b.#
And no man abyde with me.
209
‘And walke vp vnder the Sayles,
And to Watlynge-strete,
And wayte after some vnketh gest;
Vp-chaunce ye may them mete.
210
‘Whether he be messengere,
Or a man that myrthës can,
Of my good he shall haue some,
Yf he be a porë man.’
211
Forth then stert Lytel Johan,
Half in tray and tene,
And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,
Under a mantel of grene.
212
They went vp to the Sayles,
These yemen all thre;
They loked est, they loked west,
They myght no man se.
213
But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale,
By the hyë waye,
Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,
Eche on a good palferay.
214
Then bespake Lytell Johan,
To Much he gan say,
I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,
That [these] monkes haue brought our pay.
215
‘Make glad chere,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘And frese your bowes of ewe,
And loke your hertës be seker and sad,
Your stryngës trusty and trewe.
216
‘The monke hath two and fifty [men,]
And seuen somers full stronge;
There rydeth no bysshop in this londe
So ryally, I vnderstond.
217
‘Brethern,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Here are no more but we thre;
But we bryngë them to dyner,
Our mayster dare we not se.
218
‘Bende your bowes,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Make all yon prese to stonde;
The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth
Is closed in my honde.
219
‘Abyde, chorle monke,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘No ferther that thou gone;
Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God,
Thy deth is in my honde.
220
‘And euyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ryght vnder thy hattës bonde;
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.’
221
‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke;
Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode;
‘He is a stronge thefe,’ sayd the monke,
‘Of hym herd I neuer good.’
222
‘Thou lyest,’ than sayd Lytell Joha_n_,
‘And that shall rewë the;
He is a yeman of the forest,
To dyne he hath bodë the.’
223
Much was redy with a bolte,
Redly and anone,
He set the monke to-fore the brest,
To the grounde that he can gone.
224
Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen
There abode not one,
Saf a lytell page and a grome,
To lede the somers with Lytel Johan.
225
They brought the monke to the lodgë-dore,
Whether he were loth or lefe,
For to speke with Robyn Hode,
Maugre in theyr tethe.
226
Robyn dyde adowne his hode,
The monke whan that he se;
The monke was not so curtëyse,
His hode then let he be.
227
‘He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,’
Than sayd Lytell Johan:
‘Thereof no force,’ sayd Robyn,
‘For curteysy can he none.
228
‘How many men,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Had this monke, Johan?’
‘Fyfty and two whan that we met,
But many of them be gone.’
229
‘Let blowe a horne,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That felaushyp may vs knowe;’
Seuen score of wyght yemen
Came pryckynge on a rowe.
230
And euerych of them a good mantell
Of scarlet and of raye;
All they came to good Robyn,
To wyte what he wolde say.
231
They made the monke to wasshe and wype,
And syt at his denere,
Robyn Hode and Lytell Joha_n_
They serued him both in-fere.
232
‘Do gladly, monke,’ sayd Robyn.
‘Gramercy, syr,’ sayd he.
‘Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,
And who is your avowë?’
233
‘Saynt Mary abbay,’ sayd the monke,
‘Though I be symple here.’
‘In what offyce?’ sayd Robyn:
‘Syr, the hyë selerer.’
234
‘Ye be the more welcome,’ sayd Robyn,
‘So euer mote I the;
Fyll of the best wyne,’ sayd Robyn,
‘This monke shall drynke to me.
235
‘But I haue grete meruayle,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Of all this longë day;
I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,
She sent me not my pay.’
236
‘Haue no doute, mayster,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ye haue no nede, I saye;
This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,
For he is of her abbay.’
237
‘And she was a borowe,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Betwene a knyght and me,
Of a lytell money that I hym lent,
Under the grëne-wode tree.
238
‘And yf thou hast that syluer ibrought,
I pray the let me se;
And I shall helpë the eftsones,
Yf thou haue nede to me.’
239
The monke swore a full grete othe,
With a sory chere,
‘Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,
Herde I neuer ere.’
240
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Monke, thou art to blame;
For God is holde a ryghtwys man,
And so is his dame.
241
‘Thou toldest with thyn ownë tonge,
Thou may not say nay,
How thou arte her seruaunt,
And seruest her euery day.
242
‘And thou art made her messengere,
My money for to pay;
Therfore I cun the morë thanke
Thou arte come at thy day.
243
‘What is in your cofers?’ sayd Robyn,
‘Trewe than tell thou me:’
‘Syr,’ he sayd, ‘twenty marke,
Al so mote I the.’
244
‘Yf there be no more,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I wyll not one peny;
Yf thou hast myster of ony more,
Syr, more I shall lende to the.
245
‘And yf I fyndë [more,’ sayd] Robyn,
‘I-wys thou shalte it for gone;
For of thy spendynge-syluer, monke,
Thereof wyll I ryght none.
246
‘Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,
And the trouth tell thou me;
If there be no more but twenty marke,
No peny that I se.’
247
Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,
As he had done before,
And he tolde out of the monkës male
Eyght [hondred] pounde and more.
248
Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,
And went to his mayster in hast;
‘Syr,’ he sayd, ‘the monke is trewe ynowe,
Our Lady hath doubled your cast.’
249
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn—
‘Monke, what tolde I the?—
Our Lady is the trewest woman
That euer yet founde I me.
250
‘By dere worthy God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘To seche all Englond thorowe,
Yet founde I neuer to my pay
A moche better borowe.
251
‘Fyll of the best wyne, and do hym drynke,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And grete well thy lady hende,
And yf she haue nede to Robyn Hode,
A frende she shall hym fynde.
252
‘And yf she nedeth ony more syluer,
Come thou agayne to me.
And, by this token she hath me sent,
She shall haue such thre.’
253
The monke was goynge to London ward,
There to holde grete mote,
The knyght that rode so hye on hors,
To brynge hym vnder fote.
254
‘Whether be ye away?’ sayd Robyn:
‘Syr, to maners in this londe,
Too reken with our reues,
That haue done moch wronge.’
255
‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And harken to my tale;
A better yemen I knowe none,
To seke a monkës male.’
256
‘How moch is in yonder other corser?’ sayd Robyn,
‘The soth must we see:’
‘By Our Lady,’ than sayd the monke,
‘That were no curteysye,
257
‘To bydde a man to dyner,
And syth hym bete and bynde.’
‘It is our oldë maner,’ sayd Robyn,
‘To leue but lytell behynde.’
258
The monke toke the hors with spore,
No lenger wolde he abyde:
‘Askë to drynkë,’ than sayd Robyn,
‘Or that ye forther ryde.’
259
‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd the monke,
‘Me reweth I cam so nere;
For better chepe I myght haue dyned
In Blythe or in Dankestere.’
260
‘Grete well your abbot,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And your pryour, I you pray,
And byd hym send me such a monke
To dyner euery day.’
261
Now lete we that monke be styll,
And speke we of that knyght:
Yet he came to holde his day,
Whyle that it was lyght.
262
He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale,
Under the grenë-wode tre,
And he founde there Robyn Hode,
And all his mery meynë.
263
The knyght lyght doune of his good palfray;
Robyn whan he gan see,
So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,
And set hym on his knee.
264
‘God the sauë, Robyn Hode,
And all this company:’
‘Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,
And ryght welcome to me.’
265
Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,
To that knyght so fre:
What nedë dryueth the to grenë wode?
I praye the, syr knyght, tell me.
266
‘And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,
Why hast thou be so longe?’
‘For the abbot and the hyë iustyce
Wolde haue had my londe.’
267
‘Hast thou thy londe [a]gayne?’ sayd Robyn;
‘Treuth than tell thou me:’
‘Ye, for God,’ sayd the knyght,
‘And that thanke I God and the.
268
‘But take not a grefe,’ sayd the knyght, ‘that I haue be so longe;
I came by a wrastelynge,
And there I holpe a porë yeman,
With wronge was put behynde.’
269
‘Nay, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Syr knyght, that thanke I the;
What man that helpeth a good yeman,
His frende than wyll I be.’
270
‘Haue here foure ho_n_dred pounde,’ tha_n_ sayd the knyght,
‘The whiche ye lent to me;
And here is also twenty marke
For your curteysy.’
271
‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd Robyn,
‘Thou broke it well for ay;
For Our Lady, by her [hyë] selerer,
Hath sent to me my pay.
272
‘And yf I toke it i-twyse,
A shame it were to me;
But trewely, gentyll knyght,
Welcom arte thou to me.’
273
Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,
He leugh and had good chere:
‘By my trouthe,’ then sayd the knyght,
‘Your money is redy here.’
274
‘Broke it well,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thou gentyll knyght so fre;
And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,
Under my trystell-tre.
275
‘But what shall these bowës do?’ sayd Robyn,
‘And these arowës ifedred fre?’
‘By God,’ than sayd the knyght,
‘A porë present to the.’
276
‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And go to my treasurë,
And brynge me there foure hondred pounde;
The monke ouer-tolde it me.
277
‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,
Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,
And bye hors and harnes good,
And gylte thy spores all newe.
278
‘And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,
Com to Robyn Hode,
And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle,
The whyles I haue any good.
279
‘And broke well thy foure hondred pound,
Whiche I lent to the,
And make thy selfe no more so bare,
By the counsell of me.’
280
Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,
The knyght all of his care:
God, that syt in heuen hye,
Graunte vs well to fare!
THE FYFTH FYTTE.
281
Now hath the knyght his leue i-take,
And wente hym on his way;
Robyn Hode and his mery men
Dwelled styll full many a day.
282
Lyth and lysten, gentil men,
And herken what I shall say,
How the proud[ë] sheryfe of Notyngham
Dyde crye a full fayre play;
283
That all the best archers of the north
Sholde come vpon a day,
And [he] that shoteth allther best
The game shall bere a way.
284
He that shoteth allther best,
Furthest fayre and lowe,
At a payre of fynly buttes,
Under the grenë-wode shawe,
285
A ryght good arowe he shall haue,
The shaft of syluer whyte,
The hede and the feders of ryche rede golde,
In Englond is none lyke.
286
This than herde good Robyn,
Under his trystell-tre:
‘Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men;
That shotynge wyll I se.
287
‘Buske you, my mery yonge men,
Ye shall go with me;
And I wyll wete the shryuës fayth,
Trewe and yf he be.’
288
Whan they had theyr bowes i-bent,
Theyr takles fedred fre,
Seuen score of wyght yonge men
Stode by Robyns kne.
289
Whan they cam to Notyngham,
The buttes were fayre and longe;
Many was the bolde archere
That shoted with bowës stronge.
290
‘There shall but syx shote with me;
The other shal kepe my he[ue]de,
And standë with good bowës bent,
That I be not desceyued.’
291
The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende,
And that was Robyn Hode,
And that behelde the proud[ë] sheryfe,
All by the but [as] he stode.
292
Thryës Robyn shot about,
And alway he slist the wand,
And so dyde good Gylberte
Wyth the whytë hande.
293
Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke
Were archers good and fre;
Lytell Much and good Reynolde,
The worste wolde they not be.
294
Whan they had shot aboute,
These archours fayre and good,
Euermore was the best,
For soth, Robyn Hode.
295
Hym was delyuered the good arowe,
For best worthy was he;
He toke the yeft so curteysly,
To grenë wode wolde he.
296
They cryed out on Robyn Hode,
And grete hornës gan they blowe:
‘Wo worth the, treason!’ sayd Robyn,
‘Full euyl thou art to knowe.
297
‘And wo be thou! thou proudë sheryf,
Thus gladdynge thy gest;
Other wyse thou behotë me
In yonder wylde forest.
298
‘But had I the in grenë wode,
Under my trystell-tre,
Thou sholdest leue me a better wedde
Than thy trewe lewtë.’
299
Full many a bowë there was bent,
And arowës let they glyde;
Many a kyrtell there was rent,
And hurt many a syde.
300
The outlawes shot was so stronge
That no man myght them dryue,
And the proud[ë] sheryfës men,
They fled away full blyue.
301
Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke,
In grenë wode he wolde haue be;
Many an arowe there was shot
Amonge that company.
302
Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,
With an arowe in his kne,
That he myght neyther go nor ryde;
It was full grete pytë.
303
‘Mayster,’ then sayd Lytell Johan,
‘If euer thou loue[d]st me,
And for that ylkë lordës loue
That dyed vpon a tre,
304
‘And for the medes of my seruyce,
That I haue serued the,
Lete neuer the proudë sheryf
Alyue now fyndë me.
305
‘But take out thy brownë swerde,
And smyte all of my hede,
And gyue me woundës depe and wyde;
No lyfe on me be lefte.’
306
‘I wolde not that,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Johan, that thou were slawe,
For all the golde in mery Englonde,
Though it lay now on a rawe.’
307
‘God forbede,’ sayd Lytell Much,
‘That dyed on a tre,
That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,
Parte our company.’
308
Up he toke hym on his backe,
And bare hym well a myle;
Many a tyme he layd hym downe,
And shot another whyle.
309
Then was there a fayre castell,
A lytell within the wode;
Double-dyched it was about,
And walled, by the rode.
310
And there dwelled that gentyll knyght,
Syr Rychard at the Lee,
That Robyn had lent his good,
Under the grenë-wode tree.
311
In he toke good Robyn,
And all his company:
‘Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode,
Welcome arte thou to me;
312
‘And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort,
And of thy curteysye,
And of thy gretë kyndënesse,
Under the grenë-wode tre.
313
‘I loue no man in all this worlde
So much as I do the;
For all the proud[ë] sheryf of Notyngham,
Ryght here shalt thou be.
314
‘Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge,
#a.#
And let no man come in,
And arme you well, and make you redy,
And to the walles ye wynne.
315
‘For one thynge, Robyn, I the behote;
I swere by Saynt Quyntyne,
These forty dayes thou wonnest with me,
To soupe, ete, and dyne.’
316
Bordes were layde, and clothes were spredde,
Redely and anone;
Roby_n_ Hode and his mery me_n_
To metë can they gone.
THE VI. FYTTE.
317
Lythe and lysten, gentylmen,
And herkyn to your songe;
Howe the proudë shyref of Notyngham,
And men of armys stronge,
318
Full fast cam to the hyë shyref,
The contrë vp to route,
And they besette the knyghtës castell,
The wallës all aboute.
319
The proudë shyref loude gan crye,
And sayde, Thou traytour knight,
Thou kepest here the kynges enemys,
Agaynst the lawe and right.
320
‘Syr, I wyll auowe that I haue done,
The dedys that here be dyght,
Vpon all the landës that I haue,
As I am a trewë knyght.
321
‘Wende furth, sirs, on your way,
And do no more to me
Tyll ye wyt oure kyngës wille,
What he wyll say to the.’
322
The shyref thus had his answere,
Without any lesynge;
[Fu]rth he yede to London towne,
All for to tel our ki_n_ge.
323
Ther he telde hi_m_ of that knight,
And eke of Robyn Hode,
And also of the bolde archars,
That were soo noble and gode.
324
‘He wyll auowe that he hath done,
To mayntene the outlawes stronge;
He wyll be lorde, and set you at nought,
In all the northe londe.’
325
‘I wil be at Notyngham,’ saide our kynge,
‘Within this fourteenyght,
And take I wyll Roby_n_ Hode,
And so I wyll th_a_t knight.
326
‘Go nowe home, shyref,’ sayde our kynge,
‘And do as I byd the;
And ordey_n_ gode archers ynowe,
Of all the wydë contrë.’
327
The shyref had his leue i-take,
And went hym on his way,
And Robyn Hode to grenë wode,
Vpon a certen day.
328
And Lytel John was hole of the arowe
That shot was in his kne,
And dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode,
Vnder the grenë-wode tree.
329
Roby_n_ Hode walked in the forest,
Vnder the leuys grene;
The proudë shyref of Notyngham
Thereof he had grete tene.
330
The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode,
He myght not haue his pray;
Than he awayted this gentyll knyght,
Bothe by nyght and day.
331
Euer he wayted the gentyll knyght,
Syr Richarde at the Lee,
As he went on haukynge by the ryuer-syde,
And lete [his] haukës flee.
332
Toke he there this gentyll knight,
With men of armys stronge,
And led hym to Notyngham warde,
Bounde bothe fote and hande.