goods he carries, and says he will have half his pack. The pedlar says
he shall have the whole if he can make him give a perch of ground. They
fight, and John cries Hold. Robin Hood undertakes the pedlar, and in
turn cries Hold. Robin asks the pedlar’s name. He will not give it till
they have told theirs, and when they have so done says it still lies
with him to tell or not. However, he is Gamble Gold, forced to flee his
country for killing a man. If you are Gamble Gold, says Robin, you are
my own cousin. They go to a tavern and dine and drink.
Stanzas 11, 12, 15 recall Robin Hood’s Delight, No 136, 19, 20, 24; 13,
14 Robin Hood Revived, No 128, 17, 18. As remarked under No 128, this is
a traditional variation of Robin Hood Revived.
1
There chanced to be a pedlar bold,
A pedlar bold he chanced to be;
He rolled his pack all on his back,
And he came tripping oer the lee.
Down a down a down a down,
Down a down a down
2
By chance he met two troublesome blades,
Two troublesome blades they chanced to be;
The one of them was bold Robin Hood,
And the other was Little John so free.
3
‘O pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack?
Come speedilie and tell to me:’
‘I’ve several suits of the gay green silks,
And silken bow-strings two or three.’
4
‘If you have several suits of the gay green silk,
And silken bow-strings two or three,
Then it’s by my body,’ cries Little John,
‘One half your pack shall belong to me.’
5
‘O nay, o nay,’ says the pedlar bold,
‘O nay, o nay, that never can be;
For there’s never a man from fair Nottingham
Can take one half my pack from me.’
6
Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack,
And put it a little below his knee,
Saying, If you do move me one perch from this,
My pack and all shall gang with thee.
7
Then Little John he drew his sword,
The pedlar by his pack did stand;
They fought until they both did sweat,
Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand!
8
Then Robin Hood he was standing by,
And he did laugh most heartilie;
Saying, I could find a man, of a smaller scale,
Could thrash the pedlar and also thee.
9
‘Go you try, master,’ says Little John,
‘Go you try, master, most speedilie,
Or by my body,’ says Little John,
‘I am sure this night you will not know me.’
10
Then Robin Hood he drew his sword,
And the pedlar by his pack did stand;
They fought till the blood in streams did flow,
Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand!
11
Pedlar, pedlar, what is thy name?
Come speedilie and tell to me:
‘My name! my name I neer will tell,
Till both your names you have told to me.’
12
‘The one of us is bold Robin Hood,
And the other Little John so free:’
‘Now,’ says the pedlar, ‘it lays to my good will,
Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.
13
‘I am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,
And travelled far beyond the sea;
For killing a man in my father’s land
From my country I was forced to flee.’
14
‘If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,
And travelled far beyond the sea,
You are my mother’s own sister’s son;
What nearer cousins then can we be?’
15
They sheathed their swords with friendly words,
So merrilie they did agree;
They went to a tavern, and there they dined,
And bottles cracked most merrilie.
* * * * *
3^1, 5^1, 5^2. Oh.
133
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, I
#a.# Wood, 401, leaf 23 b.
#b.# Garland of 1663, No 8.
#c.# Garland of 1670, No 7.
#d.# Pepys, II, 116, No 100.
#a# is printed, with changes, by Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 122.
Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 180, agrees with the Aldermary
garland.
There is a copy in the Roxburghe Collection, III, 20.
Robin Hood, riding towards Nottingham, comes upon a beggar, who asks
charity. Robin says he has no money, but must have a bout with him. The
beggar with his staff gives three blows for every stroke of Robin’s with
his sword. Robin cries truce, and at the suggestion, we might almost say
upon the requisition, of the beggar, exchanges his horse and finery for
the beggar’s bags and rags. Thus equipped, he proceeds to Nottingham,
and has the adventure with the sheriff and three yeomen which is the
subject of No 140.
The copy in the Wood and in the Roxburghe collections is signed T. R.,
like Robin Hood and the Butcher, #B#, and, like the latter ballad, this
is a _rifacimento_, with middle rhyme in the third line. It is perhaps
made up from two distinct stories; the Second Part, beginning at stanza
20, from Robin Hood rescuing Three Squires, and what precedes from a
ballad resembling Robin Hood and the Beggar, II.
But no seventeenth-century version of Robin Hood and the Beggar, II, is
known, and it is more likely that we owe the fight between Robin Hood
and the Beggar to the folly and bad taste of T. R. Robin has no sort of
provocation to fight with the beggar, and no motive for changing
clothes, the proposition actually coming from the beggar, st. 15, and it
is an accident that his disguise proves useful (cf. Guy of Gisborne).
The beggar should have reported that three men were to be hanged, but
instead of this is forced into a fight, in order that one more
ignominious defeat may be scored against Robin.
The verses,
9^{3,4},
I am an outlaw, as many do know,
My name it is Robin Hood,
occur also in Robin Hood and the Bishop, No 143, 6^{3,4}. ‘And this
mantle of mine I’le to thee resign,’ 16^3, looks very like a
reminiscence of Robin Hood and the Bishop, 10^3, ‘Thy spindle and twine
unto me resign.’[112]
1
Come light and listen, you gentlemen all,
Hey down, down, and a down
That mirth do love for to hear,
And a story true I’le tell unto you,
If that you will but draw near.
2
In elder times, when merriment was,
And archery was holden good,
There was an outlaw, as many did know,
Which men called Robin Hood.
3
Vpon a time it chanced so
Bold Robin was merry disposed,
His time to spend he did intend,
Either with friends or foes.
4
Then he got vp on a gallant brave steed,
The which was worth angels ten;
With a mantle of green, most brave to be seen,
He left all his merry men.
5
And riding towards fair Nottingham,
Some pastime for to spy,
There was he aware of a jolly beggar
As ere he beheld with his eye.
6
An old patcht coat the beggar had on,
Which he daily did vse for to wear;
And many a bag about him did wag,
Which made Robin Hood to him repair.
7
‘God speed, God speed,’ said Robin Hood,
‘What countryman? tell to me:’
‘I am Yorkeshire, sir; but, ere you go far,
Some charity give vnto me.’
8
‘Why, what wouldst thou have?’ said Robin Hood,
‘I pray thee tell vnto me:’
‘No lands nor livings,’ the beggar he said,
‘But a penny for charitie.’
9
‘I have no money,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘But, a ranger within the wood,
I am an outlaw, as many do know,
My name it is Robin Hood.
10
‘But yet I must tell thee, bonny beggar,
That a bout with [thee] I must try;
Thy coat of gray, lay down I say,
And my mantle of green shall lye by.’
11
‘Content, content,’ the beggar he cry’d,
‘Thy part it will be the worse;
For I hope this bout to give thee the rout,
And then have at thy purse.’
12
The beggar he had a mickle long staffe,
And Robin had a nut-brown sword;
So the beggar drew nigh, and at Robin let fly,
But gave him never a word.
13
‘Fight on, fight on,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘This game well pleaseth me;’
For every blow that Robin did give,
The beggar gave buffets three.
14
And fighting there full hard and sore,
Not far from Nottingham town,
They never fled, till from Robinś head
The blood came trickling down.
15
‘O hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘And thou and I will agree;’
‘If that be true,’ the beggar he said,
‘Thy mantle come give vnto me.’
16
‘Nay a change, a change,’ cri’d Robin Hood;
‘Thy bags and coat give me,
And this mantle of mine I’le to thee resign,
My horse and my braverie.’
17
When Robin Hood had got the beggars clothes,
He looked round about;
‘Methinks,’ said he, ‘I seem to be
A beggar brave and stout.
18
‘For now I have a bag for my bread,
So have I another for corn;
I have one for salt, and another for malt,
And one for my little horn.
19
‘And now I will a begging goe,
Some charitie for to find:’
And if any more of Robin you’l know,
In this second part it’s behind.
20
Now Robin he is to Nottingham bound,
With his bags hanging down to his knee,
His staff, and his coat, scarce worth a groat,
Yet merrilie passed he.
21
As Robin he passed the streets along,
He heard a pittifull cry;
Three brethren deer, as he did hear,
Condemned were to dye.
22
Then Robin he highed to the sheriffs [house],
Some reliefe for to seek;
He skipt, and leapt, and capored full high,
As he went along the street.
23
But when to the sheriffs doore he came,
There a gentleman fine and brave,
‘Thou beggar,’ said he, ‘come tell vnto me
What is it that thou wouldest have?’
24
‘No meat, nor drink,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘That I come here to crave;
But to beg the lives of yeomen three,
And that I fain would have.’
25
‘That cannot be, thou bold beggar,
Their fact it is so cleer;
I tell to thee, hangd they must be,
For stealing of our kings deer.’
26
But when to the gallows they did come,
There was many a weeping eye:
‘O hold your peace,’ said Robin then,
‘For certainly they shall not dye.’
27
Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth,
And he blew but blastes three,
Till a hundred bold archers brave
Came kneeling down to his knee.
28
‘What is your will, master?’ they said,
‘We are here at your command:’
‘Shoot east, shoot west,’ said Robin Hood then,
‘And look that you spare no man.’
29
Then they shot east, and they shot west;
Their arrows were so keen
The sheriffe he, and his companie,
No longer must be seen.
30
Then he stept to these brethren three,
And away he had them tane;
But the sheriff was crost, and many a man lost,
That dead lay on the plain.
31
And away they went into the merry green wood,
And sung with a merry glee,
And Robin took these brethren good
To be of his yeomandrie.
* * * * *
#a.#
Robin Hood and the Beggar: Shewing how Robin Hood and the Beggar
fought, and how he changed clothes with the Beggar, and how he
went a begging to Nottingham, and how he saved three brethren
from being hangd for stealing of deer. To the tune of Robin Hood
and the Stranger. _Signed_ T. R.
London, Printed for Francis Grove, on Snowhill. (1620–55.)
_Burden_: an a.
1^1. light _in all: a corruption of_ lyth.
2^2. archrey.
3^4. friend or foe: _cf._ #b#, #c#.
4^2. angell.
6^1. had one.
10^1. tell the.
12^1. saffe.
21^3. brethred.
27^4. dow.
31^4. yeomandriee.
#b#, #c#.
_Title as in #a#. Not signed. Burden sometimes_, With hey, _etc._,
or, With a hey, _etc._; _once, in_ #c#, Hey derry derry down.
#b.#
3^4. friends or foes.
4^2. angels.
7^1. Hood then.
7^2. unto.
8^3. he _wanting_.
9^3. doth know.
10^2. with thee.
10^4. lay.
16^1. said _for_ cri’d.
20^1. he _wanting_.
21^4. was for to.
22^1. sheriffs house.
27^2. he _wanting_.
30^2. them had.
#c.#
3^4. friends or foes.
4^2. angels.
7^1. Hood then.
7^2. unto.
8^3. living.
10^2. with thee.
19^4. known _for_ behind.
21^4. for to.
22^1. sheriffs house.
25^3. they hanged.
27^2. he _wanting_.
30^2. them had.
#d.#
_Title as in_ #a#: _except_ of the king’s deer. _Not signed._
Printed for I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger. (1670–86.)
_Burden_: With a hey down down and a down.
3^2. merrily.
3^4. friend or foe.
4^2. angels.
5^1. brave _for_ fair.
7^1. Hood then.
7^2. unto.
10^2. with thee.
11^1. he said.
12^1. muckle.
12^4. But he.
13^3. Robin gave.
14^3. Robin Hood’s head.
15^3. If it.
17^1. Hood _wanting_.
17^3. Methink.
18^3. for mault: for salt.
19^4. In the. house _wanting, as in_ #a#.
22^3. and he leapt.
23^4. is’t: would’st.
25^4. of the.
26^3. O _wanting_: Robin Hood.
27^4. down on their.
28^2. here _wanting_.
29^1. east then.
30^2. has.
30^3. many men.
31^1. And _wanting_.
31^3. Then Robin Hood.
134
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, II
#a.# ‘The History of Robin Hood and the Beggar,’ Aberdeen, Printed by
and for A. Keith: Bodleian Library, Douce, HH 88, pasted between pp
68, 69 of Robin Hood’s Garland, London, C. Dicey. A. Keith of
Aberdeen printed from 1810 to 1835.
#b.# ‘A pretty dialogue betwixt Robin Hood and a Beggar,’ Newcastle,
in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, I, 97.
#a# is printed by Gutch, Robin Hood, II, 230, with deviations. Of #b#
Ritson says: The corruptions of the press being equally numerous and
minute, some of the most trifling have been corrected without notice.
Despite the corruptions, #b# is, in some readings, preferable to #a#.
Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xliii, says that pretty early stall copies
were printed both at Aberdeen and Glasgow.
Robin Hood attempts to stop a beggar, from whom he thinks he may get
some money. The beggar gives no heed to his summons, but hies on. Robin,
getting a surly answer upon a second essay, says that if there be but a
farthing he will have it, orders the beggar to loose the strings of his
pocks, and threatens him with an arrow. The beggar defies him, and upon
Robin’s drawing his bow, reaches him such a stroke with a staff that bow
and arrow are broken to bits. Robin takes to his sword; the beggar
lights on his hand with his staff and disables him completely, then
follows in with lusty blows, till Robin falls in a swoon. The beggar
moves on with entire unconcern. Three of Robin’s men come by and revive
him with water. Their master tells them of his disgrace; he had never
been in so hard a place in forty year. He bids them bring the beggar
back or slay him. Two of the three will be enough for that, they say,
and one shall stay with him. Two set forth, accordingly, with a caution
to be wary, take a short cut, which brings them out ahead of the beggar,
and leap on him from a hiding, one gripping his staff and the other
putting a dagger to his breast. The beggar sues for his life in vain;
they will bind him and will take him back to their master, to be slain
or hanged. He offers them a hundred pound and more for his liberty. They
decide together to take the money, and say nothing about it, simply
reporting that they have killed the old carl. The beggar spreads his
cloak on the ground and many a pock on it; then, standing between them
and the wind, takes a great bag of meal from his neck and flings the
meal into their eyes. Having thus blinded them, he seizes his staff,
which they had stuck in the ground, and gives each of them a dozen. The
young men take to their heels, the beggar calling after them to stop for
their pay. Robin, after a jest at the meal on their cloaths, makes them
tell how they have fared. We are shamed forever, he cries; but smiles to
see that they have had their taste of the beggar’s tree.
This tale is rightly called by Ritson a North Country composition of
some antiquity, “perhaps Scottish.” Fragments of Robin Hood ballads,
Motherwell informs us, were traditionally extant in his day which had
not (and have not) found their way into printed collections, and we know
from very early testimony that such ballads were current in Scotland.
This is by far the best of the Robin Hood ballads of the secondary, so
to speak cyclic, period. It has plenty of homely humor, but the heroic
sentiment is gone. It does not belong to the iron, the cast-iron, age of
Robin Hood’s Birth, Breeding, etc.; but neither does it belong to the
golden age of Robin Hood and the Monk, or the Gest. It would be no gain
to have Thersites drubbing Odysseus. Robin finds his match, for the
nonce, in the Potter, but he does not for that depute two of his men to
be the death of the Potter. It never occurred to Little John and Much to
get a hundred pound from a beggar, kill him, and pocket the money.
A story resembling that of the second part of this ballad occurs, as
Ritson has observed, in Le moyen de parvenir, “1739, I, 304;” II, 94,
London, 1786; p. 171, Paris, 1841. A friar encounters two footpads, who
offer to relieve him of the burden of his frock. He asks them to let him
take it off peaceably, puts his staff under his foot, takes off the
frock and throws it before them. While one of the pair stoops to get it,
the friar picks up the staff and hits the knave a blow which sends him
headlong; the other runs off.
Translated by Anastasius Grün, p. 180.
1
Lyth and listen, gentlemen,
That’s come of high born blood;
I’ll tell you of a brave booting
That befel Robin Hood.
2
Robin Hood upon a day,
He went forth him alone,
And as he came from Barnesdale
Into a fair evening,
3
He met a beggar on the way,
That sturdily could gang;
He had a pike-staff in his hand,
That was baith stark and strang.
4
A clouted cloak about him was,
That held him from the cold;
The thinnest bit of it, I guess,
Was more than twenty fold.
5
His meal-pock hang about his neck,
Into a leathern fang,
Well fastened with a broad buckle,
That was both stark and strang.
6
He had three hats upon his head,
Together sticked fast;
He cared neither for wind nor weet,
In lands wherever he past.
7
Good Robin coost him in his way,
To see what he might be;
If any beggar had money,
He thought some part had he.
8
‘Tarry, tarry,’ good Robin says,
‘Tarry, and speak with me;’
He heard him as he heard [him] not,
And fast his way can hie.
9
‘It be’s not so,’ says good Robin,
‘Nay, thou must tarry still;’
‘By my troth,’ says the bold beggar,
‘Of that I have no will.
10
‘It is far to my lodging-house,
And it is growing late;
If they have supt ere I come in,
I will look wondrous blate.’
11
‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘I see well by thy fare,
If thou chear well to thy supper,
Of mine thou takes no care;
12
‘Who wants my dinner all the day,
And wots not where to lie,
And should I to the tavern go,
I want money to buy.
13
‘Sir, thou must lend me some money,
Till we two meet again:’
The beggar answerd cankerdly,
I have no money to lend.
14
Thou art as young a man as I,
And seems to be as sweer;
If thou fast till thou get from me,
Thou shalt eat none this year.
15
‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘Since we are sembled so,
If thou have but a small farthing,
I’ll have it ere thou go.
16
‘Therefore, lay down thy clouted cloak,
And do no longer stand,
And loose the strings of all thy pocks;
I’ll ripe them with my hand.
17
‘And now to thee I make a vow,
If thou make any din,
I shall see if a broad arrow
Can pierce a beggar’s skin.’
18
The beggar smil’d, and answer made:
Far better let me be;
Think not that I will be afraid
For thy nip crooked tree.
19
Or that I fear thee any whit
For thy curn nips of sticks;
I know no use for them so meet
As to be pudding-pricks.
20
Here I defy thee to do me ill,
For all thy boistrous fare;
Thou’s get nothing from me but ill,
Would thou seek it evermair.
21
Good Robin bent his noble bow—
He was an angry man—
And in it set a broad arrow;
Yet er ’twas drawn a span,
22
The beggar, with his noble tree,
Reacht him so round a rout
That his bow and his broad arrow
In flinders flew about.
23
Good Robin bound him to his brand,
But that provd likewise vain;
The beggar lighted on his hand
With his pike-staff again.
24
I wot he might not draw a sword
For forty days and more;
Good Robin could not speak a word,
His heart was never so sore.
25
He could not fight, he could not flee,
He wist not what to do;
The beggar, with his noble tree,
Laid lusty flaps him to.
26
He paid good Robin back and side,
And beft him up and down,
And with his pike-staff still on laid
Till he fell in a swoon.
27
‘Fy! stand up, man,’ the beggar said,
‘’Tis shame to go to rest;
Stay still till thou get thy mony [told],
I think it were the best.
28
‘And syne go to the tavern-house,
And buy both wine and ale;
Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse,
Thou has been at a dale.’
29
Good Robin answerd never a word,
But lay still as a stane;
His cheeks were white as any clay,
And closed were his eyne.
30
The beggar thought him dead but fail,
And boldly bownd away;
I would you had been at the dale,
And gotten part of the play.
31
Now three of Robin’s men, by chance,
Came walking on the way,
And found their master in a trance,
On ground where he did lie.
32
Up have they taken good Robin,
Making a piteous bier,
Yet saw they no man there at whom
They might the matter spear.
33
They looked him all round about,
But wounds on him saw none,
Yet at his mouth came bocking out
The blood of a good vein.
34
Cold water they have taken syne,
And cast into his face;
Then he began to lift his eyne,
And spake within short space.
35
‘Tell us, dear master,’ says his men,
‘How with you stands the case?’
Good Robin sighd ere he began
To tell of his disgrace.
36
‘I have been watchman in this wood
Near hand this forty year,
Yet I was never so hard bestead
As you have found me here.
37
‘A beggar with a clouted cloak,
In whom I feard no ill,
Hath with a pike-staff clawd my back;
I fear’t shall never be well.
38
‘See, where he goes out oer yon hill,
With hat upon his head;
If ever you lovd your master well,
Go now revenge this deed.
39
‘And bring him back again to me,
If it lie in your might,
That I may see, before I die,
Him punisht in my sight.
40
‘And if you may not bring him back,
Let him not go loose on;
For to us all it were great shame
If he escapt again.’
41
‘One of us shall with you remain,
Because you’re ill at ease;
The other two shall bring him back,
To use him as you please.’
42
‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin,
‘I trow there’s enough said;
If he get scouth to weild his tree,
I fear you’ll both be paid.’
43
‘Be ye not feard, our good master,
That we two can be dung
With any blutter base beggar,
That hath nought but a rung.
44
‘His staff shall stand him in no stead;
That you shall shortly see;
But back again he shall be led,
And fast bound shall he be,
To see if you will have him slain,
Or hanged on a tree.’
45
‘But cast you slily in his way,
Before he be aware,
And on his pike-staff first lay hands;
You’ll speed the better far.’
46
Now leave we Robin with his man,
Again to play the child,
And learn himself to stand and gang
By haulds, for all his eild.
47
Now pass we to the bold beggar,
That raked oer the hill,
Who never mended his pace no more
Nor he had done no ill.
48
The young men knew the country well,
So soon where he would be,
And they have taken another way,
Was nearer by miles three.
49
They rudely ran with all their might,
Spar’d neither dub nor mire,
They stirred neither at laigh nor hight,
No travel made them tire,
50
Till they before the beggar wan,
And coost them in his way;
A little wood lay in a glen,
And there they both did stay.
51
They stood up closely by a tree,
In ilk side of the gate,
Until the beggar came them to,
That thought not of such fate.
52
And as he was betwixt them past,
They leapt upon him baith;
The one his pike-staff gripped fast,
They feared for its scaith.
53
The other he held in his sight
A drawn dirk to his breast,
And said, False carl, quit thy staff,
Or I shall be thy priest.
54
His pike-staff they have taken him frae,
And stuck it in the green;
He was full leath to let [it] gae,
If better might have been.
55
The beggar was the feardest man
Of one that ever might be;
To win away no way he can,
Nor help him with his tree.
56
He wist not wherefore he was tane,
Nor how many was there;
He thought his life-days had been gone,
And grew into despair.
57
‘Grant me my life,’ the beggar said,
‘For him that died on tree,
And take away that ugly knife,
Or then for fear I’ll die.
58
‘I grievd you never in all my life,
By late nor yet by ayre;
Ye have great sin, if ye should slay
A silly poor beggar.’
59
‘Thou lies, false lown,’ they said again,
‘By all that may be sworn;
Thou hast near slain the gentlest man
That ever yet was born.
60
‘And back again thou shalt be led,
And fast bound shalt thou be,
To see if he will have thee slain,
Or hanged on a tree.’
61
The beggar then thought all was wrong;
They were set for his wrack;
He saw nothing appearing then
But ill upon worse back.
62
Were he out of their hands, he thought,
And had again his tree,
He should not be had back for nought,
With such as he did see.
63
Then he bethought him on a wile,
If it could take effect,
How he the young men might beguile,
And give them a begeck.
64
Thus for to do them shame or ill
His beastly breast was bent;
He found the wind grew something shril,
To further his intent.
65
He said, Brave gentlemen, be good,
And let the poor man be;
When ye have taken a beggar’s blood,
It helps you not a flee.
66
It was but in my own defence,
If he hath gotten skaith;
But I will make a recompence,
Much better for you baith.
67
If ye will set me safe and free,
And do me no danger,
An hundred pounds I will you give,
And much more good silver,
68
That I have gathered these many years,
Under this clouted cloak,
And hid up wonder privately,
In bottom of my pock.
69
The young men to a council yeed,
And let the beggar gae;
They wist how well he had no speed
From them to run away.
70
They thought they would the money take,
Come after what so may,
And then they would not bring him back,
But in that part him slay.