BOOK V_The Oxford Book of Ballads

_112. Robyn and Gandelyn_

I herde a carpyng[636] of a clerk,

Al at yone wodes ende,

Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn;

Was ther non other thynge.

_Robynn lyth in grene wode bowndyn._

Stronge thevys wern tho chylderin none,

But bowmen gode and hende[637];

He[638] wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych,

If God wold it hem sende.

III

Al day wentyn tho chylderin two,

And fleych fowndyn he non,

Til it were ageyn evyn[639];

The chylderin wold gon hom.

Half an honderid of fat falyf der

He comyn ayon[640],

And alle he wern fayr and fat i-now,

But markyd was ther non:

‘Be dere God,’ seyde gode Robyn,

‘Hereof we shul have on[641].’

Robyn bent his joly bowe,

Ther in he set a flo[642];

The fattest der of alle

The herte he clef a to[643].

He hadde not the der i-flawe[644],

Ne half out of the hyde,

There cam a schrewde[645] arwe out of the west,

That felde Robertes pryde.

VII

Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west,

Be every syde:

‘Hoo hat myn mayster slayin?

Ho hat don this dede?

Shal I never out of grene wode go

Til I se his sydis blede.’

VIII

Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west,

And sowt under the sunne;

He saw a lytil boy,

He clepyn[646] Wrennok of Donne.

A good bowe in his hond,

A brod arwe ther-ine,

And fowre and twenti goode arwys,

Trusyd[647] in a thrumme[648]:

‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,

Her-of thu shalt han summe!

‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn,

Her of thu gyst[649] plenté!’--

‘Ever on for an other,’ seyde Gandeleyn;

‘Mysaunter[650] have he shal fle.

‘Qwer-at shal our marke be?’

Seyde Gandeleyn.--

‘Everyche at otheris herte,’

Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

XII

‘Ho[651] shal yeve the ferste schote?’

Seyde Gandeleyn.

‘And I shul yeve[652] the on be-forn,’

Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

XIII

Wrennok schette a ful good schote,

And he schet not to hye;

Throw the sanchothis[653] of his bryk[654];

It towcyhd neyther thye.

XIV

‘Now hast thu yovyn me on[655] be-forn,’

Al thus to Wrennok seyde he,

‘And throw the myyt of our lady

A bettere I shal yeve the.’

Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe,

And set ther-in a flo;

He schet throw his grene certyl[656],

His herte he clef on too.

XVI

‘Now shall thu never yelpe[657], Wrennok,

At ale ne at wyn,

That thu hast slawe goode Robyn,

And his knave Gandeleyn.

XVII

‘Now shalt thu never yelpe, Wrennok,

At wyn ne at ale,

That thu hast slawe goode Robyn,

And Gandeleyn his knave.’

_Robyn lyth in grene wode bowndyn._

FOOTNOTES:

[636] carpyng = talking, tale.

[637] hende = gracious, courteous.

[638] He = they.

[639] ageyn evyn = towards evening.

[640] He comyn ayon = came over against them, in their path.

[641] on = one.

[642] flo = arrow.

[643] a to = in two.

[644] i-flawe = flayed.

[645] schrewde = sharp.

[646] He clepyn = whom they call.

[647] Trusyd = trussed, bound up.

[648] thrumme = end of a warp.

[649] gyst = gettest.

[650] Mysaunter = misadventure.

[651] Ho = who.

[652] yeve = give.

[653] sanchothis = fork.

[654] bryk = breeches.

[655] yovyn me on = given me one.

[656] certyl = kirtle.

[657] yelpe = brag.

_113. The Birth of Robin Hood_

O Willie’s large o’ limb and lith[658],

And come o’ high degree,

And he is gane to Earl Richard,

To serve for meat and fee.

Earl Richard had but ae daughter,

Fair as a lily-flower,

And they made up their love-contract

Like proper paramour.

III

It fell upon a simmer’s nicht,

Whan the leaves were fair and green,

That Willie met his gay ladie

Intil the wood alane.

‘O narrow is my gown, Willie,

That wont to be sae wide;

And gane is a’ my fair colour,

That wont to be my pride.

‘But gin my father should get word

What’s past between us twa,

Before that he should eat or drink,

He’d hang you o’er that wa’.

‘But ye’ll come to my bower, Willie,

Just as the sun gaes down,

And kep[659] me in your arms twa,

And latna me fa’ down.’

VII

O whan the sun was now gane down,

He’s doen him till her bower,

And there, by the lee licht o’ the moon,

Her window she lookit o’er.

VIII

Intill a robe o’ red scarlèt

She lap, fearless o’ harm;

And Willie was large o’ lith and limb,

And keppit her in his arm.

And they’ve gane to the gude green-wood,

And, ere the night was deen,

She’s born to him a bonny young son,

Amang the leaves sae green.

Whan night was gane, and day was come,

And the sun began to peep,

Up and raise the Earl Richard

Out o’ his drowsy sleep.

He’s ca’d upon his merry young men,

By ane, by twa, and by three:

‘O what’s come o’ my daughter dear,

That she’s nae come to me?

XII

‘I dreamt a dreary dream last night,

God grant it come to gude!

I dreamt I saw my daughter dear

Drown in the saut sea flood.

XIII

‘But gin my daughter be dead or sick,

Or yet be stown awa’,

I mak a vow, and I’ll keep it true,

I’ll hang ye ane and a’!’

XIV

They sought her back, they sought her fore,

They sought her up and down;

They got her in the gude green-wood,

Nursing her bonny young son.

He took the bonny boy in his arms,

And kist him tenderlie;

Says, ‘Though I would your father hang,

Your mother’s dear to me.’

XVI

He kist him o’er and o’er again:

‘My grandson I thee claim,

And Robin Hood in gude green-wood,

And that shall be your name.’

XVII

And mony ane sings o’ grass, o’ grass,

And mony ane sings o’ corn,

And mony ane sings o’ Robin Hood

Kens little whare he was born.

XVIII

It wasna in the ha’, the ha’,

Nor in the painted bower;

But it was in the gude green-wood,

Amang the lily-flower.

FOOTNOTES:

[658] lith = joint.

[659] kep = catch.

_114. Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudesley_

_Fytte the First_

Mery it was in the grene foreste

Amonge the levès grene,

Wheras men hunt east and west

Wyth bowes and arrowes kene;

To raise the dere out of theyr denne;

Suche sightes hath ofte bene sene;

As by thre yemen of the north countrey,

By them it is I meane.

III

The one of them hight Adam Bell,

The other Clym of the Clough[660],

The thyrd was Wyllyam of Cloudesley,

An archer good ynough.

They were outlaw’d for venyson,

These yemen everych-one;

They swore them brethren upon a day,

To Englyshe-wood[661] for to gone.

Now lith[662] and lysten, gentylmen,

That of myrthes loveth to here:

Two of them were single men,

The third had a wedded fere[663].

Wyllyam was the wedded man,

Muche more then was hys care:

He sayde to hys brethren upon a day,

To Carleile he would fare;

VII

For to speke with fayre Alyce his wife,

And with hys chyldren thre.

‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel,

‘Not by the counsell of me:

VIII

‘For if ye go to Carleile, brother,

And from thys wylde wode wende,

If that the Justice may you take,

Your lyfe were at an ende.’--

‘If that I come not to-morowe, brother,

By pryme[664] to you agayne,

Truste you then that I am taken,

Or else that I am slayne.’

He toke his leave of hys brethren two,

And to Carleile he is gon:

There he knock’d at his owne windòwe

Shortlye and anone.

‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce,’ he sayd,

‘My wife and chyldren three?

Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbànde,

Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’--

XII

‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce,

And syghèd wonderous sore,

‘Thys place hath ben besette for you

Thys halfè yere and more.’--

XIII

‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesley,

‘I would that in I were.

Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe,

And let us make good chere.’

XIV

She fetchèd hym meate and drynke plentye,

Lyke a true wedded wyfe;

And pleasèd hym with that she had,

Whom she loved as her lyfe.

There lay an old wyfe in that place,

A lytle besyde the fyre,

Whych Wyllyam had found[665] of charytye

More than seven yere.

XVI

Up she rose, and forth shee goes,

Evel mote shee speede therfore!

For shee had sett no foote on ground

In seven yere before.

XVII

She went unto the Justice Hall,

As fast as she could hye:

‘Thys night,’ shee sayd, ‘is come to town

Wyllyam of Cloudeslyè.’

XVIII

Thereof the Justice was full fayne[666],

And so was the Shirife also:

‘Thou shalt not trauaile hither, dame, for nought,

Thy meed thou shalt have or thou go.’

XIX

They gave to her a ryght good goune,

Of scarlate, [and of graine]:

She toke the gyft, and home she wente,

And couchèd her doune agayne.

They raysed the towne of mery Carleile

In all the haste they can;

And came thronging to Wyllyam’s house,

As fast as they might gone.

XXI

There they besette that good yeman

Round about on every syde:

Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,

That thither-ward fast hyed.

XXII

Alyce opened a backe wyndowe,

And lokèd all aboute;

She was ware of the Justice and Shirife bothe,

Wyth a full great route.

XXIII

‘Alas! treason!’ cryed Alyce,

‘Ever wo may thou be!

Goe into my chamber, my husband,’ she sayd,

‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’

XXIV

He toke hys sword and hys buckler,

Hys bow and hys chyldren thre,

And wente into hys strongest chamber,

Where he thought surest to be.

XXV

Fayre Alyce, like a lover true,

Took a polaxe in her hande:

Said, ‘He shall dye that cometh in

Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’

XXVI

Cloudesley bente a wel good bowe,

That was of a trusty tre,

He smot the Justice on the brest,

That hys arowe brast in three.

XXVII

‘God’s curse on his harte,’ saide Wyllyam,

‘Thys day thy cote dyd on!

If it had ben no better then myne,

It had gone nere thy bone.’--

XXVIII

‘Yelde the Cloudesley,’ sayd the Justice,

‘And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro.’--

‘God’s curse on hys hart,’ sayd fair Alyce,

‘That my husband councelleth so!’--

XXIX

‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the Sherife,

‘Syth it wyll no better be,

And brenne we therin Wyllyam,’ he saide,

‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’

XXX

They fyred the house in many a place,

The fyre flew up on hye:

‘Alas!’ then cryèd fayre Alyce,

‘I see we here shall dye.’

XXXI

Wyllyam openyd a backe wyndowe,

That was in hys chamber hie,

And there with sheetes he did let downe

His wyfe and children three.

XXXII

‘Have you here my treasure,’ sayde Wyllyam,

‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre:

For Christès love do them no harme,

But wreke you all on me.’

XXXIII

Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,

Tyll hys arrowes were all agoe,

And the fyre so fast upon hym fell,

That hys bowstryng brent in two.

XXXIV

The sparkles brent and fell upon

Good Wyllyam of Cloudesley:

Than was he a wofull man, and sayde,

‘Thys is a cowardes death to me.

XXXV

‘Leever had I,’ sayde Wyllyam,

‘With my sworde in the route to renne,

Then here among myne enemyes wode[667]

Thus cruelly to bren.’

XXXVI

He toke hys sword and hys buckler,

And among them all he ran,

Where the people were most in prece[668],

He smot downe many a man.

XXXVII

There myght no man abyde hys stroakes,

So fersly on them he ran:

Then they threw windowes and dores on him,

And so toke that good yemàn.

XXXVIII

There they hym bounde both hand and fote,

And in a deepe dungeon him cast:

‘Now Cloudesley,’ sayd the Justice,

‘Thou shalt be hangèd in hast.’

XXXIX

‘A payre of new gallowes,’ sayd the Sherife,

‘Now shal I for thee make;’

And the gates of Carleile shal be shutte:

No man shal come in therat.

‘Then shall not helpe Clym of the Clough,

Nor yet shall Adam Bell,

Though they came with a thousand mo,

Nor all the devels in hell.’

XLI

Early in the mornynge the Justice uprose,

To the gates first can he gone,

And commaunded to be shut full close

Lightilè everych-one.

XLII

Then went he to the markett place,

As fast as he coulde hye;

There a payre of new gallowes he set up

Besyde the pyllorye.

XLIII

A lytle boy among them asked,

What meanèd that gallow-tre?

They sayde to hange a good yemàn,

Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslèy.

XLIV

That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,

And kept fayre Alyce’s swyne;

Oft he had seene Wyllyam in the wodde,

And geven hym there to dyne.

XLV

He went out att a crevis of the wall,

And lightly to the woode dyd gone;

There met he with these wight yemen

Shortly and anone.

XLVI

‘Alas!’ then sayde the lytle boye,

‘Ye tary here all too longe;

Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned[669] to death,

And readye for to honge.’

XLVII

‘Alas!’ then sayd good Adam Bell,

‘That ever we saw thys daye!

He had better have tarryed with us,

So ofte as we dyd him praye.

XLVIII

‘He myght have dwelt in grene foreste,

Under the shadowes greene,

And have kepte both hym and us att reste,

Out of all trouble and teene[670].’

XLIX

Adam bent a ryght good bow,

A great hart sone hee had slayne:

‘Take that, chylde, to thy dynner,

And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’

‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yeomen,

‘Tarry we no longer here;

We shall hym borowe[671] by God his grace,

Though we buy itt full dere.’

To Carleile wente these bold yemen,

All in a mornyng of maye.--

Here is a Fyt of Cloudesley,

And another is for to saye.

_Fytte the Second_

LII

And when they came to mery Carleile,

In a fayre mornyng tyde,

They founde the gates shut them untyll

About on every syde.

LIII

‘Alas!’ then sayd good Adam Bell,

‘That ever we were made men!

These gates be shut so wonderly well,

We may not come therein.’

LIV

Then bespake him Clym of the Clough,

‘With a wyle we wyl us in bryng;

Let us say we be messengers,

Streyght comen from our King.’

Adam said, ‘I have a letter written,

Now let us wysely werke,

We wyl saye we have the Kyngè’s seale;

I holde the porter no clerke.’

LVI

Then Adam Bell bete on the gates

With strokès great and stronge:

The porter herde such a noyse therat,

And to the gates he thronge[672].

LVII

‘Who is there now,’ sayd the porter,

‘That maketh all thys knockinge?’--

‘We be two messengers,’ quoth Clym of the Clough,

‘Be come ryght from our Kynge.’--

LVIII

‘We have a letter,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘To the Justice we must it brynge;

Let us in our message to do,

That we were agayne to the Kynge.’--

LIX

‘Here commeth none in,’ sayd the porter,

‘By hym that dyed on a tre,

Tyll a false thefe be hangèd,

Called Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’

Then spake the good yeman, Clym of the Clough,

And swore by Mary fre,

‘And if that we stande long wythout,

Lyke a thefe hangèd shalt thou be.

LXI

‘Lo! here we have got the Kynge’s seale:

What, lordane[673], art thou wode[674]?’

The porter wende[675] it had ben so,

And lyghtly dyd off hys hode.

LXII

‘Welcome is my lordes seale,’ he saide;

‘For that ye shall come in.’

He opened the gate right shortlye:

An evyl openyng for him!

LXIII

‘Now are we in,’ sayde Adam Bell,

‘Wherof we are full faine;

But Christ he knowes, that harowed hell,

How we shall come out agayne.’

LXIV

‘Had we the keys,’ said Clym of the Clough,

‘Ryght wel then shoulde we spede,

Then might we come out wel ynough

When we se tyme and nede.’

LXV

They callèd the porter to counsell,

And wrang his necke in two,

And caste hym in a depe dungeon,

And toke hys keys hym fro.

LXVI

‘Now am I porter,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘Se, brother, the keys are here!

The worst porter to merry Carleile

That ye had thys hundred yere.

LXVII

‘And now wyll we our bowès bend,

Into the towne wyll we go,

For to delyver our dere brothèr,

That lyeth in care and wo.’

LXVIII

Then they bent theyr good yew bowes,

And lokèd theyr stringes were round[676],

The market-place of mery Carleile

They beset in that stound[677].

LXIX

And, as they lokèd them besyde,

A paire of new galowes they see,

And the Justice with a quest of swerers[678],

That judged Cloudesley hangèd to be.

LXX

And Cloudesley lay redy in a cart,

Fast bound both fote and hand;

And a stronge rope about hys necke,

All readye for to be hang’d.

LXXI

The Justice called to him a ladde,

Cloudesley’s clothes shold hee have,

To take the measure of that yeman,

Thereafter to make hys grave.

LXXII

‘I have sene as great mervaile,’ said Cloudesley,

‘As betweyne thys and pryme,

He that maketh a grave for mee,

Hymselfe may lye therin.’

LXXIII

‘Thou speakest proudlye,’ said the Justice,

‘I will thee hange with my hande.’

Full wel herd this his brethren two,

There styll as they dyd stande.

LXXIV

Then Cloudesley cast his eyen asyde

And saw hys brethren stande

At a corner of the market place,

With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand.

LXXV

‘I se comfort,’ sayd Cloudesley;

‘Yet hope I well to fare;

If I might have my handes at wyll.

Ryght lytell wolde I care.’

LXXVI

Then bespake good Adam Bell

To Clym of the Clough so fre,

‘Brother, se you marke the Justyce wel;

Lo! yonder you may him se:

LXXVII

‘And at the Sheryfe shote I wyll

Strongly wyth an arrowe kene.’--

A better shote in mery Carleile

Thys seven yere was not sene.

LXXVIII

They loosed their arrowes both at once,

Of no man had they drede;

The one hyt the Justice, the other the Sheryfe,

That both theyr sides gan blede.

LXXIX

All men voyded[679], that them stode nye,

When the Justice fell to the grounde,

And the Sheryfe fell nye hym by;

Eyther had his deathes wounde.

LXXX

All the citezeyns fast gan flye,

They durst no longer abyde:

There lyghtly they losèd Cloudesley,

Where he with ropes lay tyde.

LXXXI

Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne,

Hys axe out hys hand he wronge,

On echè syde he smote them downe,

Hym thought he taryed to long.

LXXXII

Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two,

‘Thys daye let us lyve and die,

If e’er you have nede, as I have now,

The same you shall finde by me.’

LXXXIII

They shot so well in that tyde

(Theyr stringes were of silke ful sure)

That they kept the stretes on every side;

That batayle did long endure.

LXXXIV

They fought together as brethren true,

Lyke hardy men and bolde,

Many a man to the ground they threw,

And many a herte made colde.

LXXXV

But when their arrowes were all gon,

Men presyd to them full fast,

They drew theyr swordès then anone,

And theyr bowès from them cast.

LXXXVI

They went lyghtlye on theyr way,

Wyth swordes and bucklers round;

By that it was mydd of the day,

They had made many a wound.

LXXXVII

There was many an out-horne[680] in Carleile blowen,

And the belles backwarde dyd ryng;

Many a woman sayde, Alas!

And many theyr handes dyd wryng.

LXXXVIII

The Mayre of Carleile forth com was,

Wyth hym a ful great route:

These thre yemen dred hym full sore,

For theyr lyvès stode in doute.

LXXXIX

The Mayre came armèd a full great pace,

With a polaxe in hys hande;

Many a strong man wyth him was,

There in that stowre[681] to stande.

The Mayre smot at Cloudesley with his byll,

Hys buckler he brast in two,

Full many a yeman with great yll,

‘Alas! Treason!’ they cryed for wo.

‘Kepe well the gatès fast we wyll,

That these traytours therout not go.’

XCI

But al for nought was that they wrought,

For so fast they downe were layde,

Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought

Were gotten without, at a braide[682].

XCII

‘Have here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘Myne office I here forsake;

And yf you do by my counsell

A new porter do ye make.’

XCIII

He threw theyr keys there at theyr hedes,

And bad them well to thryve,

And all that letteth[683] any good yeman

To come and comfort his wyfe.

XCIV

Thus be these good yeman gon to the wode

As lyghtly as lefe on lynde[684];

They laughe and be mery in theyr mode,

Theyr enemyes were farre behynd.

XCV

When they came to Inglyswode,

Under theyr trysty tre,

There they found bowès full good,

And arrowès great plentye.

XCVI

‘So God me help,’ sayd Adam Bell,

And Clym of the Clough so fre,

‘I would we were in mery Carleile,

Before that fayre meynye[685].’

XCVII

They set them downe, and made good chere,

And eate and dranke full well.--

A second Fyt of the wightye yeomen:

Another I wyll you tell.

_Fytte the Third._

XCVIII

As they sat in Inglyswode,

Under theyr trysty tre[686],

They thought they herd a woman wepe,

But her they mought not se.

XCIX

Sore syghèd there fayre Alyce, and sayd

‘That ever I sawe thys day!

For nowe is my dere husband slayne:

Alas! and wel-a-waye!

‘Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren,

Or with eyther of them twayne,

To show to them what him befell,

My hart were out of payne.’

Cloudesley walked a lytle beside,

Looked under the grene wood lynde,

He was ware of his wife and chyldren three,

Full wo in herte and mynde.

CII

‘Welcome, wyfe,’ then sayde Wyllyam,

‘Under this trysty tre:

I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John,

Thou sholdest me never have se.’--

CIII

‘Now well is me that ye be here,

My harte is out of wo.’--

‘Dame,’ he sayde, ‘be mery of chere,

And thanke my brethren two.’

CIV

‘Herof to speake,’ said Adam Bell,

‘I-wis it is no bote:

The meate, that we must supp withall,

It runneth yet fast on fote.’

Then went they downe into a launde[687].

These noble archars all thre;

Eche of them slew a hart of greece[688].

The best they cold there se.

CVI

‘Have here the best, Alyce, my wyfe,’

Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudesley;

‘By cause ye so bouldly stode me by

When I was slayne full nye.’

CVII

Then wente they to theyr suppere

Wyth such meate as they had;

And thankèd God of theyr fortune:

They were both mery and glad.

CVIII

And when that they had suppèd well,

Certayne withouten lease[689],

Cloudesley sayd, ‘We wyll to our Kynge,

To get us a charter of peace.

CIX

‘Alyce shal be at sojournyng

In a nunnery here besyde;

My tow[690] sonnes shall wyth her go,

And there they shall abyde.

‘My eldest son shall go wyth me;

For hym have I no care:

And he shall bring you worde agayn,

How that we do fare.’

CXI

Thus be these wightmen[691] to London gone

As fast as they myght hye,

Tyll they came to the Kynge’s pallàce,

Where they woulde needès be.

CXII

And whan they came to the Kynge’s courte,

Unto the pallace gate,

Of no man wold they aske no leave,

But boldly went in therat.

CXIII

They presyd prestly[692] into the hall,

Of no man had they dreade:

The porter came after, and dyd them call,

And with them began to chyde.

CXIV

The usher sayde, ‘Yemen, what wold ye have?

I pray you tell to me.

You myght thus make offycers shent[693]:

Good syrs, of whence be ye?’--

CXV

‘Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,

Certayne withouten lease;

And hether we be come to the Kyng,

To get us a charter of peace.’

CXVI

And whan they came before our Kynge,

As it was the lawe of the lande,

They knelèd downe without lettyng[694],

And eche held up his hand.

CXVII

They sayd, ‘Lord, we beseche you here

That ye wyll graunt us grace;

For we have slayne your fat falowe dere

In many a sondry place.’

CXVIII

‘What be your names,’ then said our Kynge,

‘Anone that you tell me?’--

They sayd, ‘Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’--

CXIX

‘Be ye those theves,’ then sayd our Kynge,

‘That men have tolde of to me?

Here to God I make an avowe,

Ye shal be hangèd al thre.

CXX

‘Ye shal be dead without mercỳ,

As I am Kynge of this lande.’

He commanded his officers everich-one,

Fast on them to lay hande.

CXXI

There they toke these good yemen,

And arested them al thre:

‘So may I thryve,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘Thys game lyketh not me!

CXXII

‘But, good lorde, we beseche you then,

That yee graunt us grace,

Insomuche as we be to you comen,

Or else we may fro you passe,

CXXIII

‘With such weapons as we have here,

Tyll we be out of your place;

And yf we lyve this hundred yere,

We wyll aske you no grace.’

CXXIV

‘Ye speake proudly,’ sayd the Kynge;

‘Ye shall be hangèd all thre.’

‘That were great pitye,’ then sayd the Quene,

‘If any grace myght be.

CXXV

‘My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande

To be your wedded wyfe,

The fyrst boone that I wold aske,

Ye would graunt it me belyfe[695]:

CXXVI

‘And I asked you never none tyll now;

Therefore, lorde, graunt it me!’--

‘Now aske it, madam,’ sayd the Kynge,

‘And graunted it shal be.’--

CXXVII

‘Then, good my lord, I you beseche,

These yemen graunt ye me.’--

‘Madame, ye myght have asked a boone

That shuld have been worth them thre.

CXXVIII

‘Ye myght have askèd towres and townes,

Parkes and forestes plentye.’--

‘None soe pleasant to my pay[696],’ shee sayd;

‘Nor none so lefe[697] to me.’--

CXXIX

‘Madame, sith it is your desyre,

Your askyng graunted shal be;

But I had lever have geven you

Good market-townès thre.’

CXXX

The Quenè was a glad woman,

And sayde, ‘Lord, gramarcy!

I dare and undertake for them

That true men shal they be.

CXXXI

‘But good lord, speke som mery word,

That comfort they may se.’--

‘I graunt you grace,’ then sayd our Kynge;

‘Washe, felows, and to meate go ye.’

CXXXII

They had not setten but a whyle,

Certayne without lesynge,

There came messengers out of the north

With letters to our Kynge.

CXXXIII

And whan they came before the Kynge,

They knelt downe on theyr kne;

And sayd, ‘Lord, your officers grete you well,

Of Carleile in the north countrè.’

CXXXIV

‘How fareth my Justice,’ sayd the Kynge,

‘And my Sheryfe also?’--

‘Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,

And many an officer mo.’--

CXXXV

‘Who hath them slayne,’ sayd the Kynge,

‘Anone that thou tell me.’--

‘Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudesley.’--

CXXXVI

‘Alas for rewth!’ then sayd our Kynge:

‘My herte is wonderous sore;

I had lever than a thousande pounde,

I had knowne of thys before;

CXXXVII

‘For I have y-graunted them grace,

And that forthynketh[698] me:

But had I knowne all thys before,

They had been hangèd all thre.’

CXXXVIII

The Kyng hee opened the letter anone,

Himselfe he red it thro,

And founde how these outlàwes had slain

Thre hundred men and mo:

CXXXIX

Fyrst the Justice, and the Sheryfe,

And the Mayre of Carleile towne;

Of all the constables and catchipolles

Alyve were scant left one:

CXL

The baylyes, and the bedyls both,

And the sergeauntes of the law,

And forty fosters of the fe[699],

These outlawes had y-slaw;

CXLI

And broke his parks, and slayne his dere;

Of all they chose the best;

So perèlous out-lawes as they were

Walked not by easte nor west.

CXLII

When the Kynge this letter had red,

In hys herte he syghèd sore:

‘Take up the tables,’ anone he bad,

‘For I may eat no more.’

CXLIII

The Kynge callèd hys best archars

To the buttes[700] wyth hym to go:

‘I wyll se these felowes shote,’ he sayd,

‘In the north have wrought this wo.’

CXLIV

The Kynge’s bowmen buske them[701] blyve[702],

And the Quene’s archers also;

So dyd these thre wyght yemen;

With them they thought to go.

CXLV

There twyse or thryse they shote about

For to assay theyr hande;

There was no shote these yemen shot,

That any prycke[703] myght stand.

CXLVI

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesley:

‘By God that for me dyed,

I hold hym never no good archar,

That shoteth at buttes so wyde.’--

CXLVII

‘At what a butte now wold ye shote,

I pray thee tell to me?’--

‘Nay, syr,’ he sayd, ‘at such a butte

As men use in my countrè.’

CXLVIII

Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,

And with him his two brethren:

There they set up two hasell roddes

Twenty score paces betwene.

CXLIX

‘I hold him an archar,’ said Cloudesley,

‘That yonder wande cleveth in two,’--

‘Here is none suche,’ sayd the Kynge,

‘Nor no man can so do.’

‘I shall assaye, syr,’ sayd Cloudesley,

‘Or that I farther go.’

Cloudesley with a bearing arowe[704]

Clave the wand in two.

CLI

‘Thou art the best archer,’ then said the Kynge,

‘Forsothe that ever I se.’--

‘And yet for your love,’ sayd Wyllyam,

‘I wyll do more maystery.

CLII

‘I have a sonne is seven yere olde,

He is to me full deare;

I wyll hym tye unto a stake:

All shall se, that be here;

CLIII

‘And lay an apple upon hys head,

And go syxe score paces hym fro,

And I my selfe with a brode arow

Shall cleve the apple in two.’

CLIV

‘Now hastè the,’ then sayd the Kynge,

‘By hym that dyed on a tre,

But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde,

Hangèd shall thou be.

CLV

‘An thou touche his head or gowne,

In syght that men may se,

By all the sayntes that be in heaven,

I shall hange you all thre!’

CLVI

‘That I have promised,’ said Wyllyam,

‘That I wyll never forsake.’

And there even before the Kynge

In the earth he drove a stake:

CLVII

And bound thereto his eldest sonne,

And bad hym stand styll thereat;

And turned the childè’s face him fro,

Because he should not start.

CLVIII

An apple upon his head he set,

And then his bowe he bent:

Syxe score paces they were out-met[705],

And thether Cloudesley went

CLIX

There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,

--Hys bowe was great and longe,--

He set that arrowe in his bowe,

That was both styffe and stronge.

CLX

He prayèd the people, that was there,

That they all styll wold stand,

‘For he that shoteth for such a wager,

Behoveth a stedfast hand.’

CLXI

Muche people prayèd for Cloudesley,

That his lyfe savèd myght be,

And whan he made hym redy to shote,

There was many weeping e’e.

CLXII

But Cloudesley clefte the apple in two,

That many a man it se;

‘Over God’s forbode,’ sayde the Kynge,

‘That thou shold shote at me!’

CLXIII

‘I geve thee eightene pence a day,

And my bowè shalt thou bere,

And over all the north countrè

I make the chyfe rydère[706].’

CLXIV

‘And I thyrtene pence,’ said the Quene,

‘By God, and by my fay;

Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,

No man shall say the nay.

CLXV

‘Wyllyam, I make the a gentleman

Of clothyng, and of fe:

And thy brethren yemen of my chambre,

For they are so semely to se.

CLXVI

‘Your sonne, for he is tendre of age,

Of my wyne-seller he shall be;

And when he commeth to mans estate,

Better avaunced shall he be.

CLXVII

‘And, Wyllyam, bring me your wife,’ said the Quene,

‘Me longeth her sore to se:

She shall be my chefe gentlewoman,

To governe my nurserye.’

CLXVIII

The yemen thanked them all courteously,

And sayd, ‘To Rome wyl we wend,

Of all the synnes, that we have done,

To be assoyld at his hand.’

CLXIX

So forth be gone these good yemèn,

As fast as they might hye;

And after came and dwell’d with the Kynge,

And dyed good men all thre.

CLXX

Thus endeth the lyves of these good yemèn;

God send them eternall blysse;

And all, that with a hand-bowe shoteth:

That of heven they may never mysse!

FOOTNOTES:

[660] Clym of the Clough = Clement of the Cliff.

[661] Englyshe-wood = Inglewood, near Carlisle.

[662] lith = hearken.

[663] fere = mate.

[664] pryme = six in the morning.

[665] found = provided for.

[666] fayne = rejoiced.

[667] wode = wild, savage.

[668] prece = press, crowd.

[669] dampned = condemned.

[670] teene = sorrow.

[671] borowe = ransom, redeem.

[672] thronge = hastened.

[673] lordane = dolt.

[674] wode = mad.

[675] wende = weened, thought.

[676] round = i. e. not frayed.

[677] stound = time.

[678] swerers = swearers, jurymen.

[679] voyded = gave room, ran off.

[680] out-horne = a horn blown to call citizens to help the law.

[681] stowre = press of fight.

[682] braide = sudden spring.

[683] letteth = hindereth.

[684] lynde = linden.

[685] meynye = company.

[686] trysty tre = trysting tree.

[687] launde = forest-park.

[688] of greece = of grease, fat.

[689] lease = lying.

[690] tow = two.

[691] wightmen = stout fellows.

[692] presyd prestly = pressed quickly.

[693] shent = ruined.

[694] lettyng = delay.

[695] belyfe = straightway.

[696] pay = satisfaction.

[697] lefe = dear.

[698] forthynketh = repenteth.

[699] fosters of the fe = foresters of the lordship.

[700] buttes = targets.

[701] buske them = busked, made them ready.

[702] blyve = belyfe _supra_, straightway.

[703] prycke = mark.

[704] bearyng arowe = a long arrow, tapered to carry far.

[705] out-met = measured out.

[706] rydère = ranger.

_115. A Little Geste of Robin Hood and his Meiny[707]_

_The First Fytte_

How Robin Hood befriended a poor Knight, Sir Richard at the Lee

Lithe[708] and listen, Gentlemen,

That be of free-born blood:

I shall you tell of a good yeoman,

His name was Robin Hood.

Robin was a proud outlaw,

The while he walked on ground;

So courteous an outlaw as he was one

Was never none y-found.

III

Robin stood in Barnèsdale[709],

And leaned him to a tree;

And by him stood Little John,

A good yeoman was he.

And also did good Scathèlock,

And Much, the miller’s son;

There was none inch of his body,

But it was worth a groom[710].

Then bespake him Little John

All unto Robin Hood:

‘Master, an ye would dine betimes

It would do you much good.’

Then bespake him good Robin:

‘To dine I have no lest[711],

Till that I have some bold baron,

Or some uncouth[712] guest,

VII

‘Till that I have some bold baron

That may pay for the best,

Or else some knight, or some squièr

That dwelleth here by West.’

VIII

A good mannèr then had Robin;

In land where that he were[713],

Every day ere he would dine

Three masses would he hear:

The one in worship of the Father,

The other of the Holy Ghost,

The third was of Our dear Lady

That he loved alder-most[714].

Robin loved our dear Lady;

For doubt[715] of deadly sin

Would he no company do harm

That woman was therein.

‘Master,’ then said Little John,

‘An we our board shall spread,

Tell us whither we shall go,

And what life we shall lead;

XII

‘Where we shall take, where we shall leave,

Where we shall abide behind,

Where we shall rob, where we shall reave[716],

Where we shall beat and bind.’

XIII

‘Thereof no force[717],’ then said Robin;

‘We shall do well enow;

But look ye do no husband[718] harm

That tilleth with his plough.

XIV

‘No more ye shall no good yeoman

That walketh by green-wood shaw[719];

Nor yet no knight nor no squièr

That will be a good fellaw.

‘These bishops and these archbishops,

Ye shall them beat and bind;

The High Sheriff of Nottingham,

Him hold ye in your mind.’

XVI

‘This word shall be held,’ said Little John,

‘This lesson we shall lere[720];

It is far days[721]; God send us a guest,

That we were at our dinnere.’

XVII

‘Take thy good bow,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Let Much wend with thee,

And so shall William Scathèlock,

And no man abide with me;

XVIII

‘And walk ye up unto the Sayles[722],

And so to Watling Street[723],

And wait after some uncouth guest;

Upchance[724] ye may them meet.

XIX

‘Be he an earl, or any baron,

Abbot, or any knight,

Bring ye him to lodge with me;

His dinner shall be dight[725].’

Then went they up unto the Sayles,

Those yeoman allè three;

They lookèd east, they lookèd west,

They mightè no man see.

XXI

But as they looked in Barnèsdale,

By a dernè[726] street[727],

Then came a knight a-riding up;

Full soon they gan him meet.

XXII

All dreary then was his semblaunt[728],

And little was his pride;

His one foot in the stirrup stood,

The other waved beside.

XXIII

His hood hang’d in his eyen two;

He rode in simple array;

A sorrier man than he was one

Rode never in summer day.

XXIV

Little John was full courteous,

And set him[729] on his knee;

‘Welcome be ye, gentle Knight,

Welcome are ye to me.

XXV

‘Welcome be thou to greenè wood.

Hendè[730] Knight and free;

My master hath abiden you fasting

Sir, all these hourès three.’

XXVI

‘Who is thy master?’ said the Knight.

John said, ‘Robin Hood.’

‘He is a good yeoman,’ said the Knight,

‘Of him I have heard much good.

XXVII

‘I grant,’ he said, ‘with you to wend,

My brethren, all in fere[731];

My purpose was to have dined to-day

At Blyth[732] of Doncastere.’

XXVIII

Forth then went this gentle Knight,

With a careful cheer[733];

The tears out of his eyen ran,

And fell down by his leer[734].

XXIX

They brought him to the lodgè door;

When Robin gan him see,

Full courteously did off his hood,

And set him on his knee.

XXX

‘Welcome, Sir Knight,’ then said Robin,

‘Welcome art thou to me;

I have abiden you fasting, sir,

All these hourès three.’

XXXI

Then answerèd the gentle Knight,

With wordès fair and free;

‘God thee savè, good Robin,

And all thy fair meinèe.’

XXXII

They washèd together and wipèd both,

And set to their dinnere;

Bread and wine they had enough,

And numbles[735] of the deer.

XXXIII

Swans and pheasants they had full good,

And fowls of the rivere;

There failèd none so little a bird

That ever was bred on brere[736].

XXXIV

‘Do gladly, Sir Knight,’ said Robin.

‘Gramerci, sir,’ said he;

‘Such a dinner had I not

Of all these weekès three.

XXXV

‘If I come again, Robin,

Here by this country,

As good a dinner I shall thee make

As thou hast made to me.’

XXXVI

‘Gramerci, Knight,’ said Robin Hood;

‘My dinner when I have,

I was never so greedy, by dear-worth[737] God,

My dinner for to crave.

XXXVII

‘But pray ere ye wend,’ said Robin Hood;

‘Me thinketh it is good right;

It was never the manner, by dear-worth God,

A yeoman to pay for a knight.’

XXXVIII

‘I have nought in my coffers,’ said the Knight,

‘That I may proffer for shame:’

‘Little John, go look,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Nor let[738] not for no blame.’

XXXIX

‘Tell me truth,’ said Robin Hood,

‘So God have part of thee[739].’--

‘I have no more than ten shillings,

So God have part of me.’

‘If thou hast no more,’ said Robin,

‘I will not one pennỳ;

And if thou need of any more,

More shall I lendè thee.

XLI

‘Go now forth, Little John,

The truthè tell thou me;

If there be no more but ten shillings,

No penny that I see.’

XLII

Little John his mantle spread

Full fair upon the ground,

And there he found in the Knight’s coffer

But even half a pound.

XLIII

Little John let it lie full still,

And went to his master low;

‘What tidings, John?’ said Robin Hood.--

‘Sir, the Knight is true enow.’

XLIV

‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,

‘The Knight shall begin;

Muchè wonder thinketh me

Thy clothing is so thin.

XLV

‘Tell me one word,’ said Robin,

‘And counsel[740] shall it be;

I trow thou wert made a knight of force[741],

Or else of yeomanry[742].

XLVI

‘Or else thou hast been a sorry husband[743],

And lived in stroke and strife;

An okerer[744], or a lecher[745],

With wrong hast led thy life.’

XLVII

‘I am none of thosè,’ said the Knight,

‘By Him that madè me;

An hundred winter here before

Mine anc’tors knights have be.

XLVIII

‘But oft it hath befal’n, Robin,

A man hath been disgrate[746];

But God, that sitteth in heaven above,

May amend his state.

XLIX

‘Within these two years, Robin,’ he said,

‘My neighbours well it kenn’d[747],

Four hundred pounds of good monèy

Full well then might I spend,

‘Now have I no good,’ said the Knight,

‘God hath shapen such an end,

But my children and my wife,

Till God it may amend.’

‘In what mannèr,’ then said Robin,

‘Hast thou lorn[748] thy richess?’

‘For my great folly,’ he said,

‘And for my kindèness.

LII

‘I had a son forsooth, Robin,

That should have been mine heir;

When he was twenty winter old

In field would joust full fair.

LIII

‘He slew a knight of Lancashire,

And a squièr bold;

For to save him in his right

My goods are set and sold.

LIV

‘My lands are set to wed[749], Robin,

Until a certain day,

To a rich Abbot here beside

Of St. Mary’s Abbèy.’

‘What is the sum?’ said Robin Hood;

‘The truthè tell thou me;’

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘four hundred pound;

The Abbot told[750] it me.’

LVI

‘An thou lose thy land,’ said Robin Hood,

‘What shall fall of[751] thee?’--

‘Hastily I will me busk[752]

Over the saltè sea,

LVII

‘And see where Christ was quick and dead,

On the mount of Calvary;

Farewell, friend, and have good day;

It may no better be.’

LVIII

Tears fell out of his eyen two;

He would have gone his way;

‘Farewell, friends, and have good day,

I have no more to pay.’

LIX

‘Where be thy friends,’ said Robin Hood.

‘Sir, never one will me know;

While I was rich enough at home

Great boast then would they blow.

‘And now they run away from me,

As beastès in a raw[753];

They takè no more heed of me

Than they me never saw.’

LXI

For ruth then weptè Little John,

Scathèlock and Much in fere;

‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,

‘For here is a simple cheer.

LXII

‘Hast thou any friends,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Thy borrows[754] that will be?’

‘I havè none,’ then said the Knight,

‘But Him that died on tree!’

LXIII

‘Do way thy japès[755],’ said Robin,

‘Thereof will I right none;

Ween’st thou I would have God to[756] borrow,

Peter, Paul or John?

LXIV

‘Nay, by Him that madè me,

And shope[757] both sun and moon,

Find better borrow,’ said Robin,

‘Or money get’st thou none.’

LXV

‘I have none other,’ said the Knight,

‘The soothè for to say,

But if[758] it be Our dear Lady;

She fail’d never ere this day.’

LXVI

‘By dear-worth God,’ said Robin Hood,

‘To seek all England thorough,

Yet found I never to my pay

A muchè better borrow.

LXVII

‘Come now forth, Little John,

And go to my treasurỳ,

And bringè me four hundred pound,

And look well told it be.’

LXVIII

Forth then wentè Little John,

And Scathèlock went before;

He told him out four hundred pound

By eight and twenty score.

LXIX

‘Is this well told?’ said Little Much;

John said, ‘What grieveth thee?

It is alms to help a gentle knight

That is fal’n in poverty.’

LXX

‘Master,’ then said Little John,

‘His clothing is full thin;

Ye must give the Knight a livery

To lap[759] his body therein.

LXXI

‘For ye have scarlet and green, master,

And many a rich array;

There is no merchant in merry England

So rich, I dare well say.’--

LXXII

‘Take him three yards of each coloùr,

And look well mete[760] it be.’--

Little John took no measùre

But his bowè-tree.

LXXIII

And at every handful that he met[761]

He leapèd o’er feet three;

‘What devilkin’s draper,’ said Little Much,

‘Thinkest thou for to be?’

LXXIV

Scathèlock stood full still and laughed,

And said, ‘He meteth right.

John may give him good measure,

For it costeth him but light.’

LXXV

‘Master,’ then said Little John

All unto Robin Hood,

‘Ye must give the Knight a horse

To lead home all this good.’

LXXVI

‘Take him a grey courser,’ said Robin,

‘And a saddle new;

He is Our Lady’s messenger;

God grant that he be true!’

LXXVII

‘And a good palfrey[762],’ said Little Much,

‘To maintain him in his right;’

‘And a pair of boots,’ said Scathèlock,

‘For he is a gentle knight.’

LXXVIII

‘What shalt thou give him, Little John?’--

‘Sir, a pair of gilt spurs clean,

To pray for all this company;

God bring him out of teen[763].’

LXXIX

‘When shall my day be,’ said the Knight,

‘Sir, an your willè be?’--

‘This day twelve moneth,’ said Robin,

‘Under this green-wood tree.

LXXX

‘It were great shamè,’ said Robin,

‘A knight alone to ride,

Withoutè squire, yeoman, or page,

To walkè by his side.

LXXXI

‘I shall thee lend Little John, my man,

For he shall be thy knave[764];

In a yeoman’s stead he may thee stand,

If thou great needè have.’

_The Second Fytte_

How the Knight paid his Creditors against their will

LXXXII

Now is the Knight gone on his way;

This game him thought full good;

When he looked on Barnèsdale,

He blessèd Robin Hood.

LXXXIII

And when he thought on Barnèsdale,

On Scathelock, Much, and John,

He blessèd them for a company

The best he ever in come[765].

LXXXIV

Then spake that gentle Knight,

To Little John gan he say,

‘To-morrow I must to York town

To Saint Mary’s Abbèy;

LXXXV

‘And to the Abbot of that place

Four hundred pound must pay;

But[766] I be there upon this night

My land is lost for aye.’

LXXXVI

The Abbot said to his Convènt,

Where he stood on ground,

‘This day twelve moneth came a knight,

And borrowed four hundred pound.

LXXXVII

‘He borrowèd four hundred pound

Upon his land and fee[767];

But he come this ilkè[768] day

Disherited shall he be.’

LXXXVIII

‘It is full early,’ said the Prior,

‘The day is not yet far gone;

I had liever pay an hundred pound,

And lay it down anon.

LXXXIX

‘The Knight is far beyond the sea,

In England is his right,

And suffereth hunger and cold

And many a sorry night.

‘It were great pity,’ said the Prior,

‘So to have his land;

An ye be so light of your conscience,

Ye do him muchè shand[769].’

XCI

‘Thou art ever in my beard[770],’ said the Abbot,

‘By God and Saint Richard!’

With that came in a fat-headed monk,

The Highè Cellarèr.

XCII

‘He is dead or hangèd,’ said the monk,

‘By Him that bought me dear,

And we shall have to spend in this place

Four hundred pound by year.’

XCIII

The Abbot and the High Cellarer

Started forth full bold,

The High Justice of Engèland

The Abbot there did hold.

XCIV

The High Justice and many mo

Had taken into their hand

Wholly all the Knightès debt,

To put that Knight to shand.

XCV

They deemèd[771] the Knight wonder sore[772],

The Abbot and his meinèe:

‘But he come this ilkè day,

Disherited shall he be.’

XCVI

‘He will not come yet,’ said the Justice,

‘I dare well undertake.’

But in sorry timè for them all

The Knight came to the gate.

XCVII

Then bespake that gentle Knight

Until[773] his meinèe:

‘Now put on your simple weeds

That ye brought from the sea.’

XCVIII

They putten on their simple weeds,

They came to the gates anon;

The Porter was ready himself,

And welcomed them every one.

XCIX

‘Welcome, Sir Knight,’ said the Porter,

‘My lord to meat is he,

And so is many a gentle man,

For the love of thee.’

The Porter swore a full great oath:

‘By Him that madè me,

Here be the bestè corsèd[774] horse

That ever yet I see.

‘Lead them into the stable,’ he said,

‘That easèd might they be’;

‘They shall not come therein,’ said the Knight,

‘By Him that died on tree.’

CII

Lordès were to meat y-set

In that Abbot’s hall;

The Knight went forth and kneelèd down

And salued[775] them great and small.

CIII

‘Do gladly, Sir Abbot,’ said the Knight,

‘I am come to hold my day.’

The first word that the Abbot spake,

‘Hast thou brought me my pay?’

CIV

‘Not one penny,’ said the Knight,

‘By Him that makèd me’:

‘Thou art a shrewd[776] debtor,’ said the Abbot;

‘Sir Justice, drink to me!’

‘What doest thou here,’ said the Abbot,

‘But[777] thou hadst brought thy pay?’

‘Alack is me,’ then said the Knight,

‘To pray of a longer day!’

CVI

‘Thy day is broke,’ said the Justice,

‘Land gettest thou none.’--

‘Now, good Sir Justice, be my friend,

And fend[778] me of my fone[779]!’

CVII

‘I am held with the Abbot,’ said the Justice,

‘Both with cloth and fee.’--

‘Now, good Sir Sheriff, be my friend!’

‘Nay, nay, not I,’ said he.

CVIII

‘Now, good Sir Abbot, be my friend,

For thy courtesy,

And hold my landès in thy hand

Till I have made thee gree[780]

CIX

‘And I will be thy true servànt

And truly servè thee,

Till ye have four hundred pound

Of money good and free.’

The Abbot sware a full great oath,

‘By Him that died on tree,

Get thy landès where thou mayst,

For thou gettest none of me!’

CXI

‘By dear-worth God,’ then said the Knight,

‘That all this worldè wrought,

But I have[781] my land again,

Full dear it shall be bought.

CXII

‘God, that was of a maiden born,

Give us well to speed!

For it is good to assay a friend

Ere that a man have need.’

CXIII

The Abbot loathly on him gan look,

And villainously him gan call;

‘Out,’ he said, ‘thou falsè Knight,

Speed thee out of my hall!’

CXIV

‘Thou liest,’ said the gentle Knight;

‘Abbot, in thy hall;

Falsè Knight was I never,

By God that made us all.’

CXV

Up then stood that gentle Knight,

To the Abbot said he,

‘To suffer a knight to kneel so long,

Thou canst[782] no courtesy.

CXVI

‘In joustès and in tournaments

Full far then have I be,

And put myself as far in press[783]

As any that ever I see.’

CXVII

‘What will ye give more,’ said the Justice,

‘An the Knight shall make a release[784]?

And ellès[785] dare I safely swear

Ye hold never your land in peace.’

CXVIII

‘An hundred pound,’ said the Abbot;

The Justice said, ‘Give him two;’

‘Nay, by God,’ said the Knight,

‘Ye get not my land so.

CXIX

‘Though ye would give a thousand more,

Yet were ye never the nigher;

Shall there never be mine heir

Abbot, Justice, nor Friar.’

CXX

He started to a board anon,

Till a table round,

And here he shook out of a bag

Even four hundred pound.

CXXI

‘Have here thy gold, Sir Abbot,’ he said,

‘Which that thou lentest me;

Hadst thou been courteous at my coming,

I would have rewarded thee.’

CXXII

The Abbot sat still, and ate no more,

For all his royal fare;

He cast his head on his shouldèr,

And fast began to stare.

CXXIII

‘Take[786] me my gold again.’ he said,

‘Sir Justice, that I took thee.’--

‘Not a penny,’ said the Justice,

‘By Him that died on tree.’--

CXXIV

‘Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,

Now have I held my day;

Now shall I have my land again,

For aught that you can say.’

CXXV

The Knight out started of the door,

Away was all his care,

And on he put his good clothing.

The other he left there.

CXXVI

He went him forth full merry singing,

As men have told in tale;

His Lady met him at the gate,

At home in Uttersdale.

CXXVII

‘Welcome, my lord,’ said his Lady;

‘Sir, lost is all your good?’--

‘Be merry, damè,’ said the Knight,

‘And pray for Robin Hood,

CXXVIII

‘That ever his soulè be in bliss:

He help me out of teen;

Ne had not been[787] his kindèness,

Beggars had we been.

CXXIX

‘The Abbot and I accorded be,

He is servèd of his pay;

The goodè yeoman lent it me,

As I came by the way.’

CXXX

This Knight then dwellèd fair at home,

The soothè for to say,

Till he had got four hundred pound,

All ready for to pay.

CXXXI

He purvey’d him an hundred bows,

The stringès well y-dight,

An hundred sheaf of arrows good,

The heads burnish’d full bright;

CXXXII

And every arrow an ellè long,

With peacock well y-dight[788],

Y-notchèd all with white silvèr;

It was a seemly sight.

CXXXIII

He purvey’d him an hundred men,

Well harness’d in that stead,

And himself in that samè suit,

And clothed in white and red.

CXXXIV

He bare a lancegay[789] in his hand,

And a man led his mail[790],

And roden[791] with a lightè song

Unto Barnèsdale.

CXXXV

As he went at a bridge there was a wrestling,

And there tarrièd was he,

And there was all the best yeomen,

Of all the west countrỳ.

CXXXVI

A full fair game there was upset,

A white bull up y-pight[792];

A great courser with saddle and bridle,

With gold burnish’d full bright;

CXXXVII

A pair of gloves, a red gold ring,

A pipe of wine, in good fay:

What man beareth him best, i-wis,

The prize shall bear away.

CXXXVIII

There was a yeoman in that place,

And best worthy was he,

And for he was far and frembd bestad[793],

I-slain he should have be.

CXXXIX

The Knight had ruth of this yeoman.

In place where that he stood,

He said that yeoman should have no harm,

For love of Robin Hood.

CXL

The Knight pressèd into the place,

An hundred followed him free,

With bows bent, and arrows sharp,

For to shende[794] that company.

CXLI

They shoulder’d all, and made him room,

To wete[795] what he would say,

He took the yeoman by the hand

And gave him all the play;

CXLII

He gave him five mark for his wine,

There it lay on the mould,

And bade it should be set a-broach,

Drink who so would.

CXLIII

Thus long tarried this gentle Knight,

Till that play was done ...

So long abode Robin fasting,

Three hours after the noon.

_The Third Fytte_

How Little John robbed the Sheriff of Nottingham and delivered him into

Robin Hood’s hands

CXLIV

Lithe and listen, gentlemen,

All that now be here,

Of Little John, that was the Knight’s man,

Good mirth shall ye hear.

CXLV

It was upon a merry day,

That young men would go shete[796];

Little John fet[797] his bow anon,

And said he would them meet.

CXLVI

Three times Little John shot about,

And alway cleft the wand,

The proud Sherìff of Nottingham

By the marks gan stand.

CXLVII

The Sheriff swore a full great oath,

‘By Him that died on a tree,

This man is the best archèr

That yet saw I me.

CXLVIII

‘Say me now, wight[798] young man,

What is now thy name?

In what country were thou born,

And where is thy woning wane[799]?’--

CXLIX

‘In Holderness I was bore,

I-wis[800], all of my dame,

Men call me Reynold Greenleaf,

When I am at hame.’--

‘Say me, Reynold Greenleaf,

Wilt thou dwell with me?

And every year I will thee give

Twenty mark to thy fee.’--

CLI

‘I have a master,’ said Little John,

‘A courteous knight is he

May ye get leave of him,

The better may it be.’

CLII

The Sheriff got Little John

Twelve months of the Knight,

Therefore he gave him right anon

A good horse and a wight.

CLIII

Now is Little John the Sheriff’s man,

He give us well to speed,

But alway thought Little John

To quit him well his meed[801].

CLIV

‘Now so God me help,’ said Little John,

‘And by my true lewtè[802],

I shall be the worst servant to him

That ever yet had he.’

CLV

It befell upon a Wednesday,

The Sheriff on hunting was gone,

And Little John lay in his bed,

And was forgotten at home.

CLVI

Therefore he was fasting

Till it was past the noon.

‘Good sir steward, I pray thee,

Give me to dine,’ said Little John.

CLVII

‘It is too long for Greenleaf,

Fasting so long to be;

Therefore I pray thee, steward,

My dinner give thou me.’

CLVIII

‘Shall thou never eat nor drink,’ said the steward,

‘Till my lord be come to town.’

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,

‘I had liefer to crack thy crown.’

CLIX

The butler was full uncourteous,

There he stood on floor,

He started to the buttery,

And shut fast the door.

CLX

Little John gave the butler such a rap,

His back yede[803] nigh in two:

Tho’ he lived an hundred winter,

The worse he should go.

CLXI

He spurn’d the door with his foot,

It went up well and fine,

And there he made a large livery[804]

Both of ale and wine.

CLXII

‘Sith[805] ye will not dine,’ said Little John,

‘I shall give you to drink,

And though ye live an hundred winter,

On Little John ye shall think.’

CLXIII

Little John ate, and Little John drank,

The while that he wolde.

The Sheriff had in his kitchen a cook,

A stout man and a bold.

CLXIV

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said the cook,

‘Thou art a shrewd hind[806],

In an household to dwell,

For to ask thus to dine.’

CLXV

And there he lent[807] Little John,

Good strokès three.

‘I make mine avow,’ said Little John,

‘These strokes liketh well me.

CLXVI

‘Thou art a bold man and an hardy,

And so thinketh me;

And or I pass from this place,

Assay’d better shalt thou be.’

CLXVII

Little John drew a good sword,

The cook took another in hand;

They thought nothing for to flee,

But stiffly for to stand.

CLXVIII

There they fought sore together,

Two mile way and more,

Might neither other harm done,

The mountenance[808] of an hour.

CLXIX

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,

‘And by my true lewtè,

Thou art one of the best swordsmen

That ever yet saw I me.

CLXX

‘Couldest thou shoot as well in a bow,

To green-wood thou shouldest with me,

And two times in the year thy clothing

I-changèd should be;

CLXXI

‘And every year of Robin Hood

Twenty mark to thy fee.’--

‘Put up thy sword,’ said the cook,

‘And fellows will we be.’

CLXXII

Then he fette[809] to Little John

The numbles of a doe,

Good bread and full good wine,

They ate and drank thereto.

CLXXIII

And when they had drunken well,

Their troths together they plight,

That they would be with Robin

That ilk same day at night.

CLXXIV

They did them to the treasure-house,

As fast as they might gone,

The locks that were of good steel

They broke them every one;

CLXXV

They took away the silver vessel,

And all that they might get,

Pieces, masars[810], and spoons,

Would they none forget;

CLXXVI

Also they took the good pence,

Three hundred pound and three;

And did them straight to Robin Hood,

Under the green-wood tree.

CLXXVII

‘God thee save, my dear master,

And Christ thee save and see!’

And then said Robin to Little John,

‘Welcome might thou be;

CLXXVIII

‘And also be that fair yeoman

Thou bringest there with thee.

What tidings from Nottingham

Little John, tell thou me?’--

CLXXIX

‘Well thee greeteth the proud Sheriff,

And send thee here by me

His cook and his silver vessel,

And three hundred pound and three.’--

CLXXX

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,

‘And to the Trinity,

It was never by his good will,

This good is come to me.’

CLXXXI

Little John him there bethought,

On a shrewèd wile,

Five mile in the forest he ran,

Him happèd at his will.

CLXXXII

Then he met the proud Sheriff,

Hunting with hound and horn,

Little John cou’d[811] his courtesy,

And kneelèd him beforn:

CLXXXIII

‘God thee save, my dear master,

And Christ thee save and see!’--

‘Reynold Greenleaf,’ said the Sheriff,

‘Where hast thou now be?’--

CLXXXIV

‘I have been in this forest,

A fair sight can I see,

It was one of the fairest sights

That ever yet saw I me;

CLXXXV

‘Yonder I see a right fair hart,

His colour is of green,

Seven score of deer upon an herd

Be with him all bedene[812];

CLXXXVI

‘His tyndès[813] are so sharp, master,

Of sixty and well mo,

That I durst not shoot for dread

Lest they would me sloo[814].’

CLXXXVII

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said the Sheriff,

‘That sight would I fain see.’

‘Busk you thitherward, my dear master,

Anon, and wend with me.’

CLXXXVIII

The Sheriff rode, and Little John

Of foot he was full smart,

And when they came afore Robin:

‘Lo, here is the master hart!’

CLXXXIX

Still stood the proud Sheriff,

A sorry man was he:

‘Woe worth thee, Reynold Greenleaf!

Thou hast now betrayèd me.’

CXC

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,

‘Master, ye be to blame,

I was mis-served of my dinner,

When I was with you at hame.’

CXCI

Soon he was to supper set,

And servèd with silver white;

And when the Sheriff saw his vessel,

For sorrow he might not eat.

CXCII

‘Make good cheer,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Sheriff, for charity!

And for the love of Little John,

Thy life is granted to thee.’

CXCIII

When they had suppèd well,

The day was all agone,

Robin commanded Little John

To draw off his hosen and shoon,

CXCIV

His kirtle and his courtepy[815],

That was furrèd well fine,

And take him a green mantèl,

To lap[816] his body therein.

CXCV

Robin commanded his wight young men,

Under the green-wood tree,

They shall lie in that same sort;

That the Sheriff might them see.

CXCVI

All night lay that proud Sheriff,

In his breech and in his shirt,

No wonder it was in green-wood,

Tho’ his sides do smerte[817].

CXCVII

‘Make glad cheer,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Sheriff, for charity!

For this is our ordèr, i-wis,

Under the green-wood tree.’

CXCVIII

‘This is harder order,’ said the Sheriff,

‘Than any anchor[818] or frere[819];

For all the gold in merry England

I would not long dwell here.’

CXCIX

‘All these twelve months,’ said Robin

‘Thou shalt dwell with me;

I shall thee teach, proud Sheriff,

An outlaw for to be.’

‘Or I here another night lie,’ said the Sheriff,

‘Robin, now I pray thee,

Smite off my head rather to-morne[820],

And I forgive it thee.

CCI

‘Let me go,’ then said the Sheriff,

‘For saint Charity!

And I will be thy best friend

That ever yet had thee.’

CCII

‘Thou shalt swear me an oath,’ said Robin,

‘On my bright brand[821],

Thou shalt never await[822] me scathe[823],

By water nor by land.

CCIII

‘And if thou find any of my men,

By night or by day,

Upon thine oath thou shalt swear,

To help them that thou may.’

CCIV

Now has the Sheriff i-sworn his oath,

And home he began to gone,

He was as full of green-wood

As ever was hip[824] of stone.

_The Fourth Fytte_

How Robin Hood was repaid his Loan

CCV

The Sheriff dwelled in Nottingham,

He was fain that he was gone;

And Robin and his merry men

Went to wood anon.

CCVI

‘Go we to dinner,’ said Little John:

Robin Hood said ‘Nay;

For I fear Our Lady be wroth with me,

For she sent me not my pay.’

CCVII

‘Have no doubt, master,’ said Little John;

‘Yet is not the sun at rest;

For I dare say and safely swear,

The Knight is true and trest[825].’

CCVIII

‘Take thy bow in hande,’ said Robin,

‘Let Much wend with thee,

And so shall William Scathèlock,

And no man abide with me.

CCIX

‘And walk ye up unto the Sayles,

And so to Watling Street,

And wait after some uncouth guest,

Upchance ye may them meet.

CCX

‘Whether he be a messenger,

Or a man that mirthès can[826],

Of my good he shall have some,

If he be a poorè man.’

CCXI

Forth then started Little John,

Half in tray and teen[827],

And girt him with a full good sword,

Under a mantle of green.

CCXII

They wenten up unto the Sayles,

Those yeomen allè three;

They lookèd east, they lookèd west,

They mightè no man see.

CCXIII

But as they looked in Barnèsdale,

By the highè-way,

Then were they ware of a Black Monk[828],

Upon a good palfrèy.

CCXIV

Then bespake him Little John,

To Muchè gan he say:

‘I dare well lay my life to wed[829],

That Monk hath brought our pay.

CCXV

‘Make glad cheer,’ said Little John,

‘And dress your bows of yew,

And look your hearts be seker and sad[830],

Your strings trusty and true.

CCXVI

‘The Monk hath two and fifty men,

And seven somers[831] strong;

There rideth no bishop in this land

So royally along.

CCXVII

‘Bretheren,’ said Little John,

‘Here are no more but three;

But[832] we bring them to dinnèr,

Our master we dare not see.

CCXVIII

‘Bend your bows,’ said Little John,

‘Make all yon press[833] to stand;

The foremost Monk, his life and death

Is closèd in my hand.

CCXIX

‘Abide, churl Monk!’ said Little John,

‘No further that thou wend;

If thou dost, by dear-worth God,

Thy death is in my hend[834].

CCXX

‘And evil thrift[835] upon thy head,

Right under thy hat’s band!

For thou hast made our master wroth,

He is so lang fastand.’

CCXXI

‘Who is your master?’ said the Monk.--

Little John said, ‘Robin Hood.’--

‘He is a strong thief,’ said the Monk,

‘Of him I never heard good.’

CCXXII

‘Thou lìest,’ then said Little John,

‘And that shall ruè thee;

He is a yeoman of the forest,

To dine he hath bidden thee.’

CCXXIII

Much was ready with a bolt[836],

Rathely[837] and anon,

He set the Monk to-fore[838] the breast

To the ground that he gan gon[839].

CCXXIV

Of two and fifty wight yeomen

There abode not one,

Save a little page and a groom

To lead the somers on.

CCXXV

They brought the Monk to the lodgè door,

Whether he were loath or lief[840],

For to speak with Robin Hood,

Maugre in his teeth[841].

CCXXVI

Robin did a-down his hood,

The Monk when that he see;

The Monk was not so courteous,

His hood he lettè be.

CCXXVII

‘He is a churl, by dear-worth God,’

Then said Little John.

‘Thereof no force[842],’ said Robin Hood,

‘For courtesy can be none.’

CCXXVIII

‘How many men,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Haddè this Monk, Johan?’--

‘Fifty and two when that we met,

But many of them be gane.’

CCXXIX

‘Let blow a horn,’ said Robin Hood,

‘That fellowship may us know.’--

Seven score of wight yeomen

Came pricking on a row.

CCXXX

Each of them had a good mantèl

Of scarlet and of ray[843];

All they came to good Robin,

To wit what he would say.

CCXXXI

They made the Monk to wash and wipe,

And sit at his dinnere,

Robin Hood and Little John

They served him both in fere.

CCXXXII

‘Do gladly, Monk,’ said Robin Hood;

‘Gramerci, sir,’ said he.

‘Where is your Abbey, when you are at home,

And who is your avowè[844]?’

CCXXXIII

‘Saint Mary’s Abbey,’ said the Monk,

‘Though I be simple here.’--

‘In what office?’ said Robin;

‘Sir, the High Cellerèr.’

CCXXXIV

‘Ye be the more welcome,’ said Robin,

‘So ever mote I the[845]:

Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,

‘This Monk shall drink to me.

CCXXXV

‘But I have great marvel,’ said Robin,

‘Of all this longè day;

I dread Our Lady be wroth with me,

She sent me not my pay.’

CCXXXVI

‘Have no doubt, master,’ said Little John,

‘Ye have no need, I say,

This Monk hath brought it, I dare well swear,

For he is of her Abbèy.’

CCXXXVII

‘And she was a borrow,’ said Robin,

‘Between a Knight and me,

Of a little money that I him lent,

Under the green-wood tree.

CCXXXVIII

‘And if thou hast that silver brought,

I pray thee let me see;

And I shall helpè thee eftsoons[846],

If thou have need to me.’

CCXXXIX

The Monk swore a full great oath,

With a sorry cheer,

‘Of the borrowhood[847] thou speak’st to me

Heard I never ere.’--

CCXL

‘I makè mine avow to God,

Monk, thou art to blame;

For God is held a righteous Man,

And so is eke his Dame[848].

CCXLI

‘Thou toldest with thine ownè tongue,

Thou mayst not sayè naye,

How thou art her servant,

And servest her every day.

CCXLII

‘And thou art made her messenger,

My money for to pay;

Therefore I can thee morè thank

Thou art come at thy day.

CCXLIII

‘What is in your coffers?’ said Robin,

‘Truthè tell thou me.’--

‘Sir,’ he saidè, ‘twenty mark[849],

All so mote I the.’

CCXLIV

‘If there be no more,’ said Robin,

‘I will not one pennỳ;

If thou hast myster[850] of any more,

More I shall lend to thee.

CCXLV

‘And if I find more,’ said Robin,

‘I-wis thou shall it forgone;

For of thy spending-silver, Monk,

Thereof will I right none.

CCXLVI

‘Go now forth, Little John,

The truthè tell thou me;

If there be no more but twenty mark,

No penny that I see.’

CCXLVII

Little John spread his mantle down,

As he had done before,

And he told out of the Monkès mail

Eight hundred pound and more.

CCXLVIII

Little John let it lie full still,

And went to his master in haste;

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘the Monk is true enough,

Our Lady hath doubled your cast[851]!’--

CCXLIX

‘I makè mine avow to God,

Monk, what told I thee?

Our Lady is the truest woman

That ever found I me.

CCL

‘By dear-worth God,’ said Robin Hood,

‘To seek all England thorough,

Yet found I never to my pay

A muchè better borrow.

CCLI

‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,

‘And greet thy Lady hend[852],

And if she have need to Robin Hood

She shall him find a friend.

CCLII

‘And if she need any more silvèr,

Come thou again to me,

And, by this token she hath me sent,

She shall have suchè three.’

CCLIII

The Monk was going to Londonward,

There to hold great moot[853],

The Knight that rode so high on horse,

To bring him under foot.

CCLIV

‘Whither be ye away?’ said Robin.--

‘Sir, to manors in this londe,

To reckon with our revès,

That have done much wrong.’--

CCLV

‘Come now forth, Little John,

And hearken to my tale,

A better yeoman I know none,

To seek[854] a Monkès mail[855].’

CCLVI

‘How much is in yon other forcèr[856]?

The soothè must we see:’

‘By our Lady,’ then said the Monk,

‘That were no courtesy,

CCLVII

‘A man to biddè to dinnèr,

And sith[857] him beat and bind.’--

‘It is our old manner,’ said Robin,

‘To leave but little behind.’

CCLVIII

The Monk took the horse with spur,

No longer would he abide;

‘Ask to drink,’ then said Robin,

‘Ere that ye further ride.’

CCLIX

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ then said the Monk,

‘Me rueth I came so near;

For better cheap[858] I might have dined

In Blyth or Doncastere.’

CCLX

‘Greet well your Abbot,’ said Robin,

‘And your prior, I you pray,

And bid him send me such a Monk

To dinner every day!’

CCLXI

Now lettè we that Monk be still,

And speak we of that Knight:

Yet he came to hold his day,

The while that it was light.

CCLXII

He did him straight to Barnèsdale,

Under the green-wood tree,

And he found there Robin Hood,

And all his merry meinèe.

CCLXIII

The Knight lit down off his good palfrèy,

Robin when he gan see;

Courteously he did a-down his hood,

And set him on his knee.

CCLXIV

‘God thee savè, Robin Hood,

And all this company!’--

‘Welcome be thou, gentle Knight,

Right welcome unto me.’

CCLXV

Then bespake him Robin Hood

To that Knight so free:

‘What need driveth thee to greenè-wood?

I pray, sir Knight, tell me.

CCLXVI

‘And welcome be thou, gentle Knight,

Why hast thou been so long?’--

‘For the Abbot and the High Justice

Would have had my land with wrong.’

CCLXVII

‘Hast thou thy land again?’ said Robin;

‘Truthè tell thou me.’--

‘Yea, ’fore God,’ said the Knight,

‘That thank I God and thee.

CCLXVIII

‘But take no grief I have been so long;

I came by a wrestèling,

And there I holp a poor yeoman,

With wrong was put behind.’

CCLXIX

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Sir Knight, that thank I thee;

What man that helpeth a good yeoman,

His friend I willè be.’

CCLXX

‘Have here four hundred pound,’ said the Knight,

‘The which ye lent to me;

And here is also twenty mark

For your courtesy.’

CCLXXI

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Thou brook[859] it well for aye;

For Our Lady, by her Cellarèr,

Hath sent to me my pay.

CCLXXII

‘And if I would it twicè take

A shame it were to me;

But truly now, thou gentle Knight,

Welcome art thou to me.’

CCLXXIII

When Robin Hood had told his tale,

He laugh’d and made good cheer.

‘By my truthè,’ said the Knight,

‘Your money is ready here.’

CCLXXIV

‘Brook it well,’ said Robin Hood,

‘Thou gentle Knight so free;

And welcome be thou, gentle Knight,

Under my trystell-tree!

CCLXXV

‘But what shall these bows do,’ said Robin,

‘And these arrows feather’d free?’--

‘With your will,’ then said the Knight,

‘A poor present to thee.’--

CCLXXVI

‘Come now forth, Little John,

And go to my treasurỳ,

And bring me thence four hundred pound;

The Monk overtold[860] it me.

CCLXXVII

‘Have here four hundred pound,

Thou gentle Knight and true,

And buy thee horse and harness good,

And giltè spurs all new.

CCLXXVIII

‘And if thou fail any spending,

Come to Robin Hood,

And by my troth thou shalt none fail,

While I have any good.

CCLXXIX

‘And brook well thy four hundred pound,

Which I lent to thee,

And make thyself no more so bare,

By the counsel of me.’

CCLXXX

Thus then holp him good Robin,

The Knight all of his care:

God, that sitt’st in heaven high,

Grant us well to fare!

_The Fifth Fytte_

How at Archery in Nottingham Robin Hood was treacherously attacked, but

escaped into Sir Richard’s Castle

CCLXXXI

Now hath the Knight his leave i-take,

And went him on his way;

Robin Hood and his merry men

Dwelt still full many a day.

CCLXXXII

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,

And hearken what I shall say,

How the proud Sheriff of Nottingham,

Did cry a full fair play;

CCLXXXIII

That all the best archers of the North

Should come upon a day,

‘And he that shooteth alder-best[861]

The game shall bear away.

CCLXXXIV

‘He that shooteth alder-best,

Furthest, fair, and law[862],

At a pair of fynly[863] butts,

Under the green-wood shaw,

CCLXXXV

‘A right good arrow he shall have,

The shaft of silver white,

The head and feathers of rich red gold,

In England is none like.’

CCLXXXVI

This then heardè good Robin,

Under his trystell-tree:

‘Make you ready, ye wight young men;

That shooting will I see.

CCLXXXVII

‘Busk you, my merry young men,

Ye shall go with me;

And I will wete[864] the Sheriff’s faith,

True an if he be.

CCLXXXVIII

When they had their bows i-bent,

Their tackles[865] feather’d free,

Seven score of wight young men

Stood by Robin’s knee.

CCLXXXIX

When they came to Nottingham,

The butts were fair and long;

Many was the bold archèr

That shot with bowè strong.

CCXC

‘There shall but six shoot with me,

The other shall keep my heed,

And stand with good bowès bent

That I be not deceived.’

CCXCI

The fourth outlaw his bow gan bend,

And that was Robin Hood,

And that beheld the proud Sheriff,

All by the butt he stood.

CCXCII

Thrice Robin shot about,

And alway he sliced the wand,

And so did good Gilbert,

With the white hand.

CCXCIII

Little John and good Scathelock

Were archers good and free;

Little Much and good Reynold,

The worst would they not be.

CCXCIV

When they haddè shot about,

These archers fair and good,

Evermore was the best,

For soothè, Robin Hood.

CCXCV

Him was deliver’d the good arròw,

For best worthy was he;

He took the gift so courteously,

To greenè-wood would he.

CCXCVI

They crièd out on Robin Hood

And great horns gan they blow:

‘Woe worth thee[866], treason!’ said Robin,

‘Full evil thou art to know.

CCXCVII

‘And woe be thee, thou proud Sheriff,

Thus gladding thy guest;

Otherwise, thou behotè[867] me

In yonder wild forèst.

CCXCVIII

‘But had I thee in greenè-wood,

Under my trystell-tree,

Thou shouldest leave me a better wed[868]

Than thy true lewtè.’

CCXCIX

Full many a bowè there was bent,

And arrows let they glide;

Many a kirtle there was rent,

And hurt full many a side.

CCC

The outlaws’ shottè was so strong

That no man might them drive.

And the proudè Sheriff’s men

They fled away full blive[869].

CCCI

Robin saw the bushment[870] broke,

In green-wood he would be;

Many an arrow there was shot

Among that company.

CCCII

Little John was hurt full sore,

With an arrow in his knee,

That he might neither go nor ride;

It was full great pity.

CCCIII

‘Master,’ then said Little John,

‘If ever thou lovest me,

And for that ilk Lordès love,

That died upon a tree,

CCCIV

‘And for the meeds[871] of my service,

That I have servèd thee,

Let never the proud Sheriff

Alive now findè me;

CCCV

‘But take out thy brown sword,

And smite all off my head

And give me wounds dead[872] and wide,

No life on me be left.’

CCCVI

‘I would not that,’ said Robin,

‘John, that thou were slawe,

For all the gold in merry England,

Though it lay now on a rawe[873].’

CCCVII

‘God forbid,’ said little Much,

‘That died on a tree,

That thou shouldest, Little John,

Part our company.’

CCCVIII

Up Robin took him on his back,

And bare him well a mile;

Many a time he laid him down,

And shot another while.

CCCIX

Then was there a fair castèll,

A little within the wood;

Double-ditch’d it was about,

And wallèd, by the rood.

CCCX

And there dwelt that gentle Knight,

Sir Richard at the Lee,

That Robin haddè lent his good,

Under the green-wood tree.

CCCXI

In he took good Robin,

And all his company:

‘Welcome be thou, Robin Hood,

Welcome art thou to me;

CCCXII

‘And much I thank thee of thy comfort,

And of thy courtesy,

And of thy great kindness,

Under the green-wood tree;

CCCXIII

‘I love no man in all this world

So much as I do thee;

For all the proud Sheriff of Nottingham,

Right here shalt thou be.

CCCXIV

‘Shut the gates and draw the bridge,

And let no man come in,

And arm you well, and make you ready,

And to the walls ye win[874].

CCCXV

‘For one thing, Robin, I thee behote[875],

I swear by Saint Quintìn,

These twelve days thou wonest[876] with me,

To sup, eat, and dine.’

CCCXVI

Boards were laid, and cloths spread,

Readily and anon;

Robin Hood and his merry men

To meat gan they gone.

_The Sixth Fytte_

How Sir Richard was cast by the Sheriff into Prison, and rescued by

Robin Hood

CCCXVII

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,

And hearken to my song;

How the proud Sheriff of Nottingham

And men of armès strong

CCCXVIII

Full fast came to the High Sheriff,

The country up to rout[877],

And they beset the Knight’s castell,

The wallès all about.

CCCXIX

The proudè Sheriff loud gan cry,

And said, ‘Thou traitor Knight,

Thou keep’st here the King’s enemies,

Against the law and right.’--

CCCXX

‘Sir, I will avow that I have done,

The deeds that here be dight[878],

Upon all the lands that I have,

As I am a true knight.

CCCXXI

‘Wend forth, sirs, on your way,

And doth no more to me,

Till ye wit our King his will

What he will say to thee.’

CCCXXII

The Sheriff thus had his answère,

Without any leasing[879];

Forth he yede[880] to London town,

All for to tell our King.

CCCXXIII

There he told him of that Knight,

And eke of Robin Hood,

And also of the bold archers

That were so noble and good.

CCCXXIV

‘He would avow that he had done,

To maintain the outlaws strong,

He would be lord, and set you at nought,

In all the north londe.’

CCCXXV

‘I will be at Nottingham,’ said our King,

‘Within this fortènight,

And take I willè Robin Hood,

And so I will that Knight.

CCCXXVI

‘Go home, thou proud Sheriff,

And do as I bid thee,

And ordain good archers enough,

Of all the wide countrey.’

CCCXXVII

The Sheriff had his leave i-take,

And went him on his way;

And Robin Hood to green-wood went

Upon a certain day;

CCCXXVIII

And Little John was whole[881] of the arrow,

That shot was in his knee,

And did him straight to Robin Hood,

Under the green-wood tree.

CCCXXIX

Robin Hood walked in the forest

Under the leavès green;

The proud Sheriff of Nottingham

Thereof he had great teen.

CCCXXX

The Sheriff there fail’d of Robin Hood,

He might not have his prey;

Then he awaited this gentle Knight,

Both by night and day.

CCCXXXI

Ever he waited that gentle Knight,

Sir Richard at the Lee,

As he went hawking by the river side,

And let his hawkès flee.

CCCXXXII

Took he there this gentle Knight,

With men of armès strong,

And led him to Nottingham-ward,

Bound both foot and hond.

CCCXXXIII

The Sheriff swore a full great oath,

By Him that died on a tree,

He had liefer than an hundred pound,

That Robin Hood had he.

CCCXXXIV

This heard the Knightès wife,

A fair lady and a free;

She set her on a good palfrey,

To green-wood anon rode she.

CCCXXXV

When she came in the forèst,

Under the green-wood tree,

Found she there Robin Hood

And all his fair meinèe.

CCCXXXVI

‘God thee save, thou good Robin,

And all thy company;

For Ourè dearè Lady’s sake,

A boon grant thou me!

CCCXXXVII

‘Let thou never my wedded Lord

Shamefully slayen be;

He is fast bound at Nottingham,

For the love of thee.’

CCCXXXVIII

Anon then said good Robin,

To that lady free,

‘What man hath your lord i-take?’--

‘The proud Sheriff,’ then said she.

CCCXXXIX

‘The proud Sheriff hath him i-take

Forsooth as I thee say;

He is not yet three miles,

Passèd on his way.’

CCCXL

Up then started good Robin

As a man that had been wood[882];

‘Buskè you, my merry men,

For Him that died on rood!

CCCXLI

‘And he that this sorròw forsaketh,

By Him that died on a tree,

And by Him that all things maketh,

No longer shall dwell with me.’

CCCXLII

Soon there were good bows y-bent,

More than seven score;

Hedge nor ditch they sparèd none

That was them before.

CCCXLIII

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,

‘The Knight would I fain see,

And if I may him takè,

I-quit then shall he be.’

CCCXLIV

And when they came to Nottingham,

They walkèd in the street;

And with the proud Sheriff i-wis

Soonè gan they meet.

CCCXLV

‘Abide, thou proud Sheriff,’ he said,

‘Abide, and speak with me;

Of some tidings of our King

I would fain hear of thee.

CCCXLVI

‘This seven year, by dear-worthy God,

Ne yede I so fast on foot,

I make mine avow to God, thou proud Sheriff,

It is not for thy good.’

CCCXLVII

Robin bent a full good bow,

An arrow he drew at will;

He hit so the proud Sheriff,

On the ground he lay full still.

CCCXLVIII

And or he might up arise,

On his feet to stand,

He smote off the Sheriff’s head,

With his bright brand.

CCCXLIX

‘Lie thou there, thou proud Sheriff;

Evil mote thou thrive:

There might no man to thee trust

The while thou wert alive.’

CCCL