Chapter V: Appendix: The Second Part of Adam Bell (2)

8–10. Robin’s general piety and his special devotion to the Virgin are again to be remarked in No 118. There is a tale of a knight who had a castle near a public road, and robbed everybody that went by, but said his Ave every day, and never allowed anything to interfere with his so doing, in Legenda Aurea, c. 51, Grässe, p. 221; Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, III, 563, No 86; Morlini Novellæ, Paris, 1855, p. 269, No 17, etc.

13–15. Robin’s practice corresponds closely with Gamelyn’s:

Whil Gamelyn was outlawed hadde he no cors;
There was no man that for him ferde the wors
But abbotes and priours, monk and chanoun;
On hem left he no-thing, whan he mighte hem nom.

vv 779–82, ed. Skeat.

Fulk Fitz Warine, nor any of his, during the time of his outlawry would ever do hurt to any one except the king and his knights: Wright, p. 77 f.

45. “Distraint of knighthood,” or the practice of requiring military tenants who held 20 _l._ per annum to receive knighthood, or pay a composition, began under Henry III, as early as 1224, and was continued by Edward I. This was regarded as a very serious oppression under James I and Charles I, and was abolished in 1642. Stubbs, Constitutional History, II, 281 f; Hallam, Constitutional History, ed. 1854, I, 338, note x, II, 9, 99.

62–66. The knight has no security to offer for a loan “but God that dyed on a tree,” and such security, or that of the saints, is peremptorily rejected by Robin; but when the knight says that he can offer no other, unless it be Our Lady, the Virgin is instantly accepted as entirely satisfactory. In a well-known miracle of Mary, found in most of the larger collections, a Christian, who resorts to a Jew to borrow money, tenders Jesus as security, and the Jew, who regards Jesus as a just man and a prophet, though not divine, is willing to lend on the terms proposed. The Christian, not being able, as he says, to produce Jesus Christ in person, takes the Jew to a church, and, standing before an image of the Virgin and Child, causes him to take the hand of the Child, saying, Lord Jesus Christ, whose image I have given as pledge for this money, and whom I have offered this Jew as my surety, I beg and entreat that, if I shall by any chance be prevented from returning the money to this man upon the day fixed, but shall give it to thee, thou wilt return it to him in such manner and form as may please thee. In the sequel this miraculous interposition becomes necessary, and the money is punctually restored, the act of grace being implicitly or distinctly attributed to Mary rather than her Son; distinctly in an English form of the legend, where the Christian, especially devoted to the Virgin, offers Saint Mary for his borrow: Horstmann, Die altenglischen Marienlegenden des MS. Vernon, in Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 232, No 6.[74]

107. The abbot had retained the chief justice “by robe and fee,” to counsel and aid him in the spoliation of the knight, 93. Taking and giving of robes and fees for such purposes is defined as conspiracy in a statute of Edward I, 1305–06; and by another statute, 20 Edward III, c. vi, 1346, justices are required to swear that they will take robes and fees from no man but the king: et que vos ne prendrez fee, tant come vos serez justicz, ne robes, de nul homme, graunt ne petit, sinoun du roi meismes. Statutes of the Realm, I, 145, 305: cited by J. Lewelyn Curtis, in Notes and Queries, S. I, VI, 479 f. All the English judges, including the chief justice, were convicted of bribery and were removed, under Edward I, 1289.

121. The knight would have given something for the use of the four hundred pound had the abbot been civil, though under no obligation to pay interest. In 270 the knight proffers Robin twenty mark (3⅓ per cent) for his courtesy, which seemingly small sum was to be accompanied with the valuable gift of a hundred bows and a hundred sheaf of peacock-feathered, silver-nocked arrows. But though the abbot had not lent for usury, still less had he lent for charity. The knight’s lands were to be forfeited if the loan should not be punctually returned, 86 f, 94, 106; and of this the knight was entirely aware, 85. “As for mortgaging or pawning,” says Bacon, Of Usury, “either men will not take pawns without use, or, if they do, they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in the country that would say, The devil take this usury; it keeps us from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds.” But troubles, legal or other, might ensue upon this hard-dealing unless the knight would give a quittance, 117 f.

135–37. A ram was the prize for an ordinary wrestling-match; but this is an occasion which brings together all the best yeomen of the West Country, and the victor is to have a bull, a horse saddled and bridled, a pair of gloves, a ring, and a pipe of wine. In Gamelyn “there was set up a ram and a ring,” v. 172.

181–204. The sheriff is decoyed into the wood by Robin Hood in No 121, 56–69, No 122, #A#, 18–25, #B#, 20–27, as here by Little John. Fulk Fitz Warine gets his enemy, King John, into his power by a like stratagem. Fulk, disguised as a collier, is asked by King John if he has seen a stag or doe pass. He has seen a horned beast; it had long horns. He offers to take the king to the place where he saw it, and begs the king to wait while he goes into the thicket to drive the beast that way. Fulk’s men are in the forest: he tells them that he has brought the king with only three knights; they rush out and seize the king. Fulk says he will have John’s life, but the king promises to restore Fulk’s heritage and all that had been taken from him and his men, and to be his friend forever after. A pledge of faith is exacted and given, and very happy is the king so to escape. But the king keeps the forced oath no better than the sheriff. Wright, p. 145 ff. There is a passage which has the same source, though differing in details, in Eustace the Monk, Michel, pp. 36–39, vv 995–1070. The story is incomparably better here than elsewhere.

213–33. The black monks are Benedictines. There are two according to 213 f, 218, 225^4, but the high cellarer only (who in 91–93 is exultant over the knight’s forfeiture) is of consequence, and the other is made no account of. Seven score of wight young men, 229^3, is the right number for a band of outlaws; so Gamelyn, v. 628. The sheriff has his seven score in Guy of Gisborn, 13.

243–47. “What is in your coffers?” So Eustace the monk to the merchant, v. 938, p. 34, Michel: “Di-moi combien tu as d’argent.” The merchant tells the exact truth, and Eustace, having verified the answer by counting, returns all the money, saying, If you had lied in the least, you would not have carried off a penny. When Eustace asks the same question of the abbot, v. 1765, p. 64, the abbot answers, after the fashion of our cellarer, Four silver marks. Eustace finds thirty marks, and returns to the abbot the four which he had confessed.

213–272. Nothing was ever more felicitously told, even in the best _dit_ or _fabliau_, than the “process” of Our Lady’s repaying the money which had been lent on her security. Robin’s slyly significant welcome to the monk upon learning that he is of Saint Mary Abbey, his professed anxiety that Our Lady is wroth with him because she has not sent him his pay, John’s comfortable suggestion that perhaps the monk has brought it, Robin’s incidental explanation of the little business in which the Virgin was a party, and request to see the silver in case the monk has come upon her affair, are beautiful touches of humor, and so delicate that it is all but brutal to point them out. The story, however, is an old one, and was known, perhaps, wherever monks were known. A complete parallel is afforded by Pauli’s Schimpf und Ernst, No 59 (c. 1515). A nobleman took a burgess’s son prisoner in war, carried him home to his castle, and shut him up in a tower. After lying there a considerable time, the prisoner asked and obtained an interview with his captor, and said: Dear lord, I am doing no good here to you or myself, since my friends will not send my ransom. If you would let me go home, I would come back in eight weeks and bring you the money. Whom will you give for surety? asked the nobleman. I have no one to offer, replied the prisoner, but the Lord God, and will swear you an oath by him to keep my word. The nobleman was satisfied, made his captive swear the oath, and let him go. The hero sold all that he owned, and raised the money, but was three weeks longer in so doing than the time agreed upon. The nobleman, one day, when he was riding out with a couple of servants, fell in with an abbot or friar who had two fine horses and a man. See here, my good fellows, said the young lord; that monk is travelling with two horses, as fine as any knight, when he ought to be riding on an ass. Look out now, we will play him a turn. So saying, he rode up to the monk, seized the bridle of his horse, and asked, Sir, who are you? Who is your lord? The monk answered, I am a servant of God, and he is my lord. You come in good time, said the nobleman. I had a prisoner, and set him free upon his leaving your lord with me as a surety. But I can get nothing from this lord of yours; he is above my power; so I will lay hands on his servant; and accordingly made the monk go with him afoot to the castle, where he took from him all that he had. Shortly after, his prisoner appeared, fell at his feet, and wished to pay the ransom, begging that he would not be angry, for the money could not be got sooner. But the nobleman said, Stand up, my good man. Keep your money, and go whither you will, for your surety has paid your ransom. Ed. Oesterley, p. 49. The gist of the story is in Jacques de Vitry, Sermones Vulgares, fol. 62, MS. 17,509, Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris; Scala Celi (1480), 159 b, “De Restitucione,” and elsewhere: see Oesterly’s note, p. 480. A very amusing variety is the _fabliau_ Du povre Mercier, Barbazan et Méon, III, 17; Montaiglon et Raynaud, II, 114; Legrand, III, 93, ed. 1829.[75]

293^3. Reynolde. Possibly Little John borrows this Reynolde’s name in 149, but there is no apparent reason why he should. In the following very strange, and to me utterly unintelligible, piece in Ravenscroft’s Deuteromelia, which may have been meant to have only enough sense to sing, Renold, a miller’s son, mickle of might (was he rechristened Much?), becomes one of Robin Hood’s men. (Deuteromelia, p. 4: London, for Tho. Adams, 1609.)

1
By Lands-dale hey ho,
By mery Lands-dale hey ho,
There dwelt a jolly miller,
And a very good old man was he, hey ho.

2
He had, he had and a sonne a,
Men called him Renold,
And mickle of his might
Was he, was he, hey ho.

3
And from his father a wode a,
His fortune for to seeke,
From mery Lands-dale
Wode he, wode he, hey ho.

4
His father would him seeke a,
And found him fast a sleepe;
Among the leaves greene
Was he, was he, hey ho.

5
He tooke, he tooke him up a,
All by the lilly-white hand,
And set him on his feet,
And bad him stand, hey ho.

6
He gave to him a benbow,
Made all of a trusty tree,
And arrowës in his hand,
And bad him let them flee.

7
And shoote was that that a did a,
Some say he shot a mile,
But halfe a mile and more
Was it, was it, hey ho.

8
And at the halfe miles end,
There stood an armed man;
The childe he shot him through,
And through and through, hey ho.[76]

9
His beard was all on a white a,
As white as whale is bone,
His eyes they were as cleare
As christall stone, hey ho.

10
And there of him they made
Good yeoman, Robin Rood,
Scarlet, and Little John,
And Little John, hey ho.

302–05. The Klepht Giphtakis, wounded in knee and hand, exclaims: Where are you, my brother, my friend? Come back and take me off, or take off my head, lest the Turk should do so, and carry it to that dog of an Ali Pacha. (1790. Fauriel, I, 20; Zambelios, p. 621, No 32; Passow, p. 52, No 61.)

357–59. The king traverses the whole length of Lancashire and proceeds to Plumpton Park, missing many of his deer. Camden, Britannia, II, 175, ed. 1772, places Plumpton Park on the bank of the Petterel, in Cumberland, east of Inglewood. (Hunter, p. 30, citing no authority, says it was part of the forest of Knaresborough, in Yorkshire.) Since this survey makes the king wroth with Robin Hood, we must give a corresponding extent to Robin’s operations. And we remember that Wyntoun says that he exercised his profession in Inglewood and Barnsdale.

371 ff. The story of the seventh fit has a general similitude to the extensive class of tales, mostly jocular, represented by ‘The King and the Miller;’ as to which, see further on.

403–09. The sport of “pluck-buffet” (424^3) is a feature in the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, 762–98, Weber, II, 33 f. Richard is betrayed to the king of Almayne by a minstrel to whom he had given a cold reception, and is put in prison. The king’s son, held the strongest man of the land, visits the prisoner, and proposes to him an exchange of this sort. The prince gives Richard a clout which makes fire spring from his eyes, and goes off laughing, ordering Richard to be well fed, so that he may have no excuse for returning a feeble blow when he takes his turn. The next day, when the prince comes for his payment, Richard, who has waxed his hand by way of preparation, delivers a blow which breaks the young champion’s cheek-bone and fells him dead. There is another instance in ‘The Turke and Gowin,’ Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 91 ff.

414–450. Robin Hood is pardoned by King Edward on condition of his leaving the greenwood with all his company, and taking service at court. In the course of a twelvemonth,[77] keeping up his old profusion, Robin has spent not only all his own money, but all his men’s, in treating knights and squires, and at the end of the year all his band have deserted him save John and Scathlock. About this time, chancing to see young men shooting, the recollection of his life in the woods comes over him so powerfully that he feels that he shall die if he stays longer with the king. He therefore affects to have made a vow to go to Barnsdale “barefoot and woolward.” Upon this plea he obtains from the king leave of absence for a week, and, once more in the forest, never reports for duty in two and twenty years.

Hunter, who could have identified Pigrogromitus and Quinapalus, if he had given his mind to it, sees in this passage, and in what precedes it of King Edward’s trip to Nottingham, a plausible semblance of historical reality.[78] Edward II, as may be shown from Rymer’s Fœdera, made a progress in the counties of York, Lancaster, and Nottingham, in the latter part of the year 1323. He was in Yorkshire in August and September, in Lancashire in October, at Nottingham November 9–23, spending altogether five or six weeks in that neighborhood, and leaving it a little before Christmas. “Now it will scarcely be believed, but it is, nevertheless, the plain and simple truth, that in documents preserved in the Exchequer, containing accounts of expenses in the king’s household, we find the name of Robyn Hode, not once, but several times occurring, receiving, with about eight and twenty others, the pay of 3_d._ a day, as one of the ‘vadlets, porteurs de la chambre’ of the king;” these entries running from March 24, 1324, to November 22 of the same year. There are entries of payments to vadlets during the year preceding, but unluckily the accountant has put down the sums in gross, without specifying the names of persons who received regular wages. This, as Hunter remarks, does not quite prove that Robyn Hode had not been among these persons before Christmas, 1323, but, on the other hand, account-book evidence is lacking to show that he had been. Hunter’s interpretation of the data is that Robyn Hode entered the king’s service at Nottingham a little before Christmas, 1323. If this was so, his career as porter was not only brief, but pitiably checkered. His pay is docked for five days’ absence in May, again for eight days in August, then for fifteen days in October. “He was growing weary of his new mode of life.” Seven days, once more, are deducted in November, and under the 22d of that month we find this entry: Robyn Hode, jadys un des porteurs, poar cas qil ne poait pluis travailler de donn par comandement, v. s. After this his name no longer appears.

A simple way of reading the Exchequer documents is that one Robert Hood, some time (and, for aught we know, a long time) porter in the king’s household, after repeatedly losing time, was finally discharged, with a present of five shillings, because he could not do his work. To detect “a remarkable coincidence between the ballad and the record” requires not only a theoretical prepossession, but an uncommon insensibility to the ludicrous.[79] But taking things with entire seriousness, there is no correspondence between the ballad and the record other than this: that Robin Hood, who is in the king’s service, leaves it; in the one instance deserting, and in the other being displaced. Hunter himself does not, as in the case of Adam Bell, insist that the name Robin Hood is “peculiar.” He cites, p. 10, a Robert Hood, citizen of London, who supplied the king’s household with beer, 28 Edward I, and a Robert Hood of Wakefield, twice mentioned, 9, 10 Edward II.[80] Another Robert Hood at Throckelawe, Northumbria, is thrice mentioned in the Exchequer Rolls, Edward I, 19, 20, 30: Rot. Orig. in Cur. Scac. Abbrev., I, 69, 73, 124. A Robert Hood is manucaptor for a burgess returned from Lostwithiel, Cornwall, 7 Edward II, Parliamentary Writs, II, 1019, and another, of Howden, York, 10 Edward III, is noted in the Calendar of Patent Rolls, p. 125, No 31, cited by Ritson. In all these we have six Robin Hoods between 30 Edward I and 10 Edward III, a period of less than forty years.

433, 435–50 are translated by A. Grün, p. 166.

* * * * *

#a.# 1
Lythe and listin, ge_n_tilmen,
Th_a_t be of frebore blode;
I shall you tel of a gode yema_n_,
His name was Roby_n_ Hode.

2
Roby_n_ was a p_r_ude outlaw,
[Whyles he walked on grounde;
So curteyse an outlawe] as he was one
Was never non fou_n_de.

3
Roby_n_ stode i_n_ Bernesdale,
And lenyd hy_m_ to a tre;
And bi hy_m_ stode Litell John_n_,
A gode yeman was he.

4
And alsoo dyd gode Scarlok,
And Much, the miller’s so_n_;
There was none ynch of his bodi
But it was worth a grome.

5
Than bespake Lytell John_n_
All vntoo Robyn Hode:
Maister, and ye wolde dyne betyme
It wolde doo you moche gode.

6
Tha_n_ bespake hy_m_ gode Robyn:
To dyne haue I noo lust,
Till that I haue so_m_ bolde baro_n_,
Or som vnkouth gest.

7
. . . . . . .
That may pay for the best,
Or som knyght or [som] squyer,
That dwelleth here bi west.

8
A gode maner tha_n_ had Robyn;
In londe where th_a_t he were,
Euery day or he wold dyne
Thre messis wolde he here.

9
The one i_n_ the worship of the Fad_er_,
And another of the Holy Gost,
The thirde of Our derë Lady,
That he loued allther moste.

10
Roby_n_ loued Oure derë Lady;
For dout of dydly synne,
Wolde he neuer do co_m_pani harme
Th_a_t any woma_n_ was i_n_.

11
‘Maistar,’ tha_n_ sayde Lytil John_n_,
‘And we our borde shal sprede,
Tell vs wheder th_a_t we shal go,
And what life th_a_t we shall lede.

12
‘Where we shall take, where we shall leue,
Where we shall abide behy_n_de;
Where we shall robbe, where we shal reue,
Where we shal bete and bynde.’

13
‘Therof no force,’ than sayde Robyn;
‘We shall do well inowe;
But loke ye do no husbonde harme,
That tilleth with his ploughe.

14
‘No more ye shall no gode yeman
That walketh by grenë-wode shawe;
Ne no knyght ne no squyer
Th_a_t wol be a gode felawe.

15
‘These bisshopp_es_ and these archebishopp_es_,
Ye shall them bete and bynde;
The hyë sherif of Notyingham,
Hym holde ye in your mynde.’

16
‘This worde shalbe holde,’ sayde Lytell John_n_,
‘And this lesson we shall lere;
It is fer dayes; God sende vs a gest,
That we were at oure dynere!’

17
‘Take thy gode bowe in thy ho_n_de,’ sayde Rob[yn];
‘Late Much we_n_de w_i_t_h_ the;
And so shal Willya_m_ Scarlo[k],
And no man abyde with me.

18
‘And walke vp to the Saylis,
And so to Watli_n_ge Stret[e],
And wayte after some vnkuth gest,
Vp chaunce ye may the_m_ mete.

19
‘Be he erle, or ani baro_n_,
Abbot, or ani knyght,
Bringhe hym to lodge to me;
His dyner shall be dight.’

20
They wente vp to the Saylis,
These yeman all thre;
They loked est, they loke[d] weest;
They myght no man see.

21
But as they loked i_n_ to Bernysdale,
Bi a dernë strete,
Than came a knyght ridinghe;
Full sone they gan hym mete.

22
All dreri was his semblaunce,
And lytell was his pryde;
His one fote in the styrop stode,
That othere wauyd beside.

23
His hode hanged in his iyn two;
He rode in symple aray;
A soriar man than he was one
Rode neuer in somer day.

24
Litell John_n_ was full curteyes,
And sette hym on his kne:
‘Welcom be ye, gentyll knyght,
Welcom ar ye to me.

25
‘Welcom be thou to grenë wode,
Hendë knyght and fre;
My maister hath abide_n_ you fastinge,
Syr, al these ourës thre.’

26
‘Who is thy maister?’ sayde the knyght;
John_n_ sayde, Robyn Hode;
‘He is [a] gode yoman,’ sayde the knyght,
‘Of hym I haue herde moche gode.

27
‘I graunte,’ he sayde, ‘with you to wende,
My bretherne, all in fere;
My purpos was to haue dyned to day
At Blith or Dancastere.’

28
Furth than went this gentyl knight,
With a carefull chere;
The teris oute of his iyen ran,
And fell downe by his lere.

29
They brought hym to the lodgë-dore;
Whan Robyn hym gan see,
Full curtesly dyd of his hode
And sette hym on his knee.

30
‘Welcome, sir knight,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Welcome art thou to me;
I haue abyden you fastinge, sir,
All these ouris thre.’

31
Than answered the gentyll knight,
With wordës fayre and fre;
God the saue, goode Robyn,
And all thy fayre meynë.

32
They wasshed togeder and wyped bothe,
And sette to theyr dynere;
Brede and wyne they had right ynoughe,
And noumbles of the dere.

33
Swannes and fessauntes they had full gode,
And foules of the ryuere;
There fayled none so litell a birde
That euer was bred on bryre.

34
‘Do gladly, sir knight,’ sayde Robyn;
‘Gramarcy, sir,’ sayde he;
‘Suche a dinere had I nat
Of all these wekys thre.

35
‘If I come ageyne, Robyn,
Here by thys contrë,
As gode a dyner I shall the make
As that thou haest made to me.’

36
‘Gramarcy, knyght,’ sayde Robyn;
‘My dyner whan that I it haue,
I was neuer so gredy, bi dere worthy God,
My dyner for to craue.

37
‘But pay or ye wende,’ sayde Robyn;
‘Me thynketh it is gode ryght;
It was neuer the maner, by dere worthi God,
A yoman to pay for a knyhht.’

38
‘I haue nought i_n_ my coffers,’ saide the knyght,
‘That I may prefer for shame:’
‘Litell John_n_, go loke,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Ne let nat for no blame.

39
‘Tel me truth,’ than saide Robyn,
‘So God haue parte of the:’
‘I haue no more but ten shelynges,’ sayde the knyght,
‘So God haue parte of me.’

40
If thou hast no more,’ sayde Robyn,
‘I woll nat one peny;
And yf thou haue nede of any more,
More shall I lend the.

41
‘Go nowe furth, Littell John_n_,
The truth tell thou me;
If there be no more but ten shelinges,
No peny that I se.’

42
Lyttell John_n_ sprede downe hys mantell
Full fayre vpon the grounde,
And there he fonde in the knyghtës cofer
But euen halfe [a] pounde.

43
Littell John_n_ let it lye full styll,
And went to hys maysteer [full] lowe;
‘What tidyngës, John_n_?’ sayde Robyn;
‘Sir, the knyght is true inowe.’

44
‘Fyll of the best wine,’ sayde Robyn,
‘The knyght shall begynne;
Moche wo_n_der thi_n_keth me
Thy clot[h]ynge is so thin[n]e.

45
‘Tell me [one] worde,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And counsel shal it be;
I trowe thou warte made a knyght of force,
Or ellys of yemanry.

46
‘Or ellys thou hast bene a sori husbande,
And lyued in stroke and stryfe;
An okerer, or ellis a lechoure,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Wyth wronge hast led thy lyfe.’

47
‘I am none of those,’ sayde the knyght,
‘By God that madë me;
An hundred wy_n_ter here before
Myn auncetres knyghtes haue be.

48
‘But oft it hath befal, Robyn,
A man hath be disgrate;
But God that sitteth in heuen aboue
May amende his state.

49
‘Withyn this two yere, Robyne,’ he sayde,
‘My neghbours well it knowe,
Foure hundred pounde of gode money
Ful well than myght I spende.

50
‘Nowe haue I no gode,’ saide the knyght,
‘God hath shaped such an ende,
But my chyldren and my wyfe,
Tyll God yt may amende.’

51
‘In what maner,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Hast thou lorne thy rychesse? ’
‘For my greatë foly,’ he sayde,
‘And for my kynd[ë]nesse.

52
‘I hade a sone, forsoth, Robyn,
That shulde hau[e] ben myn ayre,
Whanne he was twenty wynter olde,
In felde wolde iust full fayre.

53
‘He slewe a knyght of Lancaster,
And a squyer bolde;
For to saue hym in his ryght
My godes both sette and solde.

54
‘My londes both sette to wedde, Robyn,
Vntyll a certayn day,
To a ryche abbot here besyde
Of Seynt Mari Abbey.’

55
‘What is the som?’ sayde Robyn;
‘Trouth than tell thou me;’
‘Sir,’ he sayde, ‘foure hundred pounde;
The abbot told it to me.’

56
‘Nowe and thou lese thy lond,’ sayde Robyn,
‘What woll fall of the?’
‘Hastely I wol me buske,’ sayd the knyght,
‘Ouer the saltë see,

57
‘And se w[h]ere Criste was quyke and dede,
On the mount of Caluerë;
Fare wel, frende, and haue gode day;
It may no better be.’

58
Teris fell out of hys iyen two;
He wolde haue gone hys way:
‘Farewel, frende, and haue gode day;
I ne haue no more to pay.’

59
‘Where be thy frendës?’ sayde Robyn:
‘Syr, neuer one wol me knowe;
While I was ryche ynowe at home
Great boste than wolde they blowe.

60
‘And nowe they renne away fro me,
As bestis on a rowe;
They take no more hede of me
Thanne they had me neuer sawe.’

61
For ruthe thanne wept Litell John_n_,
Scarlok and Muche in fere;
‘Fyl of the best wyne,’ sayde Robyn,
‘For here is a symple chere.

62
‘Hast thou any frende,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Thy borowe that woldë be? ’
‘I haue none,’ than sayde the knyght,
‘But God that dyed on tree.’

63
‘Do away thy iapis,’ than sayde Robyn,
‘Thereof wol I right none;
Wenest thou I wolde haue God to borowe,
Peter, Poule, or John_n_?

64
‘Nay, by hym that me made,
And shope both sonne and mone,
Fynde me a better borowe,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Or money getest thou none.’

65
‘I haue none other,’ sayde the knyght,
‘The sothe for to say,
But yf yt be Our derë Lady;
She fayled me neuer or thys day.’

66
‘By dere worthy God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘To seche all Englonde thorowe,
Yet fonde I neuer to my pay
A moche better borowe.

67
‘Come nowe furth, Litell John_n_,
And go to my tresourë,
And bringe me foure hundered pound,
And loke well tolde it be.’

68
Furth tha_n_ went Litell John_n_,
And Scarlok went before;
He tolde oute foure hundred pounde
By eight and twenty score.

69
‘Is thys well tolde?’ sayde [litell] Much;
John_n_ sayde, ‘What gre[ue]th the?
It is almus to helpe a gentyll knyght,
That is fal in pouertë.

70
‘Master,’ than sayde Lityll John,
‘His clothinge is full thynne;
Ye must gyue the knight a lyueray,
To lappe his body therin.

71
‘For ye haue scarlet and grene, mayster,
And man[y] a riche aray;
Ther is no marchau_n_t in mery Englond
So ryche, I dare well say.’

72
‘Take hym thre yerdes of euery colour,
And loke well mete that it be;’
Lytell John_n_ toke none other mesure
But his bowë-tree.

73
And at euery handfull that he met
He lepëd footës three;
‘What deuyllës drapar,’ sayid litell Muche,
‘Thynkest thou for to be?’

74
Scarlok stode full stil and loughe,
And sayd, By God Almyght,
John_n_ may gyue hym gode mesure,
For it costeth hym but lyght.

75
‘Mayster,’ than said Litell John_n_
To gentill Robyn Hode,
‘Ye must giue the knig[h]t a hors,
To lede home this gode.’

76
‘Take hy_m_ a gray coursar,’ sayde Roby_n_,
‘And a saydle newe;
He is Oure Ladye’s messangere;
God graunt that he be true.’

77
‘And a gode palfray,’ sayde lytell Much,
‘To mayntene hym in his right;’
‘And a peyre of botës,’ sayde Scarlock,
‘For he is a gentyll knight.’

78
‘What shalt thou gyue hy_m_, Litell John?’ said Roby_n_;
‘Sir, a peyre of gilt sporis clene,
To pray for all this co_m_pany;
God bri_n_ge hy_m_ oute of tene.’

79
‘Wha_n_ shal mi day be,’ said the knight,
‘Sir, and your wyll be?’
‘This day twelue moneth,’ saide Robyn,
‘Vnder this grenë-wode tre.

80
‘It were greate shamë,’ sayde Robyn,
‘A knight alone to ryde,
Withoutë squyre, yoman, or page,
To walkë by his syde.

81
‘I shall the lende Litell John, my man,
For he shalbe thy knaue;
In a yema[n]’s stede he may the stande,
If thou greate nedë haue.’

THE SECONDE FYTTE.

82
Now is the knight gone on his way;
This game hym thought full gode;
Wha_n_ne he loked on Bernesdale
He blessyd Roby_n_ Hode.

83
And wha_n_ne he thought on Bernysdale,
On Scarlok, Much, and John_n_,
He blyssyd them for the best company
#b.#
That euer he in come.

84
Then spake that gentyll knyght,
To Lytel Johan gan he saye,
To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune,
To Saynt Mary abbay.

85
And to the abbot of that place
Foure hondred pounde I must pay;
And but I be there vpon this nyght
My londe is lost for ay.

86
The abbot sayd to his couent,
There he stode on grounde,
This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght
And borowed foure hondred pounde.

87
[He borowed foure hondred pounde,]
Upon all his londë fre;
But he come this ylkë day
Dysheryte shall he be.

88
‘It is full erely,’ sayd the pryoure,
‘The day is not yet ferre gone;
I had leuer to pay an hondred pounde,
And lay downe anone.

89
‘The knyght is ferre beyonde the see,
In Englonde is his ryght,
And suffreth honger and colde,
And many a sory nyght.

90
‘It were grete pytë,’ said the pryoure,
‘So to haue his londe;
And ye be so lyght of your consyence,
Ye do to hym moch wronge.’

91
‘Thou arte euer in my berde,’ sayd the abbot,
‘By God and Saynt Rycharde;’
With that cam in a fat-heded monke,
The heygh selerer.

92
‘He is dede or hanged,’ sayd the monke,
‘By God that bought me dere,
And we shall haue to spende in this place
Foure hondred pounde by yere.’

93
The abbot and the hy selerer
Stertë forthe full bolde,
The [hye] iustyce of Englonde
The abbot there dyde holde.

94
The hyë iustyce and many mo
Had take in to they[r] honde
Holy all the knyghtës det,
To put that knyght to wronge.

95
They demed the knyght wonder sore,
The abbot and his meynë:
‘But he come this ylkë day
Dysheryte shall he be.’

96
‘He wyll not come yet,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘I dare well vndertake;’
But in sorowe tymë for them all
The knyght came to the gate.

97
Than bespake that gentyll knyght
Untyll his meynë:
Now put on your symple wedes
That ye brought fro the see.

98
[They put on their symple wedes,]
They came to the gates anone;
The porter was redy hymselfe,
And welcomed them euerychone.

99
‘Welcome, syr knyght,’ sayd the porter;
‘My lorde to mete is he,
And so is many a gentyll man,
For the loue of the.’

100
The porter swore a full grete othe,
‘By God that madë me,
Here be the best coresed hors
That euer yet sawe I me.

101
‘Lede them in to the stable,’ he sayd,
‘That eased myght they be;’
‘They shall not come therin,’ sayd the knyght,
‘By God that dyed on a tre.’

102
Lordës were to mete isette
In that abbotes hall;
The knyght went forth and kneled downe,
And salued them grete and small.

103
‘Do gladly, syr abbot,’ sayd the knyght,
‘I am come to holde my day:’
The fyrst word the abbot spake,
‘Hast thou brought my pay?’

104
‘Not one peny,’ sayd the knyght,
‘By God that maked me;’
‘Thou art a shrewed dettour,’ sayd the abbot;
‘Syr iustyce, drynke to me.

105
‘What doost thou here,’ sayd the abbot,
‘But thou haddest brought thy pay?’
‘For God,’ than sayd the knyght,
‘To pray of a lenger daye.’

106
‘Thy daye is broke,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘Londe getest thou none:’
‘Now, good syr iustyce, be my frende,
And fende me of my fone!’

107
‘I am holde with the abbot,’ sayd the iustyce,
‘Both with cloth and fee:’
‘Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!’
‘Nay, for God,’ sayd he.

108
‘Now, good syr abbot, be my frende,
For thy curteysë,
And holde my londës in thy honde
Tyll I haue made the gree!

109
‘And I wyll be thy true seruaunte,
And trewely seruë the,
Tyl ye haue foure hondred pounde
Of money good and free.’

110
The abbot sware a full grete othe,
‘By God that dyed on a tree,
Get the londe where thou may,
For thou getest none of me.’

111
‘By dere worthy God,’ then sayd the knyght,
‘That all this worldë wrought,
But I haue my londe agayne,
Full dere it shall be bought.

112
‘God, that was of a mayden borne,
Leue vs well to spede!
For it is good to assay a frende
Or that a man haue nede.’

113
The abbot lothely on hym gan loke,
And vylaynesly hym gan call;
‘Out,’ he sayd, ‘thou falsë knyght,
Spede the out of my hall!’

114
‘Thou lyest,’ then sayd the gentyll knyght,
‘Abbot, in thy hal;
False knyght was I neuer,
By God that made vs all.’

115
Vp then stode that gentyll knyght,
To the abbot sayd he,
To suffre a knyght to knele so longe,
Thou canst no curteysye.

116
In ioustës and in tournement
Full ferre than haue I be,
And put my selfe as ferre in prees
As ony that euer I se.

117
‘What wyll ye gyue more,’ sayd the iustice,
‘And the knyght shall make a releyse?
And elles dare I safly swere
Ye holde neuer your londe in pees.’

118
‘An hondred pounde,’ sayd the abbot;
The justice sayd, Gyue hym two;
‘Nay, be God,’ sayd the knyght,
#a.#
‘Yit gete ye it not so.

119
‘Though ye wolde gyue a thousand more,
Yet were ye neuer the nere;
Shall there neuer be myn heyre
Abbot, iustice, ne frere.’

120
He stert hy_m_ to a borde anone,
Tyll a table rounde,
And there he shoke oute of a bagge
Eue_n_ four hundred pou_n_d.

121
‘Haue here thi golde, sir abbot,’ saide the knight,
‘Which th_a_t thou le_n_test me;
Had thou ben curtes at my comynge,
Rewarded shuldest thou haue be.’

122
The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,
For all his ryall fare;
He cast his hede on his shulder,
And fast began to stare.

123
‘Take me my golde agayne,’ saide the abbot,
‘Sir iustice, th_a_t I toke the:’
‘Not a peni,’ said the iustice,
‘Bi Go[d, that dy]ed on tree.’

124
‘Sir [abbot, and ye me]n of lawe,
#b.#
Now haue I holde my daye;
Now shall I haue my londe agayne,
For ought that you can saye.’

125
The knyght stert out of the dore,
Awaye was all his care,
And on he put his good clothynge,
The other he lefte there.

126
He wente hym forth full mery syngynge,
As men haue tolde in tale;
His lady met hym at the gate,
At home in Verysdale.

127
‘Welcome, my lorde,’ sayd his lady;
‘Syr, lost is all your good?’
‘Be mery, dame,’ sayd the knyght,
#a.#
‘And pray for Robyn Hode,

128
‘That euer his soulë be in blysse:
He holpe me out of tene;
Ne had be his kyndënesse,
Beggers had we bene.

129
‘The abbot and I accorded ben,
He is s_er_ued of his pay;
The god yoma_n_ le_n_t it me,
As I cam by the way.’

130
This knight than dwelled fayre at home,
The sothe for to saye,
Tyll he had gete four hundred pound,
Al redy for to pay.

131
He purueyed hi_m_ an hundred bowes,
The stryngës well ydyght,
An hundred shefe of arowës gode,
The hedys burneshed full bryght;

132
And euery arowe an ellë longe,
With pecok wel idyght,
Inocked all w_i_t_h_ whyte siluer;
It was a semely syght.

133
He purueyed hym an [hondreth men],
Well harness[ed in that stede],
#b.#
And hym selfe in that same sete,
And clothed in whyte and rede.

134
He bare a launsgay in his honde,
And a man ledde his male,
And reden with a lyght songe
Vnto Bernysdale.

135
But as he we_n_t at a brydge ther was a wrastely_n_g,
And there taryed was he,
And there was all the best yemen
Of all the west countree.

136
A full fayre game there was vp set,
A whyte bulle vp i-pyght,
A grete courser, with sadle and brydil,
#a.#
With golde burnyssht full bryght.

137
A payre of gloues, a rede golde rynge,
A pype of wyne, in fay;
What man that bereth hym best i-wys
The pryce shall bere away.

138
There was a yoman in that place,
And best worthy was he,
And for he was ferre and frembde bested,
Slayne he shulde haue be.

139
The knight had ruthe of this yoman,
In placë where he stode;
He sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme,
For loue of Robyn Hode.

140
The knyght presed in to the place,
An hundreth folowed hym [free],
With bowës bent and arowës sharpe,
For to shende that companye.

141
They shulderd all and made hym rome,
To wete what he wolde say;
He toke the yema_n_ bi the ha_n_de,
And gaue hy_m_ al the play.

142
He gaue hy_m_ fyue marke for his wyne,
There it lay on the molde.
And bad it shulde be set a broche,
Drynkë who so wolde.

143
Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght,
Tyll that play was done;
So longe abode Robyn fastinge,
Thre hourës after the none.

THE THIRDE FYTTE.

144
Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,
All that nowe be here;
Of Litell John_n_, that was the knightës man,
Goode myrth ye shall here.

145
It was vpon a mery day
That yonge men wolde go shete;
Lytell John_n_ fet his bowe anone,
And sayde he wolde them mete.

146
Thre tymes Litell John_n_ shet aboute,
And alwey he slet the wande;
The proudë sherif of Notingham
By the markës can stande.

147
The sherif swore a full greate othe:
‘By hy_m_ th_a_t dyede on a tre,
This ma_n_ is the best arschére
That euer yet sawe I [me.]

148
‘Say me nowe, wight yonge man,
What is nowe thy name?
In what countre were thou borne,
And where is thy wonynge wane?’

149
‘In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,
I-wys al of my dame;
Me_n_ cal me Reynolde Grenëlef
Whan I am at home.’

150
‘Sey me, Reyno[l]de Grenëlefe,
Wolde thou dwell with me?
And euery yere I woll the gyue
Twenty marke to thy fee.’

151
‘I haue a maister,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘A curteys knight is he;
May ye leuë gete of hym,
The better may it be.’

152
The sherif gate Litell John
Twelue monethës of the knight;
Therfore he gaue him right anone
A gode hors and a wight.

153
Nowe is Litell John the sherifës man,
God lende vs well to spede!
But alwey thought Lytell John
To quyte hym wele his mede.

154
‘Nowe so God me helpë,’ sayde Litell John,
‘And by my true leutye,
I shall be the worst seruaunt to hym
Th_a_t euer yet had he.’

155
It fell vpo_n_ a Wednesday
The sherif on huntynge was gone,
And Litel Iohn lay i_n_ his bed,
And was foriete at home.

156
Therfore he was fasti_n_ge
Til it was past the none;
‘Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the,
Gyue me my dynere,’ saide Litell John.

157
‘It is longe for Grenëlefe
Fasti_n_ge thus for to be;
Therfor I pray the, sir stuarde,
Mi dyner gif me.’

158
‘Shalt thou neuer ete ne dry_n_ke,’ saide the stuarde,
‘Tyll my lorde be come to towne:’
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide Litell John,
‘I had leuer to crake thy crowne.’

159
The boteler was full vncurteys,
There he stode on flore;
He start to the botery
And shet fast the dore.

160
Lytell John_n_ gaue the boteler suche a tap
His backe went nere in two;
Though he liued an hundred ier,
The wors shuld he go.

161
He sporned the dore w_i_t_h_ his fote;
It went ope_n_ wel and fyne;
And there he made large lyueray,
Bothe of ale and of wyne.

162
‘Sith ye wol nat dyne,’ sayde Litell John,
‘I shall gyue you to drinke;
And though ye lyue an hundred wynter,
On Lytel John_n_ ye shall thinke.’

163
Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,
The whilë that he wolde;
The sherife had i_n_ his kechy_n_ a coke,
A stoute man and a bolde.

164
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide the coke,
‘Thou arte a shrewde hynde
In ani hous for to dwel,
For to askë th_us_ to dyne.’

165
And there he lent Litell John
God[ë] strokis thre;
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Lytell John,
‘These strokis lyked well me.

166
‘Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,
And so thi_n_keth me;
And or I pas fro this place
Assayed better shalt thou be.’

167
Lytell John_n_ drew a ful gode sworde,
The coke toke another in hande;
They thought no thynge for to fle,
But stifly for to stande.

168
There they faught sore togedere
Two mylë way and well more;
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountnaunce of an owre.

169
‘I make my_n_ auowe to God,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘And by my true lewtë,
Thou art one of the best sworde-men
That euer yit sawe I [me.]

170
‘Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,
To grenë wode thou shuldest with me,
And two times in the yere thy clothinge
Chaunged shuldë be;

171
‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode
Twe_n_ty merke to thy fe:’
‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke,
‘And felowës woll we be.’

172
Thanne he fet to Lytell John_n_
The nowmbles of a do,
Gode brede, and full gode wyne;
They ete and drank theretoo.

173
And when they had dronkyn well,
Theyre trouthës togeder they plight
That they wo[l]de be with Robyn
That ylkë samë nyght.

174
They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,
As fast as they myght gone;
The lokkës, that were of full gode stele,
They brake them euerichone.

175
They toke away the siluer vessell,
And all th_a_t thei mig[h]t get;
Pecis, masars, ne sponis,
Wolde thei not forget.

176
Also [they] toke the godë pe_n_s,
Thre hundred pounde and more,
And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode,
Under the grenë wode hore.

177
‘God the saue, my derë mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell John_n_,
Welcome myght thou be.

178
‘Also be that fayre yeman
Thou bryngest there with the;
What tydyngës fro Noty[n]gham?
Lytill John_n_, tell thou me.’

179
‘Well the gretith the proudë sheryf,
And sende[th] the here by me
His coke and his siluer vessell,
And thre hundred pounde and thre.’

180
‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,
‘And to the Trenytë,
It was neuer by his gode wyll
This gode is come to me.’

181
Lytyll John_n_ there hym bethought
On a shrewde wyle;
Fyue myle i_n_ the forest he ran,
Hym happed all his wyll.

182
Than he met the proudë sheref,
Huntynge with houndes and horne;
Lytell John_n_ coude of curtesye,
And knelyd hym beforne.

183
‘God the saue, my derë mayster,
And Criste the saue and se!’
‘Reynolde Grenëlefe,’ sayde the shryef,
‘Where hast thou nowe be?’

184
‘I haue be in this forest;
A fayre syght can I se;
It was one of the fayrest syghtes
That euer yet sawe I me.

185
‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,
His coloure is of grene;
Seuen score of dere vpon a herde
Be with hym all bydene.

186
‘Their tyndës are so sharpe, maister,
Of sexty, and well mo,
That I durst not shote for drede,
Lest they wolde me slo.’

187
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref,
‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’
‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi derë mayster,
Anone, and we_n_de w_i_t_h_ me.’

188
The sherif rode, and Litell John_n_
Of fote he was full smerte,
And whane they came before Robyn,
‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’

189
Still stode the proudë sherief,
A sory man was he;
‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Grenëlefe,
Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’

190
‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell John_n_,
‘Mayster, ye be to blame;
I was mysserued of my dynere
Whan I was w_i_t_h_ you at home.’

191
Sone he was to souper sette,
And serued well w_i_t_h_ siluer white,
And whan the sherif sawe his vessell,
For sorowe he myght nat ete.

192
‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sherif, for charitë,
And for the loue of Litill John_n_
Thy lyfe I graunt to the.’

193
Wha_n_ they had souped well,
The day was al gone;
Robyn co_m_mau_n_de[d] Litell John_n_
To drawe of his hosen and his shone;

194
His kirtell, and his cote of pie,
That was fured well and fine,
And to[ke] hy_m_ a grene ma_n_tel,
To lap his body therin.

195
Robyn com_m_au_n_dyd his wight yonge men,
Vnder the grenë-wode tree,
They shulde lye in that same sute,
That the sherif myght them see.

196
All nyght lay the proudë sherif
In his breche and in his [s]chert;
No wonder it was, in grenë wode,
Though his sydës gan to smerte.

197
‘Make glade chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,
‘Sheref, for charitë;
For this is our ordre i-wys,
Vnder the grenë-wode tree.’

198
‘This is harder order,’ sayde the sherief,
‘Than any ankir or frere;
For all the golde in mery Englonde
I wolde nat longe dwell her.’

199
‘All this twelue monthes,’ sayde Robin,
‘Thou shalt dwell with me;
I shall the techë, proudë sherif,
An outlawë for to be.’

200
‘Or I be here another nyght,’ sayde the sherif,
‘Robyn, nowe pray I the,
Smyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe,
And I forgyue it the.

201
‘Lat me go,’ tha_n_ sayde the sherif,
‘For sayntë charitë,
And I woll be the best[ë] frende
That euer yet had ye.’

202
‘Thou shalt swere me an othe,’ sayde Robyn,
‘On my bright bronde;
Shalt thou neuer awayte me scathe,
By water ne by lande.

203
‘And if thou fynde any of my men,
By nyght or [by] day,
Vpon thyn othë thou shalt swere
To helpe them tha[t] thou may.’

204
Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe,
And home he began to gone;
He was as full of grenë wode
As euer was hepe of stone.

THE FOURTH FYTTE.

205
The sherif dwelled in Notingham;
He was fayne he was agone;
And Robyn and his mery men
Went to wode anone.

206
‘Go we to dyner,’ sayde Littell John_n_;
Robyn Hode sayde, Nay;
For I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,
For she sent me nat my pay.

207
‘Haue no doute, maister,’ sayde Litell John_n_;
‘Yet is nat the sonne at rest;
For I dare say, and sauely swere,
The knight is true and truste.’

208
‘Take thy bowe in thy hande,’ sayde Robyn,
‘Late Much wende with the,
And so shal Wyllyam Scarlok,
#b.#
And no man abyde with me.

209
‘And walke vp vnder the Sayles,
And to Watlynge-strete,
And wayte after some vnketh gest;
Vp-chaunce ye may them mete.

210
‘Whether he be messengere,
Or a man that myrthës can,
Of my good he shall haue some,
Yf he be a porë man.’

211
Forth then stert Lytel Johan,
Half in tray and tene,
And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,
Under a mantel of grene.

212
They went vp to the Sayles,
These yemen all thre;
They loked est, they loked west,
They myght no man se.

213
But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale,
By the hyë waye,
Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,
Eche on a good palferay.

214
Then bespake Lytell Johan,
To Much he gan say,
I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,
That [these] monkes haue brought our pay.

215
‘Make glad chere,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘And frese your bowes of ewe,
And loke your hertës be seker and sad,
Your stryngës trusty and trewe.

216
‘The monke hath two and fifty [men,]
And seuen somers full stronge;
There rydeth no bysshop in this londe
So ryally, I vnderstond.

217
‘Brethern,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Here are no more but we thre;
But we bryngë them to dyner,
Our mayster dare we not se.

218
‘Bende your bowes,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Make all yon prese to stonde;
The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth
Is closed in my honde.

219
‘Abyde, chorle monke,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘No ferther that thou gone;
Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God,
Thy deth is in my honde.

220
‘And euyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ryght vnder thy hattës bonde;
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.’

221
‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke;
Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode;
‘He is a stronge thefe,’ sayd the monke,
‘Of hym herd I neuer good.’

222
‘Thou lyest,’ than sayd Lytell Joha_n_,
‘And that shall rewë the;
He is a yeman of the forest,
To dyne he hath bodë the.’

223
Much was redy with a bolte,
Redly and anone,
He set the monke to-fore the brest,
To the grounde that he can gone.

224
Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen
There abode not one,
Saf a lytell page and a grome,
To lede the somers with Lytel Johan.

225
They brought the monke to the lodgë-dore,
Whether he were loth or lefe,
For to speke with Robyn Hode,
Maugre in theyr tethe.

226
Robyn dyde adowne his hode,
The monke whan that he se;
The monke was not so curtëyse,
His hode then let he be.

227
‘He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,’
Than sayd Lytell Johan:
‘Thereof no force,’ sayd Robyn,
‘For curteysy can he none.

228
‘How many men,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Had this monke, Johan?’
‘Fyfty and two whan that we met,
But many of them be gone.’

229
‘Let blowe a horne,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That felaushyp may vs knowe;’
Seuen score of wyght yemen
Came pryckynge on a rowe.

230
And euerych of them a good mantell
Of scarlet and of raye;
All they came to good Robyn,
To wyte what he wolde say.