THE THYRDE FYTTE.Lyth and lysten, gentyll men,All that now be here,Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man,Good myrthe ye shall here.It was upon a mery day,That yonge men wolde go shete,150Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone,And sayd he wolde them mete.Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about,And alway cleft151the wande,The proude sheryf of NotynghamBy the markes gan stande.{28}The sheryf swore a full grete othe,By hym that dyed on a tree,This man is the best archereThat yet sawe I me.Say me now, wyght yonge man,What is now thy name ?In what countre were thou152born,And where is thy wonnynge wan ?“In Holdernesse I was bore,I wys all of my dame,Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe,Whan I am at hame.”“Say me, Reynaud Grenelefe,Wolte thou dwell with me ?And every yere I wyll the gyveTwenty marke to thy fee.”I have a mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,A curteys knyght is he,May ye gete leve of hym,The better may it bee.The sheryfe gate Lytell JohanTwelve monethes of the knyght,Therfore he gave him ryght anoneA good hors and a wyght.{29}Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man,He gyve us well to spede,But alway thought Lytell JohanTo quyte hym well his mede.Now so god153me helpe, sayd Lytel Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,I shall be the worste servaunte to hymThat ever yet had he.It befell upon a wednesday,The sheryfe on hontynge was gone,And Lytel Johan lay in his bed,And was foryete at home.Therfore he was fastyngeTyl it was past the none,Good syr stuard, I pray the,Geve me to dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,It is to long for Grenelefe,Fastynge so long to be ;Therfore I pray the, stuarde,My dyner gyve thou me.Shaly thou never ete ne drynke, sayd the stuarde,Tyll my lord be come to towne.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,I had lever to cracke thy crowne.{30}The butler was ful uncurteys,There he stode on flore,He sterte to the buttery,And shet fast the dore.Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,His backe yede nygh on two,Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter,The wors he sholde go.He sporned the dore with his fote,It went up wel and fyne,And there he made a large lyverayBoth of ale and wyne.Syth ye wyl not dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,I shall gyve you to drynke,And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk.Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke,The whyle that he wolde.The sheryfe had in his kechyn a coke,A stoute man and a bolde.I make myn avowe to god, sayd the coke,Thou arte a shrewde hynde,In an housholde to dwel,For to ask thus to dyne.{31}And there he lent Lytel Johan,Good strokes thre.I make myn avowe, sayd Lytell Johan,These strokes lyketh well me.Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy,And so thynketh me ;And or I passe fro this place,Asayed better shalt thou be.Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,The coke toke another in honde ;They thought nothynge for to fle,But styfly for to stonde.There they fought sore togyder,Two myle way and more,154Myght neyther other harme done,The mountenaunce of an houre.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,Thou art one of the best swerdemen,That ever yet sawe I me.Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,To grene wood thou sholdest with me,And two tymes in the yere thy clothyngeIchaunged sholde be ;{32}And every yere of Robyn HodeTwenty marke to thy fee.Put up thy swerde, sayd the coke,And felowes wyll we be.Then he fette to Lytell JohanThe numbles of a doo,Good brede and full good wyne,They ete and dranke therto.And whan they had dronken well,Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,That they wolde be with RobynThat ylke same day at nyght.The dyde155them to the tresure hous,As fast as they myght gone,The lockes that were of good steleThey brake them everychone ;They toke away the sylver vessell,And all that they myght get,Peces, masars, and spones,Wolde they non forgete ;Also they toke the good pence,Thre hondred pounde and three ;And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode,Under the grene wode tre.{33}“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and se.”And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,Welcome myght thou be ;And also be that fayre yemànThou bryngest there with the.What tydynges fro Notyngham ?Lytell Johan, tell thou me.“Well the greteth the proude sheryfe,And sende the here by meHis coke and his sylver vessell,And thre hondred pounde and thre.”I make myn avow to god, sayd Robyn,And to the trenytè,It was never by his good wyll,This good is come to me.Lytell Johan hym there bethought,On a shrewed wyle,156Fyve myle in the forest he ran,Hym happed at his wyll ;Than he met the proud sheryf,Huntynge with hounde and horne,Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,And kneled hym beforne :{34}“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and see.”Raynolde Grenelefe, sayd the sheryfe,Where hast thou nowe be ?“I have be in this forest,A fayre syght can I se,It was one of the fayrest syghtes157That ever yet sawe I me ;Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,His coloure is of grene,Seven score of dere upon an herdeBe with hym all bedene ;His tynde are so sharp, maystèr,Of sexty and well mo,That I durst not shote for dredeLest they wolde me sloo.”I make myn avowe to god, sayd the sheryf,That syght wolde I fayn se.“Buske you thyderwarde, my dere maystèr,Anone, and wende with me.”The sheryfe rode, and Lytell JohanOf fote he was full smarte,And whan they came afore Robyn :“Lo, here is the mayster harte !”{35}Styll stode the proude sheryf,A sory man was he :“Wo worthe the,158Raynolde Grenelefe !Thou hast now betrayed me.”I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,Mayster, ye be to blame,I was mysserved of my dynere,When I was with you at hame.Soone he was to super sette,And served with sylver whyte ;And whan the sheryf se his vessell,For sorowe he myght not ete.Make good chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,And for the love of Lytell Johan,Thy lyfe is graunted to the.When they had supped well,The day was all agone,Robyn commaunded Lytell JohanTo drawe of his hosen and his shone,His kyrtell and his cote a pye,That was furred well fyne,And take him a grene mantèll,To lappe his body therin.{36}Robyn commaunded his wyght yong men,Under the grene wood tre,They shall lay in that same sorte ;That the sheryf myght them se.All nyght laye that proud sheryf,In his breche and in his sherte,No wonder it was in grene wode,Tho his sydes do smerte.Make glad chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,For this is our order I wys,Under the grene wood tre.This is harder order, sayd the sheryfe,Than ony anker or frere ;For al the golde in mery EnglondeI wolde not longe dwell here.All these twelve monethes, sayd Robyn,Thou shake dwell with me ;I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,An outlawe for to be.Or I here another nyght lye, sayd the sheryfe,Robyn, nowe I praye the,Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,And I forgyve it the.{37}Lete me go, then sayd the sheryf,For saynt Charytè,And I wyll be thy best frendeThat ever yet had the.Thou shalte swere me an othe, sayd Robyn,On my bryght bronde,Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,By water ne by londe ;And if thou fynde ony of my men,By nyght or by day,Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere,To helpe them that thou may.Now have the sheryf iswore his othe,And home he began to gone,He was as full of grene wodeAs ever was hepe of stone.
Lyth and lysten, gentyll men,All that now be here,Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man,Good myrthe ye shall here.It was upon a mery day,That yonge men wolde go shete,150Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone,And sayd he wolde them mete.Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about,And alway cleft151the wande,The proude sheryf of NotynghamBy the markes gan stande.{28}The sheryf swore a full grete othe,By hym that dyed on a tree,This man is the best archereThat yet sawe I me.Say me now, wyght yonge man,What is now thy name ?In what countre were thou152born,And where is thy wonnynge wan ?“In Holdernesse I was bore,I wys all of my dame,Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe,Whan I am at hame.”“Say me, Reynaud Grenelefe,Wolte thou dwell with me ?And every yere I wyll the gyveTwenty marke to thy fee.”I have a mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,A curteys knyght is he,May ye gete leve of hym,The better may it bee.The sheryfe gate Lytell JohanTwelve monethes of the knyght,Therfore he gave him ryght anoneA good hors and a wyght.{29}Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man,He gyve us well to spede,But alway thought Lytell JohanTo quyte hym well his mede.Now so god153me helpe, sayd Lytel Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,I shall be the worste servaunte to hymThat ever yet had he.It befell upon a wednesday,The sheryfe on hontynge was gone,And Lytel Johan lay in his bed,And was foryete at home.Therfore he was fastyngeTyl it was past the none,Good syr stuard, I pray the,Geve me to dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,It is to long for Grenelefe,Fastynge so long to be ;Therfore I pray the, stuarde,My dyner gyve thou me.Shaly thou never ete ne drynke, sayd the stuarde,Tyll my lord be come to towne.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,I had lever to cracke thy crowne.{30}The butler was ful uncurteys,There he stode on flore,He sterte to the buttery,And shet fast the dore.Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,His backe yede nygh on two,Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter,The wors he sholde go.He sporned the dore with his fote,It went up wel and fyne,And there he made a large lyverayBoth of ale and wyne.Syth ye wyl not dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,I shall gyve you to drynke,And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk.Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke,The whyle that he wolde.The sheryfe had in his kechyn a coke,A stoute man and a bolde.I make myn avowe to god, sayd the coke,Thou arte a shrewde hynde,In an housholde to dwel,For to ask thus to dyne.{31}And there he lent Lytel Johan,Good strokes thre.I make myn avowe, sayd Lytell Johan,These strokes lyketh well me.Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy,And so thynketh me ;And or I passe fro this place,Asayed better shalt thou be.Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,The coke toke another in honde ;They thought nothynge for to fle,But styfly for to stonde.There they fought sore togyder,Two myle way and more,154Myght neyther other harme done,The mountenaunce of an houre.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,Thou art one of the best swerdemen,That ever yet sawe I me.Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,To grene wood thou sholdest with me,And two tymes in the yere thy clothyngeIchaunged sholde be ;{32}And every yere of Robyn HodeTwenty marke to thy fee.Put up thy swerde, sayd the coke,And felowes wyll we be.Then he fette to Lytell JohanThe numbles of a doo,Good brede and full good wyne,They ete and dranke therto.And whan they had dronken well,Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,That they wolde be with RobynThat ylke same day at nyght.The dyde155them to the tresure hous,As fast as they myght gone,The lockes that were of good steleThey brake them everychone ;They toke away the sylver vessell,And all that they myght get,Peces, masars, and spones,Wolde they non forgete ;Also they toke the good pence,Thre hondred pounde and three ;And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode,Under the grene wode tre.{33}“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and se.”And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,Welcome myght thou be ;And also be that fayre yemànThou bryngest there with the.What tydynges fro Notyngham ?Lytell Johan, tell thou me.“Well the greteth the proude sheryfe,And sende the here by meHis coke and his sylver vessell,And thre hondred pounde and thre.”I make myn avow to god, sayd Robyn,And to the trenytè,It was never by his good wyll,This good is come to me.Lytell Johan hym there bethought,On a shrewed wyle,156Fyve myle in the forest he ran,Hym happed at his wyll ;Than he met the proud sheryf,Huntynge with hounde and horne,Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,And kneled hym beforne :{34}“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and see.”Raynolde Grenelefe, sayd the sheryfe,Where hast thou nowe be ?“I have be in this forest,A fayre syght can I se,It was one of the fayrest syghtes157That ever yet sawe I me ;Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,His coloure is of grene,Seven score of dere upon an herdeBe with hym all bedene ;His tynde are so sharp, maystèr,Of sexty and well mo,That I durst not shote for dredeLest they wolde me sloo.”I make myn avowe to god, sayd the sheryf,That syght wolde I fayn se.“Buske you thyderwarde, my dere maystèr,Anone, and wende with me.”The sheryfe rode, and Lytell JohanOf fote he was full smarte,And whan they came afore Robyn :“Lo, here is the mayster harte !”{35}Styll stode the proude sheryf,A sory man was he :“Wo worthe the,158Raynolde Grenelefe !Thou hast now betrayed me.”I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,Mayster, ye be to blame,I was mysserved of my dynere,When I was with you at hame.Soone he was to super sette,And served with sylver whyte ;And whan the sheryf se his vessell,For sorowe he myght not ete.Make good chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,And for the love of Lytell Johan,Thy lyfe is graunted to the.When they had supped well,The day was all agone,Robyn commaunded Lytell JohanTo drawe of his hosen and his shone,His kyrtell and his cote a pye,That was furred well fyne,And take him a grene mantèll,To lappe his body therin.{36}Robyn commaunded his wyght yong men,Under the grene wood tre,They shall lay in that same sorte ;That the sheryf myght them se.All nyght laye that proud sheryf,In his breche and in his sherte,No wonder it was in grene wode,Tho his sydes do smerte.Make glad chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,For this is our order I wys,Under the grene wood tre.This is harder order, sayd the sheryfe,Than ony anker or frere ;For al the golde in mery EnglondeI wolde not longe dwell here.All these twelve monethes, sayd Robyn,Thou shake dwell with me ;I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,An outlawe for to be.Or I here another nyght lye, sayd the sheryfe,Robyn, nowe I praye the,Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,And I forgyve it the.{37}Lete me go, then sayd the sheryf,For saynt Charytè,And I wyll be thy best frendeThat ever yet had the.Thou shalte swere me an othe, sayd Robyn,On my bryght bronde,Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,By water ne by londe ;And if thou fynde ony of my men,By nyght or by day,Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere,To helpe them that thou may.Now have the sheryf iswore his othe,And home he began to gone,He was as full of grene wodeAs ever was hepe of stone.
Lyth and lysten, gentyll men,All that now be here,Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man,Good myrthe ye shall here.
Lyth and lysten, gentyll men,
All that now be here,
Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man,
Good myrthe ye shall here.
It was upon a mery day,That yonge men wolde go shete,150Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone,And sayd he wolde them mete.
It was upon a mery day,
That yonge men wolde go shete,150
Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone,
And sayd he wolde them mete.
Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about,And alway cleft151the wande,The proude sheryf of NotynghamBy the markes gan stande.{28}
Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about,
And alway cleft151the wande,
The proude sheryf of Notyngham
By the markes gan stande.{28}
The sheryf swore a full grete othe,By hym that dyed on a tree,This man is the best archereThat yet sawe I me.
The sheryf swore a full grete othe,
By hym that dyed on a tree,
This man is the best archere
That yet sawe I me.
Say me now, wyght yonge man,What is now thy name ?In what countre were thou152born,And where is thy wonnynge wan ?
Say me now, wyght yonge man,
What is now thy name ?
In what countre were thou152born,
And where is thy wonnynge wan ?
“In Holdernesse I was bore,I wys all of my dame,Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe,Whan I am at hame.”
“In Holdernesse I was bore,
I wys all of my dame,
Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe,
Whan I am at hame.”
“Say me, Reynaud Grenelefe,Wolte thou dwell with me ?And every yere I wyll the gyveTwenty marke to thy fee.”
“Say me, Reynaud Grenelefe,
Wolte thou dwell with me ?
And every yere I wyll the gyve
Twenty marke to thy fee.”
I have a mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,A curteys knyght is he,May ye gete leve of hym,The better may it bee.
I have a mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,
A curteys knyght is he,
May ye gete leve of hym,
The better may it bee.
The sheryfe gate Lytell JohanTwelve monethes of the knyght,Therfore he gave him ryght anoneA good hors and a wyght.{29}
The sheryfe gate Lytell Johan
Twelve monethes of the knyght,
Therfore he gave him ryght anone
A good hors and a wyght.{29}
Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man,He gyve us well to spede,But alway thought Lytell JohanTo quyte hym well his mede.
Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man,
He gyve us well to spede,
But alway thought Lytell Johan
To quyte hym well his mede.
Now so god153me helpe, sayd Lytel Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,I shall be the worste servaunte to hymThat ever yet had he.
Now so god153me helpe, sayd Lytel Johan,
And be my trewe lewtè,
I shall be the worste servaunte to hym
That ever yet had he.
It befell upon a wednesday,The sheryfe on hontynge was gone,And Lytel Johan lay in his bed,And was foryete at home.
It befell upon a wednesday,
The sheryfe on hontynge was gone,
And Lytel Johan lay in his bed,
And was foryete at home.
Therfore he was fastyngeTyl it was past the none,Good syr stuard, I pray the,Geve me to dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,
Therfore he was fastynge
Tyl it was past the none,
Good syr stuard, I pray the,
Geve me to dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,
It is to long for Grenelefe,Fastynge so long to be ;Therfore I pray the, stuarde,My dyner gyve thou me.
It is to long for Grenelefe,
Fastynge so long to be ;
Therfore I pray the, stuarde,
My dyner gyve thou me.
Shaly thou never ete ne drynke, sayd the stuarde,Tyll my lord be come to towne.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,I had lever to cracke thy crowne.{30}
Shaly thou never ete ne drynke, sayd the stuarde,
Tyll my lord be come to towne.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,
I had lever to cracke thy crowne.{30}
The butler was ful uncurteys,There he stode on flore,He sterte to the buttery,And shet fast the dore.
The butler was ful uncurteys,
There he stode on flore,
He sterte to the buttery,
And shet fast the dore.
Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,His backe yede nygh on two,Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter,The wors he sholde go.
Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,
His backe yede nygh on two,
Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter,
The wors he sholde go.
He sporned the dore with his fote,It went up wel and fyne,And there he made a large lyverayBoth of ale and wyne.
He sporned the dore with his fote,
It went up wel and fyne,
And there he made a large lyveray
Both of ale and wyne.
Syth ye wyl not dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,I shall gyve you to drynke,And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk.
Syth ye wyl not dyne, sayd Lytel Johan,
I shall gyve you to drynke,
And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,
On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk.
Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke,The whyle that he wolde.The sheryfe had in his kechyn a coke,A stoute man and a bolde.
Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke,
The whyle that he wolde.
The sheryfe had in his kechyn a coke,
A stoute man and a bolde.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd the coke,Thou arte a shrewde hynde,In an housholde to dwel,For to ask thus to dyne.{31}
I make myn avowe to god, sayd the coke,
Thou arte a shrewde hynde,
In an housholde to dwel,
For to ask thus to dyne.{31}
And there he lent Lytel Johan,Good strokes thre.I make myn avowe, sayd Lytell Johan,These strokes lyketh well me.
And there he lent Lytel Johan,
Good strokes thre.
I make myn avowe, sayd Lytell Johan,
These strokes lyketh well me.
Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy,And so thynketh me ;And or I passe fro this place,Asayed better shalt thou be.
Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy,
And so thynketh me ;
And or I passe fro this place,
Asayed better shalt thou be.
Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,The coke toke another in honde ;They thought nothynge for to fle,But styfly for to stonde.
Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,
The coke toke another in honde ;
They thought nothynge for to fle,
But styfly for to stonde.
There they fought sore togyder,Two myle way and more,154Myght neyther other harme done,The mountenaunce of an houre.
There they fought sore togyder,
Two myle way and more,154
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountenaunce of an houre.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,And be my trewe lewtè,Thou art one of the best swerdemen,That ever yet sawe I me.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,
And be my trewe lewtè,
Thou art one of the best swerdemen,
That ever yet sawe I me.
Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,To grene wood thou sholdest with me,And two tymes in the yere thy clothyngeIchaunged sholde be ;{32}
Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,
To grene wood thou sholdest with me,
And two tymes in the yere thy clothynge
Ichaunged sholde be ;{32}
And every yere of Robyn HodeTwenty marke to thy fee.Put up thy swerde, sayd the coke,And felowes wyll we be.
And every yere of Robyn Hode
Twenty marke to thy fee.
Put up thy swerde, sayd the coke,
And felowes wyll we be.
Then he fette to Lytell JohanThe numbles of a doo,Good brede and full good wyne,They ete and dranke therto.
Then he fette to Lytell Johan
The numbles of a doo,
Good brede and full good wyne,
They ete and dranke therto.
And whan they had dronken well,Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,That they wolde be with RobynThat ylke same day at nyght.
And whan they had dronken well,
Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,
That they wolde be with Robyn
That ylke same day at nyght.
The dyde155them to the tresure hous,As fast as they myght gone,The lockes that were of good steleThey brake them everychone ;
The dyde155them to the tresure hous,
As fast as they myght gone,
The lockes that were of good stele
They brake them everychone ;
They toke away the sylver vessell,And all that they myght get,Peces, masars, and spones,Wolde they non forgete ;
They toke away the sylver vessell,
And all that they myght get,
Peces, masars, and spones,
Wolde they non forgete ;
Also they toke the good pence,Thre hondred pounde and three ;And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode,Under the grene wode tre.{33}
Also they toke the good pence,
Thre hondred pounde and three ;
And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode,
Under the grene wode tre.{33}
“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and se.”And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,Welcome myght thou be ;
“God the save, my dere maystèr,
And Cryst the save and se.”
And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,
Welcome myght thou be ;
And also be that fayre yemànThou bryngest there with the.What tydynges fro Notyngham ?Lytell Johan, tell thou me.
And also be that fayre yemàn
Thou bryngest there with the.
What tydynges fro Notyngham ?
Lytell Johan, tell thou me.
“Well the greteth the proude sheryfe,And sende the here by meHis coke and his sylver vessell,And thre hondred pounde and thre.”
“Well the greteth the proude sheryfe,
And sende the here by me
His coke and his sylver vessell,
And thre hondred pounde and thre.”
I make myn avow to god, sayd Robyn,And to the trenytè,It was never by his good wyll,This good is come to me.
I make myn avow to god, sayd Robyn,
And to the trenytè,
It was never by his good wyll,
This good is come to me.
Lytell Johan hym there bethought,On a shrewed wyle,156Fyve myle in the forest he ran,Hym happed at his wyll ;
Lytell Johan hym there bethought,
On a shrewed wyle,156
Fyve myle in the forest he ran,
Hym happed at his wyll ;
Than he met the proud sheryf,Huntynge with hounde and horne,Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,And kneled hym beforne :{34}
Than he met the proud sheryf,
Huntynge with hounde and horne,
Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,
And kneled hym beforne :{34}
“God the save, my dere maystèr,And Cryst the save and see.”Raynolde Grenelefe, sayd the sheryfe,Where hast thou nowe be ?
“God the save, my dere maystèr,
And Cryst the save and see.”
Raynolde Grenelefe, sayd the sheryfe,
Where hast thou nowe be ?
“I have be in this forest,A fayre syght can I se,It was one of the fayrest syghtes157That ever yet sawe I me ;
“I have be in this forest,
A fayre syght can I se,
It was one of the fayrest syghtes157
That ever yet sawe I me ;
Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,His coloure is of grene,Seven score of dere upon an herdeBe with hym all bedene ;
Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,
His coloure is of grene,
Seven score of dere upon an herde
Be with hym all bedene ;
His tynde are so sharp, maystèr,Of sexty and well mo,That I durst not shote for dredeLest they wolde me sloo.”
His tynde are so sharp, maystèr,
Of sexty and well mo,
That I durst not shote for drede
Lest they wolde me sloo.”
I make myn avowe to god, sayd the sheryf,That syght wolde I fayn se.“Buske you thyderwarde, my dere maystèr,Anone, and wende with me.”
I make myn avowe to god, sayd the sheryf,
That syght wolde I fayn se.
“Buske you thyderwarde, my dere maystèr,
Anone, and wende with me.”
The sheryfe rode, and Lytell JohanOf fote he was full smarte,And whan they came afore Robyn :“Lo, here is the mayster harte !”{35}
The sheryfe rode, and Lytell Johan
Of fote he was full smarte,
And whan they came afore Robyn :
“Lo, here is the mayster harte !”{35}
Styll stode the proude sheryf,A sory man was he :“Wo worthe the,158Raynolde Grenelefe !Thou hast now betrayed me.”
Styll stode the proude sheryf,
A sory man was he :
“Wo worthe the,158Raynolde Grenelefe !
Thou hast now betrayed me.”
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,Mayster, ye be to blame,I was mysserved of my dynere,When I was with you at hame.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Lytell Johan,
Mayster, ye be to blame,
I was mysserved of my dynere,
When I was with you at hame.
Soone he was to super sette,And served with sylver whyte ;And whan the sheryf se his vessell,For sorowe he myght not ete.
Soone he was to super sette,
And served with sylver whyte ;
And whan the sheryf se his vessell,
For sorowe he myght not ete.
Make good chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,And for the love of Lytell Johan,Thy lyfe is graunted to the.
Make good chere, sayd Robyn Hode,
Sheryfe, for charytè,
And for the love of Lytell Johan,
Thy lyfe is graunted to the.
When they had supped well,The day was all agone,Robyn commaunded Lytell JohanTo drawe of his hosen and his shone,
When they had supped well,
The day was all agone,
Robyn commaunded Lytell Johan
To drawe of his hosen and his shone,
His kyrtell and his cote a pye,That was furred well fyne,And take him a grene mantèll,To lappe his body therin.{36}
His kyrtell and his cote a pye,
That was furred well fyne,
And take him a grene mantèll,
To lappe his body therin.{36}
Robyn commaunded his wyght yong men,Under the grene wood tre,They shall lay in that same sorte ;That the sheryf myght them se.
Robyn commaunded his wyght yong men,
Under the grene wood tre,
They shall lay in that same sorte ;
That the sheryf myght them se.
All nyght laye that proud sheryf,In his breche and in his sherte,No wonder it was in grene wode,Tho his sydes do smerte.
All nyght laye that proud sheryf,
In his breche and in his sherte,
No wonder it was in grene wode,
Tho his sydes do smerte.
Make glad chere, sayd Robyn Hode,Sheryfe, for charytè,For this is our order I wys,Under the grene wood tre.
Make glad chere, sayd Robyn Hode,
Sheryfe, for charytè,
For this is our order I wys,
Under the grene wood tre.
This is harder order, sayd the sheryfe,Than ony anker or frere ;For al the golde in mery EnglondeI wolde not longe dwell here.
This is harder order, sayd the sheryfe,
Than ony anker or frere ;
For al the golde in mery Englonde
I wolde not longe dwell here.
All these twelve monethes, sayd Robyn,Thou shake dwell with me ;I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,An outlawe for to be.
All these twelve monethes, sayd Robyn,
Thou shake dwell with me ;
I shall the teche, proud sheryfe,
An outlawe for to be.
Or I here another nyght lye, sayd the sheryfe,Robyn, nowe I praye the,Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,And I forgyve it the.{37}
Or I here another nyght lye, sayd the sheryfe,
Robyn, nowe I praye the,
Smyte of my hede rather to-morne,
And I forgyve it the.{37}
Lete me go, then sayd the sheryf,For saynt Charytè,And I wyll be thy best frendeThat ever yet had the.
Lete me go, then sayd the sheryf,
For saynt Charytè,
And I wyll be thy best frende
That ever yet had the.
Thou shalte swere me an othe, sayd Robyn,On my bryght bronde,Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,By water ne by londe ;
Thou shalte swere me an othe, sayd Robyn,
On my bryght bronde,
Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,
By water ne by londe ;
And if thou fynde ony of my men,By nyght or by day,Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere,To helpe them that thou may.
And if thou fynde ony of my men,
By nyght or by day,
Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere,
To helpe them that thou may.
Now have the sheryf iswore his othe,And home he began to gone,He was as full of grene wodeAs ever was hepe of stone.
Now have the sheryf iswore his othe,
And home he began to gone,
He was as full of grene wode
As ever was hepe of stone.