THE FOURTH FYTTE.The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame,He was fayne that he was gone,And Robyn and his mery menWent to wode anone.{38}Go we to dyner, sayd Lytell Johan.Robyn Hode sayd, Nay ;For I drede our lady be wroth with me,For she sent me not my pay.Have no dout, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Yet is not the sonne at rest,For I dare saye, and saufly swere,The knyght is trewe and trust.Take thy bowe in thy hande, sayd Robyn,Let Moch wende with the,And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,And no man abyde with me,And walke up into the Sayles,And to Watlynge-strete,And wayte after ‘some’159unketh gest,Up-chaunce ye may them mete.Whether he be messengere,Or a man that myrthes can,Or yf he be a pore man,Of my good he shall have some.Forth then stert Lytel Johan,Half in tray and tene,And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,Under a mantel of grene.{39}They went up to the Sayles,These yemen all thre ;They loked est, they loked west,They myght no man se.But as ‘they’160loked in Bernysdale,By the hye waye,Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,Eche on a good palferay.Then bespake Lytell Johan,To Much he gan say,I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,That these monkes have brought our pay.Make glad chere, sayd Lytell Johan,And frese our bowes of ewe,And loke your hertes be seker and sad,Your strynges trusty and trewe.The monke hath fifty two men,And seven somers full stronge,There rydeth no bysshop in this londeSo ryally, I understond.Brethern, sayd Lytell Johan,Here are no more but we thre :But we brynge them to dyner,Our mayster dare we not se.{40}Bende your bowes, sayd Lytell Johan,Make all yon161prese to stonde,The formost monke, his lyfe and his dethIs closed in my honde.Abyde, chorle monke, sayd Lytell Johan,No ferther that thou gone ;Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god,Thy death is in my honde.And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,Ryght under thy hattes bonde,For thou hast made our mayster wroth,He is fastynge so longe.Who is your mayster ? sayd the monke.Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,Of hym herd I never good.Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,And that shall rewe the ;He is a yeman of the forèst,To dyne he hath bode the.Much was redy with a bolte,Redly and a none,He set162the monke to fore the brest,To the grounde that he can gone.{41}Of fyfty two wyght yonge men,163There abode not one,Saf a lytell page, and a gromeTo lede the somers with Johan.164They brought the monke to the lodge dore,Whether he were loth or lefe,For to speke with Robyn Hode,Maugre in theyr tethe.Robyn dyde adowne his hode,The monke whan that he se ;The monke was not so curteyse,His hode then let he be.He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,Than said Lytell Johan.Thereof no force, sayd Robyn,For curteysy can he none.How many men, sayd Robyn,Had this monke, Johan ?“Fyfty and two whan that we met,But many of them be gone.”Let blowe a horne, sayd Robin,That felaushyp may us knowe ;Seven score of wyght yemen,Came pryckynge on a rowe,{42}And everych of them a good mantèllOf scarlet and of raye,All they came to good Robyn,To wyte what he wolde say.They made the monke to wasshe and wype,And syt at his denere,Robyn Hode and Lytel JohanThey served ‘him’165bothe in fere.Do gladly, monke, sayd Robyn.Gramercy, syr, said he.“Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,And who is your avowè ?”Saynt Mary abbay, sayd the monke,Though I be symple here.In what offyce ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, the hye selerer.”Ye be the more welcome, sayd Robyn,So ever mote I the.Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,This monke shall drynke to me.But I have grete mervayle, sayd Robyn,Of all this longe day,I drede our lady be wroth with me,She sent me not my pay.{43}Have no doute, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Ye have no nede I saye,This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,For he is of her abbay.And she was a borowe, sayd Robyn,Betwene a knyght and me,Of a lytell money that I hym lent,Under the grene wode tree ;And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte,I praye the let me se,And I shall helpe the eftsones,Yf thou have nede of166me.The monke swore a full grete othe,With a sory chere,Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,Herde I never ere.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, thou arte to blame,For god is holde a ryghtwys man,And so is his dame.Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,Thou may not say nay,How thou arte her servaunt,And servest her every day :{44}And thou art made167her messengere,My money for to pay,Therfore I cun the more thanke,Thou arte come at thy day.What is in your cofers ? sayd Robyn,Trewe than tell thou me.Syr, he sayd, twenty marke,Al so mote I the.Yf there be no more, sayd Robyn,I wyll not one peny ;Yf thou hast myster of ony more,Syr, more I shall lende to the ;And yf I fynde more, sayd Robyn,I wys thou shalte it forgone ;For of thy spendynge sylver, monk,Therof wyll I ryght none.Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,And the trouth tell thou me ;If there be no more but twenty marke,No peny that I se.Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,As he had done before,And he tolde out of the monkes male,Eyght hundreth pounde168and more.{45}Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,And went to his mayster in hast ;Syr, he sayd, the monke is trewe ynowe,Our lady hath doubled your cost.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, what tolde I the ?Our lady is the trewest womàn,That ever yet founde I me.By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,To seche all Englond thorowe,Yet founde I never to my payA moche better borowe.Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke, sayd Robyn ;And grete well thy lady hende,And yf she have nede of169Robyn Hode,A frende she shall hym fynde ;And yf she nedeth ony more sylvèr,Come thou agayne to me,And, by this token she hath me sent,She shall have such thre.The monke was going to London ward,There to holde grete mote,The knyght that rode so hye on hors,To brynge hym under fote.{46}Whether be ye away ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, to maners in this londe,Too reken with our reves,That have done moch wronge.”“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And harken to my tale,A better yeman I knowe noneTo seke a monkes male.”How moch is in yonder other ‘cofer ?’170sayd Robyn,The soth must we see.By our lady, than sayd the monke,That were no curteysye,To bydde a man to dyner,And syth hym bete and bynde.It is our olde maner, sayd Robyn,To leve but lytell behynde.The monke toke the hors with spore,No lenger wolde he abyde.Aske to drynke, than sayd Robyn,Or that ye forther ryde.Nay, for god, than sayd the monke,Me reweth I cam so nere,For better chepe I myght have dyned,In Blythe or in Dankestere.{47}Grete well your abbot, sayd Robyn,And your pryour, I you pray,And byd hym send me such a monke,To dyner every day.Now lete we that monke be styll,And speke we of that knyght,Yet he came to holde his dayWhyle that it was lyght.He dyde hym streyt to Bernysdale,Under the grene wode tre,And he founde there Robyn Hode,And all his mery meynè.The knyght lyght downe of his good palfrày,Robyn whan he gan see,So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,And set hym on his knee.“God the save, good Robyn Hode,And al this company.”“Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,And ryght welcome to me.”Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,To that knyght so fre,What nede dryveth the to grene wode ?I pray the, syr knyght, tell me.{48}And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,Why hast thou be so longe ?“For the abbot and the hye justyceWolde have had my londe.”Hast thou thy lond agayne ?171sayd Robyn,Treuth than tell thou me.Ye, for god, sayd the knyght,And that thanke I god and the.But take not a grefe, I have be so longe ;172I came by a wrastelyngeAnd there I dyd holpe a pore yemàn,With wronge was put behynde.Nay, for god, sayd Robyn,Syr knyght, that thanke I the ;What man that helpeth a good yemàn,His frende than wyll I be.Have here foure hondred pounde, than sayd the knyght,The whiche ye lent to me ;And here is also twenty markeFor your curteysy.Nay, for god, than sayd Robyn,Thou broke it well for ay,For our lady, by her selerer,Hath sent to me my pay ;{49}And yf I toke it twyse,173A shame it were to me :But trewely, gentyll knyght,Welcom arte thou to me.Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,He leugh and had good chere.By my trouthe, then sayd the knyght,Your money is redy here.Broke it well, sayd Robyn,Thou gentyll knyght so fre ;And welcome be thou, gentill knyght,Under my trystell174tree.But what shall these bowes do ? sayd Robyn,And these arowes ifedered fre ?By god, than sayd the knyght,A pore present to the.“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And go to my treasurè,And brynge me there foure hondred pounde,The monke over-tolde it me.Have here foure hondred pounde,Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,And bye hors and harnes good,And gylte thy spores all newe :{50}And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,Com to Robyn Hode,And by my trouth thou shalt none fayleThe whyles I have any good.And broke well thy four hundred pound,Whiche I lent to the,And make thy selfe no more so bare,By the counsell of me.”Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,The knyght all of his care.175God, that sytteth176in heven hye,Graunte us well to fare.
The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame,He was fayne that he was gone,And Robyn and his mery menWent to wode anone.{38}Go we to dyner, sayd Lytell Johan.Robyn Hode sayd, Nay ;For I drede our lady be wroth with me,For she sent me not my pay.Have no dout, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Yet is not the sonne at rest,For I dare saye, and saufly swere,The knyght is trewe and trust.Take thy bowe in thy hande, sayd Robyn,Let Moch wende with the,And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,And no man abyde with me,And walke up into the Sayles,And to Watlynge-strete,And wayte after ‘some’159unketh gest,Up-chaunce ye may them mete.Whether he be messengere,Or a man that myrthes can,Or yf he be a pore man,Of my good he shall have some.Forth then stert Lytel Johan,Half in tray and tene,And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,Under a mantel of grene.{39}They went up to the Sayles,These yemen all thre ;They loked est, they loked west,They myght no man se.But as ‘they’160loked in Bernysdale,By the hye waye,Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,Eche on a good palferay.Then bespake Lytell Johan,To Much he gan say,I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,That these monkes have brought our pay.Make glad chere, sayd Lytell Johan,And frese our bowes of ewe,And loke your hertes be seker and sad,Your strynges trusty and trewe.The monke hath fifty two men,And seven somers full stronge,There rydeth no bysshop in this londeSo ryally, I understond.Brethern, sayd Lytell Johan,Here are no more but we thre :But we brynge them to dyner,Our mayster dare we not se.{40}Bende your bowes, sayd Lytell Johan,Make all yon161prese to stonde,The formost monke, his lyfe and his dethIs closed in my honde.Abyde, chorle monke, sayd Lytell Johan,No ferther that thou gone ;Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god,Thy death is in my honde.And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,Ryght under thy hattes bonde,For thou hast made our mayster wroth,He is fastynge so longe.Who is your mayster ? sayd the monke.Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,Of hym herd I never good.Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,And that shall rewe the ;He is a yeman of the forèst,To dyne he hath bode the.Much was redy with a bolte,Redly and a none,He set162the monke to fore the brest,To the grounde that he can gone.{41}Of fyfty two wyght yonge men,163There abode not one,Saf a lytell page, and a gromeTo lede the somers with Johan.164They brought the monke to the lodge dore,Whether he were loth or lefe,For to speke with Robyn Hode,Maugre in theyr tethe.Robyn dyde adowne his hode,The monke whan that he se ;The monke was not so curteyse,His hode then let he be.He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,Than said Lytell Johan.Thereof no force, sayd Robyn,For curteysy can he none.How many men, sayd Robyn,Had this monke, Johan ?“Fyfty and two whan that we met,But many of them be gone.”Let blowe a horne, sayd Robin,That felaushyp may us knowe ;Seven score of wyght yemen,Came pryckynge on a rowe,{42}And everych of them a good mantèllOf scarlet and of raye,All they came to good Robyn,To wyte what he wolde say.They made the monke to wasshe and wype,And syt at his denere,Robyn Hode and Lytel JohanThey served ‘him’165bothe in fere.Do gladly, monke, sayd Robyn.Gramercy, syr, said he.“Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,And who is your avowè ?”Saynt Mary abbay, sayd the monke,Though I be symple here.In what offyce ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, the hye selerer.”Ye be the more welcome, sayd Robyn,So ever mote I the.Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,This monke shall drynke to me.But I have grete mervayle, sayd Robyn,Of all this longe day,I drede our lady be wroth with me,She sent me not my pay.{43}Have no doute, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Ye have no nede I saye,This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,For he is of her abbay.And she was a borowe, sayd Robyn,Betwene a knyght and me,Of a lytell money that I hym lent,Under the grene wode tree ;And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte,I praye the let me se,And I shall helpe the eftsones,Yf thou have nede of166me.The monke swore a full grete othe,With a sory chere,Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,Herde I never ere.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, thou arte to blame,For god is holde a ryghtwys man,And so is his dame.Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,Thou may not say nay,How thou arte her servaunt,And servest her every day :{44}And thou art made167her messengere,My money for to pay,Therfore I cun the more thanke,Thou arte come at thy day.What is in your cofers ? sayd Robyn,Trewe than tell thou me.Syr, he sayd, twenty marke,Al so mote I the.Yf there be no more, sayd Robyn,I wyll not one peny ;Yf thou hast myster of ony more,Syr, more I shall lende to the ;And yf I fynde more, sayd Robyn,I wys thou shalte it forgone ;For of thy spendynge sylver, monk,Therof wyll I ryght none.Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,And the trouth tell thou me ;If there be no more but twenty marke,No peny that I se.Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,As he had done before,And he tolde out of the monkes male,Eyght hundreth pounde168and more.{45}Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,And went to his mayster in hast ;Syr, he sayd, the monke is trewe ynowe,Our lady hath doubled your cost.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, what tolde I the ?Our lady is the trewest womàn,That ever yet founde I me.By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,To seche all Englond thorowe,Yet founde I never to my payA moche better borowe.Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke, sayd Robyn ;And grete well thy lady hende,And yf she have nede of169Robyn Hode,A frende she shall hym fynde ;And yf she nedeth ony more sylvèr,Come thou agayne to me,And, by this token she hath me sent,She shall have such thre.The monke was going to London ward,There to holde grete mote,The knyght that rode so hye on hors,To brynge hym under fote.{46}Whether be ye away ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, to maners in this londe,Too reken with our reves,That have done moch wronge.”“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And harken to my tale,A better yeman I knowe noneTo seke a monkes male.”How moch is in yonder other ‘cofer ?’170sayd Robyn,The soth must we see.By our lady, than sayd the monke,That were no curteysye,To bydde a man to dyner,And syth hym bete and bynde.It is our olde maner, sayd Robyn,To leve but lytell behynde.The monke toke the hors with spore,No lenger wolde he abyde.Aske to drynke, than sayd Robyn,Or that ye forther ryde.Nay, for god, than sayd the monke,Me reweth I cam so nere,For better chepe I myght have dyned,In Blythe or in Dankestere.{47}Grete well your abbot, sayd Robyn,And your pryour, I you pray,And byd hym send me such a monke,To dyner every day.Now lete we that monke be styll,And speke we of that knyght,Yet he came to holde his dayWhyle that it was lyght.He dyde hym streyt to Bernysdale,Under the grene wode tre,And he founde there Robyn Hode,And all his mery meynè.The knyght lyght downe of his good palfrày,Robyn whan he gan see,So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,And set hym on his knee.“God the save, good Robyn Hode,And al this company.”“Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,And ryght welcome to me.”Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,To that knyght so fre,What nede dryveth the to grene wode ?I pray the, syr knyght, tell me.{48}And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,Why hast thou be so longe ?“For the abbot and the hye justyceWolde have had my londe.”Hast thou thy lond agayne ?171sayd Robyn,Treuth than tell thou me.Ye, for god, sayd the knyght,And that thanke I god and the.But take not a grefe, I have be so longe ;172I came by a wrastelyngeAnd there I dyd holpe a pore yemàn,With wronge was put behynde.Nay, for god, sayd Robyn,Syr knyght, that thanke I the ;What man that helpeth a good yemàn,His frende than wyll I be.Have here foure hondred pounde, than sayd the knyght,The whiche ye lent to me ;And here is also twenty markeFor your curteysy.Nay, for god, than sayd Robyn,Thou broke it well for ay,For our lady, by her selerer,Hath sent to me my pay ;
The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame,He was fayne that he was gone,And Robyn and his mery menWent to wode anone.{38}
The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame,
He was fayne that he was gone,
And Robyn and his mery men
Went to wode anone.{38}
Go we to dyner, sayd Lytell Johan.Robyn Hode sayd, Nay ;For I drede our lady be wroth with me,For she sent me not my pay.
Go we to dyner, sayd Lytell Johan.
Robyn Hode sayd, Nay ;
For I drede our lady be wroth with me,
For she sent me not my pay.
Have no dout, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Yet is not the sonne at rest,For I dare saye, and saufly swere,The knyght is trewe and trust.
Have no dout, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,
Yet is not the sonne at rest,
For I dare saye, and saufly swere,
The knyght is trewe and trust.
Take thy bowe in thy hande, sayd Robyn,Let Moch wende with the,And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,And no man abyde with me,
Take thy bowe in thy hande, sayd Robyn,
Let Moch wende with the,
And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,
And no man abyde with me,
And walke up into the Sayles,And to Watlynge-strete,And wayte after ‘some’159unketh gest,Up-chaunce ye may them mete.
And walke up into the Sayles,
And to Watlynge-strete,
And wayte after ‘some’159unketh gest,
Up-chaunce ye may them mete.
Whether he be messengere,Or a man that myrthes can,Or yf he be a pore man,Of my good he shall have some.
Whether he be messengere,
Or a man that myrthes can,
Or yf he be a pore man,
Of my good he shall have some.
Forth then stert Lytel Johan,Half in tray and tene,And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,Under a mantel of grene.{39}
Forth then stert Lytel Johan,
Half in tray and tene,
And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,
Under a mantel of grene.{39}
They went up to the Sayles,These yemen all thre ;They loked est, they loked west,They myght no man se.
They went up to the Sayles,
These yemen all thre ;
They loked est, they loked west,
They myght no man se.
But as ‘they’160loked in Bernysdale,By the hye waye,Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,Eche on a good palferay.
But as ‘they’160loked in Bernysdale,
By the hye waye,
Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,
Eche on a good palferay.
Then bespake Lytell Johan,To Much he gan say,I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,That these monkes have brought our pay.
Then bespake Lytell Johan,
To Much he gan say,
I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,
That these monkes have brought our pay.
Make glad chere, sayd Lytell Johan,And frese our bowes of ewe,And loke your hertes be seker and sad,Your strynges trusty and trewe.
Make glad chere, sayd Lytell Johan,
And frese our bowes of ewe,
And loke your hertes be seker and sad,
Your strynges trusty and trewe.
The monke hath fifty two men,And seven somers full stronge,There rydeth no bysshop in this londeSo ryally, I understond.
The monke hath fifty two men,
And seven somers full stronge,
There rydeth no bysshop in this londe
So ryally, I understond.
Brethern, sayd Lytell Johan,Here are no more but we thre :But we brynge them to dyner,Our mayster dare we not se.{40}
Brethern, sayd Lytell Johan,
Here are no more but we thre :
But we brynge them to dyner,
Our mayster dare we not se.{40}
Bende your bowes, sayd Lytell Johan,Make all yon161prese to stonde,The formost monke, his lyfe and his dethIs closed in my honde.
Bende your bowes, sayd Lytell Johan,
Make all yon161prese to stonde,
The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth
Is closed in my honde.
Abyde, chorle monke, sayd Lytell Johan,No ferther that thou gone ;Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god,Thy death is in my honde.
Abyde, chorle monke, sayd Lytell Johan,
No ferther that thou gone ;
Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god,
Thy death is in my honde.
And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,Ryght under thy hattes bonde,For thou hast made our mayster wroth,He is fastynge so longe.
And evyll thryfte on thy hede, sayd Lytell Johan,
Ryght under thy hattes bonde,
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.
Who is your mayster ? sayd the monke.Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,Of hym herd I never good.
Who is your mayster ? sayd the monke.
Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode.
He is a stronge thefe, sayd the monke,
Of hym herd I never good.
Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,And that shall rewe the ;He is a yeman of the forèst,To dyne he hath bode the.
Thou lyest, than sayd Lytell Johan,
And that shall rewe the ;
He is a yeman of the forèst,
To dyne he hath bode the.
Much was redy with a bolte,Redly and a none,He set162the monke to fore the brest,To the grounde that he can gone.{41}
Much was redy with a bolte,
Redly and a none,
He set162the monke to fore the brest,
To the grounde that he can gone.{41}
Of fyfty two wyght yonge men,163There abode not one,Saf a lytell page, and a gromeTo lede the somers with Johan.164
Of fyfty two wyght yonge men,163
There abode not one,
Saf a lytell page, and a grome
To lede the somers with Johan.164
They brought the monke to the lodge dore,Whether he were loth or lefe,For to speke with Robyn Hode,Maugre in theyr tethe.
They brought the monke to the lodge dore,
Whether he were loth or lefe,
For to speke with Robyn Hode,
Maugre in theyr tethe.
Robyn dyde adowne his hode,The monke whan that he se ;The monke was not so curteyse,His hode then let he be.
Robyn dyde adowne his hode,
The monke whan that he se ;
The monke was not so curteyse,
His hode then let he be.
He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,Than said Lytell Johan.Thereof no force, sayd Robyn,For curteysy can he none.
He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,
Than said Lytell Johan.
Thereof no force, sayd Robyn,
For curteysy can he none.
How many men, sayd Robyn,Had this monke, Johan ?“Fyfty and two whan that we met,But many of them be gone.”
How many men, sayd Robyn,
Had this monke, Johan ?
“Fyfty and two whan that we met,
But many of them be gone.”
Let blowe a horne, sayd Robin,That felaushyp may us knowe ;Seven score of wyght yemen,Came pryckynge on a rowe,{42}
Let blowe a horne, sayd Robin,
That felaushyp may us knowe ;
Seven score of wyght yemen,
Came pryckynge on a rowe,{42}
And everych of them a good mantèllOf scarlet and of raye,All they came to good Robyn,To wyte what he wolde say.
And everych of them a good mantèll
Of scarlet and of raye,
All they came to good Robyn,
To wyte what he wolde say.
They made the monke to wasshe and wype,And syt at his denere,Robyn Hode and Lytel JohanThey served ‘him’165bothe in fere.
They made the monke to wasshe and wype,
And syt at his denere,
Robyn Hode and Lytel Johan
They served ‘him’165bothe in fere.
Do gladly, monke, sayd Robyn.Gramercy, syr, said he.“Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,And who is your avowè ?”
Do gladly, monke, sayd Robyn.
Gramercy, syr, said he.
“Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,
And who is your avowè ?”
Saynt Mary abbay, sayd the monke,Though I be symple here.In what offyce ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, the hye selerer.”
Saynt Mary abbay, sayd the monke,
Though I be symple here.
In what offyce ? sayd Robyn.
“Syr, the hye selerer.”
Ye be the more welcome, sayd Robyn,So ever mote I the.Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,This monke shall drynke to me.
Ye be the more welcome, sayd Robyn,
So ever mote I the.
Fyll of the best wyne, sayd Robyn,
This monke shall drynke to me.
But I have grete mervayle, sayd Robyn,Of all this longe day,I drede our lady be wroth with me,She sent me not my pay.{43}
But I have grete mervayle, sayd Robyn,
Of all this longe day,
I drede our lady be wroth with me,
She sent me not my pay.{43}
Have no doute, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,Ye have no nede I saye,This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,For he is of her abbay.
Have no doute, mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,
Ye have no nede I saye,
This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,
For he is of her abbay.
And she was a borowe, sayd Robyn,Betwene a knyght and me,Of a lytell money that I hym lent,Under the grene wode tree ;
And she was a borowe, sayd Robyn,
Betwene a knyght and me,
Of a lytell money that I hym lent,
Under the grene wode tree ;
And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte,I praye the let me se,And I shall helpe the eftsones,Yf thou have nede of166me.
And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte,
I praye the let me se,
And I shall helpe the eftsones,
Yf thou have nede of166me.
The monke swore a full grete othe,With a sory chere,Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,Herde I never ere.
The monke swore a full grete othe,
With a sory chere,
Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,
Herde I never ere.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, thou arte to blame,For god is holde a ryghtwys man,And so is his dame.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,
Monke, thou arte to blame,
For god is holde a ryghtwys man,
And so is his dame.
Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,Thou may not say nay,How thou arte her servaunt,And servest her every day :{44}
Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,
Thou may not say nay,
How thou arte her servaunt,
And servest her every day :{44}
And thou art made167her messengere,My money for to pay,Therfore I cun the more thanke,Thou arte come at thy day.
And thou art made167her messengere,
My money for to pay,
Therfore I cun the more thanke,
Thou arte come at thy day.
What is in your cofers ? sayd Robyn,Trewe than tell thou me.Syr, he sayd, twenty marke,Al so mote I the.
What is in your cofers ? sayd Robyn,
Trewe than tell thou me.
Syr, he sayd, twenty marke,
Al so mote I the.
Yf there be no more, sayd Robyn,I wyll not one peny ;Yf thou hast myster of ony more,Syr, more I shall lende to the ;
Yf there be no more, sayd Robyn,
I wyll not one peny ;
Yf thou hast myster of ony more,
Syr, more I shall lende to the ;
And yf I fynde more, sayd Robyn,I wys thou shalte it forgone ;For of thy spendynge sylver, monk,Therof wyll I ryght none.
And yf I fynde more, sayd Robyn,
I wys thou shalte it forgone ;
For of thy spendynge sylver, monk,
Therof wyll I ryght none.
Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,And the trouth tell thou me ;If there be no more but twenty marke,No peny that I se.
Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,
And the trouth tell thou me ;
If there be no more but twenty marke,
No peny that I se.
Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,As he had done before,And he tolde out of the monkes male,Eyght hundreth pounde168and more.{45}
Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,
As he had done before,
And he tolde out of the monkes male,
Eyght hundreth pounde168and more.{45}
Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,And went to his mayster in hast ;Syr, he sayd, the monke is trewe ynowe,Our lady hath doubled your cost.
Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,
And went to his mayster in hast ;
Syr, he sayd, the monke is trewe ynowe,
Our lady hath doubled your cost.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Monke, what tolde I the ?Our lady is the trewest womàn,That ever yet founde I me.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,
Monke, what tolde I the ?
Our lady is the trewest womàn,
That ever yet founde I me.
By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,To seche all Englond thorowe,Yet founde I never to my payA moche better borowe.
By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,
To seche all Englond thorowe,
Yet founde I never to my pay
A moche better borowe.
Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke, sayd Robyn ;And grete well thy lady hende,And yf she have nede of169Robyn Hode,A frende she shall hym fynde ;
Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke, sayd Robyn ;
And grete well thy lady hende,
And yf she have nede of169Robyn Hode,
A frende she shall hym fynde ;
And yf she nedeth ony more sylvèr,Come thou agayne to me,And, by this token she hath me sent,She shall have such thre.
And yf she nedeth ony more sylvèr,
Come thou agayne to me,
And, by this token she hath me sent,
She shall have such thre.
The monke was going to London ward,There to holde grete mote,The knyght that rode so hye on hors,To brynge hym under fote.{46}
The monke was going to London ward,
There to holde grete mote,
The knyght that rode so hye on hors,
To brynge hym under fote.{46}
Whether be ye away ? sayd Robyn.“Syr, to maners in this londe,Too reken with our reves,That have done moch wronge.”
Whether be ye away ? sayd Robyn.
“Syr, to maners in this londe,
Too reken with our reves,
That have done moch wronge.”
“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And harken to my tale,A better yeman I knowe noneTo seke a monkes male.”
“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And harken to my tale,
A better yeman I knowe none
To seke a monkes male.”
How moch is in yonder other ‘cofer ?’170sayd Robyn,The soth must we see.By our lady, than sayd the monke,That were no curteysye,
How moch is in yonder other ‘cofer ?’170sayd Robyn,
The soth must we see.
By our lady, than sayd the monke,
That were no curteysye,
To bydde a man to dyner,And syth hym bete and bynde.It is our olde maner, sayd Robyn,To leve but lytell behynde.
To bydde a man to dyner,
And syth hym bete and bynde.
It is our olde maner, sayd Robyn,
To leve but lytell behynde.
The monke toke the hors with spore,No lenger wolde he abyde.Aske to drynke, than sayd Robyn,Or that ye forther ryde.
The monke toke the hors with spore,
No lenger wolde he abyde.
Aske to drynke, than sayd Robyn,
Or that ye forther ryde.
Nay, for god, than sayd the monke,Me reweth I cam so nere,For better chepe I myght have dyned,In Blythe or in Dankestere.{47}
Nay, for god, than sayd the monke,
Me reweth I cam so nere,
For better chepe I myght have dyned,
In Blythe or in Dankestere.{47}
Grete well your abbot, sayd Robyn,And your pryour, I you pray,And byd hym send me such a monke,To dyner every day.
Grete well your abbot, sayd Robyn,
And your pryour, I you pray,
And byd hym send me such a monke,
To dyner every day.
Now lete we that monke be styll,And speke we of that knyght,Yet he came to holde his dayWhyle that it was lyght.
Now lete we that monke be styll,
And speke we of that knyght,
Yet he came to holde his day
Whyle that it was lyght.
He dyde hym streyt to Bernysdale,Under the grene wode tre,And he founde there Robyn Hode,And all his mery meynè.
He dyde hym streyt to Bernysdale,
Under the grene wode tre,
And he founde there Robyn Hode,
And all his mery meynè.
The knyght lyght downe of his good palfrày,Robyn whan he gan see,So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,And set hym on his knee.
The knyght lyght downe of his good palfrày,
Robyn whan he gan see,
So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,
And set hym on his knee.
“God the save, good Robyn Hode,And al this company.”“Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,And ryght welcome to me.”
“God the save, good Robyn Hode,
And al this company.”
“Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,
And ryght welcome to me.”
Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,To that knyght so fre,What nede dryveth the to grene wode ?I pray the, syr knyght, tell me.{48}
Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,
To that knyght so fre,
What nede dryveth the to grene wode ?
I pray the, syr knyght, tell me.{48}
And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,Why hast thou be so longe ?“For the abbot and the hye justyceWolde have had my londe.”
And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,
Why hast thou be so longe ?
“For the abbot and the hye justyce
Wolde have had my londe.”
Hast thou thy lond agayne ?171sayd Robyn,Treuth than tell thou me.Ye, for god, sayd the knyght,And that thanke I god and the.
Hast thou thy lond agayne ?171sayd Robyn,
Treuth than tell thou me.
Ye, for god, sayd the knyght,
And that thanke I god and the.
But take not a grefe, I have be so longe ;172I came by a wrastelyngeAnd there I dyd holpe a pore yemàn,With wronge was put behynde.
But take not a grefe, I have be so longe ;172
I came by a wrastelynge
And there I dyd holpe a pore yemàn,
With wronge was put behynde.
Nay, for god, sayd Robyn,Syr knyght, that thanke I the ;What man that helpeth a good yemàn,His frende than wyll I be.
Nay, for god, sayd Robyn,
Syr knyght, that thanke I the ;
What man that helpeth a good yemàn,
His frende than wyll I be.
Have here foure hondred pounde, than sayd the knyght,The whiche ye lent to me ;And here is also twenty markeFor your curteysy.
Have here foure hondred pounde, than sayd the knyght,
The whiche ye lent to me ;
And here is also twenty marke
For your curteysy.
Nay, for god, than sayd Robyn,Thou broke it well for ay,For our lady, by her selerer,Hath sent to me my pay ;
Nay, for god, than sayd Robyn,
Thou broke it well for ay,
For our lady, by her selerer,
Hath sent to me my pay ;
{49}
And yf I toke it twyse,173A shame it were to me :But trewely, gentyll knyght,Welcom arte thou to me.Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,He leugh and had good chere.By my trouthe, then sayd the knyght,Your money is redy here.Broke it well, sayd Robyn,Thou gentyll knyght so fre ;And welcome be thou, gentill knyght,Under my trystell174tree.But what shall these bowes do ? sayd Robyn,And these arowes ifedered fre ?By god, than sayd the knyght,A pore present to the.“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And go to my treasurè,And brynge me there foure hondred pounde,The monke over-tolde it me.Have here foure hondred pounde,Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,And bye hors and harnes good,And gylte thy spores all newe :{50}And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,Com to Robyn Hode,And by my trouth thou shalt none fayleThe whyles I have any good.And broke well thy four hundred pound,Whiche I lent to the,And make thy selfe no more so bare,By the counsell of me.”Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,The knyght all of his care.175God, that sytteth176in heven hye,Graunte us well to fare.
And yf I toke it twyse,173A shame it were to me :But trewely, gentyll knyght,Welcom arte thou to me.
And yf I toke it twyse,173
A shame it were to me :
But trewely, gentyll knyght,
Welcom arte thou to me.
Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,He leugh and had good chere.By my trouthe, then sayd the knyght,Your money is redy here.
Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,
He leugh and had good chere.
By my trouthe, then sayd the knyght,
Your money is redy here.
Broke it well, sayd Robyn,Thou gentyll knyght so fre ;And welcome be thou, gentill knyght,Under my trystell174tree.
Broke it well, sayd Robyn,
Thou gentyll knyght so fre ;
And welcome be thou, gentill knyght,
Under my trystell174tree.
But what shall these bowes do ? sayd Robyn,And these arowes ifedered fre ?By god, than sayd the knyght,A pore present to the.
But what shall these bowes do ? sayd Robyn,
And these arowes ifedered fre ?
By god, than sayd the knyght,
A pore present to the.
“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,And go to my treasurè,And brynge me there foure hondred pounde,The monke over-tolde it me.
“Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And go to my treasurè,
And brynge me there foure hondred pounde,
The monke over-tolde it me.
Have here foure hondred pounde,Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,And bye hors and harnes good,And gylte thy spores all newe :{50}
Have here foure hondred pounde,
Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,
And bye hors and harnes good,
And gylte thy spores all newe :{50}
And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,Com to Robyn Hode,And by my trouth thou shalt none fayleThe whyles I have any good.
And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,
Com to Robyn Hode,
And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle
The whyles I have any good.
And broke well thy four hundred pound,Whiche I lent to the,And make thy selfe no more so bare,By the counsell of me.”
And broke well thy four hundred pound,
Whiche I lent to the,
And make thy selfe no more so bare,
By the counsell of me.”
Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,The knyght all of his care.175God, that sytteth176in heven hye,Graunte us well to fare.
Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,
The knyght all of his care.175
God, that sytteth176in heven hye,
Graunte us well to fare.