THE SEVENTH FYTTEThe kynge came to Notynghame,With knyghtes in grete araye,For to take that gentyll knyght,And Robyn Hood, yf196he may.He asked men of that countrè,After Robyn Hode,And after that gentyll knyght,That was so bolde and stout.Whan they had tolde hym the case,Our kynge understonde ther tale,And seased in his hondeThe knyghtes londes all,All the passe of Lancasshyre,He went both ferre and nere,Tyll he came to Plomton parke,He faylyd many of his dere{64}There our kynge was wont to seHerdes many one,He coud unneth fynde one dere,That bare ony good horne.The kynge was wonder wroth withall,And swore by the trynytè,“I wolde I had Robyn Hode,With eyen I myght hym se ;And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hedeAnd brynge it to me,He shall have the knyghtes londes,Syr Rycharde at the Le ;I gyve it hym with my chartèr,And sele it with my honde,To have and holde for ever-more,In all mery Englonde.”Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,That was treue in his fay,A, my lege lorde the kynge,One worde I shall you say ;There is no man in this countrèMay have the knyghtes londes,Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,And here a bowe in his hondes ;{65}That he ne shall lese his hede,That is the best ball in his hode :Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,That ye wyll any good.Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,In Notyngham, and well more,Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,In what countre that he were ;But alway went good RobynBy halke and eke by hyll,And alway slewe the kynges dere,And welt them at his wyll.Than bespake a proude fostere,That stode by our kynges kne,If ye wyll se good Robyn,Ye must do after me ;Take fyve of the best knyghtesThat be in your lede,And walke downe by ‘yon’197abbay,And gete you monkes wede.And I wyll be your ledes man,And lede you the way,And or ye come to Notyngham,Myn hede then dare I lay,{66}That ye shall mete with good Robyn,On lyve yf that he be,Or ye come to Notyngham,With eyen ye shall hym se.Full hastly our kynge was dyght,So were his knyghtes fyve,Everych of them in monkes wede,And hasted them thyder blyth.Our kynge was grete above his cole,A brode hat on his crowne,Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,They rode up in-to the towne.Styf botes our kynge had on,Forsoth as I you say,He rode syngynge to grene wode,The covent was clothed in graye,His male hors, and his grete somèrs,Folowed our kynge behynde,Tyll they came to grene wode,A myle under the lynde,There they met with good Robyn,Stondynge on the waye,And so dyde many a bolde archere,For soth as I you say.{67}Robyn toke the kynges hors,Hastely in that stede,And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,A whyle ye must abyde ;We be yemen of this foreste,Under the grene wode tre,We lyve by our kynges dere,Other shyft have not we ;198And ye have chyrches and rentes both,And gold full grete plentè ;Gyve us some of your spendynge,For saynt Charytè.199Than bespake our cumly kynge,Anone than sayd he,I brought no more to grene wode,But forty pounde with me ;{68}I have layne at Notyngham,This fourtynyght with our kynge,And spent I have full moche good,On many a grete lordynge ;And I have but forty pounde,No more than have I me,But yf I had an hondred pounde,I would geve it to the.200Robyn toke the forty pounde,And departed it in two partye,Halfendell he gave his mery men,And bad them mery to be.Full curteysly Robyn gan say,Syr, have this for your spendyng,We shall mete a nother day.Gramercy, than sayd our kynge ;But well the greteth Edwarde our kynge,And sent to the his seale,And byddeth the com to Notyngham,Both to mete and mele.He toke out the brode tarpe,201And sone he lete hym se ;Robyn coud his courteysy,And set hym on his kne :{69}“I love no man in all the worldeSo well as I do my kynge,Welcome is my lordes seale ;And, monke, for thy tydynge,Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,To day thou shalt dyne with me,For the love of my kynge,Under my trystell tre.”Forth he lad our comly kynge,Full fayre by the honde,Many a dere there was slayne,And full fast dyghtande.Robyn toke a full grete horne,And loude he can blowe,Seven score of wyght yonge men,Came redy on a rowe,All they kneeled on theyr kne,Full fayre before Robyn.The kygne sayd hymselfe untyll,And swore by saynt Austyn,Here is a wonder semely syght,Me thynketh, by goddes pyne ;His men are more at his byddynge,Then my men be at myn.{70}Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght,And therto gan they gone,They served our kynge with al theyr myght,Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.Anone before our kynge was setThe fatte venyson,The good whyte brede, the good red wyne,And therto the fyne ale browne.202Make good chere, sayd Robyn,Abbot, for charytè ;And for this ylke tydynge,Blyssed mote thou be.Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,Or thou hens wende,Than thou may enfourme our kynge,Whan ye togyder lende.Up they sterte all in hast,Theyr bowes were smartly bent,Our kynge was never so sore agast,He wende to have be shente.Two yerdes there were up set,There to gan they gange ;By fifty pase, our kynge sayd,The merkes were to longe.{71}On every syde a rose garlonde,They shot under the lyne.Who so fayleth of the rose garlonde, sayd Robyn,His takyll he shall tyne,And yelde it to his mayster,Be it never so fyne,For no man wyll I spare,So drynke I ale or wyne.And bere a buffet on his hedeI wys203ryght all bare.And all that fell in Robyns lote,He smote them wonder sare.Twyse Robyn shot aboute,And ever he cleved the wande,And so dyde good Gylberte,With the whyte204hand.Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,For nothyng wolde they spare,When they fayled of the garlonde,Robyn smote them full sare.At the last shot that Robyn shot,For all his frendes fare,Yet he fayled of the garlonde,Thre fyngers and mare.{72}Than bespake good Gylberte,And thus he gan say :Mayster, he sayd, your takyll is lost,Stand forth and take your pay.If it be so, sayd Robyn,That may no better be ;Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,I pray the, syr, serve thou me.It falleth not for myn order, sayd our kynge,Robyn, by thy leve,For to smyte no good yemàn,For doute I sholde hym greve.Smyte on boldely, sayd Robyn,I give the large leve.Anone our kynge, with that worde,He folde up his sleve,And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,To grounde he yede full nere.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Thou arte a stalworthe frere ;There is pith in thyn arme, sayd Robyn,I trowe thou canst well shote.Thus our kynge and Robyn HodeTogeder than they met.{73}Robyn behelde our comly kyngeWystly in the face,So dyde syr Richarde at the Le,And kneled downe in that place ;And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,Whan they se them knele.“My lorde the kynge of Englonde,Now I knowe you well.”Mercy, then Robyn sayd to our kynge,Under your trystyll tre,Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,For my men and me !Yes, for god, sayd Robyn,And also god me save ;I aske mercy, my lorde the kynge,And for my men I crave.Yes, for god, than sayd our kynge,Thy peticion I graunt the,With that thou leve the grene wode,And all thy company :And come home, syr, to my courte,And there dwell with me.205I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,And ryght so shall it be ;{74}I wyll come to your courte,Your servyse for to se,And brynge with me of my menSeven score and thre.But me lyke well your servyse,I come agayne full soone,And shote at the donne dere,As I am wonte to done.
The kynge came to Notynghame,With knyghtes in grete araye,For to take that gentyll knyght,And Robyn Hood, yf196he may.He asked men of that countrè,After Robyn Hode,And after that gentyll knyght,That was so bolde and stout.Whan they had tolde hym the case,Our kynge understonde ther tale,And seased in his hondeThe knyghtes londes all,All the passe of Lancasshyre,He went both ferre and nere,Tyll he came to Plomton parke,He faylyd many of his dere{64}There our kynge was wont to seHerdes many one,He coud unneth fynde one dere,That bare ony good horne.The kynge was wonder wroth withall,And swore by the trynytè,“I wolde I had Robyn Hode,With eyen I myght hym se ;And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hedeAnd brynge it to me,He shall have the knyghtes londes,Syr Rycharde at the Le ;I gyve it hym with my chartèr,And sele it with my honde,To have and holde for ever-more,In all mery Englonde.”Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,That was treue in his fay,A, my lege lorde the kynge,One worde I shall you say ;There is no man in this countrèMay have the knyghtes londes,Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,And here a bowe in his hondes ;{65}That he ne shall lese his hede,That is the best ball in his hode :Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,That ye wyll any good.Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,In Notyngham, and well more,Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,In what countre that he were ;But alway went good RobynBy halke and eke by hyll,And alway slewe the kynges dere,And welt them at his wyll.Than bespake a proude fostere,That stode by our kynges kne,If ye wyll se good Robyn,Ye must do after me ;Take fyve of the best knyghtesThat be in your lede,And walke downe by ‘yon’197abbay,And gete you monkes wede.And I wyll be your ledes man,And lede you the way,And or ye come to Notyngham,Myn hede then dare I lay,{66}That ye shall mete with good Robyn,On lyve yf that he be,Or ye come to Notyngham,With eyen ye shall hym se.Full hastly our kynge was dyght,So were his knyghtes fyve,Everych of them in monkes wede,And hasted them thyder blyth.Our kynge was grete above his cole,A brode hat on his crowne,Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,They rode up in-to the towne.Styf botes our kynge had on,Forsoth as I you say,He rode syngynge to grene wode,The covent was clothed in graye,His male hors, and his grete somèrs,Folowed our kynge behynde,Tyll they came to grene wode,A myle under the lynde,There they met with good Robyn,Stondynge on the waye,And so dyde many a bolde archere,For soth as I you say.{67}Robyn toke the kynges hors,Hastely in that stede,And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,A whyle ye must abyde ;We be yemen of this foreste,Under the grene wode tre,We lyve by our kynges dere,Other shyft have not we ;198And ye have chyrches and rentes both,And gold full grete plentè ;Gyve us some of your spendynge,For saynt Charytè.199Than bespake our cumly kynge,Anone than sayd he,I brought no more to grene wode,But forty pounde with me ;{68}I have layne at Notyngham,This fourtynyght with our kynge,And spent I have full moche good,On many a grete lordynge ;And I have but forty pounde,No more than have I me,But yf I had an hondred pounde,I would geve it to the.200Robyn toke the forty pounde,And departed it in two partye,Halfendell he gave his mery men,And bad them mery to be.Full curteysly Robyn gan say,Syr, have this for your spendyng,We shall mete a nother day.Gramercy, than sayd our kynge ;But well the greteth Edwarde our kynge,And sent to the his seale,And byddeth the com to Notyngham,Both to mete and mele.He toke out the brode tarpe,201And sone he lete hym se ;Robyn coud his courteysy,And set hym on his kne :{69}“I love no man in all the worldeSo well as I do my kynge,Welcome is my lordes seale ;And, monke, for thy tydynge,Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,To day thou shalt dyne with me,For the love of my kynge,Under my trystell tre.”Forth he lad our comly kynge,Full fayre by the honde,Many a dere there was slayne,And full fast dyghtande.Robyn toke a full grete horne,And loude he can blowe,Seven score of wyght yonge men,Came redy on a rowe,All they kneeled on theyr kne,Full fayre before Robyn.The kygne sayd hymselfe untyll,And swore by saynt Austyn,Here is a wonder semely syght,Me thynketh, by goddes pyne ;His men are more at his byddynge,Then my men be at myn.{70}Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght,And therto gan they gone,They served our kynge with al theyr myght,Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.Anone before our kynge was setThe fatte venyson,The good whyte brede, the good red wyne,And therto the fyne ale browne.202Make good chere, sayd Robyn,Abbot, for charytè ;And for this ylke tydynge,Blyssed mote thou be.Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,Or thou hens wende,Than thou may enfourme our kynge,Whan ye togyder lende.Up they sterte all in hast,Theyr bowes were smartly bent,Our kynge was never so sore agast,He wende to have be shente.Two yerdes there were up set,There to gan they gange ;By fifty pase, our kynge sayd,The merkes were to longe.{71}On every syde a rose garlonde,They shot under the lyne.Who so fayleth of the rose garlonde, sayd Robyn,His takyll he shall tyne,And yelde it to his mayster,Be it never so fyne,For no man wyll I spare,So drynke I ale or wyne.And bere a buffet on his hedeI wys203ryght all bare.And all that fell in Robyns lote,He smote them wonder sare.Twyse Robyn shot aboute,And ever he cleved the wande,And so dyde good Gylberte,With the whyte204hand.Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,For nothyng wolde they spare,When they fayled of the garlonde,Robyn smote them full sare.At the last shot that Robyn shot,For all his frendes fare,Yet he fayled of the garlonde,Thre fyngers and mare.{72}Than bespake good Gylberte,And thus he gan say :Mayster, he sayd, your takyll is lost,Stand forth and take your pay.If it be so, sayd Robyn,That may no better be ;Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,I pray the, syr, serve thou me.It falleth not for myn order, sayd our kynge,Robyn, by thy leve,For to smyte no good yemàn,For doute I sholde hym greve.Smyte on boldely, sayd Robyn,I give the large leve.Anone our kynge, with that worde,He folde up his sleve,And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,To grounde he yede full nere.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Thou arte a stalworthe frere ;There is pith in thyn arme, sayd Robyn,I trowe thou canst well shote.Thus our kynge and Robyn HodeTogeder than they met.{73}Robyn behelde our comly kyngeWystly in the face,So dyde syr Richarde at the Le,And kneled downe in that place ;And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,Whan they se them knele.“My lorde the kynge of Englonde,Now I knowe you well.”Mercy, then Robyn sayd to our kynge,Under your trystyll tre,Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,For my men and me !Yes, for god, sayd Robyn,And also god me save ;I aske mercy, my lorde the kynge,And for my men I crave.Yes, for god, than sayd our kynge,Thy peticion I graunt the,With that thou leve the grene wode,And all thy company :And come home, syr, to my courte,And there dwell with me.205I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,And ryght so shall it be ;{74}I wyll come to your courte,Your servyse for to se,And brynge with me of my menSeven score and thre.But me lyke well your servyse,I come agayne full soone,And shote at the donne dere,As I am wonte to done.
The kynge came to Notynghame,With knyghtes in grete araye,For to take that gentyll knyght,And Robyn Hood, yf196he may.
The kynge came to Notynghame,
With knyghtes in grete araye,
For to take that gentyll knyght,
And Robyn Hood, yf196he may.
He asked men of that countrè,After Robyn Hode,And after that gentyll knyght,That was so bolde and stout.
He asked men of that countrè,
After Robyn Hode,
And after that gentyll knyght,
That was so bolde and stout.
Whan they had tolde hym the case,Our kynge understonde ther tale,And seased in his hondeThe knyghtes londes all,
Whan they had tolde hym the case,
Our kynge understonde ther tale,
And seased in his honde
The knyghtes londes all,
All the passe of Lancasshyre,He went both ferre and nere,Tyll he came to Plomton parke,He faylyd many of his dere{64}
All the passe of Lancasshyre,
He went both ferre and nere,
Tyll he came to Plomton parke,
He faylyd many of his dere{64}
There our kynge was wont to seHerdes many one,He coud unneth fynde one dere,That bare ony good horne.
There our kynge was wont to se
Herdes many one,
He coud unneth fynde one dere,
That bare ony good horne.
The kynge was wonder wroth withall,And swore by the trynytè,“I wolde I had Robyn Hode,With eyen I myght hym se ;
The kynge was wonder wroth withall,
And swore by the trynytè,
“I wolde I had Robyn Hode,
With eyen I myght hym se ;
And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hedeAnd brynge it to me,He shall have the knyghtes londes,Syr Rycharde at the Le ;
And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hede
And brynge it to me,
He shall have the knyghtes londes,
Syr Rycharde at the Le ;
I gyve it hym with my chartèr,And sele it with my honde,To have and holde for ever-more,In all mery Englonde.”
I gyve it hym with my chartèr,
And sele it with my honde,
To have and holde for ever-more,
In all mery Englonde.”
Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,That was treue in his fay,A, my lege lorde the kynge,One worde I shall you say ;
Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,
That was treue in his fay,
A, my lege lorde the kynge,
One worde I shall you say ;
There is no man in this countrèMay have the knyghtes londes,Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,And here a bowe in his hondes ;{65}
There is no man in this countrè
May have the knyghtes londes,
Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,
And here a bowe in his hondes ;{65}
That he ne shall lese his hede,That is the best ball in his hode :Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,That ye wyll any good.
That he ne shall lese his hede,
That is the best ball in his hode :
Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,
That ye wyll any good.
Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,In Notyngham, and well more,Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,In what countre that he were ;
Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,
In Notyngham, and well more,
Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,
In what countre that he were ;
But alway went good RobynBy halke and eke by hyll,And alway slewe the kynges dere,And welt them at his wyll.
But alway went good Robyn
By halke and eke by hyll,
And alway slewe the kynges dere,
And welt them at his wyll.
Than bespake a proude fostere,That stode by our kynges kne,If ye wyll se good Robyn,Ye must do after me ;
Than bespake a proude fostere,
That stode by our kynges kne,
If ye wyll se good Robyn,
Ye must do after me ;
Take fyve of the best knyghtesThat be in your lede,And walke downe by ‘yon’197abbay,And gete you monkes wede.
Take fyve of the best knyghtes
That be in your lede,
And walke downe by ‘yon’197abbay,
And gete you monkes wede.
And I wyll be your ledes man,And lede you the way,And or ye come to Notyngham,Myn hede then dare I lay,{66}
And I wyll be your ledes man,
And lede you the way,
And or ye come to Notyngham,
Myn hede then dare I lay,{66}
That ye shall mete with good Robyn,On lyve yf that he be,Or ye come to Notyngham,With eyen ye shall hym se.
That ye shall mete with good Robyn,
On lyve yf that he be,
Or ye come to Notyngham,
With eyen ye shall hym se.
Full hastly our kynge was dyght,So were his knyghtes fyve,Everych of them in monkes wede,And hasted them thyder blyth.
Full hastly our kynge was dyght,
So were his knyghtes fyve,
Everych of them in monkes wede,
And hasted them thyder blyth.
Our kynge was grete above his cole,A brode hat on his crowne,Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,They rode up in-to the towne.
Our kynge was grete above his cole,
A brode hat on his crowne,
Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,
They rode up in-to the towne.
Styf botes our kynge had on,Forsoth as I you say,He rode syngynge to grene wode,The covent was clothed in graye,
Styf botes our kynge had on,
Forsoth as I you say,
He rode syngynge to grene wode,
The covent was clothed in graye,
His male hors, and his grete somèrs,Folowed our kynge behynde,Tyll they came to grene wode,A myle under the lynde,
His male hors, and his grete somèrs,
Folowed our kynge behynde,
Tyll they came to grene wode,
A myle under the lynde,
There they met with good Robyn,Stondynge on the waye,And so dyde many a bolde archere,For soth as I you say.{67}
There they met with good Robyn,
Stondynge on the waye,
And so dyde many a bolde archere,
For soth as I you say.{67}
Robyn toke the kynges hors,Hastely in that stede,And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,A whyle ye must abyde ;
Robyn toke the kynges hors,
Hastely in that stede,
And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,
A whyle ye must abyde ;
We be yemen of this foreste,Under the grene wode tre,We lyve by our kynges dere,Other shyft have not we ;198
We be yemen of this foreste,
Under the grene wode tre,
We lyve by our kynges dere,
Other shyft have not we ;198
And ye have chyrches and rentes both,And gold full grete plentè ;Gyve us some of your spendynge,For saynt Charytè.199
And ye have chyrches and rentes both,
And gold full grete plentè ;
Gyve us some of your spendynge,
For saynt Charytè.199
Than bespake our cumly kynge,Anone than sayd he,I brought no more to grene wode,But forty pounde with me ;{68}
Than bespake our cumly kynge,
Anone than sayd he,
I brought no more to grene wode,
But forty pounde with me ;{68}
I have layne at Notyngham,This fourtynyght with our kynge,And spent I have full moche good,On many a grete lordynge ;
I have layne at Notyngham,
This fourtynyght with our kynge,
And spent I have full moche good,
On many a grete lordynge ;
And I have but forty pounde,No more than have I me,But yf I had an hondred pounde,I would geve it to the.200
And I have but forty pounde,
No more than have I me,
But yf I had an hondred pounde,
I would geve it to the.200
Robyn toke the forty pounde,And departed it in two partye,Halfendell he gave his mery men,And bad them mery to be.
Robyn toke the forty pounde,
And departed it in two partye,
Halfendell he gave his mery men,
And bad them mery to be.
Full curteysly Robyn gan say,Syr, have this for your spendyng,We shall mete a nother day.Gramercy, than sayd our kynge ;
Full curteysly Robyn gan say,
Syr, have this for your spendyng,
We shall mete a nother day.
Gramercy, than sayd our kynge ;
But well the greteth Edwarde our kynge,And sent to the his seale,And byddeth the com to Notyngham,Both to mete and mele.
But well the greteth Edwarde our kynge,
And sent to the his seale,
And byddeth the com to Notyngham,
Both to mete and mele.
He toke out the brode tarpe,201And sone he lete hym se ;Robyn coud his courteysy,And set hym on his kne :{69}
He toke out the brode tarpe,201
And sone he lete hym se ;
Robyn coud his courteysy,
And set hym on his kne :{69}
“I love no man in all the worldeSo well as I do my kynge,Welcome is my lordes seale ;And, monke, for thy tydynge,
“I love no man in all the worlde
So well as I do my kynge,
Welcome is my lordes seale ;
And, monke, for thy tydynge,
Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,To day thou shalt dyne with me,For the love of my kynge,Under my trystell tre.”
Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,
To day thou shalt dyne with me,
For the love of my kynge,
Under my trystell tre.”
Forth he lad our comly kynge,Full fayre by the honde,Many a dere there was slayne,And full fast dyghtande.
Forth he lad our comly kynge,
Full fayre by the honde,
Many a dere there was slayne,
And full fast dyghtande.
Robyn toke a full grete horne,And loude he can blowe,Seven score of wyght yonge men,Came redy on a rowe,
Robyn toke a full grete horne,
And loude he can blowe,
Seven score of wyght yonge men,
Came redy on a rowe,
All they kneeled on theyr kne,Full fayre before Robyn.The kygne sayd hymselfe untyll,And swore by saynt Austyn,
All they kneeled on theyr kne,
Full fayre before Robyn.
The kygne sayd hymselfe untyll,
And swore by saynt Austyn,
Here is a wonder semely syght,Me thynketh, by goddes pyne ;His men are more at his byddynge,Then my men be at myn.{70}
Here is a wonder semely syght,
Me thynketh, by goddes pyne ;
His men are more at his byddynge,
Then my men be at myn.{70}
Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght,And therto gan they gone,They served our kynge with al theyr myght,Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.
Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght,
And therto gan they gone,
They served our kynge with al theyr myght,
Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.
Anone before our kynge was setThe fatte venyson,The good whyte brede, the good red wyne,And therto the fyne ale browne.202
Anone before our kynge was set
The fatte venyson,
The good whyte brede, the good red wyne,
And therto the fyne ale browne.202
Make good chere, sayd Robyn,Abbot, for charytè ;And for this ylke tydynge,Blyssed mote thou be.
Make good chere, sayd Robyn,
Abbot, for charytè ;
And for this ylke tydynge,
Blyssed mote thou be.
Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,Or thou hens wende,Than thou may enfourme our kynge,Whan ye togyder lende.
Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,
Or thou hens wende,
Than thou may enfourme our kynge,
Whan ye togyder lende.
Up they sterte all in hast,Theyr bowes were smartly bent,Our kynge was never so sore agast,He wende to have be shente.
Up they sterte all in hast,
Theyr bowes were smartly bent,
Our kynge was never so sore agast,
He wende to have be shente.
Two yerdes there were up set,There to gan they gange ;By fifty pase, our kynge sayd,The merkes were to longe.{71}
Two yerdes there were up set,
There to gan they gange ;
By fifty pase, our kynge sayd,
The merkes were to longe.{71}
On every syde a rose garlonde,They shot under the lyne.Who so fayleth of the rose garlonde, sayd Robyn,His takyll he shall tyne,
On every syde a rose garlonde,
They shot under the lyne.
Who so fayleth of the rose garlonde, sayd Robyn,
His takyll he shall tyne,
And yelde it to his mayster,Be it never so fyne,For no man wyll I spare,So drynke I ale or wyne.
And yelde it to his mayster,
Be it never so fyne,
For no man wyll I spare,
So drynke I ale or wyne.
And bere a buffet on his hedeI wys203ryght all bare.And all that fell in Robyns lote,He smote them wonder sare.
And bere a buffet on his hede
I wys203ryght all bare.
And all that fell in Robyns lote,
He smote them wonder sare.
Twyse Robyn shot aboute,And ever he cleved the wande,And so dyde good Gylberte,With the whyte204hand.
Twyse Robyn shot aboute,
And ever he cleved the wande,
And so dyde good Gylberte,
With the whyte204hand.
Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,For nothyng wolde they spare,When they fayled of the garlonde,Robyn smote them full sare.
Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
For nothyng wolde they spare,
When they fayled of the garlonde,
Robyn smote them full sare.
At the last shot that Robyn shot,For all his frendes fare,Yet he fayled of the garlonde,Thre fyngers and mare.{72}
At the last shot that Robyn shot,
For all his frendes fare,
Yet he fayled of the garlonde,
Thre fyngers and mare.{72}
Than bespake good Gylberte,And thus he gan say :Mayster, he sayd, your takyll is lost,Stand forth and take your pay.
Than bespake good Gylberte,
And thus he gan say :
Mayster, he sayd, your takyll is lost,
Stand forth and take your pay.
If it be so, sayd Robyn,That may no better be ;Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,I pray the, syr, serve thou me.
If it be so, sayd Robyn,
That may no better be ;
Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,
I pray the, syr, serve thou me.
It falleth not for myn order, sayd our kynge,Robyn, by thy leve,For to smyte no good yemàn,For doute I sholde hym greve.
It falleth not for myn order, sayd our kynge,
Robyn, by thy leve,
For to smyte no good yemàn,
For doute I sholde hym greve.
Smyte on boldely, sayd Robyn,I give the large leve.Anone our kynge, with that worde,He folde up his sleve,
Smyte on boldely, sayd Robyn,
I give the large leve.
Anone our kynge, with that worde,
He folde up his sleve,
And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,To grounde he yede full nere.I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,Thou arte a stalworthe frere ;
And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,
To grounde he yede full nere.
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,
Thou arte a stalworthe frere ;
There is pith in thyn arme, sayd Robyn,I trowe thou canst well shote.Thus our kynge and Robyn HodeTogeder than they met.{73}
There is pith in thyn arme, sayd Robyn,
I trowe thou canst well shote.
Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode
Togeder than they met.{73}
Robyn behelde our comly kyngeWystly in the face,So dyde syr Richarde at the Le,And kneled downe in that place ;
Robyn behelde our comly kynge
Wystly in the face,
So dyde syr Richarde at the Le,
And kneled downe in that place ;
And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,Whan they se them knele.“My lorde the kynge of Englonde,Now I knowe you well.”
And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,
Whan they se them knele.
“My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
Now I knowe you well.”
Mercy, then Robyn sayd to our kynge,Under your trystyll tre,Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,For my men and me !
Mercy, then Robyn sayd to our kynge,
Under your trystyll tre,
Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,
For my men and me !
Yes, for god, sayd Robyn,And also god me save ;I aske mercy, my lorde the kynge,And for my men I crave.
Yes, for god, sayd Robyn,
And also god me save ;
I aske mercy, my lorde the kynge,
And for my men I crave.
Yes, for god, than sayd our kynge,Thy peticion I graunt the,With that thou leve the grene wode,And all thy company :
Yes, for god, than sayd our kynge,
Thy peticion I graunt the,
With that thou leve the grene wode,
And all thy company :
And come home, syr, to my courte,And there dwell with me.205I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,And ryght so shall it be ;{74}
And come home, syr, to my courte,
And there dwell with me.205
I make myn avowe to god, sayd Robyn,
And ryght so shall it be ;{74}
I wyll come to your courte,Your servyse for to se,And brynge with me of my menSeven score and thre.
I wyll come to your courte,
Your servyse for to se,
And brynge with me of my men
Seven score and thre.
But me lyke well your servyse,I come agayne full soone,And shote at the donne dere,As I am wonte to done.
But me lyke well your servyse,
I come agayne full soone,
And shote at the donne dere,
As I am wonte to done.