{370}VIII.ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK.This singularly curious and excellent poem, which is probably the earliest extant on the subject, was first printed in the “Ancient Metrical Tales,” edited by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne (8vo, 1829), from a MS. in the library of University College, Cambridge (F. F. 5. 48), with which it has been since obligingly collated by Frederic Madden, Esq. A few lines are unfortunately rendered illegible by damp.In somer when the shawes be sheyne,And leves be large and longe,Hit is fulle mery in feyre foresteTo here the foulys song.To se the dere draw to the dale,And leve the hilles hee,And shadow hem in the leves greneVndur the grene wode tre.Hit befel on whitsontide,Erly in a may mornyng,The son vp fayre can shyne,And the briddis mery can syng.This is a mery mornyng, seid litulle Johne,Be hym that dyed on tre,A more mery man than I am oneLyves not in cristianté.{371}Pluk vp thi hert my dere mayster,Litulle Johne can sey,And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tymeIn a mornynge of may.Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,And does my hert myche woo,That I may not so solem dayTo mas nor matyns goo.Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,Syn I my sauyour see ;To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,With the myght of mylde Mary.Then spake Moche the mylner[s] sune,Euer more wel hym betyde,Take xii of thi wyght zemenWelle weppynd be ther side.Such on wolde thi selfe slonThat xii dar not abyde,Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,Be my feithe I wil non haue.But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bowTil that me list to draweThou shalle beyre ‘thin own’352seid litulle Jon,Maister & I wil beyre myne,And we wille shete a peny, seid litulle Jon,Vnder the grene wode lyne.I wil not shete a peny, seyde Robyn Hode,In feith litulle Johne with thee,But euer for on as thou shetes, seid Robyn,In feith I hold the thre.Thus shet thei forthe these zemen tooBothe at buske and brome,Til litulle Johne wan of his maisterV s. to hose and shone.A ferly strife fel them betweneAs they went bi the way ;Litulle Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.With that Robyn Hode lyed litul Jone,And smote hym with his honde,Litul John waxed wroth therwith,And pulled out his bright bronde.Were thou not my maister, seid litulle Johne,Thou shuldis by hit ful sore,Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,For thou getes me no more.{373}Then Robyn goes to NotynghamHymselfe mornynge allone,And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,The pathes he knowe alkone.Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,Sertenly withoutene layne,He prayed to god and myld MaryTo brynge hym out saue agayne.He gos into seynt Mary[s] chirche,And knelyd downe before the rode,Alle that euer were the churche withinBeheld wel Robyne Hode.Besyde hym stode a gret hedid munke,I pray to god woo he be,Ful sone he knew gode Robyn [Hode]As sone as he hym se.Out at the durre he ranFul son and anon,Alle the zatis of NotynghamHe made to be sparred euerychone.Rise vp, he seid, thou prowde schereff,Buske the and make the bowne,I haue spyed the kynges felone,For sothe he is in this towne.{374}I haue spyed the false feloneAs he stondes at his masse,Hit is longe of the seide the munke,And euer he fro vs passe.This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode,Vndur the grene wode lynde,He robbyt me onys of a C pound,Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.Vp then rose this prowd schereff,And zade towarde hym zare ;Many was the modur sonTo the kyrk with hym can fare.In at the durres thei throly thrastWith staves ful gode ‘ilkone’353Alas, alas, seid Robyn Hode,Now mysse I litulle Johne.But Robyne toke out a too-hond swordeThat hangit down be his kne,Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckustThidurward wold he.Thryes thorow at them he ran,Ther for sothe as I yow say,And woundyt many a modur sone,And xii he slew that day.{375}His sworde vpon the schireff hedSertanly he brake in too ;The smyth that the made, seid Robyn,I pray god354wyrke hym woo.For now am I weppynlesse, seid Robyne,Alasse agayn my wylle ;But if I may fle these traytors fro,I wot thei wil me kylle.Robyns men to the churche ranThroout hem euer ilkon,Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,And lay still as any stone.Non of theym were in her myndeBut only litulle Jon.Let be your rule, seid litulle Jon,For his luf that dyed on tre,Ze that shulde be duzty menHit is gret shame to se.Oure maister has bene hard bystode,And zet scapyd awayPluk up your hertes and leve this mone,And herkyn what I shal say.{376}He has seruyd our lady many a day,And zet wil securly,Therfore I trust in her specialyNo wycked deth shal he dye.Therfor be glad, seid litul Johne,And let this mournyng be,And I shall be the munkes gydeWith the myght of mylde Mary.And I mete hym, seid litull Johne,We wille go but we tooLoke that ze kepe wel oure tristil treVndur the levys smale,And spare non of his venysonThat gose in thys vale.Forthe thei went these zemen too,Litul Johne and Moche onfere,And lokid on Moche emys howsThe hyeway lay fulle nere.Litul John stode at a window in the mornyngeAnd lokid forth at a stage,He was war wher the munke came ridynge,And with hym a litul page.{377}Be my feith, seid litul Johne to Moche,I can the tel tithyngus gode ;I see wher the munk comys rydyng,I know hym be his wyde hode.Thei went into the way these zemen bothe,As curtes men and hende,Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munkeAs thei hade bene his frende.Fro whens come ze, seid litul Johne,Tel vs tithyngus I yow prayOff a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode]Was takyn zisturday.He robbyt me and my felowes botheOf xx marke in serten ;If that false owtlay be takyn,For sothe we wolde be fayne.So did he me, seid the munke,Of a C pound and more ;I layde furst hande hym apon,Ze may thonke me therfore.I pray god thanke yow, seid litulle Johne,And we wil when we may,We wil go with yow with your leve,And brynge yow on your way.{378}For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,I telle yow in certen,If thei wist ze rode this way,In feith ze shulde be slayn.As thei went talkyng be the way,The munke and litulle Johne,Johne toke the munkes horse be the hedeFul sone and anone.Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,For sothe as I yow say,So did Muche the litulle page,For he shulde not stirre away.Be the golett of the hodeJohne pulled the munke downe,Johne was nothynge of hym agast,He lete hym falle on his crowne.Litulle John was ‘sore’355agrevyd,And drew out his swerde in hye,The munke saw he shulde be ded,Lowd mercy can he crye.He was my maister, seid litulle Johne,That thou base browzt in bale,Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kyngeFor to telle hym tale.{379}Johne smote of the munkes hed,No longer wolde he dwelle,So did Moche, the litulle page,For ferd lest he wold tell.Ther thei beryed hem bothIn nouther mosse nor lynge,And litulle Johne and Muche infereBare the letturs to oure kynge.He kneled down vpon kis kne,God zow saue, my lege lorde,Jesus yow saue and se.God yow saue, my lege kyng,To speke Johne was fulle bolde ;He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,The kynge did hit unfold.The kynge red the letturs anon,And seid so mot I the,Ther was neuer zoman in mery InglondI longut so sore to see.Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt,Oure kynge can say,Be my trouthe, seid litulle Jone,He dyed aftur the way.{380}The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jonxx pound in sertan,And made theim zemen of the crowne,And bade theim go agayn.He gaf Johne the seel in hand,The scheref for to bere,To brynge Robyn hym to,And no man do hym dere.Johne toke his leve at oure kyng,The sothe as I yow say ;The next way to NotynghamTo take he zede the way.Whan Johne came to NotynghamThe zatis were sparred ychone,Johne callid vp the porter,He answerid sone anon.What is the cause, seid litul John,Thou sparris the zates so fast ?Because Robyn Hode,356seid [the] porter,In depe prison is cast.Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,For sothe as I yow say,Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,And sawtene vs euery day.{381}Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,And sone he hym fonde,He oppyned the kyngus priue seelleAnd gaf hym in his honde.When the schereff saw the kyngus seelleHe did of his hode anon,Wher is the munke that bare the letturs ?He seid to litulle Johne.He is so fayn of him, seid litulle Johne,For sothe as I yow sey ;He has made hym abot of Westmynster,A lorde of that abbay.The scheref made John gode chere,And gaf hym wine of the best ;At nyzt thei went to her bedde,And euery man to his rest.When the scheref was on-slepeDronken of wine and ale,Litul Johne and Moche for sotheToke the way vnto the gale ;Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,And bade hym rise anon ;He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,And out of hit was gon.{382}The portere rose anon sertan,As sone as he herd John calle ;Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,And bare hym to the walle.Now will I be porter, seid litul Johne,And take the keyes in honde ;He toke the way to Robyn Hode,And sone he hym vnbonde.He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,His hed [ther-]with for to kepe,And ther as the walle was lowystAnon downe can thei lepe.Be that the cok began to crow,The day began to sprynge,The scheref fond the jaylier ded,The comyn belle made he rynge.He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],Whedur he be zoman or knave,That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode,His warisone he shuld haue.For I dar neuer, said the scheref,Cum before oure kynge ;For if I do I wot serten,For sothe he wil me henge.{383}The scheref made to seke Notyngham,Bothe be strete and stye,And Robyn was in mery ScherwodeAs lizt as lef on lynde.Then bespake gode litulle JohneTo Robyn Hode can he say,I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,Quyte ‘me’357whan thou may.I haue done the a gode turne, said litulle Johne,For sothe as I you saie,I haue brouzt the vndur [the] grene wode lyne,Fare wel, and haue gode day.Nay be my trouthe, seid Robyn Hode,So shalle hit neuer be,I make the maister, seid Robyne Hode,Off alle my men and me.Nay be my trouthe, seid litulle Johne,So shall hit neuer be,But lat me be a felow, seid litulle Johne,No nodur kepe I’ll be.Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisoneSertan withoutyn layne,When his men saw hym hol and soundeFor sothe they were ful fayne.{384}They filled in wyne, and made him gladVndur the levys smale,And zete pastes of venysoneThat gode was ‘withal.’358Than worde came to our kynge,How Robyn Hode was gone,And how the scheref of NotynghamDurst neuer loke hyme vpone.Then bespake oure cumly kynge,In an angur hye,Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,In faith so hase he me.Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,And that fulle wel I se,Or ellis the schereff of NotynghamHye hongut shuld he be.I made hem zemen of the crowne,And gaf hem fee with my hond,I gaf hem grithe, seid oure kyng,Thorowout alle mery Inglond.I gaf hem grithe, then seid oure kyng,I say, so mot I the,For sothe soche a zeman as he is onIn alle Ingland ar not thre.{385}He is trew to his maister, seid oure kynge,I sey, be swete seynt Johne,He louys bettur Robyn Hode,Then he dose vs ychone.Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,Bothe in strete and stalle,Speke no ‘more’359of this matter, seid our kynge,But John has begyled vs alle.Thus endys the talkyng of the munke,And Robyne Hode I wysse ;God, that is euer a crowned kyng,Bryng vs alle to his blisse.
{370}
This singularly curious and excellent poem, which is probably the earliest extant on the subject, was first printed in the “Ancient Metrical Tales,” edited by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne (8vo, 1829), from a MS. in the library of University College, Cambridge (F. F. 5. 48), with which it has been since obligingly collated by Frederic Madden, Esq. A few lines are unfortunately rendered illegible by damp.
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,And leves be large and longe,Hit is fulle mery in feyre foresteTo here the foulys song.To se the dere draw to the dale,And leve the hilles hee,And shadow hem in the leves greneVndur the grene wode tre.Hit befel on whitsontide,Erly in a may mornyng,The son vp fayre can shyne,And the briddis mery can syng.This is a mery mornyng, seid litulle Johne,Be hym that dyed on tre,A more mery man than I am oneLyves not in cristianté.{371}Pluk vp thi hert my dere mayster,Litulle Johne can sey,And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tymeIn a mornynge of may.Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,And does my hert myche woo,That I may not so solem dayTo mas nor matyns goo.Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,Syn I my sauyour see ;To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,With the myght of mylde Mary.Then spake Moche the mylner[s] sune,Euer more wel hym betyde,Take xii of thi wyght zemenWelle weppynd be ther side.Such on wolde thi selfe slonThat xii dar not abyde,Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,Be my feithe I wil non haue.But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bowTil that me list to draweThou shalle beyre ‘thin own’352seid litulle Jon,Maister & I wil beyre myne,And we wille shete a peny, seid litulle Jon,Vnder the grene wode lyne.I wil not shete a peny, seyde Robyn Hode,In feith litulle Johne with thee,But euer for on as thou shetes, seid Robyn,In feith I hold the thre.Thus shet thei forthe these zemen tooBothe at buske and brome,Til litulle Johne wan of his maisterV s. to hose and shone.A ferly strife fel them betweneAs they went bi the way ;Litulle Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.With that Robyn Hode lyed litul Jone,And smote hym with his honde,Litul John waxed wroth therwith,And pulled out his bright bronde.Were thou not my maister, seid litulle Johne,Thou shuldis by hit ful sore,Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,For thou getes me no more.{373}Then Robyn goes to NotynghamHymselfe mornynge allone,And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,The pathes he knowe alkone.Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,Sertenly withoutene layne,He prayed to god and myld MaryTo brynge hym out saue agayne.He gos into seynt Mary[s] chirche,And knelyd downe before the rode,Alle that euer were the churche withinBeheld wel Robyne Hode.Besyde hym stode a gret hedid munke,I pray to god woo he be,Ful sone he knew gode Robyn [Hode]As sone as he hym se.Out at the durre he ranFul son and anon,Alle the zatis of NotynghamHe made to be sparred euerychone.Rise vp, he seid, thou prowde schereff,Buske the and make the bowne,I haue spyed the kynges felone,For sothe he is in this towne.{374}I haue spyed the false feloneAs he stondes at his masse,Hit is longe of the seide the munke,And euer he fro vs passe.This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode,Vndur the grene wode lynde,He robbyt me onys of a C pound,Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.Vp then rose this prowd schereff,And zade towarde hym zare ;Many was the modur sonTo the kyrk with hym can fare.In at the durres thei throly thrastWith staves ful gode ‘ilkone’353Alas, alas, seid Robyn Hode,Now mysse I litulle Johne.But Robyne toke out a too-hond swordeThat hangit down be his kne,Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckustThidurward wold he.Thryes thorow at them he ran,Ther for sothe as I yow say,And woundyt many a modur sone,And xii he slew that day.{375}His sworde vpon the schireff hedSertanly he brake in too ;The smyth that the made, seid Robyn,I pray god354wyrke hym woo.For now am I weppynlesse, seid Robyne,Alasse agayn my wylle ;But if I may fle these traytors fro,I wot thei wil me kylle.Robyns men to the churche ranThroout hem euer ilkon,Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,And lay still as any stone.Non of theym were in her myndeBut only litulle Jon.Let be your rule, seid litulle Jon,For his luf that dyed on tre,Ze that shulde be duzty menHit is gret shame to se.Oure maister has bene hard bystode,And zet scapyd awayPluk up your hertes and leve this mone,And herkyn what I shal say.{376}He has seruyd our lady many a day,And zet wil securly,Therfore I trust in her specialyNo wycked deth shal he dye.Therfor be glad, seid litul Johne,And let this mournyng be,And I shall be the munkes gydeWith the myght of mylde Mary.And I mete hym, seid litull Johne,We wille go but we tooLoke that ze kepe wel oure tristil treVndur the levys smale,And spare non of his venysonThat gose in thys vale.Forthe thei went these zemen too,Litul Johne and Moche onfere,And lokid on Moche emys howsThe hyeway lay fulle nere.Litul John stode at a window in the mornyngeAnd lokid forth at a stage,He was war wher the munke came ridynge,And with hym a litul page.{377}Be my feith, seid litul Johne to Moche,I can the tel tithyngus gode ;I see wher the munk comys rydyng,I know hym be his wyde hode.Thei went into the way these zemen bothe,As curtes men and hende,Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munkeAs thei hade bene his frende.Fro whens come ze, seid litul Johne,Tel vs tithyngus I yow prayOff a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode]Was takyn zisturday.He robbyt me and my felowes botheOf xx marke in serten ;If that false owtlay be takyn,For sothe we wolde be fayne.So did he me, seid the munke,Of a C pound and more ;I layde furst hande hym apon,Ze may thonke me therfore.I pray god thanke yow, seid litulle Johne,And we wil when we may,We wil go with yow with your leve,And brynge yow on your way.{378}For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,I telle yow in certen,If thei wist ze rode this way,In feith ze shulde be slayn.As thei went talkyng be the way,The munke and litulle Johne,Johne toke the munkes horse be the hedeFul sone and anone.Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,For sothe as I yow say,So did Muche the litulle page,For he shulde not stirre away.Be the golett of the hodeJohne pulled the munke downe,Johne was nothynge of hym agast,He lete hym falle on his crowne.Litulle John was ‘sore’355agrevyd,And drew out his swerde in hye,The munke saw he shulde be ded,Lowd mercy can he crye.He was my maister, seid litulle Johne,That thou base browzt in bale,Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kyngeFor to telle hym tale.{379}Johne smote of the munkes hed,No longer wolde he dwelle,So did Moche, the litulle page,For ferd lest he wold tell.Ther thei beryed hem bothIn nouther mosse nor lynge,And litulle Johne and Muche infereBare the letturs to oure kynge.He kneled down vpon kis kne,God zow saue, my lege lorde,Jesus yow saue and se.God yow saue, my lege kyng,To speke Johne was fulle bolde ;He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,The kynge did hit unfold.The kynge red the letturs anon,And seid so mot I the,Ther was neuer zoman in mery InglondI longut so sore to see.Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt,Oure kynge can say,Be my trouthe, seid litulle Jone,He dyed aftur the way.{380}The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jonxx pound in sertan,And made theim zemen of the crowne,And bade theim go agayn.He gaf Johne the seel in hand,The scheref for to bere,To brynge Robyn hym to,And no man do hym dere.Johne toke his leve at oure kyng,The sothe as I yow say ;The next way to NotynghamTo take he zede the way.Whan Johne came to NotynghamThe zatis were sparred ychone,Johne callid vp the porter,He answerid sone anon.What is the cause, seid litul John,Thou sparris the zates so fast ?Because Robyn Hode,356seid [the] porter,In depe prison is cast.Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,For sothe as I yow say,Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,And sawtene vs euery day.{381}Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,And sone he hym fonde,He oppyned the kyngus priue seelleAnd gaf hym in his honde.When the schereff saw the kyngus seelleHe did of his hode anon,Wher is the munke that bare the letturs ?He seid to litulle Johne.He is so fayn of him, seid litulle Johne,For sothe as I yow sey ;He has made hym abot of Westmynster,A lorde of that abbay.The scheref made John gode chere,And gaf hym wine of the best ;At nyzt thei went to her bedde,And euery man to his rest.When the scheref was on-slepeDronken of wine and ale,Litul Johne and Moche for sotheToke the way vnto the gale ;Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,And bade hym rise anon ;He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,And out of hit was gon.{382}The portere rose anon sertan,As sone as he herd John calle ;Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,And bare hym to the walle.Now will I be porter, seid litul Johne,And take the keyes in honde ;He toke the way to Robyn Hode,And sone he hym vnbonde.He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,His hed [ther-]with for to kepe,And ther as the walle was lowystAnon downe can thei lepe.Be that the cok began to crow,The day began to sprynge,The scheref fond the jaylier ded,The comyn belle made he rynge.He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],Whedur he be zoman or knave,That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode,His warisone he shuld haue.For I dar neuer, said the scheref,Cum before oure kynge ;For if I do I wot serten,For sothe he wil me henge.{383}The scheref made to seke Notyngham,Bothe be strete and stye,And Robyn was in mery ScherwodeAs lizt as lef on lynde.Then bespake gode litulle JohneTo Robyn Hode can he say,I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,Quyte ‘me’357whan thou may.I haue done the a gode turne, said litulle Johne,For sothe as I you saie,I haue brouzt the vndur [the] grene wode lyne,Fare wel, and haue gode day.Nay be my trouthe, seid Robyn Hode,So shalle hit neuer be,I make the maister, seid Robyne Hode,Off alle my men and me.Nay be my trouthe, seid litulle Johne,So shall hit neuer be,But lat me be a felow, seid litulle Johne,No nodur kepe I’ll be.Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisoneSertan withoutyn layne,When his men saw hym hol and soundeFor sothe they were ful fayne.{384}They filled in wyne, and made him gladVndur the levys smale,And zete pastes of venysoneThat gode was ‘withal.’358Than worde came to our kynge,How Robyn Hode was gone,And how the scheref of NotynghamDurst neuer loke hyme vpone.Then bespake oure cumly kynge,In an angur hye,Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,In faith so hase he me.Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,And that fulle wel I se,Or ellis the schereff of NotynghamHye hongut shuld he be.I made hem zemen of the crowne,And gaf hem fee with my hond,I gaf hem grithe, seid oure kyng,Thorowout alle mery Inglond.I gaf hem grithe, then seid oure kyng,I say, so mot I the,For sothe soche a zeman as he is onIn alle Ingland ar not thre.{385}He is trew to his maister, seid oure kynge,I sey, be swete seynt Johne,He louys bettur Robyn Hode,Then he dose vs ychone.Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,Bothe in strete and stalle,Speke no ‘more’359of this matter, seid our kynge,But John has begyled vs alle.Thus endys the talkyng of the munke,And Robyne Hode I wysse ;God, that is euer a crowned kyng,Bryng vs alle to his blisse.
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,And leves be large and longe,Hit is fulle mery in feyre foresteTo here the foulys song.
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and longe,
Hit is fulle mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.
To se the dere draw to the dale,And leve the hilles hee,And shadow hem in the leves greneVndur the grene wode tre.
To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene
Vndur the grene wode tre.
Hit befel on whitsontide,Erly in a may mornyng,The son vp fayre can shyne,And the briddis mery can syng.
Hit befel on whitsontide,
Erly in a may mornyng,
The son vp fayre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
This is a mery mornyng, seid litulle Johne,Be hym that dyed on tre,A more mery man than I am oneLyves not in cristianté.{371}
This is a mery mornyng, seid litulle Johne,
Be hym that dyed on tre,
A more mery man than I am one
Lyves not in cristianté.{371}
Pluk vp thi hert my dere mayster,Litulle Johne can sey,And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tymeIn a mornynge of may.
Pluk vp thi hert my dere mayster,
Litulle Johne can sey,
And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme
In a mornynge of may.
Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,And does my hert myche woo,That I may not so solem dayTo mas nor matyns goo.
Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,
And does my hert myche woo,
That I may not so solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,Syn I my sauyour see ;To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,With the myght of mylde Mary.
Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,
Syn I my sauyour see ;
To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,
With the myght of mylde Mary.
Then spake Moche the mylner[s] sune,Euer more wel hym betyde,Take xii of thi wyght zemenWelle weppynd be ther side.
Then spake Moche the mylner[s] sune,
Euer more wel hym betyde,
Take xii of thi wyght zemen
Welle weppynd be ther side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slonThat xii dar not abyde,Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,Be my feithe I wil non haue.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon
That xii dar not abyde,
Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,
Be my feithe I wil non haue.
But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bowTil that me list to drawe
But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bow
Til that me list to drawe
Thou shalle beyre ‘thin own’352seid litulle Jon,Maister & I wil beyre myne,And we wille shete a peny, seid litulle Jon,Vnder the grene wode lyne.
Thou shalle beyre ‘thin own’352seid litulle Jon,
Maister & I wil beyre myne,
And we wille shete a peny, seid litulle Jon,
Vnder the grene wode lyne.
I wil not shete a peny, seyde Robyn Hode,In feith litulle Johne with thee,But euer for on as thou shetes, seid Robyn,In feith I hold the thre.
I wil not shete a peny, seyde Robyn Hode,
In feith litulle Johne with thee,
But euer for on as thou shetes, seid Robyn,
In feith I hold the thre.
Thus shet thei forthe these zemen tooBothe at buske and brome,Til litulle Johne wan of his maisterV s. to hose and shone.
Thus shet thei forthe these zemen too
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til litulle Johne wan of his maister
V s. to hose and shone.
A ferly strife fel them betweneAs they went bi the way ;Litulle Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
A ferly strife fel them betwene
As they went bi the way ;
Litulle Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
With that Robyn Hode lyed litul Jone,And smote hym with his honde,Litul John waxed wroth therwith,And pulled out his bright bronde.
With that Robyn Hode lyed litul Jone,
And smote hym with his honde,
Litul John waxed wroth therwith,
And pulled out his bright bronde.
Were thou not my maister, seid litulle Johne,Thou shuldis by hit ful sore,Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,For thou getes me no more.{373}
Were thou not my maister, seid litulle Johne,
Thou shuldis by hit ful sore,
Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,
For thou getes me no more.{373}
Then Robyn goes to NotynghamHymselfe mornynge allone,And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,The pathes he knowe alkone.
Then Robyn goes to Notyngham
Hymselfe mornynge allone,
And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,
The pathes he knowe alkone.
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,Sertenly withoutene layne,He prayed to god and myld MaryTo brynge hym out saue agayne.
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
Sertenly withoutene layne,
He prayed to god and myld Mary
To brynge hym out saue agayne.
He gos into seynt Mary[s] chirche,And knelyd downe before the rode,Alle that euer were the churche withinBeheld wel Robyne Hode.
He gos into seynt Mary[s] chirche,
And knelyd downe before the rode,
Alle that euer were the churche within
Beheld wel Robyne Hode.
Besyde hym stode a gret hedid munke,I pray to god woo he be,Ful sone he knew gode Robyn [Hode]As sone as he hym se.
Besyde hym stode a gret hedid munke,
I pray to god woo he be,
Ful sone he knew gode Robyn [Hode]
As sone as he hym se.
Out at the durre he ranFul son and anon,Alle the zatis of NotynghamHe made to be sparred euerychone.
Out at the durre he ran
Ful son and anon,
Alle the zatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred euerychone.
Rise vp, he seid, thou prowde schereff,Buske the and make the bowne,I haue spyed the kynges felone,For sothe he is in this towne.{374}
Rise vp, he seid, thou prowde schereff,
Buske the and make the bowne,
I haue spyed the kynges felone,
For sothe he is in this towne.{374}
I haue spyed the false feloneAs he stondes at his masse,Hit is longe of the seide the munke,And euer he fro vs passe.
I haue spyed the false felone
As he stondes at his masse,
Hit is longe of the seide the munke,
And euer he fro vs passe.
This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode,Vndur the grene wode lynde,He robbyt me onys of a C pound,Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.
This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode,
Vndur the grene wode lynde,
He robbyt me onys of a C pound,
Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.
Vp then rose this prowd schereff,And zade towarde hym zare ;Many was the modur sonTo the kyrk with hym can fare.
Vp then rose this prowd schereff,
And zade towarde hym zare ;
Many was the modur son
To the kyrk with hym can fare.
In at the durres thei throly thrastWith staves ful gode ‘ilkone’353Alas, alas, seid Robyn Hode,Now mysse I litulle Johne.
In at the durres thei throly thrast
With staves ful gode ‘ilkone’353
Alas, alas, seid Robyn Hode,
Now mysse I litulle Johne.
But Robyne toke out a too-hond swordeThat hangit down be his kne,Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckustThidurward wold he.
But Robyne toke out a too-hond sworde
That hangit down be his kne,
Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust
Thidurward wold he.
Thryes thorow at them he ran,Ther for sothe as I yow say,And woundyt many a modur sone,And xii he slew that day.{375}
Thryes thorow at them he ran,
Ther for sothe as I yow say,
And woundyt many a modur sone,
And xii he slew that day.{375}
His sworde vpon the schireff hedSertanly he brake in too ;The smyth that the made, seid Robyn,I pray god354wyrke hym woo.
His sworde vpon the schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too ;
The smyth that the made, seid Robyn,
I pray god354wyrke hym woo.
For now am I weppynlesse, seid Robyne,Alasse agayn my wylle ;But if I may fle these traytors fro,I wot thei wil me kylle.
For now am I weppynlesse, seid Robyne,
Alasse agayn my wylle ;
But if I may fle these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kylle.
Robyns men to the churche ranThroout hem euer ilkon,Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,And lay still as any stone.
Robyns men to the churche ran
Throout hem euer ilkon,
Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,
And lay still as any stone.
Non of theym were in her myndeBut only litulle Jon.
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only litulle Jon.
Let be your rule, seid litulle Jon,For his luf that dyed on tre,Ze that shulde be duzty menHit is gret shame to se.
Let be your rule, seid litulle Jon,
For his luf that dyed on tre,
Ze that shulde be duzty men
Hit is gret shame to se.
Oure maister has bene hard bystode,And zet scapyd awayPluk up your hertes and leve this mone,And herkyn what I shal say.{376}
Oure maister has bene hard bystode,
And zet scapyd away
Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone,
And herkyn what I shal say.{376}
He has seruyd our lady many a day,And zet wil securly,Therfore I trust in her specialyNo wycked deth shal he dye.
He has seruyd our lady many a day,
And zet wil securly,
Therfore I trust in her specialy
No wycked deth shal he dye.
Therfor be glad, seid litul Johne,And let this mournyng be,And I shall be the munkes gydeWith the myght of mylde Mary.
Therfor be glad, seid litul Johne,
And let this mournyng be,
And I shall be the munkes gyde
With the myght of mylde Mary.
And I mete hym, seid litull Johne,We wille go but we too
And I mete hym, seid litull Johne,
We wille go but we too
Loke that ze kepe wel oure tristil treVndur the levys smale,And spare non of his venysonThat gose in thys vale.
Loke that ze kepe wel oure tristil tre
Vndur the levys smale,
And spare non of his venyson
That gose in thys vale.
Forthe thei went these zemen too,Litul Johne and Moche onfere,And lokid on Moche emys howsThe hyeway lay fulle nere.
Forthe thei went these zemen too,
Litul Johne and Moche onfere,
And lokid on Moche emys hows
The hyeway lay fulle nere.
Litul John stode at a window in the mornyngeAnd lokid forth at a stage,He was war wher the munke came ridynge,And with hym a litul page.{377}
Litul John stode at a window in the mornynge
And lokid forth at a stage,
He was war wher the munke came ridynge,
And with hym a litul page.{377}
Be my feith, seid litul Johne to Moche,I can the tel tithyngus gode ;I see wher the munk comys rydyng,I know hym be his wyde hode.
Be my feith, seid litul Johne to Moche,
I can the tel tithyngus gode ;
I see wher the munk comys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.
Thei went into the way these zemen bothe,As curtes men and hende,Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munkeAs thei hade bene his frende.
Thei went into the way these zemen bothe,
As curtes men and hende,
Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke
As thei hade bene his frende.
Fro whens come ze, seid litul Johne,Tel vs tithyngus I yow prayOff a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode]Was takyn zisturday.
Fro whens come ze, seid litul Johne,
Tel vs tithyngus I yow pray
Off a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode]
Was takyn zisturday.
He robbyt me and my felowes botheOf xx marke in serten ;If that false owtlay be takyn,For sothe we wolde be fayne.
He robbyt me and my felowes bothe
Of xx marke in serten ;
If that false owtlay be takyn,
For sothe we wolde be fayne.
So did he me, seid the munke,Of a C pound and more ;I layde furst hande hym apon,Ze may thonke me therfore.
So did he me, seid the munke,
Of a C pound and more ;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Ze may thonke me therfore.
I pray god thanke yow, seid litulle Johne,And we wil when we may,We wil go with yow with your leve,And brynge yow on your way.{378}
I pray god thanke yow, seid litulle Johne,
And we wil when we may,
We wil go with yow with your leve,
And brynge yow on your way.{378}
For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,I telle yow in certen,If thei wist ze rode this way,In feith ze shulde be slayn.
For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I telle yow in certen,
If thei wist ze rode this way,
In feith ze shulde be slayn.
As thei went talkyng be the way,The munke and litulle Johne,Johne toke the munkes horse be the hedeFul sone and anone.
As thei went talkyng be the way,
The munke and litulle Johne,
Johne toke the munkes horse be the hede
Ful sone and anone.
Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,For sothe as I yow say,So did Muche the litulle page,For he shulde not stirre away.
Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,
For sothe as I yow say,
So did Muche the litulle page,
For he shulde not stirre away.
Be the golett of the hodeJohne pulled the munke downe,Johne was nothynge of hym agast,He lete hym falle on his crowne.
Be the golett of the hode
Johne pulled the munke downe,
Johne was nothynge of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crowne.
Litulle John was ‘sore’355agrevyd,And drew out his swerde in hye,The munke saw he shulde be ded,Lowd mercy can he crye.
Litulle John was ‘sore’355agrevyd,
And drew out his swerde in hye,
The munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.
He was my maister, seid litulle Johne,That thou base browzt in bale,Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kyngeFor to telle hym tale.{379}
He was my maister, seid litulle Johne,
That thou base browzt in bale,
Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kynge
For to telle hym tale.{379}
Johne smote of the munkes hed,No longer wolde he dwelle,So did Moche, the litulle page,For ferd lest he wold tell.
Johne smote of the munkes hed,
No longer wolde he dwelle,
So did Moche, the litulle page,
For ferd lest he wold tell.
Ther thei beryed hem bothIn nouther mosse nor lynge,And litulle Johne and Muche infereBare the letturs to oure kynge.
Ther thei beryed hem both
In nouther mosse nor lynge,
And litulle Johne and Muche infere
Bare the letturs to oure kynge.
He kneled down vpon kis kne,God zow saue, my lege lorde,Jesus yow saue and se.
He kneled down vpon kis kne,
God zow saue, my lege lorde,
Jesus yow saue and se.
God yow saue, my lege kyng,To speke Johne was fulle bolde ;He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,The kynge did hit unfold.
God yow saue, my lege kyng,
To speke Johne was fulle bolde ;
He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,
The kynge did hit unfold.
The kynge red the letturs anon,And seid so mot I the,Ther was neuer zoman in mery InglondI longut so sore to see.
The kynge red the letturs anon,
And seid so mot I the,
Ther was neuer zoman in mery Inglond
I longut so sore to see.
Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt,Oure kynge can say,Be my trouthe, seid litulle Jone,He dyed aftur the way.{380}
Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt,
Oure kynge can say,
Be my trouthe, seid litulle Jone,
He dyed aftur the way.{380}
The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jonxx pound in sertan,And made theim zemen of the crowne,And bade theim go agayn.
The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jon
xx pound in sertan,
And made theim zemen of the crowne,
And bade theim go agayn.
He gaf Johne the seel in hand,The scheref for to bere,To brynge Robyn hym to,And no man do hym dere.
He gaf Johne the seel in hand,
The scheref for to bere,
To brynge Robyn hym to,
And no man do hym dere.
Johne toke his leve at oure kyng,The sothe as I yow say ;The next way to NotynghamTo take he zede the way.
Johne toke his leve at oure kyng,
The sothe as I yow say ;
The next way to Notyngham
To take he zede the way.
Whan Johne came to NotynghamThe zatis were sparred ychone,Johne callid vp the porter,He answerid sone anon.
Whan Johne came to Notyngham
The zatis were sparred ychone,
Johne callid vp the porter,
He answerid sone anon.
What is the cause, seid litul John,Thou sparris the zates so fast ?Because Robyn Hode,356seid [the] porter,In depe prison is cast.
What is the cause, seid litul John,
Thou sparris the zates so fast ?
Because Robyn Hode,356seid [the] porter,
In depe prison is cast.
Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,For sothe as I yow say,Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,And sawtene vs euery day.{381}
Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,
For sothe as I yow say,
Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,
And sawtene vs euery day.{381}
Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,And sone he hym fonde,He oppyned the kyngus priue seelleAnd gaf hym in his honde.
Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,
And sone he hym fonde,
He oppyned the kyngus priue seelle
And gaf hym in his honde.
When the schereff saw the kyngus seelleHe did of his hode anon,Wher is the munke that bare the letturs ?He seid to litulle Johne.
When the schereff saw the kyngus seelle
He did of his hode anon,
Wher is the munke that bare the letturs ?
He seid to litulle Johne.
He is so fayn of him, seid litulle Johne,For sothe as I yow sey ;He has made hym abot of Westmynster,A lorde of that abbay.
He is so fayn of him, seid litulle Johne,
For sothe as I yow sey ;
He has made hym abot of Westmynster,
A lorde of that abbay.
The scheref made John gode chere,And gaf hym wine of the best ;At nyzt thei went to her bedde,And euery man to his rest.
The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wine of the best ;
At nyzt thei went to her bedde,
And euery man to his rest.
When the scheref was on-slepeDronken of wine and ale,Litul Johne and Moche for sotheToke the way vnto the gale ;
When the scheref was on-slepe
Dronken of wine and ale,
Litul Johne and Moche for sothe
Toke the way vnto the gale ;
Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,And bade hym rise anon ;He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,And out of hit was gon.{382}
Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,
And bade hym rise anon ;
He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,
And out of hit was gon.{382}
The portere rose anon sertan,As sone as he herd John calle ;Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,And bare hym to the walle.
The portere rose anon sertan,
As sone as he herd John calle ;
Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,
And bare hym to the walle.
Now will I be porter, seid litul Johne,And take the keyes in honde ;He toke the way to Robyn Hode,And sone he hym vnbonde.
Now will I be porter, seid litul Johne,
And take the keyes in honde ;
He toke the way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym vnbonde.
He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,His hed [ther-]with for to kepe,And ther as the walle was lowystAnon downe can thei lepe.
He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,
His hed [ther-]with for to kepe,
And ther as the walle was lowyst
Anon downe can thei lepe.
Be that the cok began to crow,The day began to sprynge,The scheref fond the jaylier ded,The comyn belle made he rynge.
Be that the cok began to crow,
The day began to sprynge,
The scheref fond the jaylier ded,
The comyn belle made he rynge.
He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],Whedur he be zoman or knave,That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode,His warisone he shuld haue.
He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],
Whedur he be zoman or knave,
That cowthe brynge hym Robyn Hode,
His warisone he shuld haue.
For I dar neuer, said the scheref,Cum before oure kynge ;For if I do I wot serten,For sothe he wil me henge.{383}
For I dar neuer, said the scheref,
Cum before oure kynge ;
For if I do I wot serten,
For sothe he wil me henge.{383}
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,Bothe be strete and stye,And Robyn was in mery ScherwodeAs lizt as lef on lynde.
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and stye,
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode
As lizt as lef on lynde.
Then bespake gode litulle JohneTo Robyn Hode can he say,I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,Quyte ‘me’357whan thou may.
Then bespake gode litulle Johne
To Robyn Hode can he say,
I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,
Quyte ‘me’357whan thou may.
I haue done the a gode turne, said litulle Johne,For sothe as I you saie,I haue brouzt the vndur [the] grene wode lyne,Fare wel, and haue gode day.
I haue done the a gode turne, said litulle Johne,
For sothe as I you saie,
I haue brouzt the vndur [the] grene wode lyne,
Fare wel, and haue gode day.
Nay be my trouthe, seid Robyn Hode,So shalle hit neuer be,I make the maister, seid Robyne Hode,Off alle my men and me.
Nay be my trouthe, seid Robyn Hode,
So shalle hit neuer be,
I make the maister, seid Robyne Hode,
Off alle my men and me.
Nay be my trouthe, seid litulle Johne,So shall hit neuer be,But lat me be a felow, seid litulle Johne,No nodur kepe I’ll be.
Nay be my trouthe, seid litulle Johne,
So shall hit neuer be,
But lat me be a felow, seid litulle Johne,
No nodur kepe I’ll be.
Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisoneSertan withoutyn layne,When his men saw hym hol and soundeFor sothe they were ful fayne.{384}
Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisone
Sertan withoutyn layne,
When his men saw hym hol and sounde
For sothe they were ful fayne.{384}
They filled in wyne, and made him gladVndur the levys smale,And zete pastes of venysoneThat gode was ‘withal.’358
They filled in wyne, and made him glad
Vndur the levys smale,
And zete pastes of venysone
That gode was ‘withal.’358
Than worde came to our kynge,How Robyn Hode was gone,And how the scheref of NotynghamDurst neuer loke hyme vpone.
Than worde came to our kynge,
How Robyn Hode was gone,
And how the scheref of Notyngham
Durst neuer loke hyme vpone.
Then bespake oure cumly kynge,In an angur hye,Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,In faith so hase he me.
Then bespake oure cumly kynge,
In an angur hye,
Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,
In faith so hase he me.
Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,And that fulle wel I se,Or ellis the schereff of NotynghamHye hongut shuld he be.
Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,
And that fulle wel I se,
Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shuld he be.
I made hem zemen of the crowne,And gaf hem fee with my hond,I gaf hem grithe, seid oure kyng,Thorowout alle mery Inglond.
I made hem zemen of the crowne,
And gaf hem fee with my hond,
I gaf hem grithe, seid oure kyng,
Thorowout alle mery Inglond.
I gaf hem grithe, then seid oure kyng,I say, so mot I the,For sothe soche a zeman as he is onIn alle Ingland ar not thre.{385}
I gaf hem grithe, then seid oure kyng,
I say, so mot I the,
For sothe soche a zeman as he is on
In alle Ingland ar not thre.{385}
He is trew to his maister, seid oure kynge,I sey, be swete seynt Johne,He louys bettur Robyn Hode,Then he dose vs ychone.
He is trew to his maister, seid oure kynge,
I sey, be swete seynt Johne,
He louys bettur Robyn Hode,
Then he dose vs ychone.
Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,Bothe in strete and stalle,Speke no ‘more’359of this matter, seid our kynge,But John has begyled vs alle.
Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,
Bothe in strete and stalle,
Speke no ‘more’359of this matter, seid our kynge,
But John has begyled vs alle.
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke,And Robyne Hode I wysse ;God, that is euer a crowned kyng,Bryng vs alle to his blisse.
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke,
And Robyne Hode I wysse ;
God, that is euer a crowned kyng,
Bryng vs alle to his blisse.