Volume 5 / Book 5 — BOOK V. (continued 2)

Lyth and lysten, gentyll men, All that now be here, Of Lytell Johan, that was the knyghtes man, Good myrthe ye shall here. It was upon a mery day,5 That yonge men wolde go shete, Lytell Johan fet his bowe anone, And sayd he wolde them mete. Thre tymes Lytell Johan shot about, And always cleft the wande;10 The proude sheryf of Notyngham By the markes gan stande. The sheryf swore a full grete othe, By hym that dyed on a tre, This man is the best archere15 That yet sawe I me. "Say me now, wyght yonge man, What is now thy name? In what countre were thou born, And where is thy wonnynge wane?"20 "In Holdernesse I was bore, I-wys all of my dame; Men call me Reynolde Grenelefe, Whan I am at hame." "Say me, Reynaud Grenelefe,25 Wolte thou dwell with me? And every yere I wyll the gyve Twenty marke to thy fee." "I have a mayster," sayd Lytell Johan, "A curteys knight is he;30 May ye gete leve of hym, The better may it bee." The sheryfe gate Lytell Johan Twelve monethes of the knyght; Therfore he gave him ryght anone35 A good hors and a wyght. Now is Lytel Johan the sheryffes man, God gyve us well to spede, But alway thought Lytell Johan To quyte hym well his mede.40 "Now so god me helpe," sayd Lytel Johan, "And be my trewe lewtè, I shall be the worste servaunte to hym That ever yet had he." It befell upon a Wednesday,45 The sheryfe on hontynge was gone, And Lytel Johan lay in his bed, And was foryete at home. Therfore he was fastynge Tyl it was past the none;50 "Good syr stuard, I pray the, Geve me to dyne," sayd Lytel Johan. "It is to long for Grenelefe, Fastynge so long to be; Therfore I pray the, stuarde,55 My dyner gyve thou me." "Shalt thou never ete ne drynke," said the stuarde, "Tyll my lord be come to towne;" "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan, "I had lever to cracke thy crowne."60 The butler was full uncurteys, There he stode on flore; He sterte to the buttery, And shet fast the dore. Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap,65 His backe yede nygh on two; Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter, The wors he sholde go. He sporned the dore with his fote, It went up wel and fyne,70 And there he made a large lyveray Both of ale and wyne. "Syth ye wyl not dyne," sayd Lytel Johan, "I shall gyve you to drynke, And though ye lyve an hondred wynter,75 On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk." Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke, The whyle that he wolde; The sheryfe had in hys kechyn a coke, A stoute man and a bolde.80 "I make myn avowe to god," sayd the coke, "Thou arte a shrewde hynde, In an householde to dwel, For to ask thus to dyne." And there he lent Lytel Johan85 Good strokes thre; "I make myn avowe," said Lytell Johan, "These strokes lyketh well me. "Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy And so thynketh me;90 And or I passe fro this place, Asayed better shalt thou be." Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde, The coke toke another in honde; They thought nothynge for to fle,95 But styfly for to stonde. There they fought sore togyder, Two myle way and more; Myght neyther other harme done, The mountenaunce of an houre.100 "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan, "And be my trewe lewtè, Thou art one of the best swerdemen, That ever yet sawe I me. "Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,105 To grene wood thou sholdest with me, And two tymes in the yere thy clothynge Ichaunged sholde be; "And every yere of Robyn Hode Twenty marke to thy fee:"110 "Put up thy swerde," sayd the coke, "And felowes wyll we be." Then he fette to Lytell Johan The numbles of a doo, Good brede and full good wyne;115 They ete and dranke therto. And whan they had dronken well, Ther trouthes togyder they plyght, That they wolde be with Robyn That ylke same day at nyght.120 They dyde them to the tresure-hous, As fast as they myght gone; The lockes, that were of good stele, They brake them everychone. They toke away the sylver vessell,125 And all that they myght get, Peces, masars, and spones Wolde they non forgete. Also they toke the good pence, Thre hondred pounde and three,130 And dyde them strayt to Robyn Hode, Under the grene wode tre. "God the save, my dere maystèr, And Cryst the save and se;" And than sayd Robyn to Lytell Johan,135 "Welcome myght thou be; "And also be that fayre yemàn Thou bryngest there with the. What tydynges fro Notyngham? Lytell Johan, tell thou me."140 "Well the greteth the proude sheryfe, And sende the here by me His coke and his sylver vessell, And thre hondred pounde and thre." "I make myn avow to god," sayd Robyn,145 "And to the trenytè, It was never by his good wyll This good is come to me." Lytell Johan hym there bethought On a shrewed wyle;150 Fyve myle in the forest he ran, Hym happed at his wyll. Than he met the proud sheryf, Huntynge with hounde and horne; Lytell Johan coud his curteysye,155 And kneled hym beforne. "God the save, my dere maystèr, And Cryst the save and se;" "Raynolde Grenelefe," sayd the sheryfe, "Where hast thou nowe be?"160 "I have be in this forest, A fayre syght can I se; It was one of the fayrest syghtes That ever yet sawe I me. "Yonder I se a ryght fayre hart,165 His coloure is of grene; Seven score of dere upon an herde Be with hym all bedene. "His tynde are so sharp, maystèr, Of sexty and well mo,170 That I durst not shote for drede Lest they wolde me sloo." "I make myn avowe to god," sayd the sheryf, "That syght wolde I fayn se;" "Buske you thyderwarde, my dere maystèr,175 Anone, and wende with me." The sheryfe rode, and Lytell Johan Of fote he was full smarte; And when they came afore Robyn, "Lo, here is the mayster harte!"180 Styll stode the proud sheryf, A sory man was he: "Wo worthe the, Raynolde Grenelefe! Thou hast now betrayed me." "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan,185 "Mayster, ye be to blame, I was mysserved of my dynere, When I was with you at hame." Soone he was to super sette, And served with sylver whyte;190 And whan the sheryf se his vessell, For sorowe he myght not ete. "Make good chere," sayd Robyn Hode, "Sheryfe, for charytè, And for the love of Lytell Johan,195 Thy lyfe is graunted to the." When they had supped well, The day was all agone, Robyn commaunded Lytell Johan To drawe of his hosen and his shone,200 His kyrtell and his cote-a-pye, That was furred well fyne, And take him a grene mantèll, To lappe his body therin. Robyn commaunded his wyght young men,205 Under the grene wood tre, They shall lay in that same sorte, That the sheryf myght them se. All nyght laye that proud sheryf In his breche and in his sherte;210 No wonder—it was in grene wode,— Tho his sydes do smerte. "Make glad chere," sayd Robyn Hode, "Sheryfe, for charytè, For this is our order i-wys,215 Under the grene wood tre." "This is harder order," sayd the sheryfe, "Than ony anker or frere; For al the golde in mery Englonde, I wolde not longe dwell here."220 "All these twelve monethes," sayd Robyn, "Thou shalte dwell with me; I shall the teche, proud sheryfe, An outlawe for to be." "Or I here another nyght lye," sayd the sheryfe,225 "Robyn, nowe I pray the, Smyte of my hede rather to-morne, And I forgyve it the. "Lete me go," then sayd the sheryf, "For saynt Charytè,230 And I wyll be the best frende That ever yet had ye." "Thou shalte swere me an othe," sayd Robyn, "On my bryght bronde, Thou shalt never awayte me scathe,235 By water ne by londe; "And if thou fynde ony of my men, By nyght or by day, Upon thyne othe thou shalt swere To helpe them that thou may."240 Now hathe the sheryf iswore his othe, And home he began to gone; He was as full of grene wode As ever was hepe of stone.

The sheryf dwelled in Notynghame, He was fayne that he was gone, And Robyn and his mery men Went to wode anone. "Go we to dyner," sayd Lytell Johan;5 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;10 For I dare saye, and saufly swere, The knyght is trewe and trust." "Take thy bowe in thy hande," sayd Robyn, "Let Moche wende with the, And so shall Wyllyam Scathelock,15 And no man abyde with me. "And walk up into the Sayles, And to Watlynge-strete, And wayte after some unketh gest; Up-chaunce ye may them mete.20 "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,25 Half in tray and tene, And gyrde hym with a full good swerde, Under a mantel of grene. They went up to the Sayles, These yemen all thre;30 They loked est, they loked west, They myght no man se. But as he loked in Bernysdale, By the hye waye, Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,35 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.40 "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,45 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;50 But we brynge them to dyner, Our mayster dare we not se. "Bende your bowes," sayd Lytell Johan, "Make all yon prese to stonde; The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth55 Is closed in my honde. "Abyde, chorle monke," sayd Lytell Johan, "No ferther that thou gone; Yf thou doost, by dere worthy god, Thy deth is in my honde.60 "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;65 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;70 He is a yeman of the forèst, To dyne he hath bode the." Much was redy with a bolte, Redly and anone, He set the monke to fore the brest,75 To the grounde that he can gone. Of fyfty two wyght yonge men There abode not one, Saf a lytell page, and a grome, To lede the somers with Johan.80 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,85 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:90 "Thereof no force," sayd Robyn, "For curteysy can he none. "How many men," sayd Robyn, "Had this monke, Johan?" "Fifty and two whan that we met,95 But many of them be gone." "Let blowe a horne," sayd Robyn, "That felaushyp may us knowe;" Seven score of wyght yemen, Came pryckynge on a rowe.100 And everych of them a good mantell Of scarlet and of raye; All they came to good Robyn, To wyte what he wolde say. They made the monke to washe and wype,105 And syt at his denere, Robyn Hode and Lytel Johan They served him bothe in fere. "Do gladly, monke," sayd Robyn. "Gramercy, syr," said he.110 "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:115 "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.120 "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." "Have no doute, mayster," sayd Lytell Johan, "Ye have no nede I saye;126 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,130 Of a lytell money that I hym lent, Under the grene wode tree. "And yf thou hast that sylver ibroughte, I pray the let me se; And I shall helpe the eftsones,135 Yf thou have nede of me." The monke swore a full grete othe, With a sory chere, "Of the borowehode thou spekest to me, Herde I never ere."140 "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Robyn, "Monke, thou art to blame; For god is holde a ryghtwys man, And so is his dame. "Thou toldest with thyn owne tonge,145 Thou may not say nay, How thou arte her servaunt, And servest her every day. "And thou art made her messengere, My money for to pay;150 Therefore I can 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,155 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;160 "And yf I fynde more," sayd Robyn, "I-wys thou shalte it forgone; For of thy spendynge sylver, monk, Thereof wyll I ryght none. "Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,165 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,170 And he tolde out of the monkes male Eyght hundreth pounde and more. Lytell Johan let it lye full styll, And went to his mayster in hast; "Syr," he sayd, "the monke is trewe ynowe,175 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.180 "By dere worthy god," said Robyn, "To seche all England thorowe, Yet founde I never to my pay A moche better borowe. "Fyll of the best wyne, do hym drynke," said Robyn,185 "And grete well thy lady hende, And yf she have nede of Robyn Hode, A frende she shall hym fynde. "And yf she nedeth ony more sylvèr, Come thou agayne to me,190 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,195 To brynge hym under fote. "Whether be ye away?" sayd Robyn. "Syr, to maners in this londe, Too reken with our reves, That have done moch wronge."200 "Come now forth, Lytell Johan, And harken to my tale; A better yemen I knowe none, To seke a monkes male." "How much is in yonder other cofer?" said Robyn,205 "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."210 "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,215 "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."220 "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,225 And speke we of that knyght: Yet he came to holde his day, Whyle that it was lyght. He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale, Under the grene wode tre,230 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,235 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."240 Than bespake hym Robyn Hode, To that knyght so fre, "What nede dryveth the to grene wode? I pray the, syr knyght, tell me. "And welcome be thou, gentyl knyght,245 Why hast thou be so longe?" "For the abbot and the hye justyce Wolde have had my londe." "Hast thou thy londe agayne?" sayd Robyn; "Treuth than tell thou me."250 "Ye, for god," sayd the knyght, "And that thanke I god and the. "But take not a grefe, I have be so longe; I came by a wrastelynge, And there I dyd holpe a pore yemàn,255 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."260 "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,265 "Thou broke it well for ay; For our lady, by her selerer, Hath sent to me my pay. "And yf I toke it twyse, A shame it were to me:270 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.275 "Your money is redy here." "Broke it well," sayd Robyn, "Thou gentyll knyght so fre; And welcome be thou, gentill knyght, Under my trystell tree.280 "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,285 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,290 And bye hors and harnes good, And gylte thy spores all newe. "And yf thou fayle ony spendynge, Com to Robyn Hode, And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle,295 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."300 Thus than holpe hym good Robyn, The knyght all of his care: God, that sytteth in heven hye, Graunte us well to fare.

But take not a grefe, sayd the knyght, That I have be so longe. O. CC.

Now hath the knyght his leve itake, And wente hym on his way; Robyn Hode and his mery men Dwelled styll full many a day. Lyth and lysten, gentilmen,5 And herken what I shall say, How the proud sheryfe of Notyngham Dyde crye a full fayre play; That all the best archers of the north Sholde come upon a daye,10 And he that shoteth altherbest The game shall bere away. He that shoteth altherbest Furthest fayre and lowe, At a payre of fynly buttes,15 Under the grene wode shawe, A ryght good arowe he shall have, The shaft of sylver whyte, The heade and the feders of ryche rede golde, In Englond is none lyke.20 This then herde good Robyn, Under his trystell tre: "Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men; That shotynge wyll I se. "Buske you, my mery yonge men,25 Ye shall go with me; And I wyll wete the shryves fayth, Trewe and yf he be." Whan they had theyr bowes ibent, Theyr takles fedred fre,30 Seven score of wyght yonge men Stode by Robyns kne. "Whan they cam to Notyngham, The buttes were fayre and longe; Many was the bolde archere35 That shoted with bowes stronge. "There shall but syx shote with me; The other shal kepe my hede. And stande with good bowes bent, That I be not desceyved."40 The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende, And that was Robyn Hode, And that behelde the proude sheryfe, All by the but he stode. Thryes Robyn shot about,45 And alway he slist the wand, And so dyde good Gylberte With the whyte hande. Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke Were archers good and fre;50 Lytell Much and good Reynolde, The worste wolde they not be. Whan they had shot aboute, These archours fayre and good, Evermore was the best,55 Forsoth, Robyn Hode. Hym was delyvered the goode aròw, For best worthy was he; He toke the yeft so curteysly, To grene wode wolde he.60 They cryed out on Robyn Hode, And great hornes gan they blowe: "Wo worth the, treason!" sayd Robyn, "Full evyl thou art to knowe. "And wo be thou, thou proud sheryf,65 Thus gladdynge thy gest; Other wyse thou behote me In yonder wylde forest. "But had I the in grene wode, Under my trystell tre,70 Thou sholdest leve me a better wedde Than thy trewe lewtè." Full many a bowe there was bent, And arowes let they glyde, Many a kyrtell there was rent,75 And hurt many a syde. The outlaws shot was so stronge, That no man myght them dryve, And the proud sheryfes men They fled away full blyve.80 Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke, In grene wode he wolde have be; Many an arowe there was shot Amonge that company. Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,85 With an arowe in his kne, That he myght neyther go nor ryde; It was full grete pytè. "Mayster," then sayd Lytell Johan, "If ever thou lovest me,90 And for that ylke lordes love, That dyed upon a tre, "And for the medes of my servyce, That I have served the, Lete never the proude sheryf95 Alyve now fynde me. "But take out thy browne swerde, And smyte all of my hede, And gyve me woundes dede and wyde, No lyfe on me be lefte."100 "I wolde not that," sayd Robyn, "Johan, that thou were slawe, For all the golde in mery Englond, Though it lay now on a rawe." "God forbede," sayd lytell Much,105 "That dyed on a tre, That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan, Parte our company." Up he toke him on his backe, And bare hym well a myle;110 Many a tyme he layd hym downe, And shot another whyle. Then was there a fayre castèll, A lytell within the wode, Double-dyched it was about,115 And walled, by the rode. And there dwelled that gentyll knyght, Syr Richard at the Lee, That Robyn had lent his good, Under the grene wode tree.120 In he toke good Robyn, And all his company; "Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode, Welcome arte thou me; "And moche [I] thanke the of thy comfort,125 And of thy curteysye, And of thy grete kyndenesse, Under the grene wode tre. "I love no man in all this worlde So much as I do the;130 For all the proud sheryf of Notyngham, Ryght here shalt thou be. "Shyt the gates, and drawe the bridge, And let no man com in; And arme you well, and make you redy,135 And to the walle ye wynne. "For one thyng, Robyn, I the behote, I swere by saynt Quyntyn, These twelve dayes thou wonest with me, To suppe, ete, and dyne."140 Bordes were layed, and clothes spred, Reddely and anone; Robyn Hode and his mery men To mete gan they gone.

Lythe and lysten, gentylmen, And herken unto your songe, How the proude sheryfe of Notyngham, And men of armes stronge, Full faste came to the hye sheryfe,5 The countre up to rout, And they beset the knyghts castèll, The walles all about. The proude sheryfe loude gan crye, And sayd, "Thou traytour knyght,10 Thou kepeste here the kynges enemye, Agayne the lawes and ryght." "Syr, I wyll avowe that I have done, The dedes that here be dyght, Upon all the londes that I have,15 As I am a trewe knyght. "Wende forthe, syrs, on your waye, And doth do more to me, Tyll ye wytte our kynges wyll, What he woll say to the."20 The sheref thus had his answere, With out ony leasynge; Forthe he yode to London toune, All for to tel our kynge. There he tolde hym of that knyght,25 And eke of Robyn Hode, And also of the bolde archeres, That noble were and good. "He wolde avowe that he had done, To mayntayne the outlawes stronge,30 He wolde be lorde, and set you at nought, In all the north londe." "I woll be at Notyngham," sayd the kynge, "Within this fourtynyght, And take I wyll Robyn Hode,35 And so I wyll that knyght. "Go home, thou proud sheryf, And do as I bydde the, And ordayne good archeres inowe Of all the wyde countree."40 The sheryf had his leve itake, And went hym on his way; And Robyn Hode to grene wode [went] Upon a certayn day. And Lytell Johan was hole of the arowe,45 That shote was in his kne, And dyde hym strayte to Robyn Hode, Under the grene wode tre. Robyn Hode walked in the foreste, Under the leves grene;50 The proud sheryfe of Notyngham, Therfore he had grete tene. The sheryf there fayled of Robyn Hode, He myght not have his pray; Then he awayted that gentyll knyght,55 Bothe by nyght and by daye. Ever he awayted that gentyll knyght, Syr Rychard at the Lee; As he went on haukynge by the ryver syde And let his haukes flee,60 Toke he there this gentyll knyght, With men of armes stronge, And lad hym home to Notyngham warde, Ibonde both fote and honde. The sheryf swore a full grete othe,65 By hym that dyed on rode, He had lever than an hondrede pounde, That he had Robyn Hode. Then the lady, the knyghtes wyfe, A fayre lady and fre,70 She set her on a gode palfrày, To grene wode anon rode she. When she came to the forèst, Under the grene wode tre, Founde she there Robyn Hode,75 And all his fayre meynè. "God the save, good Robyn Hode, And all thy company; For our dere ladyes love, A bone graunte thou me.80 "Let thou never my wedded lorde Shamfully slayne to be; He is fast ibounde to Notyngham warde, For the love of the." Anone then sayd good Robyn,85 To that lady fre, "What man hath your lorde itake?" "The proude shirife," than sayd she. ["The proude sheryfe hath hym itake] Forsoth as I the say;90 He is not yet thre myles Passed on his waye." Up then sterte good Robyn, As a man that had be wode; "Buske you, my mery young men,95 For hym that dyed on a rode. "And he that this sorowe forsaketh, By hym that dyed on a tre, And by him that al thinges maketh, No lenger shall dwell with me."100 Sone there were good bowes ibent, Mo than seven score, Hedge ne dyche spared they none, That was them before. "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Robyn,105 "The sheryf wolde I fayn se, And yf I may hym take, Iquyt than shall he bee." And whan they came to Notyngham, They walked in the strete,110 And with the proud sheryf, i-wys, Sone gan they mete. "Abyde, thou proud sheryf," he sayd, "Abyde and speake with me, Of some tydynges of our kynge,115 I wolde fayne here of the. "This seven yere, by dere worthy god, Ne yede I so fast on fote; I make myn avowe to god, thou proude sheryfe, That is not for thy good."120 Robyn bent a good bowe, An arrowe he drewe at his wyll, He hyt so the proud sheryf, Upon the ground he lay full styll. And or he myght up aryse,125 On his fete to stonde, He smote of the sheryves hede, With his bryght bronde. "Lye thou there, thou proude sheryf, Evyll mote thou thryve;130 There myght no man to the trust, The whyles thou were alyve." His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes, That were so sharpe and kene, And layde on the sheryves men,135 And dryved them downe bydene. Robyn stert to that knyght, And cut a two his bonde, And toke hym in his hand a bowe, And bade hym by hym stonde.140 "Leve thy hors the behynde, And lerne for to renne; Thou shalt with me to grene wode, Through myre, mosse, and fenne. "Thou shalt with me to grene wode,145 Without ony leasynge, Tyll that I have gete us grace Of Edwarde, our comly kynge."

Shall he never in grene wode be, Nor longer dwell with me. W.

The kynge came to Notynghame, With knyghtes in grete araye, For to take that gentyll knyght And Robyn Hode, yf he may. He asked men of that countrè,5 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,10 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,15 He faylyd many of his dere. There our kynge was wont to se Herdes many one, He coud unneth fynde one dere, That bare ony good horne.20 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 hede,25 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,30 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,35 One worde I shall you say; "There is no man in this countrè May have the knyghtes londes, Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone, And bere a bowe in his hondes,40 "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 kynge45 In Notyngham, and well more; Coude he not here of Robyn Hode, In what countre that he were. But alway went good Robyn By halke and eke by hyll,50 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,55 Ye must do after me. "Take fyve of the best knyghtes That be in your lede, And walk downe by yon abbay, And gete you monkes wede.60 "And I wyll be your ledes man, And lede you the way, And or ye come to Notyngham, Myn hede then dare I lay, "That ye shall mete with good Robyn,65 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,70 Everych of them in monkes wede, And hasted them thyder blyve. Our kynge was grete above his cole, A brode hat on his crowne, Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,75 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.80 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,85 Stondynge on the waye, And so dyde many a bolde archere, For soth as I you say. Robyn toke the kynges hors, Hastely in that stede,90 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,95 Other shyft have not we. "And ye have chyrches and rentes both, And gold full grete plentè; Gyve us some of your spendynge, For saynt Charytè."100 Than bespake our cumly kynge, Anone than sayd he, "I brought no more to grene wode, But forty pounde with me. "I have layne at Notyngham,105 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;110 But yf I had an hondred pounde, I would geve it to the." Robyn toke the forty pounde, And departed it in two partye, Halfendell he gave his mery men,115 And bad them mery to be. Full curteysly Robyn gan say, "Syr, have this for your spendyng; We shall mete another day." "Gramercy," than sayd our kynge;120 "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,125 And sone he lete hym se; Robyn coud his courteysy, And set hym on his kne. "I love no man in all the worlde So well as I do my kynge.130 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,135 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.140 Robyn toke a full grete horne, And loude he gan blowe; Seven score of wyght yonge men Came redy on a rowe. All they kneeled on theyr kne,145 Full fayre before Robyn: The kynge sayd hymselfe untyll, And swore by saynt Austyn, "Here is a wonder semely syght; Me thynketh, by goddes pyne,150 His men are more at his byddynge, Then my men be at myn." Full hastly was theyr dyner idyght, And therto gan they gone; They served our kynge with al theyr myght,155 Both Robyn and Lytell Johan. Anone before our kynge was set The fatte venyson, The good whyte brede, the good red wyne, And therto the fyne ale browne.160 "Make good chere," said Robyn, "Abbot, for charytè; And for this ylke tydynge, Blyssed mote thou be. "Now shalte thou se what life we lede,165 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;170 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,175 The merkes were to longe. 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,180 "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 hede,185 I-wys right all bare:" And all that fell in Robyns lote, He smote them wonder sare. Twyse Robyn shot aboute, And ever he cleved the wande,190 And so dyde good Gylberte With the Whyte Hand. Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke, For nothynge wolde they spare, When they fayled of the garlonde,195 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.200 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,205 "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,210 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,215 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.220 "There is pith in thyn arme," sayd Robyn, "I trowe thou canst well shote;" Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode Togeder than they met. Robyn behelde our comly kynge225 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:230 "My lorde the kynge of Englonde, Now I knowe you well. "Mercy," then Robyn sayd to our kynge, Under his trystyll tre, "Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,235 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."240 "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,245 And there dwell with me." "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Robyn, "And ryght so shall it be. "I wyll come to your courte, Your servyse for to se,250 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,255 As I am wonte to done."

"Haste thou ony grene cloth," sayd our kynge, "That thou wylte sell now to me?" "Ye, for god," sayd Robyn, "Thyrty yerdes and thre." "Robyn," sayd our kynge,5 "Now pray I the, To sell me some of that cloth, To me and my meynè." "Yes, for god," then sayd Robyn, "Or elles I were a fole;10 Another day ye wyll me clothe, I trowe, ayenst the Yole." The kynge kest of his cote then, A grene garment he dyde on, And every knyght did so, i-wys,15 They clothed them full soone. Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene, They kest away theyr graye; "Now we shall to Notyngham," All thus our kynge gan say.20 Theyr bowes bente and forth they went, Shotynge all in-fere, Towarde the towne of Notyngham, Outlawes as they were. Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,25 For soth as I you say, And they shote plucke-buffet, As they went by the way. And many a buffet our kynge wan Of Robyn Hode that day;30 And nothynge spared good Robyn Our kynge in his pay. "So god me helpe," sayd our kynge, "Thy game is nought to lere; I sholde not get a shote of the,35 Though I shote all this yere." All the people of Notyngham They stode and behelde; They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene That covered all the felde.40 Than every man to other gan say, "I drede our kynge be slone; Come Robyn Hode to the towne i-wys, On lyve he leveth not one." Full hastly they began to fle,45 Both yemen and knaves, And olde wyves that myght evyll goo, They hypped on theyr staves. The kynge loughe full fast, And commanded theym agayne;50 When they se our comly kynge, I-wys they were full fayne. They ete and dranke, and made them glad, And sange with notes hye; Than bespake our comly kynge55 To syr Rycharde at the Lee. He gave hym there his londe agayne, A good man he bad hym be; Robyn thanked our comly kynge, And set hym on his kne.60 Had Robyn dwelled in the kynges courte But twelve monethes and thre, That he had spent an hondred pounde, And all his mennes fe. In every place where Robyn came65 Evermore he layde downe, Both for knyghtes and for squyres, To gete hym grete renowne. By than the yere was all agone He had no man but twayne,70 Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke, Wyth hym all for to gone. Robyn sawe yonge men shote, Full fayre upon a day; "Alas!" than sayd good Robyn,75 "My welthe is went away. "Somtyme I was an archere good, A styffe and eke a stronge; I was commytted the best archere That was in mery Englonde.80 "Alas!" then sayd good Robyn, "Alas and well a woo! Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge, Sorowe wyll me sloo." Forth than went Robyn Hode85 Tyll he came to our kynge; "My lorde the kynge of Englonde, Graunte me myn askynge. "I made a chapell in Bernysdale, That semely is to se,90 It is of Mary Magdalene, And thereto wolde I be. "I myght never in this seven nyght No tyme to slepe ne wynke, Nother all these seven dayes95 Nother ete ne drynke. "Me longeth sore to Bernysdale, I may not be therfro; Barefote and wolwarde I have hyght Thyder for to go."100 "Yf it be so," than sayd our kynge, "It may no better be; Seven nyght I gyve the leve, No lengre, to dwell fro me." "Gramercy, lorde," then sayd Robyn,105 And set hym on his kne; He toke his leve full courteysly, To grene wode then went he. Whan he came to grene wode, In a mery mornynge,110 There he herde the notes small Of byrdes mery syngynge. "It is ferre gone," sayd Robyn, "That I was last here; Me lyste a lytell for to shote115 At the donne dere." Robyn slewe a full grete harte, His horne than gan he blow, That all the outlawes of that forèst, That horne coud they knowe120 And gadred them togyder, In a lytell throwe; Seven score of wight yonge men Came redy on a rowe, And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,125 And set them on theyr kne: "Welcome," they sayd, "our maystèr, Under this grene wode tre." Robyn dwelled in grene wode Twenty yere and two;130 For all drede of Edwarde our kynge, Agayne wolde he not goo. Yet he was begyled, i-wys, Through a wycked womàn, The pryoresse of Kyrkesly,135 That nye was of hys kynne; For the love of a knyght, Syr Roger of Donkestèr, That was her owne speciall, Full evyll mote they fare.140 They toke togyder theyr counsell Robyn Hode for to sle, And how they myght best do that dede, His banis for to be. Than bespake good Robyn,145 In place where as he stode, "Tomorow I muste to Kyrkesley, Craftely to be leten blode." Syr Roger of Donkestere, By the pryoresse he lay,150 And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode, Through theyr false playe. Cryst have mercy on his soule, That dyed on the rode! For he was a good outlawe,155 And dyde pore men moch god.

'With loynes in canvas bow-case tyde, Where arrowes stick with mickle pride; Like ghosts of Adam Bell and Clymme; Sol sits for fear they'l shoot at him.'—

"The father of Robin a forrester was, And he shot in a lusty strong bow Two north-country miles and an inch at a shot, As the Pinder of Wakefield does know. For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh, And William of Clowdesle To shoot with our forrester for forty mark, And the forrester beat them all three."

Mery it was in grene forest, Amonge the leues grene, Wher that men walke east and west, With bowes and arrowes kene, To ryse the dere out of theyr denne,—5 Such sightes hath ofte bene sene,— As by thre yemen of the north countrey, By them it is I meane. The one of them hight Adam Bel, The other Clym of the Clough,10 The thyrd was William of Cloudesly, An archer good ynough. They were outlawed for venyson, These yemen everechone; They swore them brethren upon a day,15 To Englysshe-wood for to gone. Now lith and lysten, gentylmen, That of myrthes loveth to here: Two of them were single men, The third had a wedded fere.20 Wyllyam was the wedded man, Muche more then was hys care: He sayde to hys brethren upon a day, To Carelel he would fare, For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife,25 And with hys chyldren thre. "By my trouth," sayde Adam Bel, "Not by the counsell of me. "For if ye go to Caerlel, brother, And from thys wylde wode wende,30 If the justice mai you take, Your lyfe were at an ende." "If that I come not tomorowe, brother, By pryme to you agayne, Truste not els but that I am take,35 Or else that I am slayne." He toke hys leave of his brethren two, And to Carlel he is gon; There he knocked at hys owne windowe, Shortlye and anone.40 "Where be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe, And my chyldren three? Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbande, Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." "Alas!" then sayde fayre Alyce,45 And syghed wonderous sore, "Thys place hath ben besette for you, Thys half yere and more." "Now am I here," sayde Cloudeslè, "I woulde that I in were:—50 Now feche us meate and drynke ynoughe, And let us make good chere." She fetched him meat and drynke plenty, Lyke a true wedded wyfe, And pleased hym wyth that she had,55 Whome she loved as her lyfe. There lay an old wyfe in that place, A lytle besyde the fyre, Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye, More then seven yere.60 Up she rose and walked full styll, Evel mote she spede therefoore, For she had not set no fote on ground In seven yere before. She went unto the justice hall,65 As fast as she could hye; "Thys nyght is come unto this town Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." Thereof the iustice was full fayne, And so was the shirife also;70 "Thou shalt not travaile hether, dame, for nought, Thy meed thou shalt have or thou go." They gave to her a ryght good goune, Of scarlat it was, as I heard sayne; She toke the gyft and home she wente,75 And couched her downe agayne. They rysed the towne of mery Carlel, In all the hast that they can, And came thronging to Wyllyames house, As fast as they myght gone.80 Theyr they besette that good yeman, Round about on every syde, Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes, That heytherward they hyed. Alyce opened a shot-wyndow,85 And loked all about, She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe, Wyth a full great route. "Alas! treason," cry'd Aleyce. "Ever wo may thou be!90 Go into my chambre, my husband," she sayd, "Swete Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." He toke hys sweard and hys bucler, Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre, And wente into hys strongest chamber,95 Where he thought surest to be. Fayre Alice folowed him as a lover true, With a pollaxe in her hande; "He shal be dead that here cometh in Thys dore, whyle I may stand."100 Cloudeslè bent a wel good bowe, That was of trusty tre, He smot the justise on the brest, That hys arrowe brest in thre. "God's curse on his hartt," saide William,105 "Thys day thy cote dyd on; If it had ben no better then myne, It had gone nere thy bone." "Yelde the, Cloudeslè," sayd the justise, "And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro:"110 "Gods curse on hys hart," sayde fair Alice, "That my husband councelleth so." "Set fyre on the house," saide the sherife, "Syth it wyll no better be, And brenne we therin William," he saide,115 "Hys wyfe and chyldren thre." They fyred the house in many a place, The fyre flew up on hye; "Alas!" then cryed fayr Alice, "I se we here shall dy."120 William openyd hys backe wyndow, That was in hys chambre on hye, And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe, And hys chyldren thre. "Have here my treasure," sayde William,125 "My wyfe and my chyldren thre, For Christes love do them no harme, But wreke you all on me." Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, Tyll hys arrowes were all ygo,130 And the fyre so fast upon hym fell, That hys bowstryng brent in two. The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudeslè! But than wax he a wofull man,135 And sayde, "thys is a cowardes death to me. "Leuer I had," sayde Wyllyam, "With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne ennemyes wode, Thus cruelly to bren."140 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, And among them all he ran; Where the people were most in prece, He smot downe many a man. There myght no man stand hys stroke,145 So fersly on them he ran; Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, And so toke that good yemàn. There they hym bounde both hande and fote, And in depe dongeon hym cast;150 "Now, Cloudeslè," sayd the hye justice, "Thou shalt be hanged in hast." "One vow shal I make," sayd the sherife, "A payre of newe galowes shall I for the make, And the gates of Caerlel shal be shutte,155 There shall no man come in therat. "Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe, Nor yet shall Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the devels in hell."160 Early in the mornyng the justice uprose, To the gates first gan he gon, And commaundede to be shut full cloce Lightilè everychone. Then went he to the market place,165 As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallous there did he up set, Besyde the pyllory. A lytle boy stod them amonge, And asked what meaned that gallow tre;170 They sayde, "to hange a good yeamàn, Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyce swyne, Oft he had seene Cloudeslè in the wodde,175 And geuen hym there to dyne. He went out att a creves in the wall, And lightly to the wood dyd gone; There met he with these wight yonge men, Shortly and anone.180 "Alas!" then sayde that lytle boye, "Ye tary here all to longe; Cloudeslè is taken and dampned to death, All readye for to honge." "Alas!" then sayde good Adam Bell,185 "That ever we see thys daye! He myght her with us have dwelled, So ofte as we dyd him praye! "He myght have taryed in grene foreste, Under the shadowes sheene,190 And have kepte both hym and us in reaste, Out of trouble and teene!" Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great hart sone had he slayne; "Take that, chylde," he sayde, "to thy dynner, And bryng me myne arrowe agayne."196 "Now go we hence," sayed these wight yong men, "Tary we no lenger here; We shall hym borowe, by gods grace, Though we bye it full dere."200 To Caerlel went these good yemèn, On a mery mornyng of Maye: Here is a fyt of Cloudesli, And another is for to saye.

And when they came to mery Caerlell, In a fayre mornyng tyde, They founde the gates shut them untyll, Round about on every syde. "Alas!" than sayd good Adam Bell,5 "That ever we were made men! These gates be shut so wonderly wel, That we may not come here in." Then spake him Clym of the Clough, "Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng;10 Let us saye we be messengers, Streyght comen from our king." Adam said, "I have a letter written wel, Now let us wysely werke; We wyl saye we have the kinges seale,15 I holde the portter no clerke." Then Adam Bell bete on the gate, With strokes great and strong; The porter herde suche noyse therat, And to the gate faste he throng.20 "Who is there nowe," sayde the porter, "That maketh all thys knocking? "We be tow messengers," sayde Clim of the Clough, "Be comen streyght from our kyng." "We haue a letter," sayd Adam Bel,25 "To the justice we must it bryng; Let us in, our messag to do, That we were agayne to our kyng." "Here commeth no man in," sayd the porter, "By hym that dyed on a tre,30 Tyll a false thefe be hanged, Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough, And swore by Mary fre, "And if that we stande longe wythout,35 Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be. "Lo here we have the kynges seale; What! lordeyne, art thou wode?" The porter went it had ben so, And lyghtly dyd of hys hode.40 "Welcome be my lordes seale," he saide, "For that ye shall come in:" He opened the gate full shortlye, An evyl openyng for him. "Now are we in," sayde Adam Bell,45 "Thereof we are full faine, But Christ knoweth that harowed hell, How we shall com out agayne." "Had we the keys," said Clim of the Clough, "Ryght wel then shoulde we spede;50 Then might we come out wel ynough, "When we se tyme and nede." They called the porter to a counsell, And wrange hys necke in two, And caste him in a depe dongeòn,55 And toke hys keys hym fro. "Now am I porter," sayde Adam Bel, "Se, brother, the keys haue we here; The worst porter to merry Caerlel, That ye had thys hundred yere.60 "And now wyll we our bowes bend, Into the towne wyll we go, For to delyver our dere brother, That lyveth in care and wo." [And thereupon] they bent theyr bowes,65 And loked theyr stringes were round; The market place of mery Caerlel, They beset in that stound. And as they loked them besyde, A paire of new galowes ther thei see,70 And the justice with a quest of swerers, That had judged Cloudeslè there hanged to be. And Cloudeslè hymselfe lay redy in a carte, Faste bounde both fote and hand, And a stronge rop about hys necke,75 All readye for to be hangde. The justice called to him a ladde, Cloudeslè [s] clothes should he have, To take the measure of that good yeman, And therafter to make hys grave.80 "I have seen as great a mearveile," said Cloudesli, "As betwyene thys and pryme, He that maketh thys grave for me, Himselfe may lye therin." "Thou speakest proudli," saide the justice,85 "I shall the hange with my hande:" Full wel that herd hys brethren two, There styll as they dyd stande. Then Cloudeslè cast hys eyen asyde, And saw hys to brethren stande,90 At a corner of the market place, With theyr good bows bent in ther hand. "I se good comfort," sayd Cloudeslè, "Yet hope I well to fare; If I might haue my handes at wyll,95 Ryght lytle wolde I care." Then spake good Adam Bell, To Clym of the Clough so free, "Brother, se ye marke the justyce wel, Lo yonder ye may him see.100 "And at the shyrife shote I wyll, Strongly with an arrowe kene; A better shote in mery Caerlel Thys seven yere was not sene." They lowsed their arrowes both at once,105 Of no man had they dread; The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe, That both theyr sides gan blede. All men voyded, that them stode nye, When the justice fell downe to the grounde, And the sherife fell nyghe hym by,111 Eyther had his deathes wounde. All the citezens fast gan flye, They durst no longer abyde; Then lyghtly they loused Cloudeslè,115 When he with ropes lay tyde. Wyllyam sterte to an officer of the towne, Hys axe out of hys hande he wronge, On eche syde he smote them downe, Hym thought he taryed all to long.120 Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two, "Thys daye let us togyder lyve and dye; If ever you have nede as I have now, The same shall you fynde by me." They shot so well in that tyde,125 For theyr stringes were of silke full sure, That they kept the stretes on every side: That batayle dyd longe endure. The[y] fought together as brethren tru, Lyke hardy men and bolde;130 Many a man to the ground they thrue, And many a herte made colde. But when their arrowes were all gon, Men preced on them full fast; They drew theyr swordes then anone,135 And theyr bowes from them cast. They went lyghtlye on theyr way, Wyth swordes and buclers round; By that it was the myddes of the day, They had made mani a wound.140 There was many an out-horne in Caerlel blowen, And the belles bacward did they ryng; Many a woman sayd alas, And many theyr handes dyd wryng. The mayre of Caerlel forth com was,145 And with hym a ful great route; These thre yemen dred him full sore, For of theyr lyues they stode in great doute. The mayre came armed a full great pace, With a pollaxe in hys hande;150 Many a strong man with him was, There in that stowre to stande. The mayre smot at Cloudeslè with his bil, Hys bucler he brust in two; Full many a yeman with great yll,155 "Alas, treason!" they cryed for wo. "Kepe we the gates fast" they bad, "That these traytours thereout not go." But al for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde,160 Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought, Were gotten without at a braide. "Have here your keys," sayd Adam Bel, "Myne office I here forsake; Yf you do by my councèll,165 A new porter do ye make." He threw the keys there at theyr heads, And bad them evell to thryve, And all that letteth any good yeman To come and comfort hys wyfe.170 Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod, As lyght as lefe on lynde; They lough and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr ennemyes were ferre behynd. When they came to Englyshe wode,175 Under the trysty tre, There they found bowes full good, And arrowes full great plentye. "So God me help," sayd Adam Bell, And Clym of the Clough so fre,180 "I would we were nowe in mery Caerlel, Before that fayre meyny." They set them downe and made good chere, And eate and drank full well: Here is a fet of these wyght yong men,185 And another I shall you tell.

'Redy the justice for to chaunce', (chase, C.)

As they sat in Englyshe-wood, Under theyr trysty tre, Them thought they herd a woman wepe, But her they mought not se. Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce, And sayde, "Alas that ever I sawe this daye! For now is my dere husband slayne, Alas and wel a way! "Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren, Or with eyther of them twayne,10 [To let them know what him befell] My hart were out of payne!" Cloudeslè walked a lytle besyde, And loked under the grenewood linde; He was ware of hys wife and chyldren thre,15 Full wo in hart and mynde. "Welcome, wife," then sayde Wyllyam, "Under this trysty tre; I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John, Thou shulde me never have se."20 "Now well is me," she sayde, "that ye be here, My hart is out of wo:" "Dame," he sayde, "be mery and glad, And thank my brethren two." "Hereof to speake," sayd Adam Bell,25 "I-wis it is no bote; The meat that we must supp withall It runneth yet fast on fote." Then went they down into a launde, These noble archares all thre,30 Eche of them slew a hart of greece, The best they could there se. "Have here the best, Alyce my wife," Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslè, "By cause ye so bouldly stod by me,35 When I was slayne full nye." Then went they to supper, Wyth suche meat as they had, And thanked God of ther fortune; They were both mery and glad.40 And when they had supped well, Certayne without any leace, Cloudeslè sayd, "We wyll to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace. "Alyce shall be at sojournyng,45 In a nunry here besyde; My tow sonnes shall wyth her go, And ther they shall abyde. "Myne eldest son shall go wyth me, For hym have I no care,50 And he shall breng you worde agayn How that we do fare." Thus be these yemen to London gone, As fast as they might hye, Tyll they came to the kynges pallace,55 Where they woulde nedes be. And whan they came to the kynges courte, Unto the pallace gate, Of no man wold they aske no leave, But boldly went in therat.60 They preced prestly into the hall, Of no man had they dreade; The porter came after and dyd them call, And with them began to chyde. The ussher sayed, "Yemen, what wold ye haue? I pray you tell me;66 You myght thus make offycers shent: Good syrs, of whence be ye?" "Syr, we be outlawes of the forest, Certayne without any leace,70 And hether we be come to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace." And whan they came before the kyng, As it was the lawe of the lande, The[y] kneled downe without lettyng,75 And eche held up his hand. The[y] sayed, "Lord, we beseche the here, That ye wyll graunt us grace, For we haue slaine your fat falow der, In many a sondry place."80 "What be your nam[e]s?" then said our king, "Anone that you tell me: They sayd, "Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." "Be ye those theves," then sayd our kyng,85 "That men have tolde of to me? Here to god I make a vowe, Ye shal be hanged al thre. "Ye shal be dead without mercy, As I am kynge of this lande."90 He commanded his officers everichone Fast on them to lay hand. There they toke these good yemen, And arested them all thre: "So may I thryve," sayd Adam Bell,95 "Thys game lyketh not me. "But, good lorde, we beseche you now, That you graunt vs grace, Insomuche as we be to you comen, Or els that we may fro you passe,100 "With such weapons as we have here, Tyll we be out of your place; And yf we lyve this hundreth yere, We wyll aske you no grace." "Ye speake proudly," sayd the kynge,105 "Ye shall be hanged all thre:" "That were great pitye," then sayd the quene, "If any grace myght be. "My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande, To be your wedded wyfe,110 The fyrst bowne that I wold aske, Ye would graunt it me belyfe; "And I asked never none tyll now, Therefore, good lorde, graunte it me." "Now aske it, madam," sayd the kynge,115 "And graunted shall it be." "Then, my good lord, I you beseche, These yemen graunt ye me:" "Madame, ye myght have asked a bowne That shuld have ben worth them all thre.120 "Ye myght have asked towres and town[es], Parkes and forestes plenty." "None so pleasaunt to mi pay," she said, "Nor none so lefe to me." "Madame, sith it is your desyre,125 Your askyng graunted shal be; But I had lever have geven you Good market townes thre." The quene was a glad woman, And sayd, "Lord, gramarcy;130 I dare undertake for them, That true men shal they be. "But, good lord, speke som mery word, That comfort they may se." "I graunt you grace," then said our king,135 "Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye." They had not setten but a whyle, Certayne without lesynge, There came messengers out of the north, With letters to our kynge.140 And whan the[y] came before the kynge, They kneled downe vpon theyr kne, And sayd, "Lord, your offycers grete you wel, Of Caerlel in the north cuntrè." "How fare[s] my justice," sayd the kyng,145 "And my sherife also?" "Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge, And many an officer mo." "Who hath them slayne?" sayd the kyng, "Anone thou tell me:"150 "Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." "Alas for rewth!" then sayd our kynge, "My hart is wonderous sore; I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde,155 I had knowne of thys before. "For I have graunted them grace, And that forthynketh me, But had I knowne all thys before, They had been hanged all thre."160 The kyng opened the letter anone, Hymselfe he red it th[r]o, And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine Thre hundred men and mo. Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe,165 And the mayre of Caerlel towne; Of all the constables and catchipolles Alyve were left not one. The baylyes and the bedyls both, And the sergeauntes of the law,170 And forty fosters of the fe, These outlawes had yslaw, And broke his parks, and slaine his dere; Over all they chose the best; So perelous outlawes as they were,175 Walked not by easte nor west. When the kynge this letter had red, In hys harte he syghed sore; "Take vp the table anone," he bad, "For I may eate no more."180 The kyng called hys best archars, To the buttes with hym to go; "I wylle se these felowes shote," he sayd, In the north have wrought this wo." The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,185 And the quenes archers also, So dyd these thre wyght yemèn, Wyth them they thought to go. There twyse or thryse they shote about, For to assay theyr hande;190 There was no shote these yemen shot, That any prycke might them stand. Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè, "By him that for me dyed, I hold hym never no good archar195 That shuteth at buttes so wyde." "Wherat?" then sayd our kyng, "I pray thee tell me:" "At such a but, syr," he sayd, "As men use in my countree."200 Wyllyam went into a fyeld, And his to brethren with him, There they set vp to hasell roddes, Twenty score paces betwene. "I hold him an archar," said Cloudeslè,205 "That yonder wande cleveth in two:" "Here is none suche," sayd the kyng, "Nor none that can so do." "I shall assaye, syr," sayd Cloudeslè, "Or that I farther go:"210 Cloudeslè, with a bearyng arow, Clave the wand in to. "Thou art the best archer," then said the king, "Forsothe that ever I se:" "And yet for your love," said Wylliam,215 "I wyll do more maystry. "I have a sonne is seven yere olde, He is to me full deare; I wyll hym tye to a stake, All shall se that be here;220 "And lay an apele upon hys head, And go syxe score paces hym fro, And I myselfe, with a brode arow, Shall cleve the apple in two." "Now haste the," then sayd the kyng,225 "By him that dyed on a tre; But yf thou do not as thou hast sayde, Hanged shalt thou be. "And thou touche his head or gowne, In syght that men may se,230 By all the sayntes that be in heaven, I shall hange you all thre." "That I have promised," said William, "I wyl it never forsake;" And there even before the kynge,235 In the earth he droue a stake, And bound therto his eldest sonne, And bad hym stande styll therat, And turned the childes face fro him, Because he shuld not sterte.240 An apple upon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent; Syxe score paces they were out met, And thether Cloudeslè went. There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,245 Hys bowe was great and longe, He set that arrowe in his bowe, That was both styffe and stronge. He prayed the people that was there, That they would styll stande,250 "For he that shooteth for such a wager, Behoveth a stedfast hand." Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè, That hys lyfe saved myght be, And whan he made hym redy to shote,255 There was many a weping eye. Thus Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two, That many a man myght se; "Over gods forbode," sayde the kynge, "That thou shote at me!260 "I geve the xviii. pence a day, And my bowe shalt thou beare, And over all the north countre, I make the chyfe rydere." "And I geve the xvii. pence a day," said the quene,265 "By god and by my fay; Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, No man shall say the nay. "Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman, Of clothyng and of fe,270 And thi two brethren yemen of my chambre, For they are so semely to se. "Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, Of my wyne-seller shall he be, And whan he commeth to mannes estate,275 Better avaunced shall he be. "And, Wylliam, bring me your wife," said the quene, Me longeth her sore to se; She shal be my chefe gentelwoman, To governe my nursery."280 The yemen thanketh them full curteously, And sayde, "To some bysshop wyl we wend, Of all the synnes that we have done To be assoyld at his hand." So forth be gone these good yemen,285 As fast as they myght hye, And after came and dwelled with the kynge, And dyed good men all thre. Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen, God send them eternall blysse,290 And all that with hande bowe shoteth, That of heaven may never mysse!

"Was nevir weild Robeine under bewch, Nor yitt Roger of Clekkislewch, So bauld a bairne as he; Gy of Gysburne, na Allane Bell, Na Simones sones of Quhynsell, Off thocht war nevir so slie."

When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walkyng in the fayre forrèst, To heare the small birdes songe. The woodweele sang, and wold not cease,5 Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he wakened Robìn Hood, In the greenwood where he lay. "Now, by my faye," sayd jollye Robìn, "A sweaven I had this night;10 I dreamt me of tow wight yemèn, That fast with me can fight. "Methought they did mee beate and binde, And tooke my bowe mee froe; Iff I be Robin alive in this lande,15 Ile be wroken on them towe." "Sweavens are swift, master," quoth John, "As the wind that blowes ore a hill; For iff itt be never so loude this night, To-morrow itt may be still."20 "Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, And John shall goe with mee, For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomèn, In greenwood where they bee." Then they cast on their gownes of grene,25 And tooke theyr bowes each one; And they away to the greene forrèst A shooting forth are gone; Until they came to the merry greenwood, Where they had gladdest bee;30 There were they ware of a wight yeomàn, His body leaned to a tree. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, Of manye a man the bane; And he was clad in his capull hyde,35 Topp and tayll and mayne. "Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John, "Under this tree so grene, And I will go to yond wight yeomàn, To know what he doth meane."40 "Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store, And that I farley finde: How offt send I my men beffore, And tarry my selfe behinde? "It is no cunning a knave to ken,45 And a man but heare him speake; And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, John, I thy head wold breake." As often wordes they breeden bale, So they parted Robin and John;50 And John is gone to Barnesdale; The gates he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale, Great heavinesse there hee hadd, For he found tow of his owne fellòwes,55 Were slaine both in a slade. And Scarlette he was flying a-foote Fast over stocke and stone, For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone.60 "One shoote now I will shoote," quoth John, "With Christ his might and mayne; Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne." Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,65 And fetteled him to shoote: The bowe was made of tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. "Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, That ere thou grew on a tree!70 For now this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee." His shoote it was but loosely shott, Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine, For itt mett one of the sheriffes men,75 Good William a Trent was slaine. It had bene better of William a Trent To have bene abed with sorrowe, Than to be that day in the greenwood slade To meet with Little Johns arrowe.80 But as it is said, when men be mett Fyve can doe more than three, The sheriffe hath taken Little John, And bound him fast to a tree. "Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,85 And hanged hye on a hill;" "But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose," quoth John, "If itt be Christ his will." Lett us leave talking of Little John, And thinke of Robin Hood,90 How he is gone to the wight yeomàn, Where under the leaves he stood. "Good morrowe, good fellowe," sayd Robin so fayre, "Good morrowe, good fellow, quoth he: Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande, A good archere thou sholdst bee."96 "I am wilfulle of my waye," quo' the yemàn, "And of my morning tyde:" "Ile lead thee through the wood," sayd Robin, "Good, fellow, Ile be thy guide."100 "I seeke an outlawe," the straunger sayd, "Men call him Robin Hood: Rather Ild meet with that proud outlawe Than fortye pound soe good." "Now come with me, thou wight yemàn,105 And Robin thou soone shalt see; But first let us some pastime find Under the greenwood tree. "First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even;110 We may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here att some unsett steven." They cutt them downe two summer shroggs, That grew both under a breere, And sett them threescore rood in twaine,115 To shoote the prickes y-fere. "Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood, "Leade on, I do bidd thee;" "Nay, by my faith, good fellowe," hee sayd, "My leader thou shalt bee."120 The first time Robin shot at the pricke, He mist but an inch it fro; The yeoman was an archer good, But he cold never shoote soe. The second shoote had the wighte yemàn,125 He shote within the garlànde; But Robin he shott far better than hee, For he clave the good pricke-wande. "A blessing upon thy heart," he sayd, "Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode;130 For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better then Robin Hoode. "Now tell me thy name, good fellowe," sayd he, "Under the leaves of lyne;" "Nay, by my faith," quoth bolde Robin,135 "Till thou have told me thine." "I dwell by dale and downe," quoth hee, "And Robin to take Ime sworne; And when I am called by my right name, I am Guye of good Gisbòrne."140 "My dwelling is in this wood," sayes Robin, "By thee I set right nought: I am Robin Hood of Barnésdale, Whom thou so long hast sought." He that had nether beene kithe nor kin145 Might have seene a full fayre fight, To see how together these yeomen went With blades both browne and bright: To see how these yeomen together they fought Two howres of a summers day,150 Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy Them fettled to flye away. Robin was reachles on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde; And Guy was quicke and nimble withall,155 And hitt him ore the left side. "Ah, deere Ladye," sayd Robin Hood tho, "Thou art both mother and may; I think it was never mans destinye To dye before his day."160 Robin thought on our ladye deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with an awkwarde stroke, And he sir Guy hath slayne. He took sir Guys head by the hayre,165 And sticked itt on his bowes end: "Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must have an end." Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked sir Guy in the face,170 That he was never on woman born Cold tell whose head it was. Sayes, "Lye there, lye there now, sir Guye, And with me be not wrothe; Iff thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, Thou shalt have the better clothe."176 Robin did off his gowne of greene, And on sir Guy did it throwe, And hee put on that capull hyde, That cladd him topp to toe.180 "The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne, Now with me I will beare; For I will away to Barnésdale, To see how my men doe fare." Robin Hood sett Guyes horne to his mouth,185 And a loud blast in it did blow: That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, As he leaned under a lowe. "Hearken, hearken," sayd the sheriffe, "I heare nowe tydings good,190 For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. "Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, And yonder comes that wight yeomàn,195 Cladd in his capull hyde. "Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy, Aske what thou wilt of mee:" "O I will none of thy gold," sayd Robin, "Nor I will none of thy fee.200 "But now I have slaine the master," he sayes, "Let me goe strike the knave; This is all the rewarde I aske, Nor noe other will I have." "Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe,205 "Thou sholdest have had a knights fee; But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad, Well granted it shale be." When Litle John heard his master speake, Well knewe he it was his steven;210 "Now shall I be looset," quoth Litle John, "With Christ his might in heaven." Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, He thought to loose him belive: The sheriffe and all his companye215 Fast after him did drive. "Stand abacke, stand abacke," sayd Robin, "Why draw you mee soe neere? It was never the use in our countrye, Ones shrift another shold heere."220 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife, And losed John hand and foote, And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand, And bade it be his boote. Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand,225 His boltes and arrowes eche one: When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow, He fettled him to be gone. Towards his house in Nottingham towne He fled full fast away,230 And soe did all the companye, Not one behind wold stay. But he cold neither runne soe fast, Nor away soe fast cold ryde, But Litle John with an arrowe soe broad235 He shott him into the backe-syde.

O Willie's large o' limb and lith, And come o' high degree; And he is gone to Earl Richard To serve for meat and fee. Earl Richard had but ae daughter,5 Fair as a lily flower; And they made up their love-contract Like proper paramour. It fell upon a simmers nicht, Whan the leaves were fair and green,10 That Willie met his gay ladie Intil the wood alane. "O narrow is my gown, Willie, That wont to be sae wide; And gane is a' my fair colour,15 That wont to be my pride. "But gin my father should get word What's past between us twa, Before that he should eat or drink, He'd hang you o'er that wa.20 "But ye'le come to my bower, Willie, Just as the sun goes down; And kep me in your arms twa, And latna me fa' down." O whan the sun was now gane down,25 He's doen him till her bower; And there, by the lee licht o' the moon, Her window she lookit o'er. Intill a robe o' red scarlet She lap, fearless o' harm;30 And Willie was large o' lith and limb, And keepit her in his arm. And they've gane to the gude green-wood, And ere the night was deen, She's borne to him a bonny young son,35 Amang the leaves sae green. Whan night was gane, and day was come, And the sun began to peep, Up and raise the Earl Richard Out o' his drowsy sleep.40 He's ca'd upon his merry young men, By ane, by twa, and by three, "O what's come o' my daughter dear, That she's nae come to me? "I dreamt a dreary dream last night,45 God grant it come to gude! I dreamt I saw my daughter dear Drown in the saut sea flood. "But gin my daughter be dead or sick, Or yet be stown awa,50 I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true, I'll hang ye ane and a!" They sought her back, they sought her fore, They sought her up and down; They got her in the gude green wood,55 Nursing her bonny young son. He took the bonny boy in his arms, And kist him tenderlie; Says, "Though I would your father hang, Your mother's dear to me."60 He kist him o'er and o'er again; "My grandson I thee claim; And Robin Hood in gude green wood, And that shall be your name." And mony ane sings o' grass, o' grass,65 And mony ane sings o' corn; And mony ane sings o' Robin Hood, Kens little whare he was born. It was na in the ha', the ha', Nor in the painted bower;70 But it was in the gude green wood, Amang the lily flower.