Volume 5 / Book 5 — BOOK V.
Reading edition
ROBIN HOOD.
There is no one of the royal heroes of England that enjoys a more enviable reputation than the bold outlaw of Barnsdale and Sherwood. His chance for a substantial immortality is at least as good as that of stout Lion Heart, wild Prince Hal, or merry Charles. His fame began with the yeomanry full five hundred years ago, was constantly increasing for two or three centuries, has extended to all classes of society, and, with some changes of aspect, is as great as ever. Bishops sheriffs, and game-keepers, the only enemies he ever had, have relinquished their ancient grudges, and Englishmen would be almost as loath to surrender his exploits as any part of the national glory. His free life in the woods, his unerring eye and strong arm, his open hand and love of fair-play, his never-forgotten courtesy, his respect for women and devotion to Mary, form a picture eminently healthful and agreeable to the imagination, and commend him to the hearty favor of all genial minds.
But securely established as Robin Hood is in popular esteem, his historical position is by no means well ascertained, and his actual existence has been a subject of shrewd doubt and discussion. "A tale of Robin Hood"[1] is an old proverb for the idlest of stories, yet all the materials at our command for making up an opinion on these questions are precisely of this description. They consist, that is to say, in a few ballads of unknown antiquity. These ballads, or others like them, are clearly the authority upon which the statements of the earlier chroniclers who take notice of Robin Hood are founded. They are also, to all appearances, the original source of the numerous and widespread traditions concerning him; which, unless the contrary can be shown, must be regarded, after what we have observed in similar cases, as having been suggested by the very legends to which, in the vulgar belief, they afford an irresistible confirmation.
Various periods, ranging from the time of Richard the First to near the end of the reign of Edward the Second, have been selected by different writers as the age of Robin Hood; but (excepting always the most ancient ballads, which may possibly be placed within these limits) no mention whatever is made of him in literature before the latter half of the reign of Edward the Third. "Rhymes of Robin Hood"[2] are then spoken of by the author of Piers Ploughman, (assigned to about 1362,) as better known to idle fellows than pious songs, and from the manner of the allusion it is a just inference that such rhymes were at that time no novelties. The next notice is in Wyntown's Scottish Chronicle, written about 1420, where the following lines occur—without any connection, and in the form of an entry—under the year 1283.
"Lytil Jhon and Robyne Hude Waythmen ware commendyd gude: In Yngilwode and Barnysdale Thai oysyd all this time thare trawale."[3]
At last we encounter Robin Hood in what may be called history; first of all in a passage of the Scotichronicon, often quoted, and highly curious as containing the earliest theory upon this subject. The Scotichronicon was written partly by Fordun, canon of Aberdeen, between 1377 and 1384, and partly by his pupil Bower, abbot of St. Columba, about 1450. Fordun has the character of a man of judgment and research, and any statement or opinion delivered by him would be entitled to respect. Of Bower, not so much can be said. He largely interpolated the work of his master, and sometimes with the absurdest fictions.[4] Among his interpolations,[5] and forming, it is important to observe, no part of the original text, is a passage translated as follows.[6] It is inserted immediately after Fordun's account of the defeat of Simon de Montfort, and the punishments inflicted on his adherents.
"At this time, (sc. 1266,) from the number of those who had been deprived of their estates, arose the celebrated bandit Robert Hood (with Little John and their accomplices) whose achievements the foolish vulgar delight to celebrate in comedies and tragedies, while the ballads upon his adventures sung by the jesters and minstrels are preferred to all others.
"Some things to his honor are also related, as appears from this. Once on a time, when, having incurred the anger of the king and the prince, he could hear mass nowhere but in Barnsdale, while he was devoutly occupied with the service, (for this was his wont, nor would he ever suffer it to be interrupted for the most pressing occasion,) he was surprised by a certain sheriff and officers of the king, who had often troubled him before, in the secret place in the woods where he was engaged in worship as aforesaid. Some of his men, who had taken the alarm, came to him and begged him to fly with all speed. This, out of reverence for the host, which he was then most devoutly adoring, he positively refused to do. But while the rest of his followers were trembling for their lives, Robert, confiding in him whom he worshipped, fell on his enemies with a few who chanced to be with him, and easily got the better of them; and having enriched himself with their plunder and ransom, he was led from that time forth to hold ministers of the church and masses in greater veneration than ever, mindful of the common saying that
"God hears the man who often hears the mass."
In another place Bower writes to the same effect: "In this year (1266) the dispossessed barons of England and the royalists were engaged in fierce hostilities. Among the former, Roger Mortimer occupied the Welsh marches, and John Daynil the Isle of Ely. Robert Hood was now living in outlawry among the woodland copses and thickets."[7]
Mair, a Scottish writer of the first quarter of the 16th century, the next historian who takes cognizance of our hero, and the only other that requires any attention, has a passage which may be considered in connection with the foregoing. In his Historia Majoris Brittaniæ, he remarks, under the reign of Richard the First: "About this time [1189-99], as I conjecture, the notorious robbers Robert Hood of England and Little John lurked in the woods, spoiling the goods only of rich men. They slew nobody but those who attacked them, or offered resistance in defence of their property. Robert maintained by his plunder a hundred archers, so skilful in fight that four hundred brave men feared to attack them. He suffered no woman to be maltreated, and never robbed the poor, but assisted them abundantly with the wealth which he took from abbots."
It appears then that contemporaneous history is absolutely silent concerning Robin Hood; that, excepting the casual allusion in Piers Ploughman, he is first mentioned by a rhyming chronicler, who wrote one hundred years after the latest date at which he can possibly be supposed to have lived, and then by two prose chroniclers, who wrote about one hundred and twenty-five years and two hundred years respectively after that date; and it is further manifest that all three of these chroniclers had no other authority for their statements than traditional tales similar to those which have come down to our day.[8] When, therefore, Thierry, relying upon these chronicles and kindred popular legends, unhesitatingly adopts the conjecture of Mair, and describes Robin Hood as the hero of the Saxon serfs, the chief of a troop of Saxon banditti that continued, even to the reign of Coeur de Lion, a determined resistance against the Norman invaders,[9] and when another able and plausible writer accepts and maintains, with equal confidence, the hypothesis of Bower, and exhibits the renowned outlaw as an adherent of Simon de Montfort, who, after the fatal battle of Evesham, kept up a vigorous guerilla warfare against the officers of the tyrant Henry the Third, and of his successor,[10] we must regard these representations which were conjectural three or four centuries ago, as conjectures still, and even as arbitrary conjectures, unless one or the other can be proved from the only authorities we have, the ballads, to have a peculiar intrinsic probability. That neither of them possesses this intrinsic probability may easily be shown, but first it will be advisable to notice another theory, which is more plausibly founded on internal evidence, and claims to be confirmed by documents of unimpeachable validity.
This theory has been propounded by the Rev. John Hunter, in one of his Critical and Historical Tracts.[11] Mr. Hunter admits that Robin Hood "lives only as a hero of song;" that he is not found in authentic contemporary chronicles; and that, when we find him mentioned in history, "the information was derived from the ballads, and is not independent of them or correlative with them." While making these admissions, he accords a considerable degree of credibility to the ballads, and particularly to the Lytell Geste, the last two fits of which he regards as giving a tolerably accurate account of real occurrences.
In this part of the story, King Edward is represented as coming to Nottingham to take Robin Hood. He traverses Lancashire and a part of Yorkshire, and finds his forests nearly stripped of their deer, but can get no trace of the author of these extensive depredations. At last, by the advice of one of his foresters, assuming with several of his knights the dress of a monk, he proceeds from Nottingham to Sherwood, and there soon encounters the object of his search. He submits to plunder as a matter of course, and then announces himself as a messenger sent to invite Robin Hood to the royal presence. The outlaw receives this message with great respect. There is no man in the world, he says, whom he loves so much as his king. The monk is invited to remain and dine; and after the repast, an exhibition of archery is ordered, in which a bad shot is to be punished by a buffet from the hand of the chieftain. Robin having once failed of the mark requests the monk to administer the penalty. He receives a staggering blow, which rouses his suspicions, recognizes the king on an attentive consideration of his countenance, entreats grace for himself and his followers, and is freely pardoned on condition that he and they shall enter into the king's service. To this he agrees, and for fifteen months resides at court. At the end of this time he has lost all his followers but two, and spent all his money, and feels that he shall pine to death with sorrow in such a life. He returns accordingly to the green wood, collects his old followers around him, and for twenty-two years maintains his independence in defiance of the power of Edward.
Without asserting the literal verity of all the particulars of this narrative, Mr. Hunter attempts to show that it contains a substratum of fact. Edward the First, he informs us, was never in Lancashire after he became king, and if Edward the Third was ever there at all, it was not in the early years of his reign. But Edward the Second did make one single progress in Lancashire, and this in the year 1323. During this progress the king spent some time at Nottingham, and took particular note of the condition of his forests, and among these of the forest of Sherwood. Supposing now that the incidents detailed in the Lytell Geste really took place at this time, Robin Hood must have entered into the royal service before the end of the year 1323. It is a singular, and in the opinion of Mr. Hunter a very pregnant coincidence, that, in certain Exchequer documents containing accounts of expenses in the king's household, the name of Robyn Hode (or Robert Hood) is found several times, beginning with the 24th of March, 1324, among the "porters of the chamber" of the king. He received, with Simon Hood and others, the wages of three pence a day. In August of the following year Robin Hood suffers deduction from his pay for non-attendance, his absences grow frequent, and, on the 22d of November, he is discharged with a present of five shillings, "poar cas qil ne poait pluis travailler".[12]
It remains still for Mr. Hunter to account for the existence of a band of seven score of outlaws in the reign of Edward the Second, in or about Yorkshire. The stormy and troublous reigns of the Plantagenets make this a matter of no difficulty. Running his finger down the long list of rebellions and commotions, he finds that early in 1322 England was convulsed by the insurrection of Thomas Earl of Lancaster, the king's near relation, supported by many powerful noblemen. The Earl's chief seat was the castle of Pontefract, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. He is said to have been popular, and it would be a fair inference that many of his troops were raised in this part of England. King Edward easily got the better of the rebels and took exemplary vengeance upon them. Many of the leaders were at once put to death, and the lives of all their partisans were in danger. Is it impossible then, asks Mr. Hunter, that some who had been in the army of the Earl, secreted themselves in the woods and turned their skill in archery against the king's subjects or the king's deer; "that these were the men who for so long a time haunted Barnsdale and Sherwood, and that Robin Hood was one of them, a chief amongst them, being really of a rank originally somewhat superior to the rest?"
We have then three different hypotheses concerning Robin Hood, one placing him in the reign of Richard the First, another in that of Henry the Third, and the last under Edward the Second, and all describing him as a political foe to the established government. To all of these hypotheses there are two very obvious and decisive objections. The first is that Robin Hood, as already remarked, is not so much as named in contemporary history. Whether as the unsubdued leader of the Saxon peasantry, or insurgent against the tyranny of Henry or Edward, it is inconceivable that we should not hear something of him from the chroniclers. If, as Thierry says, "he had chosen Hereward for his model," it is unexplained and inexplicable why his historical fate has been so different from that of Hereward. The hero of the Camp of Refuge fills an ample place in the annals of his day; his achievements are also handed down in a prose romance which presents many points of resemblance to the ballads of Robin Hood. It would have been no wonder if the vulgar legends about Hereward had utterly perished, but it is altogether anomalous[13] that a popular champion who attained so extraordinary a notoriety in song, a man living from one hundred to two hundred and fifty years later than Hereward, should be passed over without one word of notice from any authoritative historian.[14] That this would not be so, we are most fortunately able to demonstrate by reference to a real case which furnishes a singularly exact parallel to the present, that of the famous outlaw, Adam Gordon. In the year 1267, says the continuator of Matthew Paris, a soldier by the name of Adam Gordon, who had lost his estates with other adherents of Simon de Montfort, and refused to seek the mercy of the king, established himself with others in like circumstances near a woody and tortuous road between the village of Wilton and the castle of Farnham, from which position he made forays into the country round about, directing his attacks especially against those who were of the king's party. Prince Edward had heard much of the prowess and honorable character of this man, and desired to have some personal knowledge of him. He succeeded in surprising Gordon with a superior force, and engaged him in single combat, forbidding any of his own followers to interfere. They fought a long time, and the prince was so filled with admiration of the courage and spirit of his antagonist that he promised him life and fortune on condition of his surrendering. To these terms Gordon acceded, his estates were restored, and Edward found him ever after an attached and faithful servant.[15] The story is romantic, and yet Adam Gordon was not made the subject of ballads. Caruit vate sacro. The contemporary historians, however, all have a paragraph for him. He is celebrated by Wikes, the Chronicle of Dunstaple, the Waverley Annals, and we know not where else besides.
But these theories are open to an objection stronger even than the silence of history. They are contradicted by the spirit of the ballads. No line of these songs breathes political animosity. There is no suggestion or reminiscence of wrong, from invading Norman, or from the established sovereign. On the contrary, Robin loved no man in the world so well as his king. What the tone of these ballads would have been, had Robin Hood been any sort of partisan, we may judge from the mournful and indignant strains which were poured out on the fall of De Montfort. We should have heard of the fatal field of Hastings, of the perfidy of Henry, of the sanguinary revenge of Edward, and not of matches at archery and encounters at quarter-staff, the plundering of rich abbots, and squabbles with the sheriff. The Robin Hood of our ballads is neither patriot under ban, nor proscribed rebel. An outlaw indeed he is, but an "outlaw for venyson," like Adam Bell, and one who superadds to deer-stealing the irregularity of a genteel highway robbery.
Thus much of these conjectures in general. To recur to the particular evidence by which Mr. Hunter's theory is supported, this consists principally in the name of Robin Hood being found among the king's servants shortly after Edward II. returned from his visit to the north of his dominions. But the value of this coincidence depends entirely upon the rarity of the name.[16] Now Hood, as Mr. Hunter himself remarks, is a well-established hereditary name in the reigns of the Edwards. We find it very frequently in the indexes to the Record Publications, and this although it does not belong to the higher class of people. That Robert was an ordinary Christian name requires no proof, and if it was, the combination of Robert Hood must have been frequent also. We have taken no extraordinary pains to hunt up this combination, for really the matter is altogether too trivial to justify the expense of time; but since to some minds much may depend on the coincidence in question, we will cite several Robin Hoods in the reign of the Edwards.
28th Ed. I. Robert Hood, a citizen of London, says Mr. Hunter, supplied the king's household with beer.
30th Ed. I. Robert Hood is sued for three acres of pasture land in Throckley, Northumberland. (Rot. Orig. Abbrev.)
7th Ed. II. Robert Hood is surety for a burgess returned for Lostwithiel, Cornwall. (Parliamentary Writs.)
9th Ed. II. Robert Hood is a citizen of Wakefield, Yorkshire, whom Mr. Hunter (p. 47) "may be justly charged with carrying supposition too far" by striving to identify with Robin the porter.
10th Ed. III. A Robert Hood, of Howden, York, is mentioned in the Calendarium Rot. Patent.
Adding the Robin Hood of the 17th Ed. II. we have six persons of that name mentioned within a period of less than forty years, and this circumstance does not dispose us to receive with great favor any argument that may be founded upon one individual case of its occurrence. But there is no end to the absurdities which flow from this supposition. We are to believe that the weak and timid prince that had severely punished his kinsman and his nobles, freely pardoned a yeoman, who, after serving with the rebels, had for twenty months made free with the king's deer and robbed on the highway, and not only pardoned him, but received him into service near his person. We are further to believe that the man who had led so daring and jovial a life, and had so generously dispensed the pillage of opulent monks, willingly entered into this service, doffed his Lincoln green for the Plantagenet plush, and consented to be enrolled among royal flunkies for three pence a day. And again, admitting all this, we are finally obliged by Mr. Hunter's document to concede that the stalwart archer (who, according to the ballad, maintained himself two and twenty years in the wood) was worn out by his duties as "proud portèr" in less than two years, and was discharged a superannuated lackey, with five shillings in his pocket, "poar cas qil ne poait pluis travailler."
To those who are well acquainted with ancient popular poetry, the adventure of King Edward and Robin Hood, will seem the least eligible portion of this circle of story for the foundation of an historical theory. The ballad of King Edward and Robin Hood is but one version of an extremely multiform legend, of which the tales of King Edward and the Shepherd and King Edward and the Hermit are other specimens; and any one who will take the trouble to examine will be convinced that all these stories are one and the same thing, the personages being varied for the sake of novelty, and the name of a recent or of the reigning monarch substituted in successive ages for that of a predecessor. (See King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth.)
Rejecting, then, as nugatory every attempt to assign Robin Hood a definite position in history, what view shall we adopt? Are all these traditions absolute fictions, and is he himself a pure creation of the imagination? Might not the ballads under consideration have a basis in the exploits of a real person, living in the forests, somewhere and at some time? Or, denying individual existence to Robin Hood, and particular truth to the adventures ascribed to him, may we not regard him as the ideal of the outlaw class, a class so numerous in all the countries of Europe in the middle ages? We are perfectly contented to form no opinion upon the subject; but if compelled to express one, we should say that this last supposition (which is no novelty) possessed decidedly more likelihood than any other. Its plausibility will be confirmed by attending to the apparent signification of the name Robin Hood. The natural refuge and stronghold of the outlaw was the woods. Hence he is termed by Latin writers silvaticus, by the Normans forestier. The Anglo-Saxon robber or highwayman is called a wood-rover, wealdgenga, and the Norse word for outlaw is exactly equivalent.[17] It has been often suggested that Robin Hood is a corruption, or dialectic form, of Robin of the Wood, and when we remember that wood is pronounced hood in some parts of England,[18] (as whoop is pronounced hoop everywhere,) and that the outlaw bears in so many languages a name descriptive of his habitation, this notion will not seem an idle fancy.
Various circumstances, however, have disposed writers of learning to look further for a solution of the question before us. Mr. Wright propounds an hypothesis that Robin Hood was "one among the personages of the early mythology of the Teutonic peoples;" and a German scholar,[19] in an exceedingly interesting article which throws much light on the history of English sports, has endeavored to show specifically that he is in name and substance one with the god Woden. The arguments by which these views are supported, though in their present shape very far from convincing, are entitled to a respectful consideration.
The most important of these arguments are those which are based on the peculiar connection between Robin Hood and the month of May. Mr. Wright has justly remarked, that either an express mention of this month, or a vivid description of the season, in the older ballads, shows that the feats of the hero were generally performed during this part of the year. Thus, the adventure of Robin Hood and the Monk befell on "a morning of May." Robin Hood and the Potter, and Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne begin, like Robin Hood and the Monk, with a description of the season when leaves are long, blossoms are shooting, and the small birds are singing, and this season, though called summer, is at the same time spoken of as May in Robin Hood and the Monk, which, from the description there given, it needs must be. The liberation of Cloudesly by Adam Bel and Clym of the Clough is also achieved "on a merry morning of May."
Robin Hood is moreover intimately associated with the month of May through the games which were celebrated at that time of the year. The history of these games is unfortunately very defective, and hardly extends beyond the beginning of the 16th century. By that time their primitive character seems to have been corrupted, or at least their significance was so far forgotten, that distinct pastimes and ceremonials were capriciously intermixed. At the beginning of the 16th century the May sports in vogue were, besides a contest of archery, four pageants,—the Kingham, or election of a Lord and Lady of the May, otherwise called Summer King and Queen, the Morris Dance, the Hobby Horse, and the "Robin Hood." Though these pageants were diverse in their origin, they had, at the epoch of which we write, begun to be confounded; and the Morris exhibited a tendency to absorb and blend them all, as, from its character, being a procession interspersed with dancing, it easily might do. We shall hardly find the Morris pure and simple in the English May-game; but from a comparison of the two earliest representations which we have of this sport, the Flemish print given by Douce in his Illustrations of Shakespeare, and Tollett's celebrated painted window, (described in Johnson and Steevens's Shakespeare,) we may form an idea of what was essential and what adventitious in the English spectacle. The Lady is evidently the central personage in both. She is, we presume, the same as the Queen of May, who is the oldest of all the characters in the May games, and the apparent successor to the Goddess of Spring in the Roman Floralia. In the English Morris she is called simply The Lady, or more frequently Maid Marian, a name which, to our apprehension, means Lady of the May, and nothing more. A fool and a taborer seem also to have been indispensable; but the other dancers had neither names nor peculiar offices, and were unlimited in number. The Morris then, though it lost in allegorical significance, would gain considerably in spirit and variety by combining with the other shows. Was it not natural, therefore, and in fact inevitable, that the old favorites of the populace, Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, and Little John, should in the course of time displace three of the anonymous performers in the show? This they had pretty effectually done at the beginning of the 16th century, and the Lady, who had accepted the more precise designation of Maid Marian, was after that generally regarded as the consort of Robin Hood, though she sometimes appeared in the Morris without him. In like manner, the Hobby Horse was quite early adopted into the Morris, of which it formed no original part, and at last even a Dragon was annexed to the company. Under these circumstances we cannot be surprised to find the principal performers in the May pageants passing the one into the other; to find the May King, whose occupation was gone when the fascinating outlaw had supplanted him in the favor of the Lady, assuming the part of the Hobby Horse,[20] Robin Hood usurping the title of King of the May,[21] and the Hobby Horse entering into a contest with the Dragon, as St. George.
We feel obliged to regard this interchange of functions among the characters in the English May pageants as fortuitous, notwithstanding the coincidence of the May King sometimes appearing on horseback in Germany, and notwithstanding our conviction that Kuhn is right in maintaining that the May King, the Hobby Horse, and the Dragon-slayer, are symbols of one mythical idea. This idea we are compelled by want of space barely to state, with the certainty of doing injustice to the learning and ingenuity with which the author has supported his views. Kuhn has shown it to be extremely probable, first, that the Christmas games, which both in Germany and England have a close resemblance to those of Spring, are to be considered as a prelude to the May sports, and that they both originally symbolized the victory of Summer over Winter,[22] which, beginning at the winter solstice, is completed in the second month of Spring; secondly, that the conquering Summer is represented by the May King, or by the Hobby Horse (as also by the Dragon-slayer, whether St. George, Siegfried, Apollo, or the Sanskrit Indras); and thirdly, that the Hobby Horse in particular represents the god Woden, who, as well as Mars[23] among the Romans, is the god at once of Spring and of Victory.
The essential point, all this being admitted, is now to establish the identity of Robin Hood and the Hobby Horse. This we think we have shown cannot be done by reasoning founded on the early history of the games under consideration. Kuhn relies principally upon two modern accounts of Christmas pageants. In one of these pageants there is introduced a man on horseback, who carries in his hands a bow and arrows. The other furnishes nothing peculiar except a name: the ceremony is called a hoodening, and the hobby horse a hooden. In the rider with bow and arrows, Kuhn sees Robin Hood and the Hobby Horse, and in the name hooden (which is explained by the authority he quotes to mean wooden) he discovers a provincial form of wooden which connects the outlaw and the divinity.[24] It will be generally agreed that these slender premises are totally inadequate to support the weighty conclusion that is rested upon them.
Why the adventures of Robin Hood should be specially assigned, as they are in the old ballads, to the month of May, remains unexplained. We have no exquisite reason to offer, but we may perhaps find reason good enough in the delicious stanzas with which some of these ballads begin.
In summer when the shawès be sheen, And leavès be large and long, It is full merry in fair forèst To hear the fowlès song; To see the deer draw to the dale, And leave the hillès hee, And shadow them in the leavès green Under the green-wood tree.
The poetical character of the season affords all the explanation that is required.
Nor need the occurrence of exhibitions of archery and of the Robin Hood plays and pageants, at this time of the year, occasion any difficulty. Repeated statutes, from the 13th to the 16th century, enjoined practice with the bow, and ordered that the leisure time of holidays should be employed for this purpose. Under Henry the Eighth the custom was still kept up, and those who partook in this exercise often gave it a spirit by assuming the style and character of Robin Hood and his associates. In like manner the society of archers in Elizabeth's time, took the name of Arthur and his knights: all which was very natural then and would be now. None of all the merrymakings in merry England surpassed the May festival. The return of the sun stimulated the populace to the accumulation of all sorts of amusements. In addition to the traditional and appropriate sports of the season, there were, as Stowe tells us, divers warlike shows, with good archers, morris-dancers, and other devices for pastime all day long, and towards the evening stage-plays and bonfires in the streets. A Play of Robin Hood was considered "very proper for a May-game," but if Robin Hood was peculiarly prominent in these entertainments, the obvious reason would appear to be that he was the hero of that loved green-wood to which all the world resorted, when the cold obstruction of winter was broken up, "to do observance for a morn of May."
We do not therefore attribute much value to the theory of Mr. Wright, that the May festival was, in its earliest form, "a religious celebration, though, like such festivals in general, it possessed a double character, that of a religious ceremony, and of an opportunity for the performance of warlike games; that, at such festivals, the songs would take the character of the amusements on the occasion, and would most likely celebrate warlike deeds—perhaps the myths of the patron whom superstition supposed to preside over them; that, as the character of the exercises changed, the attributes of the patron would change also, and he who was once celebrated as working wonders with his good axe or his elf-made sword, might afterwards assume the character of a skilful bowman; that the scene of his actions would likewise change, and the person whose weapons were the bane of dragons and giants, who sought them in the wildernesses they infested, might become the enemy only of the sheriff and his officers, under the 'grene-wode lefe.'" It is unnecessary to point out that the language we have quoted contains, beyond the statement that warlike exercises were anciently combined with religious rites, a very slightly founded surmise, and nothing more.
Another circumstance which weighs much with Mr. Wright, goes but a very little way with us in demonstrating the mythological character of Robin Hood. This is the frequency with which his name is attached to mounds, wells, and stones, such as in the popular creed are connected with fairies, dwarfs, or giants. There is scarcely a county in England which does not possess some monument of this description. "Cairns on Blackdown in Somersetshire, and barrows near to Whitby in Yorkshire and Ludlow in Shropshire, are termed Robin Hood's pricks or butts; lofty natural eminences in Gloucestershire and Derbyshire are Robin Hood's hills; a huge rock near Matlock is Robin Hood's Tor; ancient boundary stones, as in Lincolnshire, are Robin Hood's crosses; a presumed loggan, or rocking-stone, in Yorkshire, is Robin Hood's penny-stone; a fountain near Nottingham, another between Doncaster and Wakefield, and one in Lancashire, are Robin Hood's wells; a cave in Nottinghamshire is his stable; a rude natural rock in Hope Dale is his chair; a chasm at Chatsworth is his leap; Blackstone Edge, in Lancashire, is his bed."[25] In fact, his name bids fair to overrun every remarkable object of the sort which has not been already appropriated to King Arthur or the Devil; with the latter of whom, at least, it is presumed that, however ancient, he will not dispute precedence.
"The legends of the peasantry," quoth Mr. Wright, "are the shadows of a very remote antiquity." This proposition, thus broadly stated, we deny. Nothing is more deceptive than popular legends; and the "legends," we speak of, if they are to bear that name, have no claim to antiquity at all. They do not go beyond the ballads. They are palpably of subsequent and comparatively recent origin. It was absolutely impossible that they should arise while Robin Hood was a living reality to the people. The archer of Sherwood who could barely stand King Edward's buffet, and was felled by the Potter, was no man to be playing with rocking stones. This trick of naming must have begun in the decline of his fame, for there was a time when his popularity drooped, and his existence was just not doubted; not elaborately maintained by learned historians, and antiquarians deeply read in the Public Records. And what do these names prove? The vulgar passion for bestowing them is notorious and universal. We Americans are too young to be well provided with heroes that might serve this purpose. We have no imaginative peasantry to invent legends, no ignorant peasantry to believe them. But we have the good fortune to possess the Devil in common with the rest of the world; and we take it upon us to say, that there is not a mountain district in the land, which has been opened to summer travellers, where a "Devil's Bridge," a "Devil's Punch-bowl," or some object with the like designation, will not be pointed out.[26]
We have taken no notice of the later fortunes of Robin Hood in his true and original character of a hero of romance. Towards the end of the 16th century, Anthony Munday attempted to revive the decaying popularity of this king of good fellows, who had won all his honors as a simple yeoman, by representing him in the play of The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, as a nobleman in disguise, outlawed by the machinations of his steward. This pleasing and successful drama is Robin's sole patent to that title of Earl of Huntington, in confirmation of which, Dr. Stukeley fabricated a pedigree that transcends even the absurdities of heraldry, and some unknown forger an epitaph beneath the skill of a Chatterton. Those who desire a full acquaintance with the fabulous history of Robin Hood, will seek it in the well-known volumes of Ritson, or in those of his recent editor, Gutch, who does not make up by superior discrimination for his inferiority in other respects to that industrious antiquary.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK.
This excellent ballad, which appears to be the oldest of the class preserved, and is possibly as old as the reign of Edward II. (see Wright's Essays, &c., ii. 174), is found in a manuscript belonging to the public library of the University of Cambridge (Ff. 5, 48). It was first printed by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, ii. 54, afterwards in Hartshorne's Metrical Tales, p. 179, and is here given from the second edition of Ritson's Robin Hood, (ii. 221,) as collated by Sir Frederic Madden.
The story is nearly the same in Adam Bel, Clym of the Cloughe, and Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.
In somer when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and longe, Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here the foulys song. To se the dere draw to the dale,5 And leve the hilles hee, And shadow hem in the leves grene, Vndur the grene-wode tre. Hit befell on Whitsontide, Erly in a may mornyng,10 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 then I am one15 Lyves not in Cristianté." "Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster," Litulle Johne can sey, "And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme In a mornynge of may."20 "Ze on thynge greves me," seid Robyne, "And does my hert mych woo, That I may not so solem day To mas nor matyns goo. "Hit is a fourtnet and more," seyd hee,25 "Syn I my Sauyour see; To day will I to Notyngham," seid Robyn, "With the myght of mylde Mary." Then spake Moche the mylner sune, Euer more wel hym betyde,30 "Take xii of thi wyght zemen Well weppynd be thei side. Such on wolde thi selfe slon That xii dar not abyde." "Off alle my mery men," seid Robyne,35 "Be my feithe I wil non haue; But Litulle Johne shall beyre my bow Til that me list to drawe. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Thou shalle beyre thin own," seid Litulle Jon, "Maister, and I wil beyre myne,40 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,45 "In feith I holde the thre." 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.50 A ferly strife fel them betwene, As they went bi the way; Litull Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs, And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay. With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jone,55 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;60 Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn, For thou getes me no more." Then Robyn goes to Notyngham, Hymselfe mornynge allone, And Litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,65 The pathes he knowe alkone. Whan Robyn came to Notyngham, Sertenly withoutene layne, He prayed to God and myld Mary To brynge hym out saue agayne.70 He gos into seynt Mary chirche, And knelyd downe before the rode; Alle that euer were the churche within Beheld wel Robyne Hode. Beside hym stode a gret-hedid munke,75 I pray to God woo he be; Ful sone he knew gode Robyn As sone as he hym se. Out at the durre he ran Ful sone and anon;80 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,85 For sothe he is in this towne. "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.90 "This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode; Vnder 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,95 And zade towarde hym zare; Many was the modur son To the kyrk with him can fare. In at the durres thei throly thrast With staves ful gode ilkone,100 "Alas, alas," seid Robin Hode, "Now mysse I Litulle Johne." But Robyne toke out a too-hond sworde That hangit down be his kne; Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust,105 Thidurward wold he. Thryes thorow at them he ran, Then for sothe as I yow say, And woundyt many a modur sone, And xii he slew that day.110 Hys sworde vpon the schireff hed Sertanly he brake in too; "The smyth that the made," seid Robyn, "I pray God wyrke hym woo. "For now am I weppynlesse," seid Robyne,115 "Alasse, agayn my wylle; But if I may fle these traytors fro, I wot thei wil me kylle." Robyns men to the churche ran Throout hem euerilkon;120 Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede, And lay still as any stone. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Non of theym were in her mynde But only Litulle Jon. "Let be your dule," seid Litulle Jon,125 "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 away;130 Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone, And herkyn what I shal say. "He has seruyd our lady many a day, And zet wil securly; Therefore I trust in her specialy135 No wycked deth shal he dye. "Therfor be glad," seid Litul Johne, "And let this mournyng be, And I shall be the munkes gyde, With the myght of mylde Mary.140 "And I mete hym," seid Litull Johne, "We wille go but we too * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Loke that ze kepe wel our tristil tre Vnder the levys smale, And spare non of this venyson145 That gose in thys vale." Forthe thei went these zemen too, Litul Johne and Moche onfere, And lokid on Moche emys hows The hyeway lay fulle nere.150 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. "Be my feith," seid Litul Johne to Moche,155 "I can the tel tithyngus gode; I se 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,160 Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke, As thei hade bene his frende. "Fro whens come ze," seid Litul Johne; "Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray, Off a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode],165 Was takyn zisturday. "He robbyt me and my felowes bothe Of xx marke in serten; If that false owtlay be takyn, For sothe we wolde be fayne."170 "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,175 "And we wil when we may; We wil go with yow, with your leve, And brynge yow on your way. "For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow, I telle yow in certen;180 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 hede185 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.190 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 Johne was sore agrevyd,195 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 hase browzt in bale;200 Shalle thou neuer cum at oure kynge For to telle hym tale." John smote of the munkes hed, No longer wolde he dwelle; So did Moche the litulle page,205 For ferd lest he wold tell. Ther thei beryed hem both In nouther mosse nor lynge, And Litulle Johne and Muche infere Bare the letturs to oure kyng.210 * * * * * * He kneled down vpon his kne, "God zow saue, my lege lorde, "Jesus yow saue and se. "God yow saue, my lege kyng," To speke Johne was fulle bolde;215 He gaf hym the letturs in his hond, The kyng did hit unfold. The kyng red the letturs anon, And seid, "so mot I the, Ther was neuer zoman in mery Inglond220 I longut so sore to see. "Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt?" Oure kynge gan say; "Be my trouthe," seid Litull Jone, "He dyed aftur the way."225 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,230 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;235 The next way to Notyngham To take he zede the way. When Johne came to Notyngham The zatis were sparred ychone; Johne callid vp the porter,240 He answerid sone anon. "What is the cause," seid Litul John, "Thou sparris the zates so fast?" "Because of Robyn Hode," seid [the] porter, In depe prison is cast.245 "Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok, For sothe as I yow say, Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis, And sawtene vs euery day." Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,250 And sone he hym fonde; He oppyned the kyngus privè seelle, And gaf hym in his honde. "When the schereff saw the kyngus seelle, He did of his hode anon;255 "Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?" He seid to Litulle Johne. "He is so fayn of hym," seid Litulle Johne, "For sothe as I yow sey, He has made hym abot of Westmynster,260 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.265 When the scheref was on-slepe Dronken of wine and ale, Litul Johne and Moche for sothe Toke the way vnto the jale. Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,270 And bade hym ryse anon; He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson, And out of hit was gon. The portere rose anon sertan, As sone as he herd John calle;275 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,280 And sone he hym vnbonde. He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond, His hed with for to kepe, And ther as the walle was lowyst Anon down can thei lepe.285 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],290 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,295 For if I do, I wot serten, For sothe he wil me henge." The scheref made to seke Notyngham, Bothe be strete and stye, And Robyn was in mery Scherwode300 As lizt as lef on lynde. Then bespake gode Litulle Johne, To Robyn Hode can he say, "I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle, Quyte me whan thou may.305 "I haue done the a gode turne," said Litulle Johne, "For sothe as I you saie; I haue brouzt the vnder grene wode lyne; Fare wel, and haue gode day." "Nay, be my trouthe," seid Robyn Hode,310 "So shalle hit neuer be; I make the maister," seid Robyn Hode, "Off alle my men and me." "Nay, be my trouthe," seid Litulle Johne, "So shall hit neuer be,315 But lat me be a felow," seid Litulle Johne, "Non odur kepe I'll be." Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisone, Sertan withoutyn layne; When his men saw hym hol and sounde,320 For sothe they were ful fayne. They filled in wyne, and made him glad, Vnder the levys smale, And zete pastes of venysone, That gode was with ale.325 Than worde came to oure kynge, How Robyn Hode was gone, And how the scheref of Notyngham Durst neuer loke hyme vpone. Then bespake oure cumly kynge,330 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,335 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,340 "Thorowout alle mery Inglond. "I gaf hem grithe," then seide oure kyng, "I say, so mot I the, For sothe soche a zeman as he is on In alle Ingland ar not thre.345 "He is trew to his maister," seide 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,350 Bothe in strete and stalle; Speke no more of this matter," seid oure 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.
32. MS. ther.
39. MS. th' now.
93. See the Fourth Fit of the Lyttell Geste.
100. MS. gode wone.
125. MS. rule.
195. MS. so.
269, gale.
305. MS. Quyte the.
352. MS. mere.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE POTTER.
From Ritson's Robin Hood, i. 81. "This curious, and hitherto unpublished, and even unheard of old piece," remarks that editor, "is given from a manuscript among Bishop More's collections, in the Public Library of the University of Cambridge (Ee. 4. 35). The writing, which is evidently that of a vulgar and illiterate person, appears to be of the age of Henry VII., that is, about the year 1500; but the composition (which he has irremediably corrupted) is probably of an earlier period, and much older, no doubt, than The Play of Robyn Hode, which seems allusive to the same story."
Mr. Wright thinks the manuscript is proved to be of the time of Henry VI. by a memorandum on one page, setting forth the expenses of the feast on the marriage of the king with Margaret:—"Thys ys exspences of fflesche at the mariage of my ladey Marg'et, that sche had owt off Eynglonde." But this memorandum is more likely to apply to Margaret, daughter of Henry VII., who was married "out of England," that is, in Scotland, to James IV., than to the Margaret who was married in England to Henry VI. (Ed. Rev. lxxxvi. 126.)
The adventure in the first part of this story,—the encounter between Robin Hood and a sturdy fellow who proves his match or his superior—forms the subject of a large number of this circle of ballads, the antagonist being in one case a beggar, in another a tanner, a tinker, the pinder of Wakefield, &c. (See the preface to Robin Hood and the Beggar, p. 188.) The story of the second part is found again in Robin Hood and the Butcher, and, with considerable differences, in the third fit of the Lytell Geste.
It is in the disguise of a potter that the Saxon Hereward penetrates into the Norman court, and that Eustace the Monk eludes the vengeance of the Count of Boulogne. Eustace also drew his enemy into an ambush by nearly the same stratagem which Robin employs to entice the sheriff of Nottingham into the forest. (See the romances abridged in Wright's Essays, ii. 108, 133, 135, 184.)
In schomer, when the leves spryng, The bloschems on every bowe, So merey doyt the berdys syng Yn wodys merey now. Herkens, god yemen,5 Comley, corteysse, and god, On of the best that yever bar bou, Hes name was Roben Hode. Roben Hood was the yemans name, That was boyt corteys and fre;10 For the loffe of owr ladey, All wemen werschep he. Bot as the god yemen stod on a day, Among hes mery manèy, He was war of a prowd potter,15 Cam dryfyng owyr the ley. "Yonder comet a prod potter," seyde Roben, "That long hayt hantyd this wey; He was never so corteys a man On peney of pawage to pay."20 "Y met hem bot at Wentbreg," seyde Lytyll John, "And therfor yeffell mot he the, Seche thre strokes he me gafe, Yet they cleffe by my seydys. "Y ley forty shillings," seyde Lytyll John,25 "To pay het thes same day, Ther ys nat a man among hus all A wed schall make hem ley." "Her ys forty shillings," seyde Roben, "Mor, and thow dar say,30 That y schall make that prowde potter, A wed to me schall he ley." Ther thes money they leyde, They toke het a yeman to kepe; Roben befor the potter he breyde,35 And bad hem stond stell. Handys apon hes horse he leyde, And bad the potter stonde foll stell; The potter schorteley to hem seyde, "Felow, what ys they well?"40 "All thes thre yer, and mor, potter," he seyde, "Thow hast hantyd thes wey, Yet wer tow never so cortys a man One peney of pauage to pay." "What ys they name," seyde the potter,45 "For pauage thow ask of me?" "Roben Hod ys mey name, A wed schall thow leffe me." "Wed well y non leffe," seyde the potter, "Nor pavag well y non pay;50 Awey they honde fro mey horse, Y well the tene eyls, be mey fay." The potter to hes cart he went, He was not to seke; A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent,55 Befor Roben he lepe. Roben howt with a swerd bent, A bokeler en hes honde [therto]; The potter to Roben he went, And seyde, "Felow, let mey horse go."60 Togeder then went thes two yemen, Het was a god seyt to se; Therof low Robyn hes men, Ther they stod onder a tre. Leytell John to hes felowhes seyde,65 "Yend potter welle steffeley stonde:" The potter, with an acward stroke, Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde; And ar Roben meyt get hem agen Hes bokeler at hes fette,70 The potter yn the neke hem toke, To the gronde sone he yede. That saw Roben hes men, As thay stode ender a bow; "Let us helpe owr master," seyed Lytell John,75 "Yonder potter els well hem sclo." Thes yemen went with a breyde, To ther master they cam. Leytell John to hes master seyde, "Ho haet the wager won?80 "Schall y haff yowr forty shillings," seyde Lytel John, "Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?" "Yeff they wer a hundred," seyde Roben, "Y feythe, they ben all theyne." "Het ys fol leytell cortesey," seyde the potter,85 "As y haffe harde weyse men saye, Yeff a por yeman com drywyng ower the wey, To let hem of hes gorney." "Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt," seyde Roben, "Thow seys god yemenrey;90 And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day, Thow schalt never be let for me. "Y well prey the, god potter, A felischepe well thow haffe? Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne;95 Y well go to Notynggam." "Y grant therto," seyde the potter, "Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode; Bot thow can sell mey pottes well, Come ayen as thow yode."100 "Nay, be mey trowt," seyde Roben, "And then y bescro mey hede Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen, And eney weyffe well hem chepe." Than spake Leytell John,105 And all hes felowhes heynd, "Master, be well war of the screffe of Notynggam, For he ys leytell howr frende." "Heyt war howte," seyde Roben, "Felowhes, let me alone;110 Thorow the helpe of howr ladey, To Notynggam well y gon." Robyn went to Notynggam, Thes pottes for to sell; The potter abode with Robens men,115 Ther he fered not eylle. Tho Roben droffe on hes wey, So merey ower the londe: Heres mor and affter ys to saye, The best ys beheynde.120
[THE SECOND FIT.]
When Roben cam to Notynggam, The soyt yef y scholde saye, He set op hes horse anon, And gaffe hem hotys and haye. Yn the medys of the towne,125 Ther he schowed hes war; "Pottys! pottys!" he gan crey foll sone, "Haffe hansell for the mar." Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate Schowed he hes chaffar;130 Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow, And chepyd fast of hes war. Yet, "Pottys, gret chepe!" creyed Royn, "Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;" And all that saw hem sell,135 Seyde he had be no potter long. The pottys that wer werthe pens feyffe, He sold tham for pens thre; Preveley seyde man and weyffe, "Ywnder potter schall never the."140 Thos Roben solde foll fast, Tell he had pottys bot feyffe; Op he hem toke of his ear, And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe. Therof sche was foll fayne,145 "Gramarsey, sir," than seyde sche; "When ye com to thes contre ayen, Y schall bey of they pottys, so mot y the." "Ye schall haffe of the best," seyde Roben, And swar be the treneytè;150 Foll corteysley she gan hem call, "Com deyne with the screfe and me." "Godamarsey," seyde Roben, "Yowr bedyng schalle be doyn; A mayden yn the pottys gan ber,155 Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon. Whan Roben ynto the hall cam, The screffe sone he met; The potter cowed of corteysey, And sone the screffe he gret.160 "Loketh what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me; Feyffe pottys smalle and grete!" "He ys fol wellcom," seyd the screffe, "Let os was, and go to mete." As they sat at her methe,165 With a nobell cher, Two of the screffes men gan speke Off a gret wagèr, Was made the thother daye, Off a schotyng was god and feyne,170 Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye, Who scholde thes wager wen. Styll than sat thes prowde potter, Thos than thowt he; "As y am a trow Cerstyn man,175 Thes schotyng well y se." Whan they had fared of the best. With bred and ale and weyne, To the bottys they made them prest, With bowes and boltys foll feyne.180 The screffes men schot foll fast, As archares that weren godde; Ther cam non ner ney the marke Bey halfe a god archares bowe. Stell then stod the prowde potter,185 Thos than seyde he; "And y had a bow, be the rode, On schot scholde yow se." "Thow schall haffe a bow," seyde the screffe, "The best that thow well cheys of thre;190 Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge, Asay schall thow be." The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey Affter bowhes to wende; The best bow that the yeman browthe195 Roben set on a stryng. "Now schall y wet and thow be god, And polle het op to they ner;" "So god me helpe," seyde the prowde potter, "Thys ys bot rygzt weke ger."200 To a quequer Roben went, A god bolt owthe he toke; So ney on to the marke he went, He fayled not a fothe. All they schot abowthe agen,205 The screffes men and he; Off the marke he welde not fayle, He cleffed the preke on thre. The screffes men thowt gret schame, The potter the mastry wan;210 The screffe lowe and made god game, And seyde, "Potter, thow art a man; Thow art worthey to ber a bowe, Yn what plas that thow gang." "Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,215 Forsoyt," he seyde, "and that a godde; Yn mey cart ys the bow That I had of Robyn Hode." "Knowest thow Robyn Hode?" seyde the screffe, "Potter, y prey the tell thou me;"220 "A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem, Under hes tortyll tree." "Y had lever nar a hundred ponde," seyde the screffe, And swar be the trenitè, ["Y had lever nar a hundred ponde," he seyde,]225 That the fals owtelawe stod be me. "And ye well do afftyr mey red," seyde the potter, "And boldeley go with me, And to morow, or we het bred, Roben Hode wel we se."230 "Y well queyt the," kod the screffe, And swer be god of meythe; Schetyng thay left, and hom they went, Her scoper was redey deythe. Upon the morow, when het was day,235 He boskyd hem forthe to reyde; The potter hes carte forthe gan ray, And wolde not [be] leffe beheynde. He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe, And thankyd her of all thyng:240 "Dam, for mey loffe, and ye well thys wer, Y geffe yow her a golde ryng." "Gramarsey," seyde the weyffe, "Sir, god eylde het the;" The screffes hart was never so leythe,245 The feyr forest to se. And when he cam ynto the foreyst, Yonder the leffes grene, Berdys ther sange on bowhes prest, Het was gret joy to sene.250 "Her het ys merey to be," seyde Roben, "For a man that had hawt to spende; Be mey horne we schall awet Yeff Roben Hode be ner hande." Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe,255 And blow a blast that was foll god, That herde hes men that ther stode, Fer downe yn the wodde; "I her mey master" seyde Leytell John; They ran as thay wer wode.260 Whan thay to thar master cam, Leytell John wold not spar; "Master, how haffe yow far yn Notynggam? How haffe yow solde yowr war?" "Ye, be mey trowthe, Leytyll John,265 Loke thow take no car; Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam, For all howr chaffar." "He ys foll wellcom," seyde Lytyll John, "Thes tydyng ys foll godde;270 The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde [He had never sene Roben Hode.] "Had I west that beforen, At Notynggam when we wer, Thow scholde not com yn feyr forest275 Of all thes thowsande eyr." "That wot y well," seyde Roben, "Y thanke god that ye be her; Therfor schall ye leffe yowr horse with hos, And all your hother ger."280 "That fend I godys forbode," kod the screffe, "So to lese mey godde;" "Hether ye cam on horse foll hey, And hom schall ye go on fote; And gret well they weyffe at home,285 The woman ys foll godde. "Y schall her sende a wheyt palffrey, Het hambellet as the weynde; Ner for the loffe of yowr weyffe, Off mor sorow scholde yow seyng."290 Thes parted Robyn Hode and the screffe, To Notynggam he toke the waye; Hes weyffe feyr welcomed hem hom, And to hem gan sche saye: "Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst? Haffe ye browt Roben hom?"296 "Dam, the deyell spede him, bothe bodey and bon, Y haffe hade a foll grete skorne. "Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod, He hayt take het fro me,300 All bot this feyr palffrey, That he hayt sende to the." With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng, And swhar be hem that deyed on tre, "Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys305 That Roben gaffe to me. "Now ye be com hom to Notynggam, Ye schall haffe god ynowe;" Now speke we of Roben Hode, And of the pottyr onder the grene bowhe.310 "Potter, what was they pottys worthe To Notynggam that y ledde with me?" "They wer worth two nobellys," seyd he, "So mot y treyffe or the; So cowde y had for tham,315 And y had ther be." "Thow schalt hafe ten ponde," seyde Roben, "Of money feyr and fre; And yever whan thou comest to grene wod, Wellcom, potter to me."320 Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter, Ondernethe the grene-wod tre; God haffe mersey on Robyn Hodys solle, And saffe all god yemanrey!
MS. 6, cortessey.
12, ye.
16, lefe.
MS. 17, 21, syde.
28, leffe.
36, A.
MS. 56, leppyd.
MS. 65, felow he.
67, a caward.
69, A.
76, seyde hels.
77, went yemen.
78, thes.
MS. 90, yemerey.
97, grat.
100, yede.
109-112. These lines stand in the MS. in the order 3, 2, 1, 4.
113-116. This stanza is wrongly placed in the MS. after v. 96. It should be either in the place where it stands, or else begin the next fit.
MS. 135, say.
MS. 146, Gereamarsey, sir, seyde sche s'than.
MS. 148, the.
MS. 151, he.
MS. 161, loseth. 164, to to.
MS. 164, to to.
164. This ceremony [of washing,] which, in former times, was constantly practised as well before as after meat, seems to have fallen into disuse on the introduction of forks, about the year 1620; as before that period our ancestors supplied the place of this necessary utensil with their fingers.—Ritson.
169, 170, transposed in MS.
MS. 179, pottys the.
180, bolt yt.
191, senyst.
MS. 214, goe.
218, Robyng gaffe me.
232, mey they.
MS. 250, goy.
251, se.
254, he.
255, her.
258. For.
MS. 265, I leyty.
273, He had west.
283, y.
287. The MS. repeats this line after the following: Het ambellet be mey sey.
MS. 310, bowhes.
316, be ther.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER.
Ritson's Robin Hood, ii. 27. Printed from an old black-letter copy in the collection of Anthony à Wood. The story is the same as in the second part of Robin Hood and the Potter.
Come, all you brave gallants, and listen awhile, With hey down, down, an a down, That are in the bowers within; For of Robin Hood, that archer good, A song I intend for to sing. Upon a time it chancèd so,5 Bold Robin in forrest did 'spy A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare, With his flesh to the market did hye. "Good morrow, good fellow," said jolly Robin, "What food hast [thou]? tell unto me;10 Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell, For I like well thy company." The butcher he answer'd jolly Robin, "No matter where I dwell; For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham15 I am going, my flesh to sell." "What's [the] price of thy flesh?" said jolly Robin, "Come, tell it soon unto me; And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear, For a butcher fain would I be."20 "The price of my flesh," the butcher repli'd, "I soon will tell unto thee; With my bonny mare, and they are not too dear, Four mark thou must give unto me. "Four mark I will give thee," saith jolly Robin,25 "Four mark it shall be thy fee; The mony come count, and let me mount, For a butcher I fain would be." Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone, His butchers trade to begin;30 With good intent to the sheriff he went, And there he took up his inn. When other butchers did open their meat, Bold Robin he then begun; But how for to sell he knew not well,35 For a butcher he was but young. When other butchers no meat could sell, Robin got both gold and fee; For he sold more meat for one peny Then others could do for three.40 But when he sold his meat so fast, No butcher by him could thrive; For he sold more meat for one peny Than others could do for five. Which made the butchers of Nottingham45 To study as they did stand, Saying, "Surely he 'is' some prodigal, That hath sold his fathers land." The butchers stepped to jolly Robin, Acquainted with him for to be;50 "Come, brother," one said, "we be all of one trade, "Come, will you go dine with me?" "Accurst of his heart," said jolly Robin, "That a butcher doth deny; I will go with you, my brethren true,55 As fast as I can hie." But when to the sheriffs house they came, To dinner they hied apace, And Robin Hood he the man must be Before them all to say grace.60 "Pray God bless us all," said jolly Robin, "And our meat within this place; A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood, And so do I end my grace. "Come fill us more wine," said jolly Robin,65 "Let us be merry while we do stay; For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear, I vow I the reck'ning will pay. "Come, 'brothers,' be merry," said jolly Robin, "Let us drink, and never give ore;70 For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way, If it cost me five pounds and more." "This is a mad blade," the butchers then said; Saies the sheriff, "He is some prodigàl, That some land has sold for silver and gold,75 And now he doth mean to spend all. "Hast thou any horn beasts," the sheriff repli'd, "Good fellow, to sell unto me?" "Yes, that I have, good master sheriff, I have hundreds two or three;80 "And a hundred aker of good free land, If you please it to see: And Ile make you as good assurance of it, As ever my father made me." The sheriff he saddled his good palfrèy,85 And, with three hundred pound in gold, Away he went with bold Robin Hood, His horned beasts to behold. Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride, To the forrest of merry Sherwood;90 Then the sheriff did say, "God bless us this day From a man they call Robin Hood!" But when a little farther they came, Bold Robin he chancèd to spy A hundred head of good red deer,95 Come tripping the sheriff full nigh. "How like you my horn'd beasts, good master sheriff? They be fat and fair for to see;" "I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone, For I like not thy company."100 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, And blew but blasts three; Then quickly anon there came Little John, And all his company. "What is your will, master?" then said Little John,105 "Good master come tell unto me;" "I have brought hither the sheriff of Nottingham This day to dine with thee." "He is welcome to me," then said Little John, "I hope he will honestly pay;110 I know he has gold, if it be but well told, Will serve us to drink a whole day." Then Robin took his mantle from his back, And laid it upon the ground: And out of the sheriffs portmantle115 He told three hundred pound. Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood, And set him on his dapple gray; "O have me commended to your wife at home;" So Robin went laughing away.120
17. What is price.
ROBYN AND GANDELYN.
This interesting ballad (derived from a manuscript of the 15th century,) belongs to the cycle of Robin Hood, as Mr. Wright remarks, "at least by its subject, if not by the person whose death it celebrates." It was first printed by Ritson in his Ancient Songs and Ballads, (i. 81,) and has been again printed by Mr. Wright in a little black-letter volume of Songs and Carols (No. X); from which we take our copy.
The similarity of the name Gandelyn to the Gamelyn of the Cook's Tale, attributed to Chaucer, and the affinity of that story to the Robin Hood ballads, are alluded to by the last-named editor. Is it not possible that this name reappears again in the "Young Gamwell" of Robin Hood and the Stranger?
The dialect of this piece is proved by an incidental coincidence, says Mr. Wright, to be that of Warwickshire.
I herde a carpyng of a clerk Al at zone wodes ende, Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn Was ther non other thynge. Robynn lyth in grene wode Bowndyn. Stronge theuys wern tho chylderin non,5 But bowmen gode and hende: He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych, If God wold it hem sende. Al day wentyn tho chylderin too, And fleych fowndyn he non,10 Til it were ageyn euyn, The chylderin wold gon hom: Half a honderid of fat falyf der He comyn azon, And all he wern fayr and fat inow,15 But markyd was ther non. "Be dere Gode," seyde gode [Robyn], "Hereof we xul haue on." Robyn bent his joly bowe, Therin he set a flo,20 The fattest der of alle [the herd] The herte he clef a-to. He hadde not the der islawe Ne half out of the hyde, There cam a schrewde arwe out of the west,25 That felde Roberts pryde. Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west Be euery syde; "Hoo hat myn mayster slayin, Ho hat don this dede?30 Xal I neuer out of grene wode go, Ti[l] I se [his] sydis blede." Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west, And sowt vnder the sunne, He saw a lytil boy35 He clepyn Wrennok of Doune: A good bowe in his hond, A brod arewe therine, And fowre and xx goode arwys Trusyd in a thrumme.40 "Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, Herof thu xalt han summe: "Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, Herof thu gyst plentè." "Euere on for an other," seyde Gandeleyn,45 "Mysaunter haue he xal fle." "Qwerat xal our marke be?" Seyde Gandeleyn: "Eueryche at otheris herte," Seyde Wrennok ageyn.50 "Ho xal zeue the ferste schote?" Seyde Gandeleyn: "And I xal zeue thè on beforn," Seyd Wrennok ageyn. Wrennok schette a ful good schote,55 And he schet not too hye; Throw the sanchothis of his bryk, It towchyd neyther thye. "Now hast thu zouyn me on beforn," Al thus to Wrennok seyde he,60 "And throw the myzt of our lady A bettere I xal zeue the." Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe, And set therin a flo, He schet throw his grene certyl,65 His herte he clef on too. "Now zalt thu neuer zelpe, Wrennok, At ale ne at wyn, That thu hast slawe goode Robyn And his knaue Gandeleyn.70 "Now xalt thu neuer zelpe, Wrennok, At wyn ne at ale, That thu hast slawe goode Robyn And Gandeleyyn his knave." Robyn lyzth in grene wode bow[n]dyn.
4, MS. gynge.
19, MS. went.
24, cut of, Ritson.
61, MS. thu.
74, MS. knawe.
A LYTELL GESTE OF ROBYN HODE.
Three complete editions of this highly popular poem are known, all without date. The earliest, (perhaps not later than 1520,) is by Wynken de Worde, and has this title: Here beginneth a mery geste of Robyn Hode and his meyne, and of the proude sheryfe of Notyngham. A second is by William Copland, and is apparently made from the former. A third was printed from Copland's, for Edward White, and though without date is entered in the Stationers' Registers in 1594. Portions have been preserved of two other editions, earlier than any of these three. Ritson had in his hands a few leaves of an "old 4to. black-letter impression," by Wynken de Worde, "probably in 1489." The Gest of Robyn Hode was also printed at Edinburgh, in 1508, by Chepman and Myllar, who in the same year issued a considerable number of poetical tracts. A volume of these, containing a large fragment of the piece in question, was most fortunately recovered towards the end of the last century, and has been reprinted in fac simile by the Messrs. Laing, Edinburgh, 1827.
The Lytell Geste is obviously to be regarded as an heroic poem, constructed, partly or entirely, out of previously existing unconnected "rhymes of Robin Hood." The earlier ballads employed for this purpose have not been handed down to us in their primitive form. Whatever this may have been, they were probably very freely treated by the rhapsodist that strung them together, who has indeed retold the ancient stories with such skill as might well cause the ruder originals to be forgotten. Nevertheless, the third fit of our little epic is indisputably of common derivation with the last part of the older ballad of Robin Hood and the Potter, and other portions of this tale occur separately in ballads, which, though modern in their structure, may have had a source independent of the Lytell Geste.
It will be observed that each fit of this piece does not constitute a complete story. Mr. Hunter has correctly enough indicated the division into ballads as follows: The first ballad is comprised in the first two fits, and may be called Robin Hood and the Knight; the second ballad is the third fit, and may be called Little John and the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire; in the fourth fit we have the ballad of Robin Hood and the Monks of St. Mary; in the fifth and sixth, Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and the Knight; the seventh and part of the eighth contain the ballad of Robin Hood and the King; and the remaining stanzas of the eighth the Death of Robin Hood.
Concerning the imagined historical foundation of the Lytell Geste, see the general remarks on Robin Hood prefixed to this volume.
Lithe and lysten, gentylmen, That be of frebore blode; I shall you tell of a good yemàn, His name was Robyn Hode. Robyn was a proude outlawe,5 Whyles he walked on grounde; So curteyse an outlawe as he was one Was never none yfounde. Robyn stode in Bernysdale, And lened hym to a tre,10 And by hym stode Lytell Johan, A good yeman was he; And also dyde good Scathelock, And Much the millers sone; There was no ynche of his body,15 But it was worthe a grome. Than bespake hym Lytell Johan All unto Robyn Hode, "Mayster, yf ye wolde dyne betyme, It wolde do you moch good."20 Then bespake good Robyn, "To dyne I have no lest, Tyll I have some bolde baròn, Or some unketh gest, "[Or els some byshop or abbot]25 That may paye for the best; Or some knyght or some squyere That dwelleth here by west." A good maner than had Robyn, In londe where that he were,30 Every daye or he woulde dyne Thre messes wolde he here: The one in the worshyp of the fader, The other of the holy goost, The thyrde was of our dere lady,35 That he loved of all other moste. Robyn loved our dere lady; For doute of dedely synne, Wolde he never do company harme That ony woman was ynne.40 "Mayster," than sayd Lytell Johan, "And we our borde shall sprede, Tell us whether we shall gone, And what lyfe we shall lede; "Where we shall take, where we shall leve,45 Where we shall abide behynde, Where we shall robbe, where we shall reve, Where we shall bete and bynde." "Therof no fors," said Robyn, "We shall do well ynough;50 But loke ye do no housbonde harme That tylleth with his plough; "No more ye shall no good yemàn, That walketh by grene wode shawe, Ne no knyght, ne no squyèr,55 That wolde be a good felawe. "These byshoppes, and thyse archebysshoppes, Ye shall them bete and bynde; The hye sheryfe of Notynghame, Hym holde in your mynde."60 "This worde shall be holde," sayd Lytyll Johan, "And this lesson shall we lere; It is ferre dayes, god sende us a gest, That we were at our dynere." "Take thy good bowe in thy hande," said Robyn,65 "Let Moche wende with the, And so shall Wyllyam Scathelocke, And no man abyde with me: "And walke up to the Sayles, And so to Watlynge-strete,70 And wayte after some unketh gest, Up-chaunce ye mowe them mete. "Be he erle or ony baròn, Abbot or ony knyght, Brynge hym to lodge to me,75 Hys dyner shall be dyght." They wente unto the Sayles, These yemen all thre, They loked est, they loked west, They myght no man see.80 But as they loked in Barnysdale, By a derne strete, Then came there a knyght rydynge, Full sone they gan hym mete. All dreri then was his semblaunte,85 And lytell was hys pryde, Hys one fote in the sterope stode, That other waved besyde. Hys hode hangynge over hys eyen two, He rode in symple aray;90 A soryer man than he was one Rode never in somers-day. Lytell Johan was curteyse, And set hym on his kne: "Welcome be ye, gentyll knyght,95 Welcome are you to me. "Welcome be thou to grene wood, Hende knyght and fre; My mayster hath abyden you fastynge, Syr, all these oures thre."100 "Who is your mayster?" sayd the knyght. Johan sayde, "Robyn Hode." "He is a good yeman," sayd the knyght, "Of hym I have herde moch good. "I graunte," he sayd, "with you to wende,105 My brethren, all in-fere; My purpose was to have deyned to day At Blythe or Dankastere." Forthe than went this gentyll knyght, With a carefull chere;110 The teres out of his eyen ran, And fell downe by his lere. They brought hym unto the lodge dore; When Robyn gan hym se, Full curteysly dyde of his hode,115 And set hym on his kne. "Welcome, syr knyght," then said Robyn, "Welcome thou arte to me, I haue abyde you fastynge, syr, All these houres thre."120 Then answered the gentyll knyght, With wordes fayre and fre, "God the save, good Robyn, And all thy fayre meynè." They washed togyder and wyped bothe,125 And set tyll theyr dynere; Brede and wyne they had ynough, And nombles of the dere. Swannes and fesauntes they had full good, And foules of the revere;130 There fayled never so lytell a byrde, That ever was bred on brere. "Do gladly, syr knyght," sayd Robyn; "Gramercy, syr," sayd he, "Such a dyner had I not135 Of all these wekes thre. "If I come agayne, Robyn, Here by this countrè, As good a dyner I shall the make, As thou hast made to me."140 "Gramercy, knyght," sayd Robyn; "My dyner whan I have, I was never so gredy, by dere worthy god, My dyner for to crave. "But pay or ye wende," sayd Robyn,145 "Me thynketh it is good ryght; It was never the maner, by dere worthy god, A yeman to pay for a knyght." "I have nought in my cofers," sayd the knyght, "That I may profer for shame;"150 "Lytell Johan, go loke," sayd Robyn, "Ne let not for no blame. "Tell me trouth," sayd Robyn, "So god have parte of the;" "I have no more but ten shillings," sayd the knyght,155 "So god have parte of me." "Yf thou have no more," sayd Robyn, "I wyll not one peny; And yf thou have nede of ony more, More shall I len the.160 "Go now forth, Lytell Johan, The trouthe tell thou me; Yf there be no more but ten shillings, Not one peny that I se." Lytell Johan spred downe his mantell,165 Full fayre upon the grounde, And there he found in the knyghtes cofer But even halfe a pounde. Lytyll Johan let it lye full styll, And went to his mayster full lowe:170 "What tydynge, Johan?" sayd Robyn: "Syr, the knyght is trewe inough." "Fyll of the best wyne," sayd Robyn, "The knyght shall begynne; Moch wonder thynketh me175 Thy clothynge is so thynne. "Tell me one worde," sayd Robyn, "And counsell shall it be; I trowe thou were made a knyght of forse, Or elles of yemanry;180 "Or elles thou hast ben a sory housband, And leved in stroke and stryfe; An okerer, or elles a lechoure," sayd Robyn, "With wronge hast thou lede thy lyfe." "I am none of them," sayd the knyght,185 "By god that made me; An hondreth wynter here before, Myne aunsetters knyghtes have be. "But ofte it hath befal, Robyn, A man hath be dysgrate;190 But god that syteth in heven above May amend his state. "Within two or thre yere, Robyn," he sayd, "My neyghbores well it kende, Foure hondreth pounde of good money195 Full wel than myghte I spende. "Now have I no good," sayd the knyght, "But my chyldren and my wyfe; God hath shapen such an ende, Tyll god may amende my lyfe."200 "In what maner," sayd Robyn, "Hast thou lore thy richès?" "For my grete foly," he sayd, "And for my kindenesse. "I had a sone, for soth, Robyn,205 That sholde have ben my eyre, When he was twenty wynter olde, In felde wolde juste full feyre. "He slewe a knyght of Lancastshyre, And a squyre bolde;210 For to save hym in his ryght, My goodes beth sette and solde. "My londes beth set to wedde, Robyn, Untyll a certayne daye, To a ryche abbot here besyde,215 Of Saynt Mary abbay." "What is the somme?" sayd Robyn, "Trouthe than tell thou me;" "Syr," he sayd, "foure hondred pounde, The abbot tolde it to me."220 "Now, and thou lese thy londe," sayd Robyn, "What shall fall of the?" "Hastely I wyll me buske," sayd the knyght, "Over the salte see, "And se where Cryst was quycke and deed225 On the mounte of Caluarè: Fare well, frende, and have good daye, It may noo better be." Teeres fell out of his eyen two, He wolde haue gone his waye:230 "Farewell, frendes, and have good day, I ne have more to pay." "Where be thy friendes?" sayd Robyn: "Syr, never one wyll me know; Whyle I was ryche inow at home,235 Grete bost then wolde they blowe. "And now they renne awaye fro me, As bestes on a rowe; They take no more heed of me Then they me never sawe."240 For ruthe then wepte Lytell Johan, Scathelocke and Much in fere: "Fyll of the best wyne," sayd Robyn, "For here is a symple chere. "Hast thou ony frendes," sayd Robyn,245 "Thy borowes that wyll be?" "I have none," then sayd the knyght, "But god that dyed on a tree." "Do waye thy japes," sayd Robyn, "Therof will I right none;250 Wenest thou I wyll have god to borowe, Peter, Poule, or Johan? "Nay, by hym that me made, And shope both sonne and mone; Fynde a better borowe," sayd Robyn,255 "Or mony getest thou none." "I have none other," sayd the knyght, "The sothe for to say, But yf it be our dere lady, She fayled me never or this day."260 "By dere worthy god," sayd Robyn, "To seche all England thorowe, Yet founde I never to my pay A moch better borowe. "Come now forthe, Lytell Johan,265 And goo to my tresourè, And brynge me foure hondred pounde, And loke that it well tolde be." Forthe then wente Lytell Johan, And Scathelocke went before,270 He tolde out foure houndred pounde, By eyghtene score. "Is this well tolde?" said lytell Much. Johan sayd, "What greveth the? It is almes to helpe a gentyll knyght275 That is fall in povertè." "Mayster," than said Lytell Johan, "His clothynge is full thynne; Ye must gyve the knyght a lyveray To lappe his body ther in.280 "For ye have scarlet and grene, mayster, And many a ryche aray; There is no marchaunt in mery Englònde, So ryche, I dare well saye." "Take hym thre yerdes of every coloure,285 And loke that well mete it be:" Lytell Johan toke none other mesure But his bowe tre. And of every handfull that he met He lept ouer fotes thre:290 "What devilkyns draper," sayd litell Much, "Thynkyst thou to be?" Scathelocke stoode full styll and lough, And sayd, "By god allmyght, Johan may gyve hym the better mesure;295 By god, it cost him but lyght." "Mayster," sayd Lytell Johan, All unto Robyn Hode, "Ye must gyve that knight an hors, To lede home al this good."300 "Take hym a gray courser," sayd Robyn, "And a sadell newe; He is our ladyes messengere, God lene that he be true." "And a good palfraye," sayd lytell Moch,305 "To mayntayne hym in his ryght:" "And a payre of botes," sayd Scathelocke, "For he is a gentyll knyght." "What shalt thou gyve him, Lytel Johan?" sayd Robyn. "Syr, a payre of gylte spores clene,310 To pray for all this company: God brynge hym out of tene!" "Whan shall my daye be," sayd the knyght, "Syr, and your wyll be?" "This daye twelve moneth," sayd Robyn,315 "Under this grene wode tre." "It were grete shame," sayd Robyn, "A knyght alone to ryde, Without squyer, yeman, or page, To walke by hys syde.320 "I shall the lene Lytyll Johan my man, For he shall be thy knave; In a yemans steed he may the stonde, Yf thou grete nede have."
9 Barnsdale is a tract of country, four or five miles broad, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. It was, we are told, woodland until recent inclosures, and is spoken of by Leland as a "woody and famous forest" in the reign of Henry the Eighth. From the depths of this retreat to Doncaster the distance is less than ten miles, and to Nottingham, in a straight line, about fifty. A little to the north of Barnsdale is Pontefract, and a little to the northwest is Wakefield, and beyond this the Priory of Kirklees. Mr. Hunter, whom we follow here, has shown by contemporary evidence that Barnsdale was infested by robbers in the days of the Edwards. "In the last year of the reign of King Edward the First, the bishops of St. Andrew's and Glasgow, and the Abbot of Scone were conveyed, at the King's charge, from Scotland to Winchester. In this journey they had a guard, sometimes of eight archers, sometimes of twelve; but when they had got as far south as Daventry, they had no archers at all in attendance, and proceeded without a guard, in three days from thence to Winchester. But when they passed from Pontefract to Tickhill, the guard had been increased to the number of twenty archers, and the reason given in the account of the expenses of their journey, for this addition to the cost of the conveyance, is given in the two words, propter Barnsdale."
22. lust, Ritson.
69, 70. "The Sayles," is a place no longer known, but it is certain that there was formerly a place of the name in Barnsdale or near it. "It was a very small tenancy of the manor of Pontefract, being not more than the tenth of a knight's fee" (Hunter). Watling Street stands here for the great North Road, probably a Roman highway, which crosses Barnsdale.
85. all his. PCC.
106, so R. (ed. 1489): all three, W. C. (de Worde & Copland).
109, this, R. that, W. C.
112, ere, R.
148, to pay, R. pay, W. C.
151, Robyn, R. Robyn Hoode, W. C.
179. "This stanza is remarkable for containing a reference to one of the old grievances of the people of England. In the reign of Henry the Third, and his son, and grandson, the compelling persons, some of them of no great estate, to take upon them the honour of knighthood, or pay a large sum to be excused, was felt as a heavy oppression."—Hunter.
193, two yere, R.
194, knowe, OCC.
200, it may amende, OCC.
209, lancasesshyre, R.
228, not W. C.
233, by W. C.
234. So R. knowe me, W. C. The fragment of de Worde's older ed. ends with v. 239.
242, also, PCC. for 'in fere.'
243. Wyme, PCC.
272. I.e. by so many score to the hundred. It is certainly a very hyperbolical expression, but he measures the cloth in the same way.—Ritson.
280, helpe, W. wrappe, C.
304. leue, W. lende, C
THE SECONDE FYTTE.
Nowe is the knyght went on his way, This game hym thought full good; When he loked on Bernysdale, He blyssed Robyn Hode; And whan he thought on Bernysdale,5 On Scathelock, Much, and Johan, He blyssed them for the best company That ever he in come. Then spake that gentyll knyght, To Lytel Johan gan he saye,10 "To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune, To Saynt Mary abbay; "And to the abbot of that place Foure hondred pounde I must pay; And but I be there upon this nyght15 My londe is lost for ay." The abbot sayd to his covent, There he stode on grounde, "This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght And borowed foure hondred pounde.20 "[He borowed foure hondred pounde,] Upon all his londe fre, But he come this ylke day Dysheryte shall he be." "It is full erely," sayd the pryoure,25 "The day is not yet ferre gone; I had lever to pay an hondred pounde, And lay it downe anone. "The knight is ferre beyonde the see, In Englonde is his ryght,30 And suffreth honger and colde, And many a sory nyght. "It were grete pytè," said the pryoure, "So to have his londe; And ye be so lyght of your conseyence,35 Ye do to him moch wronge." "Thou art euer in my berde," sayd the abbot, "By god and saynt Rycharde;" With that cam in a fat-heded monke, The heygh selerer.40 "He is dede or hanged," sayd the monke, "By god that bought me dere, And we shall have to spende in this place Foure hondred pounde by yere." The abbot and the hy selerer,45 Sterte forthe full bolde, The high justyce of Englonde The abbot there dyde holde. The hye justyce and many mo Had take into their honde50 Holy all the knyghtes det, To put that knyght to wronge. They demed the knyght wonder sore, The abbot and hys meynè: "But he come this ylke day55 Dysheryte shall he be." "He wyll not come yet," sayd the justyce, "I dare well undertake;" But in sorowe tyme for them all The knyght came to the gate.60 Than bespake that gentyll knyght Untyll hys meynè, "Now put on your symple wedes That ye brought fro the see." [They put on their symple wedes,]65 And came to the gates anone; The porter was redy hymselfe, And welcomed them everychone. "Welcome, syr knyght," sayd the portèr, "My lorde to mete is he,70 And so is many a gentyll man, For the love of the." The porter swore a full grete othe, "By god that made me, Here be the best coresed hors,75 That ever yet sawe I me. "Lede them into the stable," he sayd, "That eased might they be:" "They shall not come therin," sayd the knyght, "By god that dyed on a tre."80 Lordes were to mete isette In that abbotes hall; The knyght went forth and kneled downe, And salued them grete and small. "Do gladly, syr abbot," sayd the knyght,85 "I am come to holde my day:" The fyrst word the abbot spake, "Hast thou brought my pay?" "Not one peny," sayd the knyght, "By god that maked me;"90 "Thou art a shrewed dettour," sayd the abbot; "Syr justyce, drynke to me. "What doost thou here," sayd the abbot, "But thou haddest brought thy pay?" "For god," than sayd the knyght,95 "To pray of a lenger daye." "Thy daye is broke," sayd the justyce, "Londe getest thou none:" "Now, good syr justyce, be my frende, And fende me of my fone."100 "I am holde with the abbot," sayd the justyce, "Bothe with cloth and fee:" "Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende:" "Nay for god," sayd he. "Now, good syr abbot, be my frende,105 For thy curteysè, And holde my londes in thy honde Tyll I have made the gree; "And I wyll be thy true servaunte, And trewely serve the,110 Tyl ye have foure hondred pounde Of money good and free." The abbot sware a full grete othe, "By god that dyed on a tree, Get the londe where thou may,115 For thou getest none of me." "By dere worthy god," then sayd the knyght, "That all this worlde wrought, But I have my londe agayne Full dere it shall be bought.120 "God, that was of a mayden borne, Lene us well to spede! For it is good to assay a frende Or that a man have nede." The abbot lothely on him gan loke,125 And vylaynesly hym gan call; "Out," he sayd, "thou false knyght, Spede the out of my hall!" "Thou lyest," then sayd the gentyll knyght, "Abbot in thy hal;130 False knyght was I never, By god that made us all." Up then stode that gentyll knyght, To the abbot sayd he, "To suffre a knyght to knele so longe135 Thou canst no curteysye. "In joustes and in tournement Full ferre than have I be, And put myselfe as ferre in prees As ony that ever I se."140 "What wyll ye gyve more," said the justyce, "And the knyght shall make a releyse? And elles dare I safly swere Ye holde never your londe in pees." "An hondred pounde," sayd the abbot;145 The justyce said, "Gyve him two;" "Nay, be god," said the knyght, "Yet gete ye it not soo. "Though ye wolde gyve a thousande more, Yet were ye never the nere;150 Shall there never be myn eyre, Abbot, justyse, ne frere." He sterte hym to a borde anone, Tyll a table rounde, And there he shoke out of a bagge155 Even foure hondred pounde. "Have here thy golde, syr abbot," sayd the knyght, "Which that thou lentest me; Haddest thou ben curteys at my comynge, Rewarde sholdest thou have be."160 The abbot sat styll, and ete no more, For all his ryall chere; He caste his hede on his sholdèr, And fast began to stare. "Take me my golde agayne," sayd the abbot,165 "Syr justyce, that I toke the;" "Not a peny," sayd the justyce, "By god, that dyed on a tree." "Syr abbot, and ye men of lawe, Now have I holde my daye,170 Now shall I have my londe agayne, For ought that you can saye." The knyght stert out of the dore, Awaye was all his care, And on he put his good clothynge,175 The other he lefte there. He wente hym forthe full mery syngynge, As men have tolde in tale, His lady met hym at the gate, At home in Uterysdale.180 "Welcome, my lorde," sayd his lady; "Syr, lost is all your good?" "Be mery, dame," sayd the knyght, "And praye for Robyn Hode, "That ever his soule be in blysse;185 He holpe me out of my tene; Ne had not be his kyndenesse, Beggers had we ben. "The abbot and I acordyd ben, He is served of his pay,190 The good yeman lent it me, As I came by the way." This knyght than dwelled fayre at home, The soth for to say, Tyll he had got foure hondreth pounde,195 All redy for too paye. He purveyed hym an hondred bowes, The strenges welle [y-]dyght, An hondred shefe of arowes good, The hedes burnyshed full bryght.200 And every arowe an elle longe, With pecocke well ydyght, Inocked all with whyte sylvèr, It was a semly syght. He purveyed hym an hondreth men,205 Well harneysed in that stede, And hymselfe in that same sete, And clothed in whyte and rede. He bare a launsgay in his honde, And a man ledde his male,210 And reden with a lyght songe Unto Bernysdale. As he went at brydge ther was a wrastelyng, And there taryed was he, And there was all the best yemèn,215 Of all the west countree. A full fayre game there was upset; A whyte bull up ipyght, A grete courser with sadle and brydil, With golde burneyshed full bryght;220 A payre of gloves, a rede golde rynge, A pype of wyne, in good fay; What man bereth him best, i-wys, The pryce shall bere away. There was a yeman in that place,225 And best worthy was he, And for he was ferre and frend bestad, Islayne he sholde have be. The knyght had reuth of this yemàn, In place where that he stode,230 He said that yoman sholde have no harme, For love of Robyn Hode. The knyght presed into the place, An hondred folowed hym fre, With bowes bent, and arowes sharpe,235 For to shende that company. They sholdred all, and made hym rome, To wete what he wolde say; He toke the yeman by the honde, And gave hym all the playe.240 He gave hym fyve marke for his wyne, There it laye on the molde, And bad it sholde be sette a broche, Drynke who so wolde. Thus longe taryed this gentyll knyght,245 Tyll that playe was done, So longe abode Robyn fastynge, Thre houres after the none.