A Little Geste of Robin Hood and his Meiny

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,That be of free-born blood:I shall you tell of a good yeoman,His name was Robin Hood.

Robin was a proud outlaw,The while he walked on ground;So courteous an outlaw as he was oneWas never none y-found.

Robin stood in Barnèsdale,And leaned him to a tree;And by him stood Little John,A good yeoman was he.

And also did good Scathèlock,And Much, the miller’s son;There was none inch of his body,But it was worth a groom.

Then bespake him Little JohnAll unto Robin Hood:‘Master, an ye would dine betimesIt would do you much good.’

Then bespake him good Robin:‘To dine I have no lest,Till that I have some bold baron,Or some uncouth guest,

‘Till that I have some bold baronThat may pay for the best,Or else some knight, or some squièrThat dwelleth here by West.’

A good mannèr then had Robin;In land where that he were,Every day ere he would dineThree masses would he hear:

The one in worship of the Father,The other of the Holy Ghost,The third was of Our dear LadyThat he loved alder-most.

Robin loved our dear Lady;For doubt of deadly sinWould he no company do harmThat woman was therein.

‘Master,’ then said Little John,‘An we our board shall spread,Tell us whither we shall go,And what life we shall lead;

‘Where we shall take, where we shall leave,Where we shall abide behind,Where we shall rob, where we shall reave,Where we shall beat and bind.’

‘Thereof no force,’ then said Robin;‘We shall do well enow;But look ye do no husband harmThat tilleth with his plough.

‘No more ye shall no good yeomanThat walketh by green-wood shaw;Nor yet no knight nor no squièrThat will be a good fellaw.

‘These bishops and these archbishops,Ye shall them beat and bind;The High Sheriff of Nottingham,Him hold ye in your mind.’

‘This word shall be held,’ said Little John,‘This lesson we shall lere;It is far days; God send us a guest,That we were at our dinnere.’

‘Take thy good bow,’ said Robin Hood,‘Let Much wend with thee,And so shall William Scathèlock,And no man abide with me;

‘And walk ye up unto the Sayles,And so to Watling Street,And wait after some uncouth guest;Upchance ye may them meet.

‘Be he an earl, or any baron,Abbot, or any knight,Bring ye him to lodge with me;His dinner shall be dight.’

Then went they up unto the Sayles,Those yeoman allè three;They lookèd east, they lookèd west,They mightè no man see.

But as they looked in Barnèsdale,By a dernè street,Then came a knight a-riding up;Full soon they gan him meet.

All dreary then was his semblaunt,And little was his pride;His one foot in the stirrup stood,The other waved beside.

His hood hang’d in his eyen two;He rode in simple array;A sorrier man than he was oneRode never in summer day.

Little John was full courteous,And set him on his knee;‘Welcome be ye, gentle Knight,Welcome are ye to me.

‘Welcome be thou to greenè wood.Hendè Knight and free;My master hath abiden you fastingSir, all these hourès three.’

‘Who is thy master?’ said the Knight.John said, ‘Robin Hood.’‘He is a good yeoman,’ said the Knight,‘Of him I have heard much good.

‘I grant,’ he said, ‘with you to wend,My brethren, all in fere;My purpose was to have dined to-dayAt Blyth of Doncastere.’

Forth then went this gentle Knight,With a careful cheer;The tears out of his eyen ran,And fell down by his leer.

They brought him to the lodgè door;When Robin gan him see,Full courteously did off his hood,And set him on his knee.

‘Welcome, Sir Knight,’ then said Robin,‘Welcome art thou to me;I have abiden you fasting, sir,All these hourès three.’

Then answerèd the gentle Knight,With wordès fair and free;‘God thee savè, good Robin,And all thy fair meinèe.’

They washèd together and wipèd both,And set to their dinnere;Bread and wine they had enough,And numbles of the deer.

Swans and pheasants they had full good,And fowls of the rivere;There failèd none so little a birdThat ever was bred on brere.

‘Do gladly, Sir Knight,’ said Robin.‘Gramerci, sir,’ said he;‘Such a dinner had I notOf all these weekès three.

‘If I come again, Robin,Here by this country,As good a dinner I shall thee makeAs thou hast made to me.’

‘Gramerci, Knight,’ said Robin Hood;‘My dinner when I have,I was never so greedy, by dear-worth God,My dinner for to crave.

‘But pray ere ye wend,’ said Robin Hood;‘Me thinketh it is good right;It was never the manner, by dear-worth God,A yeoman to pay for a knight.’

‘I have nought in my coffers,’ said the Knight,‘That I may proffer for shame:’‘Little John, go look,’ said Robin Hood,‘Nor let not for no blame.’

‘Tell me truth,’ said Robin Hood,‘So God have part of thee.’--‘I have no more than ten shillings,So God have part of me.’

‘If thou hast no more,’ said Robin,‘I will not one pennỳ;And if thou need of any more,More shall I lendè thee.

‘Go now forth, Little John,The truthè tell thou me;If there be no more but ten shillings,No penny that I see.’

Little John his mantle spreadFull fair upon the ground,And there he found in the Knight’s cofferBut even half a pound.

Little John let it lie full still,And went to his master low;‘What tidings, John?’ said Robin Hood.--‘Sir, the Knight is true enow.’

‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,‘The Knight shall begin;Muchè wonder thinketh meThy clothing is so thin.

‘Tell me one word,’ said Robin,‘And counsel shall it be;I trow thou wert made a knight of force,Or else of yeomanry.

‘Or else thou hast been a sorry husband,And lived in stroke and strife;An okerer, or a lecher,With wrong hast led thy life.’

‘I am none of thosè,’ said the Knight,‘By Him that madè me;An hundred winter here beforeMine anc’tors knights have be.

‘But oft it hath befal’n, Robin,A man hath been disgrate;But God, that sitteth in heaven above,May amend his state.

‘Within these two years, Robin,’ he said,‘My neighbours well it kenn’d,Four hundred pounds of good monèyFull well then might I spend,

‘Now have I no good,’ said the Knight,‘God hath shapen such an end,But my children and my wife,Till God it may amend.’

‘In what mannèr,’ then said Robin,‘Hast thou lorn thy richess?’‘For my great folly,’ he said,‘And for my kindèness.

‘I had a son forsooth, Robin,That should have been mine heir;When he was twenty winter oldIn field would joust full fair.

‘He slew a knight of Lancashire,And a squièr bold;For to save him in his rightMy goods are set and sold.

‘My lands are set to wed, Robin,Until a certain day,To a rich Abbot here besideOf St. Mary’s Abbèy.’

‘What is the sum?’ said Robin Hood;‘The truthè tell thou me;’‘Sir,’ he said, ‘four hundred pound;The Abbot told it me.’

‘An thou lose thy land,’ said Robin Hood,‘What shall fall of thee?’--‘Hastily I will me buskOver the saltè sea,

‘And see where Christ was quick and dead,On the mount of Calvary;Farewell, friend, and have good day;It may no better be.’

Tears fell out of his eyen two;He would have gone his way;‘Farewell, friends, and have good day,I have no more to pay.’

‘Where be thy friends,’ said Robin Hood.‘Sir, never one will me know;While I was rich enough at homeGreat boast then would they blow.

‘And now they run away from me,As beastès in a raw;They takè no more heed of meThan they me never saw.’

For ruth then weptè Little John,Scathèlock and Much in fere;‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,‘For here is a simple cheer.

‘Hast thou any friends,’ said Robin Hood,‘Thy borrows that will be?’‘I havè none,’ then said the Knight,‘But Him that died on tree!’

‘Do way thy japès,’ said Robin,‘Thereof will I right none;Ween’st thou I would have God to borrow,Peter, Paul or John?

‘Nay, by Him that madè me,And shope both sun and moon,Find better borrow,’ said Robin,‘Or money get’st thou none.’

‘I have none other,’ said the Knight,‘The soothè for to say,But if it be Our dear Lady;She fail’d never ere this day.’

‘By dear-worth God,’ said Robin Hood,‘To seek all England thorough,Yet found I never to my payA muchè better borrow.

‘Come now forth, Little John,And go to my treasurỳ,And bringè me four hundred pound,And look well told it be.’

Forth then wentè Little John,And Scathèlock went before;He told him out four hundred poundBy eight and twenty score.

‘Is this well told?’ said Little Much;John said, ‘What grieveth thee?It is alms to help a gentle knightThat is fal’n in poverty.’

‘Master,’ then said Little John,‘His clothing is full thin;Ye must give the Knight a liveryTo lap his body therein.

‘For ye have scarlet and green, master,And many a rich array;There is no merchant in merry EnglandSo rich, I dare well say.’--

‘Take him three yards of each coloùr,And look well mete it be.’--Little John took no measùreBut his bowè-tree.

And at every handful that he metHe leapèd o’er feet three;‘What devilkin’s draper,’ said Little Much,‘Thinkest thou for to be?’

Scathèlock stood full still and laughed,And said, ‘He meteth right.John may give him good measure,For it costeth him but light.’

‘Master,’ then said Little JohnAll unto Robin Hood,‘Ye must give the Knight a horseTo lead home all this good.’

‘Take him a grey courser,’ said Robin,‘And a saddle new;He is Our Lady’s messenger;God grant that he be true!’

‘And a good palfrey,’ said Little Much,‘To maintain him in his right;’‘And a pair of boots,’ said Scathèlock,‘For he is a gentle knight.’

‘What shalt thou give him, Little John?’--‘Sir, a pair of gilt spurs clean,To pray for all this company;God bring him out of teen.’

‘When shall my day be,’ said the Knight,‘Sir, an your willè be?’--‘This day twelve moneth,’ said Robin,‘Under this green-wood tree.

‘It were great shamè,’ said Robin,‘A knight alone to ride,Withoutè squire, yeoman, or page,To walkè by his side.

‘I shall thee lend Little John, my man,For he shall be thy knave;In a yeoman’s stead he may thee stand,If thou great needè have.’

Now is the Knight gone on his way;This game him thought full good;When he looked on Barnèsdale,He blessèd Robin Hood.

And when he thought on Barnèsdale,On Scathelock, Much, and John,He blessèd them for a companyThe best he ever in come.

Then spake that gentle Knight,To Little John gan he say,‘To-morrow I must to York townTo Saint Mary’s Abbèy;

‘And to the Abbot of that placeFour hundred pound must pay;But I be there upon this nightMy land is lost for aye.’

The Abbot said to his Convènt,Where he stood on ground,‘This day twelve moneth came a knight,And borrowed four hundred pound.

‘He borrowèd four hundred poundUpon his land and fee;But he come this ilkè dayDisherited shall he be.’

‘It is full early,’ said the Prior,‘The day is not yet far gone;I had liever pay an hundred pound,And lay it down anon.

‘The Knight is far beyond the sea,In England is his right,And suffereth hunger and coldAnd many a sorry night.

‘It were great pity,’ said the Prior,‘So to have his land;An ye be so light of your conscience,Ye do him muchè shand.’

‘Thou art ever in my beard,’ said the Abbot,‘By God and Saint Richard!’With that came in a fat-headed monk,The Highè Cellarèr.

‘He is dead or hangèd,’ said the monk,‘By Him that bought me dear,And we shall have to spend in this placeFour hundred pound by year.’

The Abbot and the High CellarerStarted forth full bold,The High Justice of EngèlandThe Abbot there did hold.

The High Justice and many moHad taken into their handWholly all the Knightès debt,To put that Knight to shand.

They deemèd the Knight wonder sore,The Abbot and his meinèe:‘But he come this ilkè day,Disherited shall he be.’

‘He will not come yet,’ said the Justice,‘I dare well undertake.’But in sorry timè for them allThe Knight came to the gate.

Then bespake that gentle KnightUntil his meinèe:‘Now put on your simple weedsThat ye brought from the sea.’

They putten on their simple weeds,They came to the gates anon;The Porter was ready himself,And welcomed them every one.

‘Welcome, Sir Knight,’ said the Porter,‘My lord to meat is he,And so is many a gentle man,For the love of thee.’

The Porter swore a full great oath:‘By Him that madè me,Here be the bestè corsèd horseThat ever yet I see.

‘Lead them into the stable,’ he said,‘That easèd might they be’;‘They shall not come therein,’ said the Knight,‘By Him that died on tree.’

Lordès were to meat y-setIn that Abbot’s hall;The Knight went forth and kneelèd downAnd salued them great and small.

‘Do gladly, Sir Abbot,’ said the Knight,‘I am come to hold my day.’The first word that the Abbot spake,‘Hast thou brought me my pay?’

‘Not one penny,’ said the Knight,‘By Him that makèd me’:‘Thou art a shrewd debtor,’ said the Abbot;‘Sir Justice, drink to me!’

‘What doest thou here,’ said the Abbot,‘But thou hadst brought thy pay?’‘Alack is me,’ then said the Knight,‘To pray of a longer day!’

‘Thy day is broke,’ said the Justice,‘Land gettest thou none.’--‘Now, good Sir Justice, be my friend,And fend me of my fone!’

‘I am held with the Abbot,’ said the Justice,‘Both with cloth and fee.’--‘Now, good Sir Sheriff, be my friend!’‘Nay, nay, not I,’ said he.

‘Now, good Sir Abbot, be my friend,For thy courtesy,And hold my landès in thy handTill I have made thee gree

‘And I will be thy true servàntAnd truly servè thee,Till ye have four hundred poundOf money good and free.’

The Abbot sware a full great oath,‘By Him that died on tree,Get thy landès where thou mayst,For thou gettest none of me!’

‘By dear-worth God,’ then said the Knight,‘That all this worldè wrought,But I have my land again,Full dear it shall be bought.

‘God, that was of a maiden born,Give us well to speed!For it is good to assay a friendEre that a man have need.’

The Abbot loathly on him gan look,And villainously him gan call;‘Out,’ he said, ‘thou falsè Knight,Speed thee out of my hall!’

‘Thou liest,’ said the gentle Knight;‘Abbot, in thy hall;Falsè Knight was I never,By God that made us all.’

Up then stood that gentle Knight,To the Abbot said he,‘To suffer a knight to kneel so long,Thou canst no courtesy.

‘In joustès and in tournamentsFull far then have I be,And put myself as far in pressAs any that ever I see.’

‘What will ye give more,’ said the Justice,‘An the Knight shall make a release?And ellès dare I safely swearYe hold never your land in peace.’

‘An hundred pound,’ said the Abbot;The Justice said, ‘Give him two;’‘Nay, by God,’ said the Knight,‘Ye get not my land so.

‘Though ye would give a thousand more,Yet were ye never the nigher;Shall there never be mine heirAbbot, Justice, nor Friar.’

He started to a board anon,Till a table round,And here he shook out of a bagEven four hundred pound.

‘Have here thy gold, Sir Abbot,’ he said,‘Which that thou lentest me;Hadst thou been courteous at my coming,I would have rewarded thee.’

The Abbot sat still, and ate no more,For all his royal fare;He cast his head on his shouldèr,And fast began to stare.

‘Take me my gold again.’ he said,‘Sir Justice, that I took thee.’--‘Not a penny,’ said the Justice,‘By Him that died on tree.’--

‘Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,Now have I held my day;Now shall I have my land again,For aught that you can say.’

The Knight out started of the door,Away was all his care,And on he put his good clothing.The other he left there.

He went him forth full merry singing,As men have told in tale;His Lady met him at the gate,At home in Uttersdale.

‘Welcome, my lord,’ said his Lady;‘Sir, lost is all your good?’--‘Be merry, damè,’ said the Knight,‘And pray for Robin Hood,

‘That ever his soulè be in bliss:He help me out of teen;Ne had not been his kindèness,Beggars had we been.

‘The Abbot and I accorded be,He is servèd of his pay;The goodè yeoman lent it me,As I came by the way.’

This Knight then dwellèd fair at home,The soothè for to say,Till he had got four hundred pound,All ready for to pay.

He purvey’d him an hundred bows,The stringès well y-dight,An hundred sheaf of arrows good,The heads burnish’d full bright;

And every arrow an ellè long,With peacock well y-dight,Y-notchèd all with white silvèr;It was a seemly sight.

He purvey’d him an hundred men,Well harness’d in that stead,And himself in that samè suit,And clothed in white and red.

He bare a lancegay in his hand,And a man led his mail,And roden with a lightè songUnto Barnèsdale.

As he went at a bridge there was a wrestling,And there tarrièd was he,And there was all the best yeomen,Of all the west countrỳ.

A full fair game there was upset,A white bull up y-pight;A great courser with saddle and bridle,With gold burnish’d full bright;

A pair of gloves, a red gold ring,A pipe of wine, in good fay:What man beareth him best, i-wis,The prize shall bear away.

There was a yeoman in that place,And best worthy was he,And for he was far and frembd bestad,I-slain he should have be.

The Knight had ruth of this yeoman.In place where that he stood,He said that yeoman should have no harm,For love of Robin Hood.

The Knight pressèd into the place,An hundred followed him free,With bows bent, and arrows sharp,For to shende that company.

They shoulder’d all, and made him room,To wete what he would say,He took the yeoman by the handAnd gave him all the play;

He gave him five mark for his wine,There it lay on the mould,And bade it should be set a-broach,Drink who so would.

Thus long tarried this gentle Knight,Till that play was done ...So long abode Robin fasting,Three hours after the noon.

How Little John robbed the Sheriff of Nottingham and delivered him intoRobin Hood’s hands

Lithe and listen, gentlemen,All that now be here,Of Little John, that was the Knight’s man,Good mirth shall ye hear.

It was upon a merry day,That young men would go shete;Little John fet his bow anon,And said he would them meet.

Three times Little John shot about,And alway cleft the wand,The proud Sherìff of NottinghamBy the marks gan stand.

The Sheriff swore a full great oath,‘By Him that died on a tree,This man is the best archèrThat yet saw I me.

‘Say me now, wight young man,What is now thy name?In what country were thou born,And where is thy woning wane?’--

‘In Holderness I was bore,I-wis, all of my dame,Men call me Reynold Greenleaf,When I am at hame.’--

‘Say me, Reynold Greenleaf,Wilt thou dwell with me?And every year I will thee giveTwenty mark to thy fee.’--

‘I have a master,’ said Little John,‘A courteous knight is heMay ye get leave of him,The better may it be.’

The Sheriff got Little JohnTwelve months of the Knight,Therefore he gave him right anonA good horse and a wight.

Now is Little John the Sheriff’s man,He give us well to speed,But alway thought Little JohnTo quit him well his meed.

‘Now so God me help,’ said Little John,‘And by my true lewtè,I shall be the worst servant to himThat ever yet had he.’

It befell upon a Wednesday,The Sheriff on hunting was gone,And Little John lay in his bed,And was forgotten at home.

Therefore he was fastingTill it was past the noon.‘Good sir steward, I pray thee,Give me to dine,’ said Little John.

‘It is too long for Greenleaf,Fasting so long to be;Therefore I pray thee, steward,My dinner give thou me.’

‘Shall thou never eat nor drink,’ said the steward,‘Till my lord be come to town.’‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,‘I had liefer to crack thy crown.’

The butler was full uncourteous,There he stood on floor,He started to the buttery,And shut fast the door.

Little John gave the butler such a rap,His back yede nigh in two:Tho’ he lived an hundred winter,The worse he should go.

He spurn’d the door with his foot,It went up well and fine,And there he made a large liveryBoth of ale and wine.

‘Sith ye will not dine,’ said Little John,‘I shall give you to drink,And though ye live an hundred winter,On Little John ye shall think.’

Little John ate, and Little John drank,The while that he wolde.The Sheriff had in his kitchen a cook,A stout man and a bold.

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said the cook,‘Thou art a shrewd hind,In an household to dwell,For to ask thus to dine.’

And there he lent Little John,Good strokès three.‘I make mine avow,’ said Little John,‘These strokes liketh well me.

‘Thou art a bold man and an hardy,And so thinketh me;And or I pass from this place,Assay’d better shalt thou be.’

Little John drew a good sword,The cook took another in hand;They thought nothing for to flee,But stiffly for to stand.

There they fought sore together,Two mile way and more,Might neither other harm done,The mountenance of an hour.

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,‘And by my true lewtè,Thou art one of the best swordsmenThat ever yet saw I me.

‘Couldest thou shoot as well in a bow,To green-wood thou shouldest with me,And two times in the year thy clothingI-changèd should be;

‘And every year of Robin HoodTwenty mark to thy fee.’--‘Put up thy sword,’ said the cook,‘And fellows will we be.’

Then he fette to Little JohnThe numbles of a doe,Good bread and full good wine,They ate and drank thereto.

And when they had drunken well,Their troths together they plight,That they would be with RobinThat ilk same day at night.

They did them to the treasure-house,As fast as they might gone,The locks that were of good steelThey broke them every one;

They took away the silver vessel,And all that they might get,Pieces, masars, and spoons,Would they none forget;

Also they took the good pence,Three hundred pound and three;And did them straight to Robin Hood,Under the green-wood tree.

‘God thee save, my dear master,And Christ thee save and see!’And then said Robin to Little John,‘Welcome might thou be;

‘And also be that fair yeomanThou bringest there with thee.What tidings from NottinghamLittle John, tell thou me?’--

‘Well thee greeteth the proud Sheriff,And send thee here by meHis cook and his silver vessel,And three hundred pound and three.’--

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,‘And to the Trinity,It was never by his good will,This good is come to me.’

Little John him there bethought,On a shrewèd wile,Five mile in the forest he ran,Him happèd at his will.

Then he met the proud Sheriff,Hunting with hound and horn,Little John cou’d his courtesy,And kneelèd him beforn:

‘God thee save, my dear master,And Christ thee save and see!’--‘Reynold Greenleaf,’ said the Sheriff,‘Where hast thou now be?’--

‘I have been in this forest,A fair sight can I see,It was one of the fairest sightsThat ever yet saw I me;

‘Yonder I see a right fair hart,His colour is of green,Seven score of deer upon an herdBe with him all bedene;

‘His tyndès are so sharp, master,Of sixty and well mo,That I durst not shoot for dreadLest they would me sloo.’

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said the Sheriff,‘That sight would I fain see.’‘Busk you thitherward, my dear master,Anon, and wend with me.’

The Sheriff rode, and Little JohnOf foot he was full smart,And when they came afore Robin:‘Lo, here is the master hart!’

Still stood the proud Sheriff,A sorry man was he:‘Woe worth thee, Reynold Greenleaf!Thou hast now betrayèd me.’

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Little John,‘Master, ye be to blame,I was mis-served of my dinner,When I was with you at hame.’

Soon he was to supper set,And servèd with silver white;And when the Sheriff saw his vessel,For sorrow he might not eat.

‘Make good cheer,’ said Robin Hood,‘Sheriff, for charity!And for the love of Little John,Thy life is granted to thee.’

When they had suppèd well,The day was all agone,Robin commanded Little JohnTo draw off his hosen and shoon,

His kirtle and his courtepy,That was furrèd well fine,And take him a green mantèl,To lap his body therein.

Robin commanded his wight young men,Under the green-wood tree,They shall lie in that same sort;That the Sheriff might them see.

All night lay that proud Sheriff,In his breech and in his shirt,No wonder it was in green-wood,Tho’ his sides do smerte.

‘Make glad cheer,’ said Robin Hood,‘Sheriff, for charity!For this is our ordèr, i-wis,Under the green-wood tree.’

‘This is harder order,’ said the Sheriff,‘Than any anchor or frere;For all the gold in merry EnglandI would not long dwell here.’

‘All these twelve months,’ said Robin‘Thou shalt dwell with me;I shall thee teach, proud Sheriff,An outlaw for to be.’

‘Or I here another night lie,’ said the Sheriff,‘Robin, now I pray thee,Smite off my head rather to-morne,And I forgive it thee.

‘Let me go,’ then said the Sheriff,‘For saint Charity!And I will be thy best friendThat ever yet had thee.’

‘Thou shalt swear me an oath,’ said Robin,‘On my bright brand,Thou shalt never await me scathe,By water nor by land.

‘And if thou find any of my men,By night or by day,Upon thine oath thou shalt swear,To help them that thou may.’

Now has the Sheriff i-sworn his oath,And home he began to gone,He was as full of green-woodAs ever was hip of stone.

The Sheriff dwelled in Nottingham,He was fain that he was gone;And Robin and his merry menWent to wood anon.

‘Go we to dinner,’ said Little John:Robin Hood said ‘Nay;For I fear Our Lady be wroth with me,For she sent me not my pay.’

‘Have no doubt, master,’ said Little John;‘Yet is not the sun at rest;For I dare say and safely swear,The Knight is true and trest.’

‘Take thy bow in hande,’ said Robin,‘Let Much wend with thee,And so shall William Scathèlock,And no man abide with me.

‘And walk ye up unto the Sayles,And so to Watling Street,And wait after some uncouth guest,Upchance ye may them meet.

‘Whether he be a messenger,Or a man that mirthès can,Of my good he shall have some,If he be a poorè man.’

Forth then started Little John,Half in tray and teen,And girt him with a full good sword,Under a mantle of green.

They wenten up unto the Sayles,Those yeomen allè three;They lookèd east, they lookèd west,They mightè no man see.

But as they looked in Barnèsdale,By the highè-way,Then were they ware of a Black Monk,Upon a good palfrèy.

Then bespake him Little John,To Muchè gan he say:‘I dare well lay my life to wed,That Monk hath brought our pay.

‘Make glad cheer,’ said Little John,‘And dress your bows of yew,And look your hearts be seker and sad,Your strings trusty and true.

‘The Monk hath two and fifty men,And seven somers strong;There rideth no bishop in this landSo royally along.

‘Bretheren,’ said Little John,‘Here are no more but three;But we bring them to dinnèr,Our master we dare not see.

‘Bend your bows,’ said Little John,‘Make all yon press to stand;The foremost Monk, his life and deathIs closèd in my hand.

‘Abide, churl Monk!’ said Little John,‘No further that thou wend;If thou dost, by dear-worth God,Thy death is in my hend.

‘And evil thrift upon thy head,Right under thy hat’s band!For thou hast made our master wroth,He is so lang fastand.’

‘Who is your master?’ said the Monk.--Little John said, ‘Robin Hood.’--‘He is a strong thief,’ said the Monk,‘Of him I never heard good.’

‘Thou lìest,’ then said Little John,‘And that shall ruè thee;He is a yeoman of the forest,To dine he hath bidden thee.’

Much was ready with a bolt,Rathely and anon,He set the Monk to-fore the breastTo the ground that he gan gon.

Of two and fifty wight yeomenThere abode not one,Save a little page and a groomTo lead the somers on.

They brought the Monk to the lodgè door,Whether he were loath or lief,For to speak with Robin Hood,Maugre in his teeth.

Robin did a-down his hood,The Monk when that he see;The Monk was not so courteous,His hood he lettè be.

‘He is a churl, by dear-worth God,’Then said Little John.‘Thereof no force,’ said Robin Hood,‘For courtesy can be none.’

‘How many men,’ said Robin Hood,‘Haddè this Monk, Johan?’--‘Fifty and two when that we met,But many of them be gane.’

‘Let blow a horn,’ said Robin Hood,‘That fellowship may us know.’--Seven score of wight yeomenCame pricking on a row.

Each of them had a good mantèlOf scarlet and of ray;All they came to good Robin,To wit what he would say.

They made the Monk to wash and wipe,And sit at his dinnere,Robin Hood and Little JohnThey served him both in fere.

‘Do gladly, Monk,’ said Robin Hood;‘Gramerci, sir,’ said he.‘Where is your Abbey, when you are at home,And who is your avowè?’

‘Saint Mary’s Abbey,’ said the Monk,‘Though I be simple here.’--‘In what office?’ said Robin;‘Sir, the High Cellerèr.’

‘Ye be the more welcome,’ said Robin,‘So ever mote I the:Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,‘This Monk shall drink to me.

‘But I have great marvel,’ said Robin,‘Of all this longè day;I dread Our Lady be wroth with me,She sent me not my pay.’

‘Have no doubt, master,’ said Little John,‘Ye have no need, I say,This Monk hath brought it, I dare well swear,For he is of her Abbèy.’

‘And she was a borrow,’ said Robin,‘Between a Knight and me,Of a little money that I him lent,Under the green-wood tree.

‘And if thou hast that silver brought,I pray thee let me see;And I shall helpè thee eftsoons,If thou have need to me.’

The Monk swore a full great oath,With a sorry cheer,‘Of the borrowhood thou speak’st to meHeard I never ere.’--

‘I makè mine avow to God,Monk, thou art to blame;For God is held a righteous Man,And so is eke his Dame.

‘Thou toldest with thine ownè tongue,Thou mayst not sayè naye,How thou art her servant,And servest her every day.

‘And thou art made her messenger,My money for to pay;Therefore I can thee morè thankThou art come at thy day.

‘What is in your coffers?’ said Robin,‘Truthè tell thou me.’--‘Sir,’ he saidè, ‘twenty mark,All so mote I the.’

‘If there be no more,’ said Robin,‘I will not one pennỳ;If thou hast myster of any more,More I shall lend to thee.

‘And if I find more,’ said Robin,‘I-wis thou shall it forgone;For of thy spending-silver, Monk,Thereof will I right none.

‘Go now forth, Little John,The truthè tell thou me;If there be no more but twenty mark,No penny that I see.’

Little John spread his mantle down,As he had done before,And he told out of the Monkès mailEight hundred pound and more.

Little John let it lie full still,And went to his master in haste;‘Sir,’ he said, ‘the Monk is true enough,Our Lady hath doubled your cast!’--

‘I makè mine avow to God,Monk, what told I thee?Our Lady is the truest womanThat ever found I me.

‘By dear-worth God,’ said Robin Hood,‘To seek all England thorough,Yet found I never to my payA muchè better borrow.

‘Fill of the best wine,’ said Robin,‘And greet thy Lady hend,And if she have need to Robin HoodShe shall him find a friend.

‘And if she need any more silvèr,Come thou again to me,And, by this token she hath me sent,She shall have suchè three.’

The Monk was going to Londonward,There to hold great moot,The Knight that rode so high on horse,To bring him under foot.

‘Whither be ye away?’ said Robin.--‘Sir, to manors in this londe,To reckon with our revès,That have done much wrong.’--

‘Come now forth, Little John,And hearken to my tale,A better yeoman I know none,To seek a Monkès mail.’

‘How much is in yon other forcèr?The soothè must we see:’‘By our Lady,’ then said the Monk,‘That were no courtesy,

‘A man to biddè to dinnèr,And sith him beat and bind.’--‘It is our old manner,’ said Robin,‘To leave but little behind.’

The Monk took the horse with spur,No longer would he abide;‘Ask to drink,’ then said Robin,‘Ere that ye further ride.’

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ then said the Monk,‘Me rueth I came so near;For better cheap I might have dinedIn Blyth or Doncastere.’

‘Greet well your Abbot,’ said Robin,‘And your prior, I you pray,And bid him send me such a MonkTo dinner every day!’

Now lettè we that Monk be still,And speak we of that Knight:Yet he came to hold his day,The while that it was light.

He did him straight to Barnèsdale,Under the green-wood tree,And he found there Robin Hood,And all his merry meinèe.

The Knight lit down off his good palfrèy,Robin when he gan see;Courteously he did a-down his hood,And set him on his knee.

‘God thee savè, Robin Hood,And all this company!’--‘Welcome be thou, gentle Knight,Right welcome unto me.’

Then bespake him Robin HoodTo that Knight so free:‘What need driveth thee to greenè-wood?I pray, sir Knight, tell me.

‘And welcome be thou, gentle Knight,Why hast thou been so long?’--‘For the Abbot and the High JusticeWould have had my land with wrong.’

‘Hast thou thy land again?’ said Robin;‘Truthè tell thou me.’--‘Yea, ’fore God,’ said the Knight,‘That thank I God and thee.

‘But take no grief I have been so long;I came by a wrestèling,And there I holp a poor yeoman,With wrong was put behind.’

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ said Robin Hood,‘Sir Knight, that thank I thee;What man that helpeth a good yeoman,His friend I willè be.’

‘Have here four hundred pound,’ said the Knight,‘The which ye lent to me;And here is also twenty markFor your courtesy.’

‘Nay, ’fore God,’ said Robin Hood,‘Thou brook it well for aye;For Our Lady, by her Cellarèr,Hath sent to me my pay.

‘And if I would it twicè takeA shame it were to me;But truly now, thou gentle Knight,Welcome art thou to me.’

When Robin Hood had told his tale,He laugh’d and made good cheer.‘By my truthè,’ said the Knight,‘Your money is ready here.’

‘Brook it well,’ said Robin Hood,‘Thou gentle Knight so free;And welcome be thou, gentle Knight,Under my trystell-tree!

‘But what shall these bows do,’ said Robin,‘And these arrows feather’d free?’--‘With your will,’ then said the Knight,‘A poor present to thee.’--

‘Come now forth, Little John,And go to my treasurỳ,And bring me thence four hundred pound;The Monk overtold it me.

‘Have here four hundred pound,Thou gentle Knight and true,And buy thee horse and harness good,And giltè spurs all new.

‘And if thou fail any spending,Come to Robin Hood,And by my troth thou shalt none fail,While I have any good.

‘And brook well thy four hundred pound,Which I lent to thee,And make thyself no more so bare,By the counsel of me.’

Thus then holp him good Robin,The Knight all of his care:God, that sitt’st in heaven high,Grant us well to fare!

Now hath the Knight his leave i-take,And went him on his way;Robin Hood and his merry menDwelt still full many a day.

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,And hearken what I shall say,How the proud Sheriff of Nottingham,Did cry a full fair play;

That all the best archers of the NorthShould come upon a day,‘And he that shooteth alder-bestThe game shall bear away.

‘He that shooteth alder-best,Furthest, fair, and law,At a pair of fynly butts,Under the green-wood shaw,

‘A right good arrow he shall have,The shaft of silver white,The head and feathers of rich red gold,In England is none like.’

This then heardè good Robin,Under his trystell-tree:‘Make you ready, ye wight young men;That shooting will I see.

‘Busk you, my merry young men,Ye shall go with me;And I will wete the Sheriff’s faith,True an if he be.

When they had their bows i-bent,Their tackles feather’d free,Seven score of wight young menStood by Robin’s knee.

When they came to Nottingham,The butts were fair and long;Many was the bold archèrThat shot with bowè strong.

‘There shall but six shoot with me,The other shall keep my heed,And stand with good bowès bentThat I be not deceived.’

The fourth outlaw his bow gan bend,And that was Robin Hood,And that beheld the proud Sheriff,All by the butt he stood.

Thrice Robin shot about,And alway he sliced the wand,And so did good Gilbert,With the white hand.

Little John and good ScathelockWere archers good and free;Little Much and good Reynold,The worst would they not be.

When they haddè shot about,These archers fair and good,Evermore was the best,For soothè, Robin Hood.

Him was deliver’d the good arròw,For best worthy was he;He took the gift so courteously,To greenè-wood would he.

They crièd out on Robin HoodAnd great horns gan they blow:‘Woe worth thee, treason!’ said Robin,‘Full evil thou art to know.

‘And woe be thee, thou proud Sheriff,Thus gladding thy guest;Otherwise, thou behotè meIn yonder wild forèst.

‘But had I thee in greenè-wood,Under my trystell-tree,Thou shouldest leave me a better wedThan thy true lewtè.’

Full many a bowè there was bent,And arrows let they glide;Many a kirtle there was rent,And hurt full many a side.

The outlaws’ shottè was so strongThat no man might them drive.And the proudè Sheriff’s menThey fled away full blive.

Robin saw the bushment broke,In green-wood he would be;Many an arrow there was shotAmong that company.

Little John was hurt full sore,With an arrow in his knee,That he might neither go nor ride;It was full great pity.

‘Master,’ then said Little John,‘If ever thou lovest me,And for that ilk Lordès love,That died upon a tree,

‘And for the meeds of my service,That I have servèd thee,Let never the proud SheriffAlive now findè me;

‘But take out thy brown sword,And smite all off my headAnd give me wounds dead and wide,No life on me be left.’

‘I would not that,’ said Robin,‘John, that thou were slawe,For all the gold in merry England,Though it lay now on a rawe.’

‘God forbid,’ said little Much,‘That died on a tree,That thou shouldest, Little John,Part our company.’

Up Robin took him on his back,And bare him well a mile;Many a time he laid him down,And shot another while.

Then was there a fair castèll,A little within the wood;Double-ditch’d it was about,And wallèd, by the rood.

And there dwelt that gentle Knight,Sir Richard at the Lee,That Robin haddè lent his good,Under the green-wood tree.

In he took good Robin,And all his company:‘Welcome be thou, Robin Hood,Welcome art thou to me;

‘And much I thank thee of thy comfort,And of thy courtesy,And of thy great kindness,Under the green-wood tree;

‘I love no man in all this worldSo much as I do thee;For all the proud Sheriff of Nottingham,Right here shalt thou be.

‘Shut the gates and draw the bridge,And let no man come in,And arm you well, and make you ready,And to the walls ye win.

‘For one thing, Robin, I thee behote,I swear by Saint Quintìn,These twelve days thou wonest with me,To sup, eat, and dine.’

Boards were laid, and cloths spread,Readily and anon;Robin Hood and his merry menTo meat gan they gone.

How Sir Richard was cast by the Sheriff into Prison, and rescued byRobin Hood

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,And hearken to my song;How the proud Sheriff of NottinghamAnd men of armès strong

Full fast came to the High Sheriff,The country up to rout,And they beset the Knight’s castell,The wallès all about.

The proudè Sheriff loud gan cry,And said, ‘Thou traitor Knight,Thou keep’st here the King’s enemies,Against the law and right.’--

‘Sir, I will avow that I have done,The deeds that here be dight,Upon all the lands that I have,As I am a true knight.

‘Wend forth, sirs, on your way,And doth no more to me,Till ye wit our King his willWhat he will say to thee.’

The Sheriff thus had his answère,Without any leasing;Forth he yede to London town,All for to tell our King.

There he told him of that Knight,And eke of Robin Hood,And also of the bold archersThat were so noble and good.

‘He would avow that he had done,To maintain the outlaws strong,He would be lord, and set you at nought,In all the north londe.’

‘I will be at Nottingham,’ said our King,‘Within this fortènight,And take I willè Robin Hood,And so I will that Knight.

‘Go home, thou proud Sheriff,And do as I bid thee,And ordain good archers enough,Of all the wide countrey.’

The Sheriff had his leave i-take,And went him on his way;And Robin Hood to green-wood wentUpon a certain day;

And Little John was whole of the arrow,That shot was in his knee,And did him straight to Robin Hood,Under the green-wood tree.

Robin Hood walked in the forestUnder the leavès green;The proud Sheriff of NottinghamThereof he had great teen.

The Sheriff there fail’d of Robin Hood,He might not have his prey;Then he awaited this gentle Knight,Both by night and day.

Ever he waited that gentle Knight,Sir Richard at the Lee,As he went hawking by the river side,And let his hawkès flee.

Took he there this gentle Knight,With men of armès strong,And led him to Nottingham-ward,Bound both foot and hond.

The Sheriff swore a full great oath,By Him that died on a tree,He had liefer than an hundred pound,That Robin Hood had he.

This heard the Knightès wife,A fair lady and a free;She set her on a good palfrey,To green-wood anon rode she.

When she came in the forèst,Under the green-wood tree,Found she there Robin HoodAnd all his fair meinèe.

‘God thee save, thou good Robin,And all thy company;For Ourè dearè Lady’s sake,A boon grant thou me!

‘Let thou never my wedded LordShamefully slayen be;He is fast bound at Nottingham,For the love of thee.’

Anon then said good Robin,To that lady free,‘What man hath your lord i-take?’--‘The proud Sheriff,’ then said she.

‘The proud Sheriff hath him i-takeForsooth as I thee say;He is not yet three miles,Passèd on his way.’

Up then started good RobinAs a man that had been wood;‘Buskè you, my merry men,For Him that died on rood!

‘And he that this sorròw forsaketh,By Him that died on a tree,And by Him that all things maketh,No longer shall dwell with me.’

Soon there were good bows y-bent,More than seven score;Hedge nor ditch they sparèd noneThat was them before.

‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,‘The Knight would I fain see,And if I may him takè,I-quit then shall he be.’

And when they came to Nottingham,They walkèd in the street;And with the proud Sheriff i-wisSoonè gan they meet.

‘Abide, thou proud Sheriff,’ he said,‘Abide, and speak with me;Of some tidings of our KingI would fain hear of thee.

‘This seven year, by dear-worthy God,Ne yede I so fast on foot,I make mine avow to God, thou proud Sheriff,It is not for thy good.’

Robin bent a full good bow,An arrow he drew at will;He hit so the proud Sheriff,On the ground he lay full still.

And or he might up arise,On his feet to stand,He smote off the Sheriff’s head,With his bright brand.

‘Lie thou there, thou proud Sheriff;Evil mote thou thrive:There might no man to thee trustThe while thou wert alive.’

His men drew out their brightè swordsThat were so sharp and keen,And laiden on the Sheriff’s men,And drave them down bidene.

Robin started to the Knight,And cut in two his band,And took him in his hand a bow,And bade him by him stand.

‘Leave thy horsè thee behind,And learnè for to ren;Thou shalt with me to greenè-wood,Through mire, moss, and fen.

‘Thou shalt with me to greenè-wood,Without any leasing,Till that I have got us graceOf Edward, our comely King.’

The King came to Nottingham,With knights in great array,For to take that gentle KnightAnd Robin, if he may.

He askèd men of that countryAfter Robin Hood,And eke after that gentle KnightThat was so bold and good.

When they had him told the caseOur King understood their tale,And he seizèd in his handThe Knightès landès all.

All the pass of LancashireHe went both far and near,Till he came to Plompton Park,He fail’d many of his deer.

There our King was wont to seeHerdès many one,He could unneth find one deerThat bare any good horn.

The King was wonder wroth withall,And swore by the Trinity,‘I would I haddè Robin Hood,With eyes I might him see.

‘And he that would smite off the Knightès head,And bring it unto meHe shall have the Knightès lands,Sir Richard at the Lee.

‘I give it him with my chartèr,And seal it with my hand,To have and hold for evermoreIn all merry England.’

Then bespake a fair old KnightThat was true in his fay:‘Ah! my liegè lord the King,One word I shall you say.

‘There is no man in this countryMay have the Knightès lands,While Robin Hood may ride or go,And bear a bow in his hands.

‘That he ne shall not lose his head,The best ball in his hood;Give it no man, my lord the King,That ye will any good.’

Half a year dwelt our comely KingIn Nottingham, and more;Could he not hear of Robin Hood,In what country he wore.

But alway wentè good RobinBy halk and eke by hill,And alway slew the Kingès deer,And wielded them at will.

Then bespake a proud forstèr,That stood by our Kingès knee:‘If ye will see good Robin Hood,Ye must do after me.

‘Take five of the bestè knightsThat be in yourè lede,And walkè down by yon Abbèy,And get you monkès weed.

‘And I will be your leadès-man,And leadè you the way,And ere ye come to NottinghamMine head then dare I lay

‘That ye shall meet with good Robin,Alive if that he be;Ere ye come to NottinghamWith eyes ye shall him see.’

Full hastily our King was dight,So were his knightès five.Each of them in monkès weed,And hasted thither blive.

Our King was great above his cowl,A broad hat on his crown,Right as he were abbot-like,They rode into the town.

Stiff boots our King had on,Forsooth as I you say;Singing he rode to the greenè-wood,The convent was clothed in gray.

His mail-horse and his great somèrsFollowed our King behind,Till they came to greenè-woodA mile under the lind.

There they met with good Robin,Standing on the way,And so did many a bold archèr,For sooth as I you say.

Robin took the Kingè’s horseHastily in that stide,And said, ‘Sir Abbot, by your leave,A while ye must abide.

‘We be yeomen of this forèstUnder the green-wood tree;We livè by our Kingès deer,None other shift have we.

‘And ye have churches and rentès bothAnd gold full great plentỳ,Give us some of your spendingFor saintè charity.’

Then bespake our comely King,Anon then saidè he,‘I have brought no more to greenè-woodBut forty pound with me.

‘I have lain at NottinghamThis fortnight with our King,And spent I have full muchè goodOn many a great lording.

‘And I have but forty pound,No more I have with me:But if I had an hundred pound,I vouch it half on thee.’

Robin took the forty pound,And departed it in twain;Halfen-deal he gave his men,And bade them be full fain.

Full courteously Robin gan say,‘Sir, this for your spending!We shall meet another day.’--‘Gramerci!’ said our King.

‘But well thee greeteth Edward our King,And sent to thee his seal,And biddeth thee come to Nottingham,Both to meat and meal.’

He took out the broadè targe,And soon he let him see;Robin could his courtesy,And set him on his knee.

‘I love no man in all the worldSo well as I do my King;Welcome is my lordès seal;

‘Sir Abbot, for thy tidings,To-day thou shalt dine with me,For the lovè of my King,Under my trystell-tree.’

Forth he led our comely KingFull fairè by the hand;Many a deer there was slain,They were full fast dightànd.

Robin took a full great horn,And loudè he gan blow;Seven score of wight young menCame ready on a row.

All they kneelèd on their kneeFull fair before Robin;The King said himself until,And swore by Saint Austìn,

‘Here is a wonder seemly sight;Me thinketh, by God’s pine,His men are more at his biddingThan my men be at mine.’

Full hastily was their dinner dight,And thereto gan they gon;They servèd our King with all their might,Both Robin and Little John.

Anon before our King was setThe fattè venisoun,The good white bread, the good red wine,Thereto fine ale and brown.

‘Make good cheer,’ said Robin Hood,‘Abbot, for charity,And for this ilkè tiding, Sir,Blessed mote thou be.

‘Now shalt thou see what life we lead,Ere thou hennès wend;Then thou mayst inform our King,When ye together lend.’

Up they started all in haste,Their bows were smartly bent;Our King was never so aghast,He weened to have been shent.

Two yards there were up set,Thereto gan they gang;By fifty paces, our King said,The markès were too lang.

On every side a rose garlànd,They shot under the line:‘Who fails of the garland,’ said Robin,‘His tackle he shall tine,

‘And yield it unto his mastèr,Be it never so fine;For no man will I spare,’ he said,‘So drink I ale or wine;

‘And bear a buffet on his headI-wis aright all bare:’And all that fell to Robin’s lotHe smote them wonder sair.

Twice Robin shot about,And ever he cleft the wand,And so did eke the good GilbèrtWith the white hand.

Little John and good Scathèlock,For nothing would they spare;When they fail’d of the garlàndRobin smote them sair.

At the last shot that Robin shot,For all his friendès fare,Yet he fail’d of the garlàndThree fingers and mair.

Then bespake him good Gilbèrt,And thus he gan him say:‘Master,’ he said, ‘your tackle is lost,Stand forth and take your pay.’

‘If it be so,’ said Robin Hood,‘That may no better be,Sir Abbot, I deliver thee mine arrow,I pray thee, serve thou me.’

‘It falls not for mine order,’ said our King,‘Robin, by thy leave,For to smite no good yeomàn,For doubt I should him grieve.’

‘Smite on boldly,’ said Robin,‘I give thee largè leave.’Anon our King with that same wordHe folded up his sleeve,

And such a buffet he gave Robin,To ground he yede full near:‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,‘Thou art a stalwart frere.

‘There is pith in thine arm,’ said Robin,‘I trow thou canst well shoot.’Thus our King and Robin HoodTogether then they met.

Robin beheld our comely KingWistly in the face,So did Sir Richard at the Lee,And knelt down in that place.

And so did all the wild outlàws,When they saw them kneel:‘My lord the King of Engèland,Now I know you weel!’

‘Mercy then, Robin,’ said our King,‘Under your trystell-tree,Of thy goodness and thy grace,For my men and me!’

‘Yes, ’fore God,’ said Robin Hood,‘And also God me save!I ask mercy, my lord the King,And for my men I crave.’

‘Yes, ’fore God,’ then said our King,‘And thereto sent I me,With that thou leave the greenè-wood,And all thy company;

‘And come home, sir, unto my court,And there dwell with me.’--‘I make mine avow to God,’ said Robin,‘And right so shall it be.

‘I will come unto your court,Your service for to see,And bringè with me of my menSeven score and three.

‘But me like well your service,I will come again full soon,And shooten at the dunnè deer,As I am wont to doon.’

How Robin Hood lived a while at the King’s Court, but returned to theGreen-wood

‘Hast thou any green cloth?’ said our King,‘That thou wilt sell now to me?’--‘Yea, ’fore God,’ said Robin,‘Thirty yards and three.’

‘Robin,’ said our King,‘Now pray I thee,To sell me some of that cloth,To me and my meinèe.’

‘Yes, ’fore God,’ then said Robin,‘Or else I were a fool;Another day ye will me clothe,I trow, against the Yule.’

The King cast off his coat then,A green garment he did on,And every knight had so, i-wis,They clothèd them full soon.

When they were clothed in Lincoln green,They cast away their gray.‘Now we shall to Nottingham,’All thus our King gan say.

Their bows bent and forth they went,Shooting all in fere,Toward the town of Nottingham,Outlaws as they were.

Our King and Robin rode togetherForsooth as I you say,And they shot pluck-buffet,As they went by the way;

And many a buffet our King won,Of Robin Hood that day:And nothing spared good RobinOur King in his pay.

‘So God me help,’ said our King,‘Thy game is nought to lere,I should not get a shot of thee,Though I shot all this year.’

All the people of NottinghamThey stood and beheld,They saw nothing but mantles of greenThat cover’d all the felde;

Then every man to other gan say,‘I dread our King be slone;Come Robin Hood to the town, i-wis,On life he leaveth not one.’

Full hastily they began to flee,Both yeoman and knaves,The old wives that might evil go,They hippèd on their staves.

The King laughed full fast,And commanded them again;When they saw our comely King,I-wis they were full fain.

They ate and drank, and made them glad,And sang with notès high.Then bespake our comely KingTo Sir Richard at the Lee:

He gave him there his land again,A good man he bade him be.Robin thanked our comely King,And set him on his knee.

Robin had dwelt in the Kingès courtBut twelvè months and three,That he had spent an hundred pound,And all his mennès fee.

In every place where Robin came,Evermore he laid downBoth for knightès and for squires,To get him great renown.

By then the year was all agoneHe had no man but twain,Little John and good ScathèlockWith him all for to gane.

Robin saw the young men shootFull far upon a day;‘Alas!’ then said good Robin Hood,‘My wealth is went away.

‘Sometime I was an archer good,A stiff and eke a strong;I was counted the best archèrThat was in merry Englond.

‘Alas!’ then said good Robin Hood,‘Alas and well-a-way!If I dwell longer with the King,Sorrow will me slay.’

Forth then wentè Robin HoodTill he came to our King:‘My lord the King of Engèland,Grant me mine asking!

‘I made a chapel in BarnèsdaleThat seemly is to see,It is of Mary Magdalen,And thereto would I be.

‘I might never in this seven nightNo timè sleep nor wink,Neither all these seven daysNeither eat nor drink.

‘Me longeth sore to Barnèsdale,I may not be therefro;Barefoot and woolward I have hightThither for to go.’

‘If it be so,’ then said our King,‘It may no better be;Seven night I give thee leave,No longer, to dwell from me.’

‘Gramerci, lord,’ then said Robin,And set him on his knee:He took his leave full courteously,To green-wood then went he.

When he came to greenè-woodIn a merry mornìng,There he heard the notès smallOf birds merry singìng.

‘It is far gone,’ said Robin Hood,‘That I was latest here;Me list a little for to shootAt the dunnè deer.’

Robin slew a full great hart;His horn then gan he blow,That all the outlaws of that forèstThat horn they couldè know,

And them together gatherèdIn a little throw;Seven score of wight young menCame ready on a row,

And fairè didden off their hoods,And set them on their knee:‘Welcome,’ they said. ‘our dear mastèr,Under this green-wood tree!’

Robin dwelt in greenè-woodTwenty year and two;For all dread of Edward our King,Again would he not go.

Yet he was beguiled, i-wis,Through a wicked woman,The prioress of Kirksley,That nigh was of his kin,

For the love of a knight,Sir Roger of Doncastèr,That was her own special;Full evil might they fare!

They took together their counselRobin Hood for to sle,And how they might best do that deed,His banis for to be.

Then bespake good Robin,In place where as he stood,‘To-morrow I must to Kirksley,Craftily to be letten blood.’

Sir Roger [and the prioressA springe for him did] lay,And there they betray’d good Robin Hood,Through their falsè play.

Christ have mercy on his soul,That died upon the rood!For he was a good outlàw,And did poor men much good.