| |
| ‘Haste thou ony grene cloth,’ sayd our kynge, | |
| ‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’ | |
| ‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn, | |
| ‘Thyrty yerdes and thre.’ | |
| |
| ‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge, | 5 |
| ‘Now pray I the, | |
| Sell me some of that cloth, | |
| To me and my meynë.’ | |
| |
| ‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn, | |
| ‘Or elles I were a fole; | 10 |
| Another day ye wyll me clothe, | |
| I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’ 1 | |
| |
| The kynge kest of his cole then, | |
| A grene garment he dyde on, | |
| And every knyght also, iwys, | 15 |
| Another had full sone. | |
| |
| Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene, | |
| They keste away theyr graye; | |
| ‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’ | |
| All thus our kynge gan say. | 20 |
| |
| They bente theyr bowes and forth they went, | |
| Shotynge all in-fere, 2 | |
| Towarde the towne of Notyngham, | |
| Outlawes as they were. | |
| |
| Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder, | 25 |
| For soth as I you say, | |
| And they shote plucke-buffet, | |
| As they went by the way. | |
| |
| And many a buffet our kynge wan | |
| Of Robyn Hode that day, | 30 |
| And nothynge spared good Robyn | |
| Our kynge when he did pay. | |
| |
| ‘So God me helpë,’ sayd our kynge, | |
| ‘Thy game is nought to lere; 3 | |
| I sholde not get a shote of the, | 35 |
| Though I shote all this yere.’ | |
| |
| All the people of Notyngham | |
| They stode and behelde; | |
| They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene | |
| That covered all the felde. | 40 |
| |
| Than every man to other gan say, | |
| ‘I drede our kynge be slone 4; | |
| Come Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys | |
| On lyve he lefte never one.’ | |
| |
| Full hastely they began to fle, | 45 |
| Both yemen and knaves, | |
| And olde wyves that myght evyll goo, | |
| They hypped on theyr staves. | |
| |
| The kynge loughe full fast, | |
| And commaunded theym agayne; | 50 |
| When they se our comly kynge, | |
| I-wys they were full fayne. | |
| |
| They ete and dranke, and made them glad, | |
| And sange with notës hye; | |
| Than bespake our comly kynge | 55 |
| To Syr Richarde at the Lee. | |
| |
| He gave hym there his londe agayne, | |
| A good man he bad hym be; | |
| Robyn thanked our comly kynge, | |
| And set hym on his kne. | 60 |
| |
| Had Robyn dwelled in the kynges courte | |
| But twelve monethes and thre, | |
| That he had spent an hondred pounde, | |
| And all his mennes fe. | |
| |
| In every place where Robyn came | 65 |
| Ever more he layde downe, 5 | |
| Both for knyghtës and for squyres, | |
| To gete hym grete renowne. | |
| |
| By than the yere was all agone | |
| He had no man but twayne, | 70 |
| Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke, | |
| With hym all for to gone. | |
| |
| Robyn sawe yonge men shote | |
| Full faire upon a day; | |
| ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn, | 75 |
| ‘My welthe is went away. | |
| |
| ‘Somtyme I was an archere good, | |
| A styffe and eke a stronge; | |
| I was compted the best archere | |
| That was in mery Englonde. | 80 |
| |
| ‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn, | |
| ‘Alas and well a woo! | |
| Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge, | |
| Sorowe wyll me sloo.’ | |
| |
| Forth than went Robyn Hode | 85 |
| Tyll he came to our kynge: | |
| ‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde, | |
| Graunte me myn askynge. | |
| |
| ‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale, | |
| That semely is to se, | 90 |
| It is of Mary Magdaleyne, | |
| And thereto wolde I be. | |
| |
| ‘I myght never in this seven nyght | |
| No tyme to slepe ne wynke, | |
| Nother all these seven dayes | 95 |
| Nother ete ne drynke. | |
| |
| ‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale, | |
| I may not be therfro; | |
| Barefote and wolwarde 6 I have hyght 7 | |
| Thyder for to go.’ | 100 |
| |
| ‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge, | |
| ‘It may no better be; | |
| Seven nyght I gyve the leve, | |
| No lengre, to dwell fro me.’ | |
| |
| ‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn, | 105 |
| And set hym on his kne; | |
| He toke his leve full courteysly, | |
| To grene wode then went he. | |
| |
| Whan he came to grene wode, | |
| In a mery mornynge, | 110 |
| There he herde the notës small | |
| Of byrdës mery syngynge. | |
| |
| ‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn, | |
| ‘That I was last here; | |
| Me lyste 8 a lytell for to shote | 115 |
| At the donnë dere.’ | |
| |
| Robyn slewe a full grete harte; | |
| His horne than gan he blow, | |
| That all the outlawes of that forest | |
| That horne coud they knowe, | 120 |
| |
| And gadred them togyder, | |
| In a lytell throwe. | |
| Seven score of wyght yonge men | |
| Came redy on a rowe, | |
| |
| And fayre dyde of theyr hodes, | 125 |
| And set them on theyr kne: | |
| ‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ‘our mayster, | |
| Under this grene-wode tre.’ | |
| |
| Robyn dwelled in grene wode | |
| Twenty yere and two; | 130 |
| For all drede of Edwarde our kynge, | |
| Agayne wolde he not goo. | |
| |
| Yet he was begyled, i-wys, | |
| Through a wycked woman, | |
| The pryoresse of Kyrkësly, | 135 |
| That nye was of hys kynne: | |
| |
| For the love of a knyght, | |
| Syr Roger of Donkesly, | |
| That was her ownë speciall; | |
| Full evyll mote they the! 9 | 140 |
| |
| They toke togyder theyr counsell | |
| Robyn Hode for to sle, | |
| And how they myght best do that dede, | |
| His banis 10 for to be. | |
| |
| Than bespake good Robyn, | 145 |
| In place where as he stode, | |
| ‘Tommorow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly, | |
| Craftely 11 to be leten blode.’ | |
| |
| Syr Roger of Donkestere, | |
| By the pryoresse he lay, | 150 |
| And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode, | |
| Through theyr falsë playe. | |
| |
| Cryst have mercy on his soule, | |
| That dyed on the rode! | |
| For he was a good outlawe, | 155 |
| And dyde pore men moch god. | |
