The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 3 (of 5)

by Unknown

M

Froude’s Life of Carlyle, 1795–1875, II, 335, New York, 1882, completed by a communication of Mr Macmath: as sung by Carlyle’s mother.

‘O Busk ye, O busk ye, my three bluidy hounds,

O busk ye, and go with me,

For there’s seven foresters in yon forest,

And them I want to see.’ see

And them I want to see

---

A.

‘The Seven Forsters at Pickeram Side’ is a title supplied by Percy.

6². I wun is added by Percy, at the end.

7³, 17³. one water.

15¹. Oh.

19⁴. bord words, or bood words.

B follows C in Fry without a break. Words distinguished by ’ ’ in B, C are emendations or additions of Fry. 4, 5 come between 12 and 13.

1¹. braid alow.

10¹. the word.

10⁵. would have.

11². hearted.

13³. bows.

4³. Out-shot.

D.

“There is a West-Country version of this ballad, under the title of Johnie of Cockerslee, differing very little from the present. The variations in the reading I have marked at their respective places.” Kinloch. Assuming that Kinloch has given all the variations (which include six entire stanzas), the West-Country version is reproduced by combining these readings with so much of the other copy, Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 38, as did not vary.

15³. Kinloch neglected to alter Cocklesmuir here.

E.

6³. lying is struck through, probably to improve the metre. Kinloch made two slight changes in printing.

H.

5¹. Mony ane. (?)

9¹. Johnnie lap: probably an error of the copyist.

9², 18². wound: cf. 20².

21⁴. bidding.

Dixon has changed stane-auld to silly-auld in 11¹, 12¹, 20³; Cockis to Cockl’s in 17⁴; and has Scotticised the spelling.

I.

Motherwell notes a stanza as wanting after 3, some stanzas as wanting after 4, 5.

J.

“The version of the ballad here given is partly copied from those printed in the Border Minstrelsy and in the publications of Messrs Kinloch and Motherwell, and is partly taken from the recitation of a lady resident at Peebles and from a manuscript copy submitted to me by Mr Kinloch. The twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, twenty-first, twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-sixth, and twenty-seventh stanzas are here printed for the first time.” Chambers. The 14th stanza had been printed by Scott, F 12; the 23d, repeated here (6), by Pinkerton; the 27th is D 20. The first half of the 12th is D 13^1,2, and the remainder Chambers’s own: compare his 11 and F 11, from which it seems to have been made.

L.

“I have heard another version, where Johnnie is slain and thrown ‘owre a milk-white steed.’ News is sent to Johnnie’s mother, who flies to her son; But aye at ilka ae mile’s end, etc.”

M.

“While she [Carlyle’s mother] was at Craigenputtock, I made her train me to two song-tunes; and we often sang them together, and tried them often again in coming down into Annandale.” The last half of the stanza is cited. Letter of T. Carlyle, May 18, 1834, in Froude’s Life, 1795–1835, II, 335.

“Mrs Aitken, sister of T. Carlyle, sent me [January 15, 1884] the first two lines to complete the stanza of this Johny Cock, but can call up no more of the ballad.” Letter of Mr Macmath.

115
ROBYN AND GANDELEYN

Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 14 b, British Museum.

Printed by Ritson, Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 48, and by Thomas Wright, Songs and Carols (selected from the Sloane MS.), No X, London, 1836, and again in his edition of the whole MS. for the Warton Club, 1856, p. 42. The manuscript is put at about 1450.

Wright remarks on the similarity of the name Gandelyn to Gamelyn in the tale assigned to the Cook in some manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales, and on the resemblance of the tale of Gamelyn to Robin Hood story. But he could hardly have wished to give the impression that Robin in this ballad is Robin Hood. This he no more is than John in the ballad which precedes is Little John; though Gandelyn is as true to his master as Little John is, and is pronounced to be by the king, in ‘Robin Hood and the Monk.’ Ritson gave the ballad the title of ‘Robin Lyth,’ looking on the ‘lyth’ of the burden as the hero’s surname; derived perhaps from the village of Lythe, two or three miles to the north of Whitby. A cave on the north side of the promontory of Flamborough, called Robin Lyth’s Hole (popularly regarded as the stronghold of a pirate), may have been, Ritson thinks, one of the skulking-places of the Robin who fell by the shaft of Wrennok. “Robin Hood,” he adds, “had several such in those and other parts; and, indeed, it is not very improbable that our hero had been formerly in the suite of that gallant robber, and, on his master’s death, had set up for himself.” Thought is free.

Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, page 44, No. 6.

1

I herde a carpyng of a clerk,

Al at ȝone wodes ende,

Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn;

Was þer non oþer þynge.

Robynn lyth in grene wode bowndyn

2

Stronge theuys wern þo chylderin non,

But bowmen gode and hende;

He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych,

If God wold it hem sende.

3

Al day wentyn þo chylderin too,

And fleych fowndyn he non,

Til it were a-geyn euyn;

Þe chylderin wold gon hom.

4

Half an honderid of fat falyf der

He comyn a-ȝon,

And alle he wern fayr and fat i-now,

But markyd was þer non:

‘Be dere God,’ seyde gode Robyn,

‘Here of we xul haue on.’

5

Robyn bent his joly bowe,

Þer in he set a flo;

Þe fattest der of alle

Þe herte he clef a to.

6

He hadde not þe der i-flawe,

Ne half out of þe hyde,

There cam a schrewde arwe out of þe west,

Þat felde Robertes pryde.

7

Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west,

Be euery syde:

‘Hoo hat myn mayster slayin?

Ho hat don þis dede?

Xal I neuer out of grene wode go

Til I se [his] sydis blede.’

8

Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west,

And sowt vnder þe sunne;

He saw a lytil boy

He clepyn Wrennok of Donne.

9

A good bowe in his hond,

A brod arwe þer ine,

And fowre and twenti goode arwys,

Trusyd in a þrumme:

‘Be war þe, war þe, Gandeleyn,

Her-of þu xalt han summe.

10

‘Be war þe, war þe, Gandeleyn,

Her of þu gyst plente:’

‘Euer on for an oþer,’ seyde Gandeleyn;

‘Mysaunter haue he xal fle.

11

‘Qwer-at xal our marke be?’

Seyde Gandeleyn:

‘Eueryche at oþeris herte,’

Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

12

‘Ho xal ȝeue þe ferste schote?’

Seyde Gandeleyn:

‘And I xul ȝeue þe on be-forn,’

Seyde Wrennok ageyn.

13

Wrennok schette a ful good schote,

And he schet not to hye;

Þrow þe sanchoþis of his bryk;

It towchyd neyþer thye.

14

‘Now hast þu ȝouyn me on be-forn,’

Al þus to Wrennok seyde he,

‘And þrow þe myȝt of our lady

A bettere I xal ȝeue þe.’

15

Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe,

And set þer in a flo;

He schet þrow his grene certyl,

His herte he clef on too.

16

‘Now xalt þu neuer ȝelpe, Wrennok,

At ale ne at wyn,

Þat þu hast slawe goode Robyn,

And his knaue Gandeleyn.

17

‘Now xalt þu neuer ȝelpe, Wrennok,

At wyn ne at ale,

Þat þu hast slawe goode Robyn,

And Gandeleyn his knaue.’

Robyn lyȝth in grene wode bowndyn

---

Written continuously, without division of stanzas or verses. The burden, put after 1, stands at the head of the ballad.

And for & always.

1⁴. gynge.

4³. I now.

4⁵. Robyn wanting.

5¹. went.

7⁶. Ti I.

9³. & xx.

10². hir.

12³. ȝewe.

12⁴. seyd.

14³. þ^u myȝt.

17⁴. Gandelyyn: knawe.

Last line: bowdyn.

116
ADAM BELL, CLIM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY

a. Two fragments, stanzas 113⁴–128², 161²–170, of an edition by John Byddell, London, 1536: Library of the University of Cambridge.[^[4]]

b. A fragment, stanzas 53³–111³, by a printer not identified: formerly in the possession of J. Payne Collier.[^[5]]

c. ‘Adambel, Clym of the cloughe, and Wyllyam of cloudesle,’ William Copeland, London [1548–68]: British Museum, C. 21, c. 64.[^[6]]

d. ‘Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesle,’ James Roberts, London, 1605: Bodleian Library, C. 39, Art. Selden.

e. Another edition with the same title-page: Bodleian Library, Malone, 299.

f. ‘Adam Bell, Clime of the Cloug[he], and William off Cloudeslee,’ Percy MS., p. 390: British Museum. Hales and Furnivall, III, 76.

‘Adam Bell’ is licensed to John Kynge in the Stationers’ Registers, 19 July, 1557–9 July, 1558: Arber, I, 79. Again, among copies which were Sampson Awdeley’s, to John Charlewood, 15 January, 1582; and, among copies which were John Charlwoode’s, to James Robertes, 31 May, 1594: Arber, II, 405, 651. Seven reprints of the seventeenth century, later than d, are noted in Mr W. C. Hazlitt’s Handbook, p. 35.

The larger part of a has been reprinted by Mr F. S. Ellis, in his catalogue of the library of Mr Henry Huth, I, 128 f, 1880.[^[7]] b was used by Mr W. C. Hazlitt for his edition of the ballad in Remains of the Early Popular Poetry of England, II, 131.[^[8]] c was reprinted by Percy in his Reliques, 1765, I, 129, with corrections from f; and by Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, 1791, p. 5, with the necessary emendations of Copland’s somewhat faulty text. d is followed by a Second Part, described by Ritson, in temperate terms, as “a very inferior and servile production.” It is here given (with much reluctance) in an Appendix.

Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly, outlawed for breach of the game-laws, swear brotherhood, and betake themselves to Inglewood, a forest adjacent to Carlisle. William is a wedded man, and one day tells his brethren that he means to go to Carlisle to see his wife and children. Adam would not advise this, lest he should be taken by the justice. William goes to Carlisle, nevertheless, knocks at his window, and is admitted by Alice, his wife, who tells him with a sigh that the place has been beset for him a half year and more. While they make good cheer, an old woman, whom William had kept seven years for charity, slips out, and informs the justice that William is come to town.[^[9]] The justice and the sheriff come presently with a great rout to take William. Man and wife defend the house till it is set on fire. William lets his wife and children down with sheets, and shoots on till his bowstring is burnt, then runs into the thick of his foes with sword and buckler, but is felled by doors and windows thrown on him, and so taken. The sheriff orders the gates of Carlisle to be shut close, and sets up a gallows to hang William. A boy, friendly to the family, gets out at a crevice in the wall, and carries word to Adam and Clim, who instantly set out for the rescue.

Adam and Clim find the gates shut so fast that there is no chance of getting in without a stratagem. Adam has a fair written letter in his pocket: they will make the porter think that they have the king’s seal. They beat on the gate till the porter comes, and demand to be let in as messengers from the king to the justice. The porter demurs, but they browbeat him with the king’s seal; he opens the gate; they wring his neck and take his keys. First bending their bows and looking to the strings, they make for the market-place, where they find Cloudesly lying in a cart, on the point to be hanged. William sees them, and takes hope. Adam makes the sheriff his mark, Clim the justice; both fall, deadly wounded; the citizens fly; the outlaws loose Cloudesly’s ropes. William wrings an axe from the hand of an officer, and smites on every side; Adam and Clim shoot till their arrows are gone, then draw their swords. Horns are blown, and the bells rung backwards; the mayor of Carlisle comes with a large force, and the fight is hotter than ever. But all for naught, for the outlaws get to the gates, and are soon in Inglewood, under their trysty-tree.

Alice had come to Inglewood to make known to Adam and Clim what had befallen her husband, but naturally had not found them, since they were already gone to William’s rescue. A woman is heard weeping, and Cloudesly, taking a turn to see what this may mean, comes upon his wife and three boys. Very sad she is, but the sight of her husband makes all well. Three harts are killed for supper, and William gives Alice the best for standing so boldly by him. The outlaws determine to go to the king to get a charter of peace. William takes his eldest son with him, leaving Alice and the two younger at a nunnery. The three brethren make their way to the king’s presence, without leave of porter or announcement by usher, kneel down and hold up their hands, and ask grace for having slain the king’s deer. The king inquires their names, and when he hears who they are says they shall all be hanged, and orders them into arrest. Adam Bell once more asks grace, since they have come to the king of their free will, or else that they may go, with such weapons as they have, when they will ask no grace in a hundred years. The king replies again that all three shall be hanged. Hereupon the queen reminds the king that when she was wedded he had promised to grant the first boon she should ask; she had hitherto asked nothing, but now begs the three yeomen’s lives. The king must needs consent.

Immediately thereafter comes information that the outlaws had slain the justice and the sheriff, the mayor of Carlisle, all the constables and catchpolls, the sergeants of the law, forty foresters, and many more. This makes the king so sad that he can eat no more; but he wishes to see these fellows shoot that have wrought all this woe. The king’s archers and the queen’s go to the butts with the three yeomen, and the outlaws hit everything that is set up. Cloudesly holds the butts too wide for a good archer, and the three set up two hazel rods, twenty score paces apart; he is a good archer, says Cloudesly, that cleaves one of these. The king says no man can do it; but Cloudesly cleaves the wand. The king declares him the best archer he ever saw. William says he will do a greater mastery: he will lay an apple on his son’s head (a boy of seven), and split it in two at six score paces. The king bids him make haste so to do: if he fail, he shall be hanged; and if he touch the boy, the outlaws shall be hanged, all three. Cloudesly ties the child to a stake, turning its face from him, sets an apple on its head, and, begging the people to remain quiet, cleaves the apple in two. The king gives Cloudesly eighteen pence a day as his bowman, and makes him chief rider over the North Country. The queen adds twelve pence, makes him a gentleman of cloth and fee and his two brothers yeomen of her chamber, gives the boy a place in her wine-cellar, and appoints Alice her chief gentlewoman and governess of her nursery. The yeomen express their thanks, go to Rome [to some bishop, in the later copy] to be absolved of their sins, live the rest of their lives with the king, and die good men, all three.

The rescue of Robin Hood by Little John and Much in No 117, sts 61–82, has a general resemblance to the rescue of Cloudesly by Adam and Clim in this ballad, st. 52 ff. The rescue of Will Stutly has also some slight similarity: cf. No 141, sts 26–33, and 70, 79–81, of ‘Adam Bell.’

The shooting of an apple from a boy’s head, sts 151–62, is, as is well known, a trait in several German and Norse traditions, and these particular feats, as well as everything resembling them, have been a subject of eager discussion in connection with the apocryphal history of William Tell.

The Icelandic saga of Dietrich of Bern, compiled, according to the prologue, from Low German tales and ballads, narrates that young Egil, a brother of Weland the Smith, came to Nidung’s court with the fame of being the best bowman in the world. Nidung, to prove his skill, required Egil [on pain of death] to shoot an apple from the head of his son, a child of three years, only one trial being permitted. Egil split the apple in the middle. Though allowed but one chance, Egil had provided himself with three arrows. When asked why, he answered the king that the two others were meant for him, if he had hit the boy with the first. Saga Ðiðriks Konungs af Bern, ed. Unger, c. 75, p. 90 f; Peringskiöld, Wilkina Saga, c. 27, p. 63 f; Raszmann, Die Deutsche Heldensage, II, 247 f; the Swedish rifacimento, Sagan om Didrik af Bern, ed. Hyltén-Cavallius, c. 73, p. 54. The Icelandic saga was composed about 1250.

Saxo, writing about 1200, relates nearly the same incidents of Toko, a man in the service of King Harold Bluetooth († c. 985). Toko, while drinking with comrades, had bragged that he was good enough bowman to hit the smallest apple on top of a stick at the first shot. This boast was carried to the king, who exacted a fulfilment of it on pain of death; but the apple was to be set on the head of Toko’s son. The father exhorted the boy to stand perfectly still, and, to make this easier, turned the child’s face from the direction of the shot; then, laying out three arrows from his quiver, executed the required feat. When the king asked why he had taken three arrows, Toko replied, To wreak the miss of the first with the points of the others. Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, Book x, ed. Holder, p. 329 f.

The White Book of Obwalden, written about 1470, informs us that Tell, a good archer, having refused to bow to Gesler’s hat, was ordered by the landvogt to shoot an apple from the head of one of his children. Unable to resist, Tell laid-by a second arrow, shot the apple from the child’s head, and being asked why he had reserved the other arrow, replied that if the first had missed he would have shot Gesler or one of his men with the second.[^[10]]

This story is introduced into a piece of verse on the origin of the Swiss confederacy, of nearly the same date as the prose document. In this the landvogt says to Tell that if he does not hit with the first shot, it will cost him his life; the distance is one hundred and twenty paces, as in the English ballad, and Tell says simply that he would have shot the landvogt if he had hit his son.[^[11]] (Tell uses a cross-bow, not the long-bow, as the English.)

Henning Wulf, a considerable person in Holstein, who had headed an unsuccessful outbreak against Christian the First of Denmark, was captured and brought before the king. The king, knowing Henning to be an incomparable archer, ordered him to shoot an apple from the head of his only son, a child: if he succeeded, he was to go free. The exploit was happily accomplished. But Henning had put a second arrow into his mouth, and the king asked the object. The second arrow was for the king, had the boy been hit. Henning Wulf was outlawed. The story, which is put at 1472, is the subject of a painting preserved in a church.[^[12]]

The Norwegian king, Haraldr Harðráðr († 1066), who has a grudge against Hemingr, son of Áslákr, undertakes to put him to proof in shooting, swimming, and snow-shoe sliding. They go to a wood, and both execute extraordinary feats with bow and lance; but Hemingr is much superior to the king. The king orders Hemingr to shoot a nut from his brother Björn’s head, on pain of death for missing. Hemingr would rather die than venture such a shot; but his brother offers himself freely, and undertakes to stand still. Then let the king stand by Björn, says Hemingr, and see whether I hit. But the king prefers to stand by Hemingr, and appoints somebody else to the other position. Hemingr crosses himself, calls God to witness that the king is responsible, throws his lance, and strikes the nut from his brother’s head, doing him no harm. Hemings Ðáttr, Flateyjarbók, III, 405 f (1370–80); Müller, Sagabibliothek, III, 356 ff. This story was probably derived from an old song, and is preserved in Norwegian and Färöe ballads: ‘Harald kongin og Hemingen unge,’ Landstad, Norske Folkeviser, No 15, A, B, pp. 177–188; ‘Geyti Áslaksson,’ Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 17, A-C, II, 149–163. In Norwegian A, 5–10, the shot is exacted under pain of imprisonment. Hemingen insists that the king shall take a place near his brother [son], whom he exhorts to stand erect and bold; one half of the nut falls, the other is left on the head; the king asks what was to have been done with a second arrow which Hemingen had secreted, and is answered as in the previous cases.[^[13]] The first and last of these incidents are wanting in B (19–22). In the Färöe ballad, A, 53–62, the king tells Geyti (whom he also calls Hemingur) that he must shoot a nut from his brother’s head. Geyti asks the king to go to the wood with him to see the result, invokes God and St Olav, hits the nut without touching his brother. It is not till the next day that the king asks Geyti why he had two arrows with him in the wood.

The same story, pleasingly varied for the occasion, is found in the saga of the Norwegian king Ólafr Tryggvason († 1000). The king hears that Eindriði, a handsome, rich, and amiable young man, is unconverted. Eindriði is a good swimmer, bowman, and dirk-thrower. Ólafr, a proficient in all such exercises, proposes to try masteries with him in the feats which he has repute for, on the terms that if Eindriði is beaten he shall be baptized, but if victor shall hold such faith as he will. The first trial is in swimming, and in this Ólafr shows unequivocal superiority. The next day they shoot at a target, and the advantage, after two essays, is rather with Eindriði. The king compliments Eindriði; but the issue between them is not yet decided. This fine young fellow’s salvation is at stake, and expedients which one might otherwise scruple at are justifiable. Ólafr knows that Eindriði tenderly loves a pretty child, four or five years old, his sister’s son. This boy shall be our target, says the king. A chessman (the king-piece) on his head shall be the mark, to be shot off without hurting the boy. Eindriði must needs submit, but means to have revenge if the child comes to harm. The king orders a cloth to be passed round the boy’s head, each end of which is to be held firmly by a man, so as to prevent any stirring when the whiz of the arrow is heard. Ólafr signs both himself and the point of his arrow with the cross, and shoots; the arrow takes off the chessman, passing between it and the head, grazing the crown and drawing some little blood. The king bids Eindriði take his turn; but Eindriði’s mother and sister beg him with tears to desist, and he, though ready to take the risk, yields to their entreaties, and leaves the victory with Ólafr. On the third day there is a match at a game with dirks. For a time no one can say which does the better; but in the end Ólafr performs feats so marvellous as in Eindriði’s conviction to demonstrate the assistance of a deity: wherefore he consents to be baptized. Saga Ólafs Tryggvasonar, Fornmanna Sögur, II, 259–74, c. 235; Flateyjarbók, I, 456–64, cc. 359–64.

Punker, a warlock of Rorbach (a town not far from Heidelberg), had obtained from the devil, as the regular recompense for his having thrice pierced the crucifix, the power of making three unerring shots daily, and had so been able to pick off in detail all but one of the garrison of a besieged town. To put his skill to proof, a certain nobleman ordered him to shoot a piece of money from his own son’s head. Punker wished to be excused, for he feared that the devil might play him false; but being induced to make the trial, knocked the coin from the boy’s cap, doing him no damage. Before shooting, he had stuck another arrow into his collar, and asked why, replied that if the devil had betrayed him, and he had killed the child, he would have sent the other bolt through the body of the person who had obliged him to undertake the performance. Malleus Maleficarum, Pars II, Quæstio I, c. xvi.[^[14]] The date of the transaction is put at about 1420.

The last three forms of this tradition have the unimportant variations of brother and brother, or uncle and nephew, for father and son, and of nut, chessman, or coin for apple.

The story is German-Scandinavian, and not remarkably extended.[^[15]] The seven versions agree in two points: the shot is compulsory; the archer meditates revenge in case he harms the person on whose head the mark is placed.[^[16]] These features are wanting in the English ballad. William of Cloudesly offers of his own free motion to shoot an apple from his son’s head, and this after the king had declared him the best archer he had ever seen, for splitting a hazel-rod at twenty score paces; so that the act was done purely for glory. To be sure, the king threatens him with death if he does not achieve what he has undertaken, as death is also threatened in four of the seven German-Scandinavian stories for refusal to try the shot or for missing; but the threats in sts 154 f of the English ballad are a revival of the vow in sts 119 f. Justice has been balked by the unconditional boon granted the queen; aggravating and exasperating circumstances have come to light since this unadvised grace was conceded, and a hope is presented for a pretext under which the king may still hang the outlaws, all three. The shooting of the apple from the boy’s head, isolated from any particular connection, is perhaps all of the German-Scandinavian story that was known to the English ballad-maker, and all minor resemblances may well be fortuitous.[^[17]]

If the shooting of an apple by somebody from somebody’s head is to be regarded as the kernel of the story, its area may then be considerably extended.

Castrén heard the following story among the Finns in Russian Karelia. Robbers had carried a man off over a lake. The son of the captive, a boy of twelve, followed along the other side of the lake, threatening to shoot them if they did not let his father go. These threats, for a time, only procured worse treatment for the prisoner; but at last the boy was told that his father should be released if he could shoot an arrow across the water and split an apple laid on his father’s head. This the boy did, and his father was liberated. Castrén’s Reiseerinnerungen aus den Jahren 1838–44, ed. Schiefner, p. 89 f.

A Persian poet introduces into a work composed about 1175 this anecdote.[^[18]] A distinguished king was very fond of a beautiful slave, so much so that he was never easy unless he was in some way engaged with him. When the king amused himself with shooting, this slave would tremble with fear, for the king would make his mark of an apple placed on his favorite’s head, split the apple, and in so doing make the slave sick with alarm.

J. Grimm had seen a manuscript of travels in Turkey, in the Cassel library, with a picture of an archer aiming at an apple on a child’s head. Deutsche Mythologie, I, 317, note, ed. 1875.

With regard to the Persian story, Benfey observes that it must be admitted as possible that the shooting of an apple from the head of a beloved person may have been pitched upon in various localities, independently, as the mark of supreme skill in archery, but that this is not likely, and that the history of tradition requires us rather to presume that the conception was original in one instance only, and borrowed in the remainder; in which case the borrowing would be by the West from the East, and not the other way. We can come to no decision, however, he adds, until the source of the Persian story, or some older form of it, shall have been discovered. (Göttinger Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1861, p. 680.) The cautiousness of the imperial scholar is worthy of all imitation. The Persian saga, as it is sometimes called, is, in the perhaps mutilated form in which we have it, an inconsistent and inept anecdote; the German-Scandinavian saga is a complete and rational story. In this story it is fundamental that the archer executes a successful shot under circumstances highly agitating to the nerves; he risks the life of a beloved object, and in the majority of versions his own life is at stake besides. That the act must be done under compulsion is the simplest corollary. If the archer is cool enough to volunteer the shot, then the chief difficulty in making it is removed. This is a fault in the English ballad, where the father is unconcerned, and all the feeling is shown by the spectators. Cloudesly had already split a hazel-rod at twenty score paces; what was it for him to hit an apple at six score?[^[19]]

But we are still far from covering the range of stories which have been treated as having some significant relation to that of Egil. Any shot at an apple, any shot at an object on a child’s person (provided the case be not a fact and recent), has been thought worth quoting, as a probable sprout from the same root. For examples: In an Esthonian popular tale, one Sharpeye hits an apple which a man a long way off is holding by his mouth. In a Servian poem, the hero, Milosch, sends an arrow through a ring, and hits a golden apple on the point of a lance. Bellerophon’s sons, Hippolochus and Isandrus, disputing which should be king of the Lycians, it was proposed that the question should be settled by seeing which could shoot through a ring placed on the breast of a child lying on his back. Laodamia, sister of the competitors, offered her son Sarpedon for the trial, and the uncles, to show their appreciation of such handsome behavior, resigned their claims in favor of Sarpedon. The shot, we may understand, did not come off.[^[20]]

With regard to all this series of stories, and others which have been advanced as allied, more will be required to make out a substantial relationship than their having in common a shot at some object in contiguity with a living human body, be the object an apple, or whatever else. The idea of thus enhancing the merit or interest of a shot is not so ingenious that one instance must be held to be original, and all others derivative. The archer Alcon, according to Servius,[^[21]] was wont to shoot through rings placed on men’s heads. Sir John Malcolm (Kaye’s Life, II, 400) was told that at Mocha, when the dates were ripe, a stone, standing up some three inches, would be put on the head of a child, at which two or three of the best marksmen would fire, with ball, at thirty-one yards distance. A case was reported, about fifty years ago, of a man in Pennsylvania shooting a very small apple from the head of another man.[^[22]] A linen-weaver was judicially punished at Spires, some thirty years ago, for shooting a sheet of paper from his son’s hand, and afterwards a potato (“also einen Erdapfel,” Rochholz!) from the boy’s head.[^[23]] The keel-boat men of the Mississippi, in their playfulness, would cut the pipe out of a companion’s hat-band at a long distance. “If they quarreled among themselves, and then made friends, their test that they bore no malice was to shoot some small object from each other’s heads,” such as an apple. Such feats have of late been common on the American stage.

Whatever may be thought of the linen-weaver at Spires, it will scarcely be maintained that the Mississippi keel-boat men shot at apples in imitation of William Tell. As to the selection of an apple, it seems enough to say that an apple makes a convenient mark, is familiar to temperate climates, and at hand at almost any part of the year.[^[24]] But the chief point of all to be borne in mind is, that whether the Mississippi boatmen took their cue, directly or indirectly, from William Tell, they do not become mythical personages by virtue of their repeating his shot. None the more does William of Cloudesly. A story long current in Europe, a mythical story if you please, could certainly be taken up by an English ballad-maker without prejudice to the substantial and simply romantic character of his hero.[^[25]]

The late Mr Joseph Hunter unhesitatingly declared Adam Bell “a genuine personage of history,” and considered that he had had “the good fortune to recover from a very authentic source of information some particulars of this hero of our popular minstrelsy which show distinctly the time at which he lived.”

“King Henry the Fourth, by letters enrolled in the Exchequer, in Trinity Term, in the seventh year of his reign [1406], and bearing date the 14th day of April, granted to one Adam Bell an annuity of 4l. 10s. issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in the forest of Sherwood, together with the profits and advantages of the vesture and herbage of the garden called the Halgarth, in which the manor-house of Clipston is situated.

“Now, as Sherwood is noted for its connection with archery, and may be regarded also as the patria of much of the ballad poetry of England, and the name of Adam Bell is a peculiar one, this might be almost of itself sufficient to show that the ballad had a foundation in veritable history. But we further find that this Adam Bell violated his allegiance by adhering to the Scots, the king’s enemies; whereupon this grant was virtually resumed, and the sheriff of Nottinghamshire accounted for the rents which would have been his. In the third year of King Henry the Fifth [1416], the account was rendered by Thomas Hercy, and in the fourth year by Simon Leak. The mention of his adhesion to the Scots leads us to the Scottish border, and will not leave a doubt in the mind of the most sceptical that we have here one of the persons, some of whose deeds (with some poetical license, perhaps) are come down to us in the words of one of our popular ballads.” (New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare, I, 245 f, 1845.)

Mr Hunter’s points are, that an Adam Bell had a grant from the proceeds of a farm in the forest of Sherwood, that Adam Bell is a peculiar name, and that his Adam Bell adhered to the king’s enemies. To be sure, Adam Bell’s retreat in the ballad is not Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, but Englishwood, or Inglewood, in Cumberland (an old hunting-ground of King Arthur’s, according to several romances), a forest sixteen miles in length, reaching from Carlisle to Penrith.[^[26]] But it would be captious to insist upon this. Robin Hood has no connection in extant ballads with the Cumberland forest, but Wyntoun’s Scottish Chronicle, c. 1420, makes him to have frequented Inglewood as well as Barnsdale.[^[27]] The historical Adam Bell was granted an annuity, and forfeited it for adhering to the king’s enemies, the Scots; the Adam Bell of the ballad was outlawed for breaking the game-laws, and in consequence came into conflict with the king’s officers, but never adhered to the king’s enemies, first or last, received the king’s pardon, was made yeoman of the queen’s chamber, dwelt with the king, and died a good man. Neither is there anything peculiar in the name Adam Bell. Bell was as well known a name on the borders[^[28]] as Armstrong or Graham. There is record of an Adam Armstrong and an Adam Graham; there is a Yorkshire Adam Bell mentioned in the Parliamentary Writs (II, 508, 8 and 17 Edward II,) a hundred years before Hunter’s annuitant; a contemporary Adam Bell, of Dunbar, is named in the Exchequer Rolls of Scotland under the years 1414, 1420 (IV, 198, 325); and the name occurs repeatedly at a later date in the Registers of the Great Seal of Scotland.

The placability of the king in this ballad is repeated in the Gest of Robin Hood, and is also exhibited in the Tale of Gamelyn, where Gamelyn is made justice of all the free forest, as William is here made chief rider over all the North Country. The king, besides, forgives all Gamelyn’s eight young men, and puts them in good office. The king of the outlaws, in the tale, had previously made his peace without any difficulty. Vv 888–94, 687–89.

Translated, after Percy’s Reliques, by Bodmer, II, 78; by Fouqué, Büsching, Erzählungen, u. s. w., des Mittelalters, I, 1; the third Fit, by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Altenglands, No 70.

c. 1

Mery it was in grene forest,

Amonge the leues grene,

Where that men walke both east and west,

Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,

2

To ryse the dere out of theyr denne;

Suche sightes as hath ofte bene sene,

As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey,

By them it is as I meane.

3

The one of them hight Adam Bel,

The other Clym of the Clough,

The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,

An archer good ynough.

4

They were outlawed for venyson,

These thre yemen euerechone;

They swore them brethen vpon a day,

To Englysshe-wood for to gone.

5

Now lith and lysten, gentylmen,

And that of myrthes loueth to here:

Two of them were single men,

The third had a wedded fere.

6

Wyllyam was the wedded man,

Muche more then was hys care:

He sayde to hys brethen vpon a day,

To Carelel he would fare,

7

For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife,

And with hys chyldren thre:

‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel,

‘Not by the counsell of me.

8

‘For if ye go to Caerlel, brother,

And from thys wylde wode wende,

If the justice mai you take,

Your lyfe were at an ende.’

9

‘If that I come not to morowe, brother,

By pryme to you agayne,

Truste not els but that I am take,

Or else that I am slayne.’

10

He toke hys leaue of hys brethen two,

And to Carlel he is gone;

There he knocked at hys owne wyndowe,

Shortlye and anone.

11

‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe,

And my chyldren three?

Lyghtly let in thyne husbande,

Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

12

‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce,

And syghed wonderous sore,

‘Thys place hath ben besette for you

Thys halfe yere and more.’

13

‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesle,

‘I woulde that I in were;

Now feche vs meate and drynke ynoughe,

And let vs make good chere.’

14

She feched him meat and drynke plenty,

Lyke a true wedded wyfe,

And pleased hym with that she had,

Whome she loued as her lyfe.

15

There lay an old wyfe in that place,

A lytle besyde the fyre,

Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye,

More then seuen yere.

16

Up she rose, and walked full styll,

Euel mote she spede therefoore!

For she had not set no fote on ground

In seuen yere before.

17

She went vnto the justice hall,

As fast as she could hye:

‘Thys nyght is come vn to thys town

Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

18

Thereof the iustice was full fayne,

And so was the shirife also:

‘Thou shalt not trauaile hether, dame, for nought;

Thy meed thou shalt haue or thou go.’

19

They gaue to her a ryght good goune,

Of scarlat it was, as I heard say[n]e;

She toke the gyft, and home she wente,

And couched her doune agayne.

20

They rysed the towne of mery Carlel,

In all the hast that they can,

And came thronging to Wyllyames house,

As fast [as] they might gone.

21

Theyr they besette that good yeman,

Round about on euery syde;

Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,

That heytherward they hyed.

22

Alyce opened a shot-wyndow,

And loked all about;

She was ware of the justice and the shrife bothe,

Wyth a full great route.

23

‘Alas! treason,’ cryed Alyce,

‘Euer wo may thou be!

Go into my chambre, my husband,’ she sayd,

‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

24

He toke hys sweard and hys bucler,

Hys bow and hy chyldren thre,

And wente into hys strongest chamber,

Where he thought surest to be.

25

Fayre Alice folowed him as a louer true,

With a pollaxe in her hande:

‘He shalbe deade that here cometh in

Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’

26

Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe,

That was of trusty tre,

He smot the justise on the brest,

That hys arrowe brest in thre.

27

‘God’s curse on his hartt,’ saide William,

‘Thys day thy cote dyd on;

If it had ben no better then myne,

It had gone nere thy bone.’

28

‘Yelde the, Cloudesle,’ sayd the justise,

‘And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro:’

‘Gods curse on hys hart,’ sayde fair Alce,

‘That my husband councelleth so.’

29

‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the sherife,

‘Syth it wyll no better be,

And brenne we therin William,’ he saide,

‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’

30

They fyred the house in many a place,

The fyre flew vpon hye;

‘Alas!’ than cryed fayr Alice,

‘I se we shall here dy.’

31

William openyd hys backe wyndow,

That was in hys chambre on hye,

And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe,

And hys chyldren thre.

32

‘Haue here my treasure,’ sayde William,

‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre;

For Christes loue do them no harme,

But wreke you all on me.’

33

Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,

Tyll hys arrowes were all go,

And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell,

That hys bo[w]stryng brent in two.

34

The spercles brent and fell hym on,

Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle;

But than was he a wofull man, and sayde,

Thys is a cowardes death to me.

35

‘Leuer I had,’ sayde Wyllyam,

‘With my sworde in the route to renne,

Then here among myne ennemyes wode

Thus cruelly to bren.’

36

He toke hys sweard and hys buckler,

And among them all he ran;

Where the people were most in prece,

He smot downe many a man.

37

There myght no man stand hys stroke,

So fersly on them he ran;

Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him,

And so toke that good yeman.

38

There they hym bounde both hand and fote,

And in depe dongeon hym cast;

‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayde the hye justice,

‘Thou shalt be hanged in hast.’

39

‘One vow shal I make,’ sayde the sherife,

‘A payre of new galowes shall I for the make,

And al the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte,

There shall no man come in therat.

40

‘Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe,

Nor yet Adam Bell,

Though they came with a thousand mo,

Nor all the deuels in hell.’

41

Early in the mornyng the justice vprose,

To the gates fast gan he gon,

And commaunded to be shut full cloce

Lightile euerychone.

42

Then went he to the market-place,

As fast as he coulde hye;

A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set,

Besyde the pyllory.

43

A lytle boy stod them amonge,

And asked what meaned that gallow-tre;

They sayde, To hange a good yeaman,

Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.

44

That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,

And kept fayre Alyce swyne;

Full oft he had sene Cloudesle in the wodde,

And geuen hym there to dyne.

45

He went out of a creues in the wall,

And lightly to the woode dyd gone;

There met he with these wyght yonge men,

Shortly and anone.

46

‘Alas!’ then sayde that lytle boye,

‘Ye tary here all to longe;

Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death,

All readye for to honge.’

47

‘Alas!’ then sayde good Adam Bell,

‘That euer we see thys daye!

He myght her with vs haue dwelled,

So ofte as we dyd him praye.

48

‘He myght haue taryed in grene foreste,

Under the shadowes sheene,

And haue kepte both hym and vs in reaste,

Out of trouble and teene.’

49

Adam bent a ryght good bow,

A great hart sone had he slayne;

‘Take that, chylde,’ he sayde, ‘to thy dynner,

And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’

50

‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yong men,

Tary we no lenger here;

We shall hym borowe, by Gods grace,

Though we bye it full dere.’

51

To Caerlel went these good yemen,

In a mery mornyng of Maye:

Her is a fyt of Cloudesli,

And another is for to saye.

52

And when they came to mery Caerlell,

In a fayre mornyng-tyde,

They founde the gates shut them vntyll,

Round about on euery syde.

53

‘Alas!’ than sayd good Adam Bell,

‘That euer we were made men!

b.

These gates be shyt so wonderly well,

That we may not come here in.’

54

Than spake Clymme of the Cloughe:

With a wyle we wyll vs in brynge;

Let vs say we be messengers,

Streyght comen from oure kynge.

55

Adam sayd, I haue a lettre wryten wele,

Now let vs wysely werke;

We wyll say we haue the kynges seale,

I holde the porter no clerke.

56

Than Adam Bell bete on the gate,

With strökes greate and stronge;

The porter herde suche a noyse therate,

And to the gate faste he thronge.

57

‘Who is there nowe,’ sayd the porter,

‘That maketh all this knockynge?

‘We be two messengers,’ sayd Clymme of the Clo[ughe],

‘Be comen streyght frome oure kynge.’

58

‘We haue a lettre,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘To the justyce we must it brynge;

Let vs in, oure message to do,

That we were agayne to our kynge.’

59

‘Here cometh no man in,’ sayd the porter,

‘By hym that dyed on a tre,

Tyll a false thefe be hanged,

Called Wyllyam of Clowdysle.’

60

Than spake that good [yeman Clym of the Cloughe,

And swore by Mary fre,

If that we stande long wythout,

Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.]

61

[Lo here] we haue got the kynges seale;

[What! l]ordane, arte thou wode?

[The p]orter had wende it had been so,

[And l]yghtly dyd of his hode.

62

‘[Welco]me be my lordes seale,’ sayd he,

‘[For] that shall ye come in:’

[He] opened the gate ryght shortly,

[An] euyll openynge for hym!

63

‘[N]owe we are in,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘[T]herof we are full fayne;

[But] Cryst knoweth that herowed hell,

[H]ow we shall come oute agayne.’

64

‘[Had] we the keys,’ sayd Clym of the Clowgh,

‘Ryght well than sholde we spede;

[Than] myght we come out well ynough,

[Whan] we se tyme and nede.’

65

[They] called the porter to a councell,

[And] wronge hys necke in two,

[And] kest hym in a depe dongeon,

[And] toke the keys hym fro.

66

‘[N]ow am I porter,’ sayd Adam Bell;

‘[Se], broder, the keys haue we here;

[The] worste porter to mery Carlell,

[That ye] had this hondreth yere.

67

‘[Now] wyll we oure bowës bende,

[Into the t]owne wyll we go,

[For to delyuer our dere] broder,

[Where he lyeth in care and wo.’

68

Then they bent theyr good yew bowes,

And loked theyr stringes were round;]

The market-place of mery Carlyll,

They beset in that stounde.

69

And as they loked them besyde,

A payre of newe galowes there they se,

And the iustyce, with a quest of swerers,

That had iuged Clowdysle there hanged to be.

70

And Clowdysle hymselfe lay redy in a carte,

Fast bounde bothe fote and hande,

And a strong rope aboute his necke,

All redy for to be hangde.

71

The iustyce called to hym a ladde;

Clowdysles clothes sholde he haue,

To take the mesure of that good yoman,

And therafter to make his graue.

72

‘I haue sene as greate a merueyll,’ sayd Clowd[esle],

‘As bytwene this and pryme,

He that maketh thys graue for me,

Hymselfe may lye therin.’

73

‘Thou spekest proudely,’ sayd the iustyce;

‘I shall hange the with my hande:’

Full well that herde his bretheren two,

There styll as they dyd stande.

74

Than Clowdysle cast hys eyen asyde,

And sawe hys bretheren stande,

At a corner of the market-place,

With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand,

Redy the iustyce for to chase.

75

‘I se good comforte,’ sayd Clowdysle,

‘Yet hope I well to fare;

If I myght haue my handes at wyll,

[Ryght l]ytell wolde I care.’

76

[Than b]espake good Adam Bell,

[To Clym]me of the Clowgh so fre;

[Broder], se ye marke the iustyce well;

[Lo yon]der ye may him se.

77

[And at] the sheryf shote I wyll,

[Stron]gly with an arowe kene;

[A better] shotte in mery Carlyll,

[Thys se]uen yere was not sene.

78

[They lo]used theyr arowes bothe at ones,

[Of no] man had they drede;

[The one] hyt the iustyce, the other the sheryf,

[That b]othe theyr sydes gan blede.

79

[All men] voyded, that them stode nye,

[Whan] the iustyce fell to the grounde,

[And the] sheryf fell nyghe hym by;

[Eyther] had his dethës wounde.

80

[All the c]ytezeyns fast gan fle,

[They du]rste no lenger abyde;

[There ly]ghtly they loused Clowdysle,

[Where he] with ropes lay tyde.

81

[Wyllyam] sterte to an offycer of the towne,

[Hys axe] out his hande he wronge;

[On eche] syde he smote them downe,

[Hym tho]ught he had taryed to longe.

82

[Wyllyam] sayd to his bretheren two,

[Thys daye] let vs togyder lyue and deye;

[If euer you] haue nede as I haue nowe,

[The same] shall ye fynde by me.

83

[They] shyt so well in that tyde,

For theyr strynges were of sylke full sure,

That they kepte the stretes on euery syde;

That batayll dyd longe endure.

84

They fought togyder as bretheren true,

Lyke hardy men and bolde;

Many a man to the grounde they threwe,

And made many an hertë colde.

85

But whan theyr arowes were all gone,

Men presyd on them full fast;

They drewe theyr swerdës than anone,

And theyr bowës from them caste.

86

They wente lyghtly on theyr waye,

With swerdes and buckelers rounde;

By that it was the myddes of the daye,

They had made many a wounde.

87

There was many a noute-horne in Carlyll blowen,

And the belles backwarde dyd they rynge;

Many a woman sayd alas,

And many theyr handes dyd wrynge.

88

The mayre of Carlyll forth come was,

And with hym a full grete route;

These thre yomen dredde hym full sore,

For theyr lyuës stode in doubte.

89

The mayre came armed, a full greate pace,

With a polaxe in his hande;

Many a stronge man with hym was,

There in that stoure to stande.

90

The mayre smote at Clowdysle with his byll,

His buckeler he brast in two;

Full many a yoman with grete yll,

‘[Al]as, treason!’ they cryed for wo.

‘[Ke]pe we the gates fast,’ they bad,

‘[T]hat these traytours theroute not go.’

91

But all for nought was that they wrought,

For so fast they downe were layde

Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought,

Were goten without at a brayde.

92

‘Haue here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘Myne offyce I here forsake;

Yf ye do by my councell,

A newë porter ye make.’

93

He threwe the keys there at theyr hedes,

And bad them evyll to thryue,

And all that letteth ony good yoman

To come and comforte his wyue.

94

Thus be these good yomen gone to the wode,

As lyght as lefe on lynde;

They laughe and be mery in theyr mode,

Theyr enemyes were farre behynde.

95

Whan they came to Inglyswode,

Under theyr trysty-tre,

There they founde bowës full gode,

And arowës greate plentë.

96

‘So helpe me God,’ sayd Adam Bell,

And Clymme of the Clowgh so fre,

‘I wolde we were nowe in mery Carlell,

[Be]fore that fayre meynë.’

97

They set them downe and made good chere,

And eate an[d dr]anke full well:

Here is a fytte [of] these wyght yongemen,

And another I shall you tell.

98

As they sat in Inglyswode,

Under theyr trysty-tre,

Them thought they herde a woman [wepe],

But her they myght not se.

99

Sore syghed there fayre Alyce, and sayd,

Alas that euer I se this daye!

For now is my dere husbonde slayne,

Alas and welawaye!

100

Myght I haue spoken wyth hys dere breth[eren],

With eyther of them twayne,

[To shew to them what him befell]

My herte were out of payne.

101

Clowdysle walked a lytell besyde,

And loked vnder the grene wodde lynde;

He was ware of his wyfe and his chyldre[n thre],

Full wo in herte and mynde.

102

‘Welcome, wyfe,’ than sayd Wyllyam,

‘Unto this trysty-tre;

I had wende yesterdaye, by swete Sai[nt John],

Thou sholde me neuer haue se.’

103

‘Now wele is me,’ she sayd, ‘that [ye be here],

My herte is out of wo:’

‘Dame,’ he sayd, ‘be mery and glad,

And thanke my bretheren two.’

104

‘Here of to speke,’ sayd Ad[am] Bell,

‘I-wys it [is no bote];

The me[at that we must supp withall,

It runneth yet fast on fote.’

105

Then went they down into a launde,

These noble archares all thre,

Eche of the]m slewe a harte of grece,

[The best t]hey coude there se.

106

‘[Haue here the] best, Alyce my wyfe,’

[Sayde Wyllya]m of Clowdysle,

‘[By cause ye so] boldely stode me by,

[Whan I w]as slayne full nye.’

107

[Than they] wente to theyr souper,

[Wyth suc]he mete as they had,

[And than]ked God of theyr fortune;

[They we]re bothe mery and glad.

108

[And whan] they had souped well,

[Certayne] withouten leace,

[Clowdysle] sayde, We wyll to oure kynge,

[To get v]s a chartre of peace.

109

[Alyce shal] be at soiournynge,

[In a nunry] here besyde;

[My tow sonn]es shall with her go,

[And ther the]y shall abyde.

110

[Myne eldest so]ne shall go with me,

[For hym haue I] no care,

[And he shall breng] you worde agayne

[How that we do fare.

111

Thus be these wig]ht men to London gone,

[As fast as they ma]ye hye,

[Tyll they came to the kynges] palays,

c.

There they woulde nedës be.

112

And whan they came to the kyngës courte,

Unto the pallace gate,

Of no man wold they aske leue,

But boldly went in therat.

113

They preced prestly into the hall,

Of no man had they dreade;

The porter came after and dyd them call,

a.

And with them began to [chyde.]

114

The vssher sayd, Yemen, what wolde ye haue?

I praye you tell me;

Ye myght thus make offycers shent:

Good syrs, of whens be ye?

115

‘Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,

Certayne withouten leace,

And hyther we be come to our kynge,

To get vs a charter of peace.’

116

And whan they came before our kynge,

As it was the lawe of the lande,

They kneled downe without lettynge,

And eche helde vp his hande.

117

They sayd, Lorde, we beseche you here,

That ye wyll graunte vs grace.

For we haue slayne your fatte falowe dere,

In many a sondry place.

118

‘What is your names?’ than sayd our kynge,

‘Anone that you tell me:’

They sayd, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,

And Wylliam of Clowdesle.

119

‘Be ye those theues,’ than sayd our kynge,

‘That men haue tolde of to me?

Here to God I make a vowe,

Ye shall be hanged all thre.

120

‘Ye shall be dead without mercy,

As I am kynge of this lande:’

c.

He commanded his officers euerichone

Fast on them to lay hand.

121

There they toke these good yemen,

And arested them all thre:

‘So may I thryue,’ sayd Adam Bell,

‘Thys game lyketh not me.

a. 122

‘But, good lorde, we beseche you nowe,

That ye wyll graunte vs grace,

In so moche as we be to you commen;

Or elles that we may fro you passe,

123

‘With suche weapons as we haue here,

Tyll we be out of your place;

And yf we lyue this hondred yere,

We wyll aske you no grace.’

124

‘Ye speke proudly,’ sayd the kynge,

‘Ye shall be hanged all thre:’

‘That were great pity,’ sayd the quene,

‘If any grace myght be.

125

‘My lorde, whan I came fyrst in to this lande,

To be your wedded wyfe,

The fyrst bone that I wolde aske,

Ye wolde graunte me belyfe.

126

‘And I asked you neuer none tyll nowe,

Therfore, good lorde, graunte it me:’

‘Nowe aske it, madame,’ sayd the kynge,

‘And graunted shall it be.’

127

‘Than, good lorde, I you beseche,

The yemen graunte you me:’

‘Madame, ye myght haue asked a bone

That sholde haue ben worthe them thre.

128

‘Ye myght haue asked towres and towne,

Parkes and forestes plentie:’

c.

‘None so pleasaunt to mi pay,’ she said,

‘Nor none so lefe to me.’

129

‘Madame, sith it is your desyre,

Your askyng graunted shalbe;

But I had leuer haue geuen you

Good market-townës thre.’

130

The quene was a glad woman,

And sayd, Lord, gramarcy;

I dare vndertake for them

That true men shall they be.

131

But, good lord, speke som mery word,

That comfort they may se:

‘I graunt you grace,’ then said our king,

‘Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye.’

132

They had not setten but a whyle,

Certayne without lesynge,

There came messengers out of the north,

With letters to our kyng.

133

And whan the came before the kynge,

The kneled downe vpon theyr kne,

And sayd, Lord, your offycers grete you wel,

Of Caerlel in the north cuntre.

134

‘How fare[th] my justice,’ sayd the kyng,

‘And my sherife also?’

‘Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,

And many an officer mo.’

135

‘Who hath them slayne?’ sayd the kyng,

‘Anone thou tell me:’

‘Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’

136

‘Alas for rewth!’ then sayd our kynge,

‘My hart is wonderous sore;

I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde

I had knowne of thys before.

137

‘For I haue y-graunted them grace,

And that forthynketh me;

But had I knowne all thys before,

They had ben hanged all thre.’

138

The kyng opened the letter anone,

Hym selfe he red it tho,

And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine

Thre hundred men and mo.

139

Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe,

And the mayre of Caerlel towne;

Of all the constables and catchipolles

Alyue were left not one.

140

The baylyes and the bedyls both,

And the sergeauntes of the law,

And forty fosters of the fe

These outlawes had y-slaw;

141

And broken his parks, and slaine his dere;

Ouer all they chose the best;

So perelous outlawes as they were

Walked not by easte nor west.

142

When the kynge this letter had red,

In hys harte he syghed sore;

‘Take vp the table,’ anone he bad,

‘For I may eate no more.’

143

The kyng called hys best archars,

To the buttes with hym to go;

‘I wyll se these felowes shote,’ he sayd,

‘That in the north haue wrought this wo.’

144

The kynges bowmen buske them blyue,

And the quenes archers also,

So dyd these thre wyght yemen,

Wyth them they thought to go.

145

There twyse or thryse they shote about,

For to assay theyr hande;

There was no shote these thre yemen shot

That any prycke might them stand.

146

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle;

By God that for me dyed,

I hold hym neuer no good archar

That shuteth at buttes so wyde.

147

‘Wherat?’ then sayd our kyng,

‘I pray thee tell me:’

‘At suche a but, syr,’ he sayd,

‘As men vse in my countree.’

148

Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,

And his to brothren with him;

There they set vp to hasell roddes,

Twenty score paces betwene.

149

‘I hold him an archar,’ said Cloudesle,

‘That yonder wande cleueth in two:’

‘Here is none suche,’ sayd the kyng,

‘Nor none that can so do.’

150

‘I shall assaye, syr,’ sayd Cloudesle,

‘Or that I farther go:’

Cloudesle, with a bearyng arow,

Claue the wand in to.

151

‘Thou art the best archer,’ then said the king,

‘Forsothe that euer I se:’

‘And yet for your loue,’ sayd Wylliam,

‘I wyll do more maystry.

152

‘I haue a sonne is seuen yere olde;

He is to me full deare;

I wyll hym tye to a stake,

All shall se that be here;

153

‘And lay an apple vpon hys head,

And go syxe score paces hym fro,

And I my selfe, with a brode arow,

Shall cleue the apple in two.’

154

‘Now hast the,’ then sayd the kyng;

‘By him that dyed on a tre,

But yf thou do not as thou hest sayde,

Hanged shalt thou be.

155

‘And thou touche his head or gowne,

In syght that men may se,

By all the sayntes that be in heaven,

I shall hange you all thre.’

156

‘That I haue promised,’ said William,

‘I wyl it neuer forsake;’

And there euen before the kynge,

In the earth he droue a stake;

157

And bound therto his eldest sonne,

And bad hym stande styll therat,

And turned the childes face fro him,

Because he shuld not sterte.

158

An apple vpon his head he set,

And then his bowe he bent;

Syxe score paces they were outmet,

And thether Cloudesle went.

159

There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe;

Hys bowe was great and longe;

He set that arrowe in his bowe,

That was both styffe and stronge.

160

He prayed the people that was there

That they would styll stande;

‘For he that shooteth for such a wager,

Behoueth a stedfast hand.’

161

Muche people prayed for Cloudesle,

a.

That hys lyfe saued myght be,

And whan he made hym redy to shote,

There was many a wepynge eye.

162

Thus Clowdesle clefte the apple in two,

That many a man it se;

‘Ouer goddes forbode,’ sayd the kynge,

‘That thou sholdest shote at me!

163

‘I gyue the .xviii. pens a daye,

And my bowe shalte thou bere,

And ouer all the north countree

I make the chefe rydere.’

164

‘And I gyue the .xii. pens a day,’ sayd the que[ne],

‘By God and by my faye;

Come fetche thy payment whan thou wylt,

No man shall say the naye.

165

‘Wyllyam, I make the gentylman

Of clothynge and of fee,

And thy two brethren yemen of my chambr[e],

For they are so semely to se.

166

‘Your sone, for he is tendre of age,

Of my wyne-seller shall he be,

And whan he commeth to mannës state,

Better auaunced shall he be.

167

‘And, Wylliam, brynge me your wyfe,’ sayd th[e quene];

Me longeth sore here to se;

She shall be my chefe gentylwoman,

And gouerne my nursery.’

168

The yemen thanked them full courteysly,

And sayd, To Rome streyght wyll we wende,

[Of all the synnes that we haue done

To be assoyled of his hand.

169

So forth]e be gone these good yemen,

[As fast a]s they myght hye,

[And aft]er came and dwelled with the kynge,

[And dye]d good men all thre.

170

[Thus e]ndeth the lyues of these good yemen,

[God sen]de them eternall blysse,

[And all] that with hande-bowe shoteth,

[That of] heuen they may neuer mysse!

---

Deficiencies in a, b are supplied from c unless it is otherwise noted.

a.

120¹. deed.

b.

87¹. an oute horne. The emendation is Prof. Skeat’s.

99^1,2. and sayd begins the second line.

100³. supplied from d, e.

c.

5³. singele.

11¹. be your.

13². In woulde.

16². spende.

17¹, 107¹. whent.

18³. fore.

22¹. shop-wyndow.

22⁴. great full great.

23³. Gy.

26¹. welgood.

30³. Alece.

33². all gon.

34^3,4. and sayde begins the fourth line.

44². there Alyce.

44⁴. geuend.

46⁴. Allreadye.

48⁴. in reaffte [?].

51¹. Cyerlel.

52¹. Carelell.

Variations from b.

53³. shut: wonderous.

54¹, 56¹, 64³, 76¹, 85³, 102¹, 107¹. Then.

54³. Lee.

54⁴. come nowe.

55³. seales.

56³. a wanting.

56⁴. faste wanting.

57⁴. come ryght.

58². me for we.

59¹. commeth none.

59². Be: vpon.

61³. went.

62¹. he saide.

62³. full shortlye.

63¹. are we.

63³. know.

64⁴, 79², 106⁴, 108¹. When.

65¹. a wanting.

65⁴. hys keys.

66², 67³, 76³. brother.

66⁴. hundred.

68¹. They bent theyr bowes. Then, good yew from e, f.

68³. in mery.

68⁴. in wanting.

69³. And they: squyers.

70². bounde wanting.

71². Cloudesle.

71³. good wanting: yeman, and ye always, as, 88³, 90³, 93³, 94¹.

72¹. Cloudesli.

73². the hange.

73³. that wanting: brtehren, or, breehren.

74², 82¹, 84¹, 100¹, 103⁴. brethen.

74². stande wanting.

74³. marked.

74⁵. to chaunce.

75¹. good wanting.

75². will.

76¹. Then spake.

76³. Brother.

77¹. shyrfe.

77². an wanting.

78¹. thre arrowes.

78⁴. there sedes.

79². fell downe.

81². out of.

81⁴. he taryed all to.

82². togyder wanting.

82⁴. shall you.

83¹. shot.

83³. sede.

84¹. The: together.

85². preced to.

86³. mas myd.

87². they wanting.

88⁴. For of theyr lyues they stode in great.

90². brust.

90³. euyll.

90⁶. That.

91¹. y^t y^e.

91². to fast.

91⁴. at wanting.

92^2,3. Transposed: Yf you do, etc., Myne offce.

92⁴. do we.

93¹. theyr keys.

94². lyghtly as left.

94³. The lough an.

94⁴. fere.

95¹, 98¹. Englyshe.

95². Under the: trusty, and 98².

95³. There wanting.

95⁴. full great.

96¹. God me help.

96³. nowe wanting.

97². drynke.

97³. fet of.

97⁴. And wanting: I wyll.

98³. They thaught: woman wepe.

98⁴. mought.

99¹. the fayre; and sayde begins the next line.

99². I sawe.

100². Or with.

100³. wanting.

100⁴. put out.

102². Under thus trusti.

102⁴. had se.

106¹, 109¹. Alce.

106³. by me.

107¹. theyr wanting.

107^2,3. Transposed: And thanked, etc., Wyth such.

108². without any.

109¹. Alce shalbe at our.

110³. you breng.

111¹. these good yemen.

111². myght hye.

111³. pallace.

Variations from a.

114³. you.

115². without any.

115³. become.

116¹. the kyng.

116³, 117¹. The.

117¹. beseche the.

118¹. be your nams: then, and 119¹.

122². you graunt.

123³. hundreth.

124³. then sayd.

126¹. you wanting.

127². These: ye.

127⁴. all thre.

128¹. town.

137¹. hauy graunted.

153¹. apele.

Variations from a.

162². myght se.

162⁴. sholdest wanting.

164¹. .xvii.

164³. when.

165¹. the a.

166³. estate.

167². her sore.

167⁴. To gouerne.

168¹. thanketh.

168². To some bysshop wyl we wend.

169¹. begone: there good.

170⁴. they wanting.

a bout, a gayne, a monge, a none, a byde, a lyue, ther at, etc., are joined.

d, e, f. The readings of all three are the same unless divergence is noted.

1¹. f. in the.

1³. whereas men hunt east.

2¹. raise.

2². d. sights haue oft. e. sights haue not oft. f. has oft.

2³. three yeomen.

2⁴. as wanting.

3². Another.

4². thre wanting. d, e. euery chone. f. eueryeche one.

4³. brethren on a.

4⁴. English wood.

5². And wanting: mirth.

5³. e. were wanting.

6³. brethren, and generally. e. on a.

7¹. There to: Alice.

7². f. with wanting.

8¹. e, f. we go. d. Carlell, and generally. e, f. Carlile, and generally.

8³. If that: doe you.

8⁴. life is.

9³. Trust you then that. d, f. tane. e. taken.

11¹. Alice he said.

11². My wife and children three.

11³. owne husband. f. thy.

12². e, f. very sore.

12⁴. d, f. halfe a. e. Full halfe a.

13¹. e. I am.

13². d, f. in I. e. in we.

14¹. d. fet.

14². d. true and.

14³. e. what she.

15¹. d. in the.

15². little before.

16¹. rose and forth she goes.

16². e. might.

16³. not wanting.

16⁴. e. yeeres. f. not 7 yeere.

17¹. into.

17³. night she said is come to towne.

18¹. e. Thereat.

18². e. was wanting. f. And wanting.

18³. e. dame wanting.

18⁴. ere.

19². d, e. as wanting. d, e, f. saine.

20¹. raised.

20². that wanting.

20³. e. And thronging fast vnto the house.

20⁴. As fast as. e. gan.

21¹. the good yeoman.

21². Round wanting.

21³. d. of the folke. e. of folke. f. of the folkes.

21⁴. thetherward: fast for they.

22¹. back for shot.

22³. e. bothe wanting. e, f. second the wanting.

22⁴. e, f. And with them. e. a great rout. f. a full great.

23¹. then cryed.

23³. e, f. second my wanting. f. sweet husband.

24². e. second hys wanting.

24³. the for hys. f. He went.

24⁴. f. the surest.

25¹. Alice like a louer true.

25². f. Tooke a.

25³. d, f. Said he shall die that commeth. e. Said he shall dye.

26¹. right good.

26². of a.

26⁴. burst.

27⁴. had beene neere the.

28². d. second thy wanting. e. thine arrowes. f. the bow and arrowes.

29². d, e. Sith no better it will be.

29³. burne: saith. f. burne there.

29⁴. and his.

30¹. f. The for they: and often.

30². d, e. vp wanting. f. fledd on.

30³. then, and generally. e, f. said faire.

30⁴. e. we here shall. f. here wee shall.

31¹. a for hys.

31². second on wanting. d. was on.

31³. And there: he did let downe.

31⁴. His wife and children.

32¹. f. Haue you here.

32². d, f. second my wanting.

32^1,2. e. wanting.

32³. f. Gods loue.

33². d, f. agoe. e. go.

33³. the wanting. about for vpon.

33⁴. f. burnt.

34¹. fell vppon.

34^3,4. and sayde begins the fourth line.

35¹. e, f. had I.

35². runne.

35³. e. amongst. d, f. my.

35⁴. So: burne.

36¹. buckler then.

36². f. amongst.

36³. people thickest were.

37¹. man abide. e, f. strokes.

37². e. run.

37³. f. Then the: att him. e. doore.

37⁴. that yeoman. f. And then the.

38¹. both wanting.

38². in a.

38³. d, e. then said. d, f. hye wanting.

39². e. gallowes thou shalt haue.

39³. d. al wanting.

40¹. There. f. helpe yett.

40³. f. a 100^d men.

41¹. arose.

41². f. can he.

41³. d. them to: full wanting. e, f. to shut close.

42³. d, e. he set vp. f. There he new a paire of gallowes he sett vpp.

42⁴. f. Hard by the.

43². meant.

44¹. the wanting. f. The litle.

44³. f. seene William.

44⁴. e. gaue.

45¹. at a creuice of.

45². wood he ran (ron, runn). f. And wanting.

45³. e. he met. e, f. wighty yeomen.

46¹. e, f. said the.

46². e, f. You.

46³. e, f. tane. e. doomd.

46⁴. d. Already. e, f. And ready to be hangd.

47². saw.

47³. d, e. might haue tarried heere with vs. f. He had better haue tarryed with vs.

47⁴. e. as wanting.

48¹. haue dwelled.

48². these for the. f. shaddoowes greene.

48³. haue wanting: at rest.

48⁴. d, f. of all.

49². he had.

50¹. e. we go. d. wighty yeomen. e, f. iolly yeomen.

50². longer.

51¹. f. bold yeomen.

51². f. All in a mor[n]inge of May.

51⁴. f. And wanting.

52¹. f. to wanting.

52². f. All in a morning.

52³. vnto.

53³. wonderous. d, f. be shut. e. are shut. f. ffast for well.

53⁴. therein.

54⁴. come. e. the king.

55¹. wryten wanting.

55². e. Now wanting. f. wiselye marke.

56¹. d, f. at the. f. gates.

56². f. hard and.

56³. d, e. a wanting. f. marueiled who was theratt.

56⁴. faste wanting. e, f. gates.

57¹. nowe wanting. f. Who be.

57². f. makes.

57³. e. said they then. f. quoth Clim.

57⁴. come right.

58⁴. the for our.

59¹. none in.

59². e. of a.

59³. Till that. f. a wanting.

60¹. d. the for that. e. that good yeman wanting. f. spake good Clim.

60⁴. d, f. thou shalt.

61¹. got wanting.

61³. d, e. porter wend (weend). f. had went wanting.

62¹. is my: he said.

62². d. ye shall. e, f. you shall.

62³. e, f. gates. d, e. full shortly. f. ryght wanting.

63¹. are we.

63². Whereof: are right.

63³. d. knowes. e, f. Christ he knowes assuredly.

63⁴. e. come wanting. f. gett out.

64^2,3,4. then, When, and nearly always.

65¹. a wanting.

65³. cast.

65⁴. d, f. his keyes.

66². e. we haue.

66³. in for to.

66⁴. d. hundred. e, f. That came this hundred.

67¹. we will.

67³. brother.

67⁴. That for Where he.

68¹. d. Then: their good. e, f. Then: their good yew.

68³. in for of.

69³. d, f. of squiers. e. squirers.

69⁴. e, f. That iudged William hanged.

70¹. e, f. hymselfe wanting. f. ready there in.

70⁴. d, e. Already. f. to hange.

71². he should. e. Cloudesle.

71³. good wanting.

71⁴. e. thereby make him a. f. And wanting.

72¹. a wanting.

72³. a graue.

73². I will thee hang.

73³. heard this.

74¹. eye. e. William.

74². two (tow) brethren: stande wanting.

74³. e. the corner: place wel prepard.

74⁴. d. good wanting: bent wanting. e, f. wanting.

74⁵. d, e. the justice to chase. f. the iustice to slaine.

75¹. good wanting.

75³. e. hands let free.

75⁴. d, e. might I.

76¹. Then spake.

76³. Brother: you.

76⁴. you.

77¹. And wanting.

78². d, e. they had.

78³. f. the shirrfe, the other the iustice.

78⁴. d, f. can.

79¹. e. stood them.

79³. fell wanting.

79⁴. d, e. deaths.

80¹. f. flye.

80². d, f. longer.

80³. e. Then.

81¹. d, f. start. e. stept.

81². out of.

81⁴. had wanting: all too. f. Hee thought.

82¹. e. brethren.

82². togyder wanting.

83¹. shot. e, f. in wanting.

83². full wanting.

83⁴. e. The. d, f. long did.

84¹. like for as.

85². d, f. pressed to.

85³. e. swords out anon.

86³. d, f. was mid. f. were mid.

86⁴. had wanting.

87¹. e. There was wanting. e, f. Carlile was.

87². they wanting. d. backwards.

88¹, 89¹, 90¹. mayor, maior.

88³. thre wanting.

88⁴. For of. d, f. they stood in great. e. they were in great.

89⁴. e. Within that stoure.

90². brast. d, f. he wanting.

90³. euill.

90⁴. f. ffull woe.

90⁵. f. Keepe well.

90⁶. That.

91². d, e. downe they. f. were downe.

91⁴. gotten out. e. of a.

92². heere I. e. My.

92³. d, f. you.

92⁴. doe you.

93¹. d, f. their keyes at. d. head.

93³. any.

94¹. e, f. be the.

d. word.

94². lightly.

94³. f. wood.

95¹. d, e. English wood. f. merry greenwood.

95². the trustie.

95⁴. d. full great.

96¹. God me helpe.

96³. nowe wanting.

96⁴. d. manie. e. many. f. meanye.

97¹. d, f. sate. e. Then sat they.

97². d, e. drunke.

97³. fit of: yeomen for yonge men. f. A 2^d ffitt of the wightye.

97⁴. And wanting: I will.

98¹. English wood. d, f. sate.

98². d, e. trustie. f. the greenwoode.

98³. woman wepe. e, f. They.

98⁴. e, f. could act.

99¹. Sore then: there wanting. d, f. and sayd begins the next line.

99^1,2. e. And sayd Alas wanting.

99². saw.

99³. f. nowe wanting.

100¹. e. spoke.

100². Or with.

100³. d, e. To shew to them what him befell. f. To show them, etc.

101¹. aside.

101². f. He looked.

101³. second his wanting. e. He saw his.

102². Under. d. this trustie. e. a trusty. f. the trustye.

102⁴. d, f. shouldest had. e. shouldst had.

103⁴. d, e. brethren.

104⁴. e. It resteth.

105¹. the lawnd.

105². noble men all.

105⁴. f. that they cold see.

106². f. saith.

106³. Because: by me.

107¹. they went: theyr wanting.

107³. for their.

108², 115². without any leace (lease).

109¹. at our.

109². f. Att a.

110¹. My.

110². I haue.

111¹. good yeomen.

111². d, f. might hye. e. can hye.

111³. pallace.

111⁴. e, f. Where. d. neede. e, f. needs.

112¹. kings. f. But when.

112². f. & to.

113¹. proceeded presently.

113². they had.

113⁴. e, f. gan.

114¹. e, f. you.

114². e, f. to me.

114³. You: thus wanting.

114⁴. from for of.

115². f. Certes.

115³. the for our.

116¹. the for our. d, f. when. e. whan.

117¹. d, e. beseech thee. f. beseeche yee sure.

118¹. What be. e, f. the for our.

118³. e. They sayd wanting.

119¹. d, e. than wanting. f. then. e. the for our.

119². of wanting.

119³. f. Here I make a vow to God.

119⁴. You.

120³. f. officer euery one.

121¹. e. Therefore.

122³. doo for be: come.

122⁴. from.

123². d. your wanting.

123³. d, e. hundreth: f. 100^d.

123⁴. d, e. of you. f. Of you wee will aske noe.

125⁴. You.

126¹. ye.

126⁴. f. itt shalbe.

127¹. f. good my.

127². These: ye.

127⁴. them all.

128¹. f. You: townes.

130². e. garmarcie. f. god a mercye.

130⁴. they shall.

131². d. they may comfort see. e. they might comfort see. f. some comfort they might see.

131³. e, f. the for our.

132¹. e. sittin. f. sitten.

132³. came two.

133³. e. our for your.

134¹. fareth.

135¹. e. slaine them. f. then said.

135². Anone that you.

135³. and wanting.

136¹. f. ffor wrath.

136³. then. f. rather then.

136⁴. of wanting.

137¹. f. y- wanting.

137². d. forethinketh.

138¹. d, f. king he.

138³. And there: thre wanting.

139². mayor.

139³. catchpoles.

139⁴. f. but one.

140¹. bayliffes.

140³. forresters.

140⁴. haue. f. haue the slawe.

141². e, f. Of all. f. coice the.

141³. d. Such.

142². hys wanting.

142³. d. table he said. e. table then said he. f. tables then sayd hee.

142⁴. e, f. I can.

143¹. then called.

143³. e, f. said he. f. To see.

143⁴. e. hath.

144¹. d, e. buskt: blithe. f. archers busket: blythe.

144². f. Soe did the queenes alsoe.

144³. d, e. thre wanting. f. weightye.

144⁴. f. They thought with them.

145². thre wanting.

145⁴. them wanting.

146². e, f. By him.

146³. d, e. a good. f. him not a good.

147¹. e. the for our. f. then wanting.

147². to me.

148¹. into the.

148². brethren.

148⁴. f. 400 paces.

149⁴. For no man can so doo.

150¹. f. syr wanting.

150². further.

151. d, f. our king. e, f. then wanting.

152³. tie him.

152⁴. e, f. see him.

154¹. hast thee. f. then wanting.

154³. f. dost: has.

155⁴. you hang.

156². d, e. I neuer will forsake. f. That I will neuer.

157³. him fro.

158³. out wanting. f. meaten.

159². e. were.

160¹. were there.

160⁴. had neede of a. e, f. steddy.

162¹. claue.

162². myght see. d, f. As.

162³. Now God forbid then said.

162⁴. d, e. shouldst.

163¹. f. gaue: 8 pence.

163⁴. e. chiefe ranger.

164¹. xiii. e, f. Ile.

165¹. thee a.

165³. f. bretheren.

165⁴. are louely to.

166². e, f. he shall be.

166³. mans estate. e, f. coms, comes.

166⁴. d. aduanced I will him see. e, f. Better preferred.

167². d. sore for to. e. I long full sore to see. f. I long her sore.

167⁴. To.

168². d. To some bishop will we wend. e, f. To some bishop we will wend.

168⁴. at his.

169¹. e. the good.

169². they can. d. So fast.

169³. and liued.

169⁴. good yeomen.

170¹. f. liffe.

170³. f. with a.

170⁴. d, e. they wanting.

Insignificant variations of spelling are not noticed.

APPENDIX
THE SECOND PART OF ADAM BELL

August 16, 1586, there was entered to Edward White, in the Stationers’ Registers, ‘A ballad of William Clowdisley neuer printed before:’ Arber, II, 455. This was in all probability the present piece, afterwards printed with ‘Adam Bell’ as a Second Part. The Second Part of Adam Bell was entered to John Wright, September 24, 1608: Arber, III, 390. The ballad is a pure manufacture, with no root in tradition, and it is an absurd extravaganza besides. The copy in the Percy Folio, here collated with the earliest preserved printed copy, has often the better readings, but may have been corrected. a has such monstrosities as y-then, y-so.

a. ‘The Second Part of Adam Bell,’ London, James Roberts, 1605. b. ‘Younge Cloudeslee,’ Percy MS. p. 398; Hales and Furnivall, III, 102.

1

List northerne laddes to blither things

Then yet were brought to light,

Performed by our countriemen

In many a fray and fight:

2

Of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough,

And William of Cloudisly,

Who were in fauour with the king,

For all their misery.

3

Yong William of the wine-seller,

When yeoman he was made,

Gan follow then his father’s steps:

He loued a bonny maide.

4

‘God’s crosse,’ quoth William, ‘if I misse,

And may not of her speed,

I’le make a thousand northern hearts

For very wo to bleed.’

5

Gone he is a wooing now,

Our Ladie well him guide!

To merry Mansfield, where I trow

A time he will abide.

6

‘Soone dop the dore, faire Cicelie bright,

I come with all the hast:

I come a wooing thee for loue,

Here am I come at last.’

7

‘I know you not,’ quoth Cicelie tho,

‘From whence that yee bee come;

My loue you may not haue, I trow,

I vow by this faire sonne.

8

‘For why, my loue is fixt so sure

Vpon another wight;

I swere by sweet Saint Anne, I’le neuer

Abuse him, out of sight.

9

‘This night I hope to see my loue,

In all his pride and glee;

If there were thousands, none but him

My heart would ioy to see.’

10

‘God’s curse vpon him,’ yong William said,

‘Before me that hath sped!

A foule ill on the carrion nurse

That first did binde his head!’

11

Gan William tho for to prepare

A medicine for that chaffe:

‘His life,’ quoth he, ‘full hard may fare;

Hee’s best to keepe alaffe.’

12

He drew then out his bright brown sword,

Which was so bright and keene;

A stouter man and hardier

Nere handled sword, I weene.

13

‘Browne tempered, strong, and worthy blade,

Vnto thy maister show,

If now to triall thou bee put,

How thou canst bide a blow.’

14

Yong William till an oake gan hie,

Which was in compasse round

Well six and fifty inches nie,

And feld it to the ground.

15

‘So mot he fare,’ quoth William tho,

‘That for her loue hath laid

Which I haue loued, and nere did know

Him suter till that maide.

16

‘And now, deare father, stout and strong,

William of Cloudesley,

How happie were thy troubled sonne

If here I mot thee see.

17

‘And thy too brethren, Adam Bell

And Clim of the Clough;

Against a thousand men, and more,

We foure would be enough.

18

‘Growne it is full foure a clocke,

And night will come beliue;

Come on, thou lurden, Cislei’s loue,

This night must I thee shriue.

19

‘Prepare thee strong, thou fow[l] black caufe!

What ere thou be, I weene

I’le giue thy coxcomb saick a gird

In Mansfield as neuer was seene.’

20

William a yong faune had slaine,

In Sherwood, merry forrest;

A fairer faune for man’s meat

In Sherwood was neuer drest.

21

Hee hied then till a northerne lasse,

Not halfe a mile him fro;

He said, Dop dore, thou good old nurse,

That in to thee I goe.

22

‘I faint with being in the wood;

Lo heere I haue a kid,

Which I haue slo for thee and I;

Come dresse it then, I bid.

23

‘Fetch bread and other iolly fare,

Whereof thou hast some store;

A blither gest this hundred yeare

Came neuer here before.’

24

The good old nant gan hie a pace

To let yong William in;

‘A happie nurse,’ quoth William then,

‘As can be lightly seene.

25

‘Wend till that house hard by,’ quoth he,

‘That’s made of lime and stone,

Where is a lasse, faire Cisse,’ hee said;

‘I loue her as my owne.

26

‘If thou can fetch her vnto me,

That we may merry be,

I make a vow, in the forrest,

Of deare thou shalt haue fee.’

27

‘Rest then, faire sir,’ the woman said;

‘I sweare by good Saint Iohn,

I will bring to you that same maide

Full quickly and anon.’

28

‘Meane time,’ quoth William, ‘I’le be cooke

And see the faune i-drest;

A stouter cooke did neuer come

Within the faire forrest.’

29

Thick blith old lasse had wit enow

For to declare his minde;

So fast she hi’d, and nere did stay,

But left William behind.

30

Where William, like a nimble cooke,

Is dressing of the fare,

And for this damsell doth he looke;

‘I would that she were here!’

31

‘Good speed, blithe Cisse,’ quoth that old lasse;

‘God dild yee,’ quoth Cisley againe;

‘How done you, nant Ione?’ she said,

‘Tell me it, I am faine.’

32

The good old Ione said weele she was,

‘And commen in an arrand till you;

For you must to my cottage gone,

Full quick, I tell you true;

33

‘Where we full merry meane to be,

All with my elder lad:’

When Cissley heard of it, truely,

She was exceeding glad.

34

‘God’s curse light on me,’ quoth Cissley tho,

‘If with you I doe not hie;

I neuer ioyed more forsooth

Then in your company.’

35

Happy the good-wife thought her selfe

That of her purpose she had sped,

And home with Cisley she doth come,

So lightly did they tread.

36

And comming in, here William soone

Had made ready his fare;

The good old wife did wonder much

So soone as she came there.

37

Cisley to William now is come,

God send her mickle glee!

Yet was she in a maze, God wot,

When she saw it was hee.

38

‘Had I beene ware, good sir,’ she said,

‘Of that it had beene you,

I would haue staid at home in sooth,

I tell you very true.’

39

‘Faire Cisley,’ then said William kind,

‘Misdeeme thou not of mee;

I sent not for thee to the end

To do thee iniury.

40

‘Sit downe, that we may talke a while,

And eate all of the best

And fattest kidde that euer was slaine

In merry Sirwood forrest.’

41

His louing words wan Cisley then

To keepe with him a while;

But in the meane time Cislei’s loue

Of her was tho beguile.

42

A stout and sturdie man he was

Of quality and kind,

And knowne through all the north country

To beare a noble minde.

43

‘But what,’ quoth William, ‘do I care?

If that he meane to weare,

First let him winne; els neuer shall

He haue the maide, I sweare.’

44

Full softly is her louer come,

And knocked at the dore;

But tho he mist of Cislei’s roome,

Whereat he stampt and swore.

45

‘A mischief on his heart,’ quoth he,

‘That hath enlured the maide

To be with him in company!’

He car’d not what he sayd.

46

He was so with anger mooued

He sware a well great oth,

‘Deere should he pay, if I him knew,

Forsooth and by my troth!’

47

Gone he is to finde her out,

Not knowing where she is;

Still wandring in the weary wood,

His true-loue he doth misse.

48

William purchast hath the game,

Which he doth meane to hold:

‘Come rescew her, and if you can,

And dare to be so bold!’

49

At length when he had wandred long

About the forrest wide,

A candle-light a furlong off

Full quickly he espied.

50

Then to the house he hied him fast,

Where quickly he gan here

The voice of his owne deere true-loue,

A making bonny cheere.

51

Then gan he say to Cisley tho,

O Cisley, come a way!

I haue beene wandring thee to finde

Since shutting in of day.

52

‘Who calls faire Cisse?’ quoth William then;

‘What carle dares bee so bold

Once to aduenture to her to speake

Whom I haue now in hold?’

53

‘List thee, faire sir,’ quoth Cislei’s loue,

‘Let quickly her from you part;

For all your lordly words, I sweare

I’le haue her, or make you smart.’

54

Yong William to his bright browne sword

Gan quickly then to take:

‘Because thou so dost challenge me,

I’le make thy kingdome quake.

55

‘Betake thee to thy weapon strong;

Faire time I giue to thee;

And for my loue as well as thine

A combat fight will I.’

56

‘Neuer let sonne,’ quoth Cislei’s loue,

‘Shine more vpon my head,

If I doe flie, by heauen aboue,

Wert thou a giant bred.’

57

To bilbo-blade gat William tho,

And buckler stiffe and strong;

A stout battaile then they fought,

Well nie two houres long.

58

Where many a grieuous wound was giue

To each on either part;

Till both the champions then were droue

Almost quite out of heart.

59

Pitteous mone faire Cisley made,

That all the forrest rong;

The grieuous shrikes made such a noise,

She had so shrill a tongue.

60

At last came in the keepers three,

With bowes and arrowes keene,

Where they let flie among these two,

An hundred as I weene.

61

William, stout and strong in heart,

When he had them espied,

Set on corrage for his part;

Among the thickst he hied.

62

The chiefe ranger of the woods

At first did William smite;

Where, at on blow, he smot his head

Fro off his shoulders quite.

63

And being in so furious teene,

About him then he laid;

He slew immediatly the wight

Was sutor to the maide.

64

Great moane was then made;

The like was neuer heard;

Which made the people all around

To crie, they were so feard.

65

‘Arme! arme!’ the country cried,

‘For God’s loue quickly hie!’

Neuer was such a slaughter seene

In all the north country.

66

Will[iam] still, though wounded sore,

Continued in his fight

Till he had slaine them all foure,

That very winter-night.

67

All the country then was raisd,

The traytor for to take

That for the loue of Cisley faire

Had all this slaughter make.

68

To the woods hied William tho—

’Twas best of all his play—

Where in a caue with Cisley faire

He liued many a day.

69

Proclamation then was sent

The country all around,

The lord of Mansfield should he be

That first the traytor found.

70

Till the court these tydings came,

Where all men did bewaile

The yong and lusty William,

Which so had made them quaile.

71

Hied vp then William Cloudesley,

And lustie Adam Bell,

And famous Clim of the Clough,

Which three then did excell.

72

To the king they hied them fast,

Full quickly and anon;

‘Mercy I pray,’ quoth old William,

‘For William my sonne.’

73

‘No mercy, traitors,’ quoth the king,

‘Hangd shall yee be all foure;

Vnder my nose this plot haue you laid

To bringe to passe before.’

74

‘In sooth,’ bespake then Adam Bell,

‘Ill signe Your Grace hath seene

Of any such comotion

Since with you we haue beene.

75

‘If then we can no mercy haue,

But leese both life and goods,

Of your good grace we take our leaue

And hie vs to the woods.’

76

‘Arme, arme,’ then quoth the king,

‘My merry men euerychone,

Full fast againe these rebbells now

Vnto the woods are gone.

77

‘A, wo is vs! what shall we doo,

Or which way shall we worke,

To hunt them forth out of the woods,

So traytrouslie there that lurke?’

78

‘List you,’ quoth a counsellor graue,

A wise man he seemd;

The[n] craued the king his pardon free

Vnto them to haue deemd.

79

‘God’s forbod!’ quoth the king,

‘I neuer it will do!

For they shall hang, each mother’s sonne;

Faire sir, I tell you true.’

80

Fifty thousand men were charged

After them for to take;

Some of them, set in sundry townes,

In companies did waite.

81

To the woods gan some to goe,

In hope to find them out;

And them perforce they thought to take,

If they might find them out.

82

To the woods still as they came

Dispatched still they were;

Which made full many a trembling heart,

And many a man in feare.

83

Still the outlawes, Adam Bell

And Clim of the Clough,

Made iolly cheere with venison,

Strong drinke and wine enough.

84

‘Christ me blesse!’ then said our king,

‘Such men were neuer knowne;

They are the stoutest-hearted men

That manhoode euer showne.

85

‘Come, my secretary good,

And cause to be declared

A generall pardone to them all,

Which neuer shall be discared.

86

‘Liuing plenty shall they haue,

Of gold and eke of fee,

If they will, as they did before,

Come liue in court with me.’

87

Sodenly went forth the newes,

Declared by trumpets sound,

Whereof these three were well aduis’d,

In caue as they were in ground.

88

‘But list you, sirs,’ quoth William yong,

‘I dare not trust the king;

It is some fetch is in his head,

Whereby to bring vs in.

89

‘Nay, stay we here: or first let me

A messenger be sent

Vnto the court, where I may know

His Maiestie’s intent.’

90

This pleased Adam Bell:

‘So may we liue in peace,

We are at his most high command,

And neuer will we cease.

91

‘But if that still we shall be vrged,

And called by traitrous name,

And threated hanging for euery thing,

His Highnesse is to blame.

92

‘Neare had His Grace subiects more true,

And sturdier then wee,

Which are at His Highnesse will;

God send him well to bee!’

93

So to the court is yong William gone,

To parley with the king,

Where all men to the king’s presence

Did striue him for to bring.

94

When he before the king was come,

He kneeled down full low;

He shewed quickly to the king

What duty they did owe;

95

In such delightfull order blith,

The king was quickly wonne

To comfort them in their request,

As he before had done.

96

‘Fetch bread and drinke,’ then said His Grace,

‘And meat all of the best;

And stay all night here at the court,

And soundly take thy rest.’

97

‘Gramercies to Your Grace,’ said William,

‘For pardon graunted I see:’

‘For signe thereof, here take my seale,

And for more certainty.’

98

‘God’s curse vpon me,’ sayd William,

‘For my part if I meane

Euer againe to stirre vp strife!

It neuer shall bee seene.’

99

The nobles all to William came,

He was so stout and trimme,

And all the ladies, for very ioy,

Did come to welcome him.

100

‘Faire Cisley now I haue to wife,

In field I haue her wonne;’

‘Bring her here, for God’s loue,’ said they all,

‘Full welcome shall she be [soone].’

101

Forth againe went William backe,

To wood that he did hie,

And to his father there he shewd

The king his pardone free.

102

‘Health to His Grace,’ quoth Adam Bell,

‘I beg it on my knee!’

The like said Clim of the Clough,

And William of Cloudesley.

103

To the court they all prepare,

Euen as fast as they can hie,

Where graciously they were receiud,

With mirth and merry glee.

104

Cisley faire is wend alone

Vpon a gelding faire;

A proprer damsell neuer came

In any courtly ayre.

105

‘Welcome, Cisley,’ said the queene,

‘A lady I thee make,

To wait vpon my owne person,

In all my chiefest state.’

106

So quickly was this matter done,

Which was so hardly doubted,

That all contentions after that

From court were quickly rowted.

107

Fauourable was the king;

So good they did him finde,

The[y] neuer after sought againe

To vex his royall minde.

108

Long time they liued in court,

So neare vnto the king

That neuer after was attempt

Offred for any thing.

109

God aboue giue all men grace

In quiet for to liue,

And not rebelliously abroad

Their princes for to grieue.

110

Let not the hope of pardon mooue

A subiect to attempt

His soueraigne’s anger, or his loue

From him for to exempt.

111

But that all men may ready be

With all their maine and might

To serue the Lord, and loue the King,

In honor, day and night!

---

a. 1⁴. In mickle.

6¹. Some.

13⁴. canst thou.

20³. man’s y-meat.

21². he fro.

28². I drest.

35². That her purpose he had of sped.

35⁴. they read.

37⁴. amaze.

46¹. was yso.

64¹. ythen.

76². euery chone.

92¹. more subjects true.

93³. Which for Where.

b. 1⁴. In many.

5². will for well.

6¹. Soone.

6³. to thee.

13¹. sword for strong.

13⁴. thou canst.

18⁴. I must.

19¹. ffowle.

19⁴. was neuer.

20³. man’s meate.

21². him ffroe.

21³. dop the.

22³. slaine ffor thee & mee.

28². To see: well drest.

31¹. God speed.

31³. doe yee.

32¹. woman for Ione.

32². in wanting: to you.

35². of her purpose shee had sped.

35⁴. they did tread.

37³. a maze.

40³. The ffattest.

44³. mist Cisleys companye.

45². allured this.

46¹. soe.

52⁴. in my for now in.

57². That was both stiffe.

57⁴. Weer neere.

61¹. strong & stout.

66¹. William.

68². Itt was the best.

73². You shall be hanged.

73³. plott yee have.

76². euer-eche one.

78³. The craued.

79⁴. I tell you verry true.

86¹. Liuings.

92¹. subiects more true.

93³. Where.

97¹. Gramercy.

100⁴. Welcome shee shall bee soone.

104¹. is gone.

105⁴. cheefe estate.

106⁴. rooted.

107³. ffought for sought.

117
A GEST OF ROBYN HODE

a. ‘A Gest of Robyn Hode,’ without printer’s name, date, or place; the eleventh and last piece in a volume in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh. Reprinted by David Laing, 1827, with nine pieces from the press of Walter Chepman and Androw Myllar, Edinburgh, 1508, and one other, by a printer unknown, under the title of The Knightly Tale of Golagrus and Gawane, and other Ancient Poems.

b. ‘A Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode,’ etc., London, Wynken de Worde, n. d.: Library of the University of Cambridge.

c. Douce Fragment, No 16: Bodleian Library.

d. Douce Fragment, No 17: Bodleian Library.

e. Douce Fragment, No 16: Bodleian Library.[^[29]]

f. ‘A Mery Geste of Robyn Hoode,’ etc., London, Wyllyam Copland, n. d.: British Museum, C. 21. c.

g. ‘A Merry Iest of Robin Hood,’ etc., London, printed for Edward White, n. d.: Bodleian Library, Z. 3. Art. Seld., and Mr Henry Huth’s library.

The best qualified judges are not agreed as to the typographical origin of a: see Dickson, Introduction of the Art of Printing into Scotland, Aberdeen, 1885, pp 51 ff, 82 ff, 86 f. Mr Laing had become convinced before his death that he had been wrong in assigning this piece to the press of Chepman and Myllar. The date of b may be anywhere from 1492 to 1534, the year of W. de Worde’s death. Of c Ritson says, in his corrected preface to the Gest, 1832, I, 2: By the favor of the Reverend Dr Farmer, the editor had in his hands, and gave to Mr Douce, a few leaves of an old 4to black letter impression by the above Wynken de Worde, probably in 1489, and totally unknown to Ames and Herbert. No reason is given for this date.[^[30]] I am not aware that any opinion has been expressed as to the printer or the date of d, e. W. Copland’s edition, f, if his dates are fully ascertained, is not earlier than 1548. Ritson says that g is entered to Edward White in the Stationers’ books, 13 May, 1594. “A pastorall plesant commedie of Robin Hood & Little John, &c,” is entered to White on the 14th of May of that year, Arber, II, 649: this is more likely to have been a play of Robin Hood.

a, b, f, g, are deficient at 7¹, 339¹, and misprinted at 49, 50, repeating, it may be, the faults of a prior impression. a appears, by internal evidence, to be an older text than b.[^[31]] Some obsolete words of the earlier copies have been modernized in f, g,[^[32]], and deficient lines have been supplied. A considerable number of Middle-English forms remain[^[33]] after those successive renovations of reciters and printers, which are presumable in such cases. The Gest may have been compiled at a time when such forms had gone out of use, and these may be relics of the ballads from which this little epic was made up; or the whole poem may have been put together as early as 1400, or before. There are no firm grounds on which to base an opinion.

No notice of Robin Hood has been down to this time recovered earlier than that which was long ago pointed out by Percy as occurring in Piers Plowman, and this, according to Professor Skeat, cannot be older than about 1377.[^[34]] Sloth, in that poem, says in his shrift that he knows “rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf, erle of Chestre,”[^[35]] though but imperfectly acquainted with his paternoster: B, passus v, 401 f, Skeat, ed. 1886, I, 166. References to Robin Hood, or to his story, are not infrequent in the following century.

In Wyntoun’s Chronicle of Scotland, put at about 1420, there is this passage, standing quite by itself, under the year 1283:

Lytill Ihon and Robyne Hude

Waythmen ware commendyd gude;

In Yngilwode and Barnysdale

Thai oysyd all this tyme thare trawale.

Laing, II, 263.

Disorderly persons undertook, it seems, to imitate Robin Hood and his men. In the year 1417, says Stowe, one, by his counterfeit name called Fryer Tucke, with many other malefactors, committed many robberies in the counties of Surrey and Sussex, whereupon the king sent out his writs for their apprehension: Annals, p. 352 b, ed. 1631.[^[36]] A petition to Parliament, in the year 1439, represents that one Piers Venables, of Derbyshire, rescued a prisoner, “and after that tyme, the same Piers Venables, havynge no liflode ne sufficeante of goodes, gadered and assembled unto him many misdoers, beynge of his clothinge, ... and, in manere of insurrection, wente into the wodes in that contré, like as it hadde be Robyn-hode and his meyné:” Rotuli Parliamentorum, V, 16.[^[37]]

Bower, writing 1441–47, describes the lower orders of his time as entertaining themselves with ballads both merry and serious, about Robin Hood, Little John, and their mates, and preferring them to all others;[^[38]] and Major, or Mair, who was born not long after 1450, says in his book, printed in 1521, that Robin Hood ballads were in vogue over all Britain.[^[39]]

Sir John Paston, in 1473, writes of a servant whom he had kept to play Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham, and who was gone into Bernysdale: Fenn, Original Letters, etc., II, 134, cited by Ritson.

Gutch cites this allusion to Robin Hood ballads “from Mr Porkington, No 10, f. 152, written in the reign of Edward IV:”

Ther were tynkerris in tarlottus, the met was fulle goode,

The “sowe sat one him benche” (sic), and harppyd Robyn Hoode.

And again, the name simply, from “a song on Woman, from MS. Lambeth, 306, fol. 135, of the fifteenth century”:

He that made this songe full good

Came of the northe and of the sothern blode,

And somewhat kyne to Robyn Hode.

Gutch, Robin Hood, I, 55 f.

These passages show the popularity of Robin Hood ballads for a century or more before the time when the Gest was printed, a popularity which was fully established at the beginning of this period, and unquestionably extended back to a much earlier day. Of these ballads, there have come down to us in a comparatively ancient form the following: those from which the Gest (printed, perhaps, before 1500) was composed, being at least four, Robin Hood, the Knight and the Monk, Robin Hood, Little John and the Sheriff, Robin Hood and the King, and Robin Hood’s Death (a fragment); Robin Hood and the Monk, No 118, more properly Robin Hood rescued by Little John, MS. of about 1450, but not for that older than the ballads of the Gest; Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborn, No 119, Percy MS. c. 1650; Robin Hood’s Death, No 120, Percy MS. and late garlands; Robin Hood and the Potter, No 121, MS. of about 1500, later, perhaps, than any other of the group.[^[40]] Besides these there are thirty-two ballads, Nos 122–153. For twenty-two of these we have the texts of broadsides and garlands of the seventeenth century,[^[41]] four of the same being also found in the Percy MS.; eight occur in garlands, etc., of the last century, one of these same in the Percy MS., and another in an eighteenth-century MS.; one is derived from a suspicious nineteenth-century MS., and one from nineteenth-century tradition. About half a dozen of these thirty-two have in them something of the old popular quality; as many more not the least smatch of it. Fully a dozen are variations, sometimes wearisome, sometimes sickening, upon the theme ‘Robin Hood met with his match.’ A considerable part of the Robin Hood poetry looks like char-work done for the petty press, and should be judged as such. The earliest of these ballads, on the other hand, are among the best of all ballads, and perhaps none in English please so many and please so long.

That a considerable number of fine ballads of this cycle have been lost will appear all but certain when we remember that three of the very best are found each in only one manuscript.[^[42]]

Robin Hood is absolutely a creation of the ballad-muse. The earliest mention we have of him is as the subject of ballads. The only two early historians who speak of him as a ballad-hero, pretend to have no information about him except what they derive from ballads, and show that they have none other by the description they give of him; this description being in entire conformity with ballads in our possession, one of which is found in a MS. as old as the older of these two writers.

Robin Hood is a yeoman, outlawed for reasons not given but easily surmised, “courteous and free,” religious in sentiment, and above all reverent of the Virgin, for the love of whom he is respectful to all women. He lives by the king’s deer (though he loves no man in the world so much as his king) and by levies on the superfluity of the higher orders, secular and spiritual, bishops and archbishops, abbots, bold barons, and knights,[^[43]] but harms no husbandman or yeoman, and is friendly to poor men generally, imparting to them of what he takes from the rich. Courtesy, good temper, liberality, and manliness are his chief marks; for courtesy and good temper he is a popular Gawain. Yeoman as he is, he has a kind of royal dignity, a princely grace, and a gentleman-like refinement of humor. This is the Robin Hood of the Gest especially; the late ballads debase this primary conception in various ways and degrees.

This is what Robin Hood is, and it is equally important to observe what he is not. He has no sort of political character, in the Gest or any other ballad. This takes the ground from under the feet of those who seek to assign him a place in history. Wyntoun, who gives four lines to Robin Hood, is quite precise. He is likely to have known of the adventure of King Edward and the outlaw, and he puts Robin under Edward I, at the arbitrary date of 1283, a hundred and forty years before his own time. Bower, without any kind of ceremony, avouches our hero to have been one of the proscribed followers of Simon de Montfort, and this assertion of Bower is adopted and maintained by a writer in the London and Westminster Review, 1840, XXXIII, 424.[^[44]] Major, who probably knew some ballad of Richard I and Robin Hood, offers a simple conjecture that Robin flourished about Richard’s time, “circa hæc tempora, ut auguror,” and this is the representation in Matthew Parker’s ‘True Tale,’ which many have repeated, not always with ut auguror; as Scott, with whom no one can quarrel, in the inexpressibly delightful Ivanhoe, and Thierry in his Conquête de l’Angleterre, Book xi, IV, 81 ff, ed. 1830, both of whom depict Robin Hood as the chief of a troop of Saxon bandits, Thierry making him an imitator of Hereward. Hunter, again, The Ballad-Hero, Robin Hood, p. 48, interprets the King Edward of the Gest as Edward II, and makes Robin Hood an adherent of the Earl of Lancaster in the fatal insurrection of 1322. No one of these theories has anything besides ballads for a basis except Hunter’s. Hunter has an account-book in which the name Robin Hood occurs; as to which see further on, under stanzas 414–450 of the Gest. Hereward the Saxon, Fulk Fitz Warine, Eustace the Monk, Wallace, all outlaws of one kind or another, are celebrated in romantic tales or poems, largely fabulous, which resemble in a general way, and sometimes in particulars, the traditional ballads about Robin Hood;[^[45]] but these outlaws are recognized by contemporary history.

The chief comrades of Robin Hood are: Robin Hood and the Monk, Little John, Scathlok (Scarlok, Scarlet), and Much; to these the Gest adds Gilbert of the White Hand and Reynold, 292 f. A friar is not a member of his company in the older ballads. A curtal, or cutted friar, called Friar Tuck in the title, but not in the ballad, has a fight with Robin Hood in No 123, and is perhaps to be regarded as having accepted Robin’s invitation to join his company; this, however, is not said. Friar Tuck is simply named as one of Robin’s troop in two broadsides, No 145, No 147, but plays no part in them. These two broadsides also name Maid Marian, who appears elsewhere only in a late and entirely insignificant ballad, No 150.[^[46]]

Friar Tuck is a character in each of two Robin Hood plays, both of which we have, unluckily, only in a fragmentary state. One of these plays, dating as far back as 1475, presents scenes from Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborn, followed, without any link, by others from some ballad of a rescue of Robin Hood from the sheriff; to which extracts from still other ballads may have been annexed. In this play the friar has no special mark; he simply makes good use of his bow. The other play, printed by Copland with the Gest, not much before 1550, treats more at length the story of Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar, and then that of Robin Hood and the Potter, again, and naturally, without connection. The conclusion is wanting, and the play may have embraced still other ballads. The Friar in this is a loose and jovial fellow, and gave the hint for Scott’s Clerk of Copmanhurst.[^[47]]

The second of the Robin Hood plays is described in the title as “very proper to be played in May-games.” These games were in the sixteenth century, and, it would seem, before, often a medley of many things. They were not limited to the first day of May, or even to the month of May; they might occur in June as well. They were not uniform, and might include any kind of performance or spectacle which suited the popular taste. “I find,” says Stow, “that in the moneth of May, the citizens of London, of all estates, lightlie in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes joyning together, had their several Mayinges, and did fetch in Maypoles, with divers warlike shewes, with good archers, morrice-dancers, and other devices for pastime all the day long; and towards the evening they had stage-playes and bonefires in the streetes.”[^[48]] In the Diary of Henry Machyn we read that on the twenty-sixth of May, 1555, there was a goodly May-game at St Martins in the Field, with giant and hobby-horses, morris-dance and other minstrels; and on the third day of June following, a goodly May-game at Westminster, with giants and devils, and three morris-dancers, and many disguised, and the Lord and Lady of the May rode gorgeously, with divers minstrels playing. On the thirtieth of May, 1557, there was a goodly May-game in Fenchurch Street, in which the Nine Worthies rode, and they had speeches, and the morris-dance, and the Sowdan, and the Lord and Lady of the May, and more besides. And again, on the twenty-fourth of June, 1559, there was a May-game, with a giant, the Nine Worthies, with speeches, a goodly pageant with a queen, St George and the Dragon, the morris-dance, and afterwards Robin Hood and Little John, and Maid Marian and Friar Tuck, and they had speeches round about London. (Pp 89, 137, 201.)[^[49]]

In the rural districts the May-game was naturally a much simpler affair. The accounts of the chamberlains and churchwardens of Kingston upon Thames for Mayday, 23 Henry VII–28 Henry VIII, 1507–36, contain charges for the morris, the Lady, Little John, Robin Hood, and Maid Marian; the accounts for 21 Henry VII–1 Henry VIII relate to expenses for the Kyngham, and a king and queen are mentioned, presumably king and queen of May; under 24 Henry VII the “cost of the Kyngham and Robyn Hode are entered together.”[^[50]]

“A simple northern man” is made to say in Albion’s England, 1586:

At Paske began our Morris, and ere Penticost our May;

Tho Robin Hood, Liell John, Frier Tucke and Marian deftly play,

And Lard and Ladie gang till kirk, with lads and lasses gay.[^[51]]

Tollet’s painted window (which is assigned by Douce to about 1460–70, and, if rightly dated, furnishes the oldest known representation of a May-game with the morris) has, besides a fool, a piper and six dancers, a Maypole, a hobby-horse, a friar, and a lady, and the lady, being crowned, is to be taken as Queen of May.

What concerns us is the part borne by Robin Hood, John, and the Friar in these games, and Robin’s relation to Maid Marian. In Ellis’s edition of Brand’s Antiquities, I, 214, note h, we are told that Robin Hood is styled King of May in The Book of the Universal Kirk of Scotland. This is a mistake, and an important mistake. In April, 1577, the General Assembly requested the king to “discharge [prohibit] playes of Robin Hood, King of May, and sick others, on the Sabboth day.” In April, 1578, the fourth session, the king and council were supplicated to discharge “all kynd of insolent playis, as King of May, Robin Hood, and sick others, in the moneth of May, played either be bairnes at the schools, or others”; and the subject was returned to in the eighth session. We know from various sources that plays, founded on the ballads, were sometimes performed in the course of the games. We know that archers sometimes personated Robin Hood and his men in the May-game.[^[52]] The relation of Robin Hood, John, and the Friar to the May-game morris is obscure. “It plainly appears,” says Ritson, “that Robin Hood, Little John, the Friar, and Maid Marian were fitted out at the same time with the morris-dancers, and consequently, it would seem, united with them in one and the same exhibition,” meaning the morris. But he adds, with entire truth, in a note: “it must be confessed that no other direct authority has been met with for constituting Robin Hood and Little John integral characters of the morris-dance.”[^[53]] And further, with less truth so far as the Friar is concerned: “that Maid Marian and the Friar were almost constantly such is proved beyond the possibility of a doubt.” The Friar is found in Tollet’s window, which Douce speaks of, cautiously, as a representation of an English May-game and morris-dance. The only “direct authority,” so far as I am aware, for the Friar’s being a party in the morris-dance (unconnected with the May-game) is the late authority of Ben Jonson’s Masque of the Metamorphosed Gipsies, 1621, cited by Tollet in his Memoir; where it is said that the absence of a Maid Marian and a friar is a surer mark than the lack of a hobby-horse that a certain company cannot be morris-dancers.[^[54]] The lady is an essential personage in the morris.[^[55]] How and when she came to receive the appellation of Maid Marian in the English morris is unknown. The earliest occurrence of the name seems to be in Barclay’s fourth Eclogue,[^[56]] “subjoined to the last edition of The Ship of Foles, but originally printed soon after 1500:” Ritson, I, lxxxvii, ed. 1832. Warton suggested a derivation from the French Marion, and the idea is extremely plausible. Robin and Marion were the subject of innumerable motets and pastourelles of the thirteenth century, and the hero and heroine of a very pretty and lively play, more properly comic opera, composed by Adam de la Halle not far from 1280. We know from a document of 1392 that this play was annually performed at Angers, at Whitsuntide, and we cannot doubt that it was a stock-piece in many places, as from its merits it deserved to be. There are as many proverbs about Robin and Marion as there are about Robin Hood, and the first verse of the play, derived from an earlier song, is still (or was fifty years ago) in the mouths of the peasant girls of Hainault.[^[57]] In the May-game of June, 1559, described by Machyn, after many other things, they had “Robin Hood and Little John,” and “Maid Marian and Friar Tuck,” some dramatic scene, pantomime, or pageant, probably two; but there is nothing of Maid Marian in the two (fragmentary) Robin Hood plays which are preserved, both of which, so far as they go, are based on ballads. Anthony Munday, towards the end of the sixteenth century, made a play, full of his own inventions, in which Robert, Earl of Huntington, being outlawed, takes refuge in Sherwood, with his chaste love Matilda, daughter of Lord Fitzwaters, and changes his name to Robin Hood, hers to Maid Marian.[^[58]] One S. G., a good deal later, wrote a very bad ballad about the Earl of Huntington and his lass, the only ballad in which Maid Marian is more than a name. Neglecting these perversions, Maid Marian is a personage in the May-game and morris who is not infrequently paired with a friar, and sometimes with Robin Hood, under what relation, in either case, we cannot precisely say. Percy had no occasion to speak of her as Robin’s concubine, and Douce none to call her Robin’s paramour.

That ballads about Robin Hood were familiar throughout England and Scotland we know from early testimony. Additional evidence of his celebrity is afforded by the connection of his name with a variety of natural objects and archaic remains over a wide extent of country.

“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; an ancient boundary stone in Lincolnshire is Robin Hood’s cross; 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; ancient oaks, in various parts of the country, are his trees.”[^[59]] All sorts of traditions are fitted to the localities where they are known. It would be an exception to ordinary rules if we did not find Robin Hood trees and Robin Hood wells and Robin Hood hills. But, says Wright, in his essay on the Robin Hood ballads (p. 208), the connection of Robin Hood’s name with mounds and stones is perhaps one of the strongest proofs of his mythic character, as if Robin Hood were conceived of as a giant. The fact in question is rather a proof that those names were conferred at a time when the real character of Robin Hood was dimly remembered. In the oldest ballads Robin Hood is simply a stout yeoman, one of the best that ever bare bow; in the later ballads he is repeatedly foiled in contests with shepherds and beggars. Is it supposable that those who knew of him even at his best estate, could give him a loggan for a penny-stone? No one has as yet undertaken to prove that the ballads are later than the names.[^[60]] Mounds and stones bear his name for the same idle reason that “so many others have that of King Arthur, King John, and, for want of a better, that of the devil.”[^[61]]

Kuhn, starting with the assumption that the mythical character of Robin Hood is fully established (by traditions posterior to the ballads and contradictory to their tenor), has sought to show that our courteous outlaw is in particular one of the manifestations of Woden. The hobby-horse, which, be it borne in mind, though now and then found in the May-game or morris-dance, was never intimately associated, perhaps we may say never at all associated, with Robin Hood, represents, it is maintained, Woden. The fundamental grounds are these. In a Christmas, New Year, or Twelfth Day sport at Paget’s Bromley, Staffordshire, the rider of the hobby-horse held a bow and arrow in his hands, with which he made a snapping noise. In a modern Christmas festivity in Kent, the young people would affix the head of a horse to a pole about four feet in length, and tie a cloth round the head to conceal one of the party, who, by pulling a string attached to the horse’s lower jaw, produced a snapping noise as he moved along. This ceremony, according to the reporter, was called a hoodening, and the figure of the horse a hooden, “a wooden horse.”[^[62]] The word hooden, according to Kuhn, we may unhesitatingly expound as Woden; Hood is a corruption of “Hooden,” and this Hooden again conducts us to Woden.

Glosyng is a ful glorious thing certayn.

The sport referred to is explained in Pegge’s Alphabet of Kenticisms (collected 1735–36), under the name hooding, as a country masquerade at Christmas time, which in Derbyshire they call guising, and in other places mumming; and to the same effect in the Rev. W. D. Parish’s Dictionary of the Kentish Dialect (soon to be published) under hoodening, which word is an obvious corruption, or secondary form, of hooding. The word hooding, applied to the sport, means just what it does in the old English hooding-cloth, a curtain; that is, a covering, and so a disguise by covering. It is true that wooden is pronounced hooden,[^[63]] or ooden, in Kent, and that the hobby-horse had a wooden head, but it is quite inconceivable that the sport should receive its name from a circumstance so subordinate as the material of which the horse was made. Such an interpretation would hardly be thought of had not hooding in its proper sense long been obsolete. That this is the case is plain from two facts: the hooding used to be accompanied with carol-singing, and the Rev. Mr Parish informs us that carol-singing on Christmas Eve is still called hoodening at Monckton, in East Kent. The form Hooden, from which Robin’s name is asserted by Kuhn to be corrupted, is invented for the occasion. I suppose that no one will think that the hobby-horse-rider’s carrying a bow and arrows, in the single instance of the Staffordshire sport, conduces at all to the identifying of Robin Hood with the hobby-horse. Whether the Hobby-Horse represents Woden is not material here. It is enough that the Hobby-Horse cannot be shown to represent Robin Hood.[^[64]]

I cannot admit that even the shadow of a case has been made out by those who would attach a mythical character either to Robin Hood or to the outlaws of Inglewood, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly.[^[65]]

Ballads of other nations, relating to classes of men living in revolt against authority and society, may be expected to show some kind of likeness to the English outlaw-ballads, and such resemblances will be pointed out upon occasion. Spanish broadside ballads dating from the end of the sixteenth century commemorate the valientes and guapos of cities, robbers and murderers of the most flaunting and flagitious description: Duran, Romancero, Nos 1331–36, 1339–43, II, 367 ff.[^[66]] These display towards corregidores, alcaides, customhouse officers, and all the ministers of government an hostility corresponding to that of Robin Hood against the sheriff; they empty the jails and deliver culprits from the gallows; reminding us very faintly of the Robin Hood broadsides, as of the rescues in Nos 140, 141, the Progress to Nottingham, No 139, in which Robin Hood, at the age of fifteen, kills fifteen foresters, or of Young Gamwell, in No 128, who begins his career by killing his father’s steward.[^[67]] But Robin Hood and his men, in the most degraded of the broadsides, are tame innocents and law-abiding citizens beside the guapos. The Klephts, whose songs are preserved in considerable numbers, mostly from the last century and the present, have the respectability of being engaged, at least in part, in a war against the Turks, and the romance of wild mountaineers. They, like Robin Hood, had a marked animosity against monks, and they put beys to ransom as he would an abbot or a sheriff. There are Magyar robber-ballads in great number;[^[68]] some of these celebrate Shobri (a man of this century), who spares the poor, relieves beggars, pillages priests (but never burns or kills), and fears God: Erdélyi’s collection, I, 194–98, Nos 237–39; Arany-Gyulai, II, 56, No 49; Kertbeny, Ausgewählte Ungarische Volkslieder, pp 246–251, Nos 136–38; Aigner, pp 198–201. Russian robber-songs are given by Sakharof, under the title Udaluiya, Skazaniya, 1841, I, iii, 224–32; Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, pp 44–50. There are a few Sicilian robber-ballads in Pitré, Canti pop. Siciliani, Nos 913–16, II, 125–37.

The Gest is a popular epic, composed from several ballads by a poet of a thoroughly congenial spirit. No one of the ballads from which it was made up is extant in a separate shape, and some portions of the story may have been of the compiler’s own invention. The decoying of the sheriff into the wood, stanzas 181–204, is of the same derivation as the last part of Robin Hood and the Potter, No 121, Little John and Robin Hood exchanging parts; the conclusion, 451–56, is of the same source as Robin Hood’s Death, No 120. Though the tale, as to all important considerations, is eminently original, absolutely so as to the conception of Robin Hood, some traits and incidents, as might be expected, are taken from what we may call the general stock of mediæval fiction.

The story is a three-ply web of the adventures of Robin Hood with a knight, with the sheriff of Nottingham, and with the king (the concluding stanzas, 451–56, being a mere epilogue), and may be decomposed accordingly. I. How Robin Hood relieved a knight, who had fallen into poverty, by lending him money on the security of Our Lady, the first fit, 1–81; how the knight recovered his lands, which had been pledged to Saint Mary Abbey, and set forth to repay the loan, the second fit, 82–143; how Robin Hood, having taken twice the sum lent from a monk of this abbey, declared that Our Lady had discharged the debt, and would receive nothing more from the knight, the fourth fit, 205–280. II. How Little John insidiously took service with Robin Hood’s standing enemy, the sheriff of Nottingham, and put the sheriff into Robin Hood’s hands, the third fit, 144–204; how the sheriff, who had sworn an oath to help and not to harm Robin Hood and his men, treacherously set upon the outlaws at a shooting-match, and they were fain to take refuge in the knight’s castle; how, missing of Robin Hood, the sheriff made prisoner of the knight; and how Robin Hood slew the sheriff and rescued the knight, the fifth and sixth fit, 281–353. III. How the king, coming in person to apprehend Robin Hood and the knight, disguised himself as an abbot, was stopped by Robin Hood, feasted on his own deer, and entertained with an exhibition of archery, in the course of which he was recognized by Robin Hood, who asked his grace and received a promise thereof, on condition that he and his men should enter into the king’s service; and how the king, for a jest, disguised himself and his company in the green of the outlaws, and going back to Nottingham caused a general flight of the people, which he stopped by making himself known; how he pardoned the knight; and how Robin Hood, after fifteen months in the king’s court, heart-sick and deserted by all his men but John and Scathlock, obtained a week’s leave of the king to go on a pilgrimage to Saint Mary Magdalen of Barnsdale, and would never come back in two-and-twenty years, the seventh and eighth fit, 354–450. A particular analysis may be spared, seeing that many of the details will come out incidentally in what follows.

Barnsdale, Robin Hood’s haunt in the Gest, 3, 21, 82, 134, 213, 262, 440, 442, is a woodland region in the West Riding of Yorkshire, a little to the south of Pontefract and somewhat further to the north of Doncaster. The river Went is its northern boundary. “The traveller enters upon it [from the south] a little beyond a well-known place called Robin Hood’s Well [some ten miles north of Doncaster, near Skelbrook], and he leaves it when he has descended to Wentbridge.” (For Wentbridge, see No 121, st. 6; the Gest, 135¹.) A little to the west is Wakefield, and beyond Wakefield, between that town and Halifax, was the priory of Kyrkesly or Kirklees. The Sayles, 18, was a very small tenancy of the manor of Pontefract. The great North Road, formerly so called, and here, 18, denominated Watling Street (as Roman roads often are), crosses Barnsdale between Doncaster and Ferrybridge.[^[69]] Saint Mary Abbey, “here besyde,” 54, was at York, and must have been a good twenty miles from Barnsdale. The knight, 126⁴, is said to be “at home in Verysdale.” Wyresdale (now Over and Nether Wyersdale) was an extensive tract of wild country, part of the old forest of Lancashire, a few miles to the southeast of Lancaster. The knight’s son had slain a knight and a squire of Lancaster, a, Lancashire, b, f, g, 53. It is very likely, therefore, that the knight’s castle, in the original ballad, was in Lancashire. However this may be, it is put in the Gest, 309 f, on the way between Nottingham and Robin Hood’s retreat, which must be assumed to be Barnsdale. From it, again, Barnsdale is easily accessible to the knight’s wife, 334 f.[^[70]] Wherever it lay or lies, the distance from Nottingham or from Barnsdale, as also the distance from Nottingham to Barnsdale (actually some fifty miles), is made nothing of in the Gest.[^[71]] The sheriff goes a-hunting; John, who is left behind, does not start from Nottingham till more than an hour after noon, takes the sheriff’s silver to Barnsdale,[^[72]] runs five miles in the forest, and finds the sheriff still at his sport: 155 f, 168, 176–82. We must not be nice. Robin Hood has made a vow to go from London to Barnsdale barefoot. The distance thither and back would not be much short of three hundred and fifty miles. King Edward allows him a seven-night, and no longer, 442 f. The compiler of the Gest did not concern himself to adjust these matters. There was evidently at one time a Barnsdale cycle and a Sherwood cycle of Robin Hood ballads. The sheriff of Nottingham would belong to the Sherwood series (to which Robin Hood and the Monk appertains). He is now a capital character in all the old Robin Hood ballads. If he was adopted from the Sherwood into the Barnsdale set, this was done without a rearrangement of the topography.

5–7. Robin Hood will not dine until he has some guest that can pay handsomely for his entertainment, 18, 19, 206, 209; dinner, accordingly, is sometimes delayed a long time, 25, 30, 143, 220; to Little John’s impatience, 5, 16, 206, 211. This habit of Robin’s seems to be a humorous imitation of King Arthur, who in numerous romances will not dine till some adventure presents itself; a custom which, at least on one occasion, proves vexatious to his court. Cf. I, 257 f.[^[73]]

8–10. Robin’s general piety and his special devotion to the Virgin are again to be remarked in No 118. There is a tale of a knight who had a castle near a public road, and robbed everybody that went by, but said his Ave every day, and never allowed anything to interfere with his so doing, in Legenda Aurea, c. 51, Grässe, p. 221; Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, III, 563, No 86; Morlini Novellæ, Paris, 1855, p. 269, No 17, etc.

13–15. Robin’s practice corresponds closely with Gamelyn’s:

Whil Gamelyn was outlawed hadde he no cors;

There was no man that for him ferde the wors

But abbotes and priours, monk and chanoun;

On hem left he no-thing, whan he mighte hem nom.

vv 779–82, ed. Skeat.

Fulk Fitz Warine, nor any of his, during the time of his outlawry would ever do hurt to any one except the king and his knights: Wright, p. 77 f.

45. “Distraint of knighthood,” or the practice of requiring military tenants who held 20 l. per annum to receive knighthood, or pay a composition, began under Henry III, as early as 1224, and was continued by Edward I. This was regarded as a very serious oppression under James I and Charles I, and was abolished in 1642. Stubbs, Constitutional History, II, 281 f; Hallam, Constitutional History, ed. 1854, I, 338, note x, II, 9, 99.

62–66. The knight has no security to offer for a loan “but God that dyed on a tree,” and such security, or that of the saints, is peremptorily rejected by Robin; but when the knight says that he can offer no other, unless it be Our Lady, the Virgin is instantly accepted as entirely satisfactory. In a well-known miracle of Mary, found in most of the larger collections, a Christian, who resorts to a Jew to borrow money, tenders Jesus as security, and the Jew, who regards Jesus as a just man and a prophet, though not divine, is willing to lend on the terms proposed. The Christian, not being able, as he says, to produce Jesus Christ in person, takes the Jew to a church, and, standing before an image of the Virgin and Child, causes him to take the hand of the Child, saying, Lord Jesus Christ, whose image I have given as pledge for this money, and whom I have offered this Jew as my surety, I beg and entreat that, if I shall by any chance be prevented from returning the money to this man upon the day fixed, but shall give it to thee, thou wilt return it to him in such manner and form as may please thee. In the sequel this miraculous interposition becomes necessary, and the money is punctually restored, the act of grace being implicitly or distinctly attributed to Mary rather than her Son; distinctly in an English form of the legend, where the Christian, especially devoted to the Virgin, offers Saint Mary for his borrow: Horstmann, Die altenglischen Marienlegenden des MS. Vernon, in Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 232, No 6.[^[74]]

107. The abbot had retained the chief justice “by robe and fee,” to counsel and aid him in the spoliation of the knight, 93. Taking and giving of robes and fees for such purposes is defined as conspiracy in a statute of Edward I, 1305–06; and by another statute, 20 Edward III, c. vi, 1346, justices are required to swear that they will take robes and fees from no man but the king: et que vos ne prendrez fee, tant come vos serez justicz, ne robes, de nul homme, graunt ne petit, sinoun du roi meismes. Statutes of the Realm, I, 145, 305: cited by J. Lewelyn Curtis, in Notes and Queries, S. I, VI, 479 f. All the English judges, including the chief justice, were convicted of bribery and were removed, under Edward I, 1289.

121. The knight would have given something for the use of the four hundred pound had the abbot been civil, though under no obligation to pay interest. In 270 the knight proffers Robin twenty mark (3⅓ per cent) for his courtesy, which seemingly small sum was to be accompanied with the valuable gift of a hundred bows and a hundred sheaf of peacock-feathered, silver-nocked arrows. But though the abbot had not lent for usury, still less had he lent for charity. The knight’s lands were to be forfeited if the loan should not be punctually returned, 86 f, 94, 106; and of this the knight was entirely aware, 85. “As for mortgaging or pawning,” says Bacon, Of Usury, “either men will not take pawns without use, or, if they do, they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in the country that would say, The devil take this usury; it keeps us from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds.” But troubles, legal or other, might ensue upon this hard-dealing unless the knight would give a quittance, 117 f.

135–37. A ram was the prize for an ordinary wrestling-match; but this is an occasion which brings together all the best yeomen of the West Country, and the victor is to have a bull, a horse saddled and bridled, a pair of gloves, a ring, and a pipe of wine. In Gamelyn “there was set up a ram and a ring,” v. 172.

181–204. The sheriff is decoyed into the wood by Robin Hood in No 121, 56–69, No 122, A, 18–25, B, 20–27, as here by Little John. Fulk Fitz Warine gets his enemy, King John, into his power by a like stratagem. Fulk, disguised as a collier, is asked by King John if he has seen a stag or doe pass. He has seen a horned beast; it had long horns. He offers to take the king to the place where he saw it, and begs the king to wait while he goes into the thicket to drive the beast that way. Fulk’s men are in the forest: he tells them that he has brought the king with only three knights; they rush out and seize the king. Fulk says he will have John’s life, but the king promises to restore Fulk’s heritage and all that had been taken from him and his men, and to be his friend forever after. A pledge of faith is exacted and given, and very happy is the king so to escape. But the king keeps the forced oath no better than the sheriff. Wright, p. 145 ff. There is a passage which has the same source, though differing in details, in Eustace the Monk, Michel, pp. 36–39, vv 995–1070. The story is incomparably better here than elsewhere.

213–33. The black monks are Benedictines. There are two according to 213 f, 218, 225⁴, but the high cellarer only (who in 91–93 is exultant over the knight’s forfeiture) is of consequence, and the other is made no account of. Seven score of wight young men, 229³, is the right number for a band of outlaws; so Gamelyn, v. 628. The sheriff has his seven score in Guy of Gisborn, 13.

243–47. “What is in your coffers?” So Eustace the monk to the merchant, v. 938, p. 34, Michel: “Di-moi combien tu as d’argent.” The merchant tells the exact truth, and Eustace, having verified the answer by counting, returns all the money, saying, If you had lied in the least, you would not have carried off a penny. When Eustace asks the same question of the abbot, v. 1765, p. 64, the abbot answers, after the fashion of our cellarer, Four silver marks. Eustace finds thirty marks, and returns to the abbot the four which he had confessed.

213–272. Nothing was ever more felicitously told, even in the best dit or fabliau, than the “process” of Our Lady’s repaying the money which had been lent on her security. Robin’s slyly significant welcome to the monk upon learning that he is of Saint Mary Abbey, his professed anxiety that Our Lady is wroth with him because she has not sent him his pay, John’s comfortable suggestion that perhaps the monk has brought it, Robin’s incidental explanation of the little business in which the Virgin was a party, and request to see the silver in case the monk has come upon her affair, are beautiful touches of humor, and so delicate that it is all but brutal to point them out. The story, however, is an old one, and was known, perhaps, wherever monks were known. A complete parallel is afforded by Pauli’s Schimpf und Ernst, No 59 (c. 1515). A nobleman took a burgess’s son prisoner in war, carried him home to his castle, and shut him up in a tower. After lying there a considerable time, the prisoner asked and obtained an interview with his captor, and said: Dear lord, I am doing no good here to you or myself, since my friends will not send my ransom. If you would let me go home, I would come back in eight weeks and bring you the money. Whom will you give for surety? asked the nobleman. I have no one to offer, replied the prisoner, but the Lord God, and will swear you an oath by him to keep my word. The nobleman was satisfied, made his captive swear the oath, and let him go. The hero sold all that he owned, and raised the money, but was three weeks longer in so doing than the time agreed upon. The nobleman, one day, when he was riding out with a couple of servants, fell in with an abbot or friar who had two fine horses and a man. See here, my good fellows, said the young lord; that monk is travelling with two horses, as fine as any knight, when he ought to be riding on an ass. Look out now, we will play him a turn. So saying, he rode up to the monk, seized the bridle of his horse, and asked, Sir, who are you? Who is your lord? The monk answered, I am a servant of God, and he is my lord. You come in good time, said the nobleman. I had a prisoner, and set him free upon his leaving your lord with me as a surety. But I can get nothing from this lord of yours; he is above my power; so I will lay hands on his servant; and accordingly made the monk go with him afoot to the castle, where he took from him all that he had. Shortly after, his prisoner appeared, fell at his feet, and wished to pay the ransom, begging that he would not be angry, for the money could not be got sooner. But the nobleman said, Stand up, my good man. Keep your money, and go whither you will, for your surety has paid your ransom. Ed. Oesterley, p. 49. The gist of the story is in Jacques de Vitry, Sermones Vulgares, fol. 62, MS. 17,509, Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris; Scala Celi (1480), 159 b, “De Restitucione,” and elsewhere: see Oesterly’s note, p. 480. A very amusing variety is the fabliau Du povre Mercier, Barbazan et Méon, III, 17; Montaiglon et Raynaud, II, 114; Legrand, III, 93, ed. 1829.[^[75]]

293³. Reynolde. Possibly Little John borrows this Reynolde’s name in 149, but there is no apparent reason why he should. In the following very strange, and to me utterly unintelligible, piece in Ravenscroft’s Deuteromelia, which may have been meant to have only enough sense to sing, Renold, a miller’s son, mickle of might (was he rechristened Much?), becomes one of Robin Hood’s men. (Deuteromelia, p. 4: London, for Tho. Adams, 1609.)

1

By Lands-dale hey ho,

By mery Lands-dale hey ho,

There dwelt a jolly miller,

And a very good old man was he, hey ho.

2

He had, he had and a sonne a,

Men called him Renold,

And mickle of his might

Was he, was he, hey ho.

3

And from his father a wode a,

His fortune for to seeke,

From mery Lands-dale

Wode he, wode he, hey ho.

4

His father would him seeke a,

And found him fast a sleepe;

Among the leaves greene

Was he, was he, hey ho.

5

He tooke, he tooke him up a,

All by the lilly-white hand,

And set him on his feet,

And bad him stand, hey ho.

6

He gave to him a benbow,

Made all of a trusty tree,

And arrowës in his hand,

And bad him let them flee.

7

And shoote was that that a did a,

Some say he shot a mile,

But halfe a mile and more

Was it, was it, hey ho.

8

And at the halfe miles end,

There stood an armed man;

The childe he shot him through,

And through and through, hey ho.[^[76]]

9

His beard was all on a white a,

As white as whale is bone,

His eyes they were as cleare

As christall stone, hey ho.

10

And there of him they made

Good yeoman, Robin Rood,

Scarlet, and Little John,

And Little John, hey ho.

302–05. The Klepht Giphtakis, wounded in knee and hand, exclaims: Where are you, my brother, my friend? Come back and take me off, or take off my head, lest the Turk should do so, and carry it to that dog of an Ali Pacha. (1790. Fauriel, I, 20; Zambelios, p. 621, No 32; Passow, p. 52, No 61.)

357–59. The king traverses the whole length of Lancashire and proceeds to Plumpton Park, missing many of his deer. Camden, Britannia, II, 175, ed. 1772, places Plumpton Park on the bank of the Petterel, in Cumberland, east of Inglewood. (Hunter, p. 30, citing no authority, says it was part of the forest of Knaresborough, in Yorkshire.) Since this survey makes the king wroth with Robin Hood, we must give a corresponding extent to Robin’s operations. And we remember that Wyntoun says that he exercised his profession in Inglewood and Barnsdale.

371 ff. The story of the seventh fit has a general similitude to the extensive class of tales, mostly jocular, represented by ‘The King and the Miller;’ as to which, see further on.

403–09. The sport of “pluck-buffet” (424³) is a feature in the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, 762–98, Weber, II, 33 f. Richard is betrayed to the king of Almayne by a minstrel to whom he had given a cold reception, and is put in prison. The king’s son, held the strongest man of the land, visits the prisoner, and proposes to him an exchange of this sort. The prince gives Richard a clout which makes fire spring from his eyes, and goes off laughing, ordering Richard to be well fed, so that he may have no excuse for returning a feeble blow when he takes his turn. The next day, when the prince comes for his payment, Richard, who has waxed his hand by way of preparation, delivers a blow which breaks the young champion’s cheek-bone and fells him dead. There is another instance in ‘The Turke and Gowin,’ Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 91 ff.

414–450. Robin Hood is pardoned by King Edward on condition of his leaving the greenwood with all his company, and taking service at court. In the course of a twelvemonth,[^[77]] keeping up his old profusion, Robin has spent not only all his own money, but all his men’s, in treating knights and squires, and at the end of the year all his band have deserted him save John and Scathlock. About this time, chancing to see young men shooting, the recollection of his life in the woods comes over him so powerfully that he feels that he shall die if he stays longer with the king. He therefore affects to have made a vow to go to Barnsdale “barefoot and woolward.” Upon this plea he obtains from the king leave of absence for a week, and, once more in the forest, never reports for duty in two and twenty years.

Hunter, who could have identified Pigrogromitus and Quinapalus, if he had given his mind to it, sees in this passage, and in what precedes it of King Edward’s trip to Nottingham, a plausible semblance of historical reality.[^[78]] Edward II, as may be shown from Rymer’s Fœdera, made a progress in the counties of York, Lancaster, and Nottingham, in the latter part of the year 1323. He was in Yorkshire in August and September, in Lancashire in October, at Nottingham November 9–23, spending altogether five or six weeks in that neighborhood, and leaving it a little before Christmas. “Now it will scarcely be believed, but it is, nevertheless, the plain and simple truth, that in documents preserved in the Exchequer, containing accounts of expenses in the king’s household, we find the name of Robyn Hode, not once, but several times occurring, receiving, with about eight and twenty others, the pay of 3d. a day, as one of the ‘vadlets, porteurs de la chambre’ of the king;” these entries running from March 24, 1324, to November 22 of the same year. There are entries of payments to vadlets during the year preceding, but unluckily the accountant has put down the sums in gross, without specifying the names of persons who received regular wages. This, as Hunter remarks, does not quite prove that Robyn Hode had not been among these persons before Christmas, 1323, but, on the other hand, account-book evidence is lacking to show that he had been. Hunter’s interpretation of the data is that Robyn Hode entered the king’s service at Nottingham a little before Christmas, 1323. If this was so, his career as porter was not only brief, but pitiably checkered. His pay is docked for five days’ absence in May, again for eight days in August, then for fifteen days in October. “He was growing weary of his new mode of life.” Seven days, once more, are deducted in November, and under the 22d of that month we find this entry: Robyn Hode, jadys un des porteurs, poar cas qil ne poait pluis travailler de donn par comandement, v. s. After this his name no longer appears.

A simple way of reading the Exchequer documents is that one Robert Hood, some time (and, for aught we know, a long time) porter in the king’s household, after repeatedly losing time, was finally discharged, with a present of five shillings, because he could not do his work. To detect “a remarkable coincidence between the ballad and the record” requires not only a theoretical prepossession, but an uncommon insensibility to the ludicrous.[^[79]] But taking things with entire seriousness, there is no correspondence between the ballad and the record other than this: that Robin Hood, who is in the king’s service, leaves it; in the one instance deserting, and in the other being displaced. Hunter himself does not, as in the case of Adam Bell, insist that the name Robin Hood is “peculiar.” He cites, p. 10, a Robert Hood, citizen of London, who supplied the king’s household with beer, 28 Edward I, and a Robert Hood of Wakefield, twice mentioned, 9, 10 Edward II.[^[80]] Another Robert Hood at Throckelawe, Northumbria, is thrice mentioned in the Exchequer Rolls, Edward I, 19, 20, 30: Rot. Orig. in Cur. Scac. Abbrev., I, 69, 73, 124. A Robert Hood is manucaptor for a burgess returned from Lostwithiel, Cornwall, 7 Edward II, Parliamentary Writs, II, 1019, and another, of Howden, York, 10 Edward III, is noted in the Calendar of Patent Rolls, p. 125, No 31, cited by Ritson. In all these we have six Robin Hoods between 30 Edward I and 10 Edward III, a period of less than forty years.

433, 435–50 are translated by A. Grün, p. 166.

---

a. 1

Lythe and listin, gentilmen,

That be of frebore blode;

I shall you tel of a gode yeman,

His name was Robyn Hode.

2

Robyn was a prude outlaw,

[Whyles he walked on grounde;

So curteyse an outlawe] as he was one

Was never non founde.

3

Robyn stode in Bernesdale,

And lenyd hym to a tre;

And bi hym stode Litell Johnn,

A gode yeman was he.

4

And alsoo dyd gode Scarlok,

And Much, the miller’s son;

There was none ynch of his bodi

But it was worth a grome.

5

Than bespake Lytell Johnn

All vntoo Robyn Hode:

Maister, and ye wolde dyne betyme

It wolde doo you moche gode.

6

Than bespake hym gode Robyn:

To dyne haue I noo lust,

Till that I haue som bolde baron,

Or som vnkouth gest.

7

. . . . . . .

That may pay for the best,

Or som knyght or [som] squyer,

That dwelleth here bi west.

8

A gode maner than had Robyn;

In londe where that he were,

Euery day or he wold dyne

Thre messis wolde he here.

9

The one in the worship of the Fader,

And another of the Holy Gost,

The thirde of Our derë Lady,

That he loued allther moste.

10

Robyn loued Oure derë Lady;

For dout of dydly synne,

Wolde he neuer do compani harme

That any woman was in.

11

‘Maistar,’ than sayde Lytil Johnn,

‘And we our borde shal sprede,

Tell vs wheder that we shal go,

And what life that we shall lede.

12

‘Where we shall take, where we shall leue,

Where we shall abide behynde;

Where we shall robbe, where we shal reue,

Where we shal bete and bynde.’

13

‘Therof no force,’ than sayde Robyn;

‘We shall do well inowe;

But loke ye do no husbonde harme,

That tilleth with his ploughe.

14

‘No more ye shall no gode yeman

That walketh by grenë-wode shawe;

Ne no knyght ne no squyer

That wol be a gode felawe.

15

‘These bisshoppes and these archebishoppes,

Ye shall them bete and bynde;

The hyë sherif of Notyingham,

Hym holde ye in your mynde.’

16

‘This worde shalbe holde,’ sayde Lytell Johnn,

‘And this lesson we shall lere;

It is fer dayes; God sende vs a gest,

That we were at oure dynere!’

17

‘Take thy gode bowe in thy honde,’ sayde Rob[yn];

‘Late Much wende with the;

And so shal Willyam Scarlo[k],

And no man abyde with me.

18

‘And walke vp to the Saylis,

And so to Watlinge Stret[e],

And wayte after some vnkuth gest,

Vp chaunce ye may them mete.

19

‘Be he erle, or ani baron,

Abbot, or ani knyght,

Bringhe hym to lodge to me;

His dyner shall be dight.’

20

They wente vp to the Saylis,

These yeman all thre;

They loked est, they loke[d] weest;

They myght no man see.

21

But as they loked in to Bernysdale,

Bi a dernë strete,

Than came a knyght ridinghe;

Full sone they gan hym mete.

22

All dreri was his semblaunce,

And lytell was his pryde;

His one fote in the styrop stode,

That othere wauyd beside.

23

His hode hanged in his iyn two;

He rode in symple aray;

A soriar man than he was one

Rode neuer in somer day.

24

Litell Johnn was full curteyes,

And sette hym on his kne:

‘Welcom be ye, gentyll knyght,

Welcom ar ye to me.

25

‘Welcom be thou to grenë wode,

Hendë knyght and fre;

My maister hath abiden you fastinge,

Syr, al these ourës thre.’

26

‘Who is thy maister?’ sayde the knyght;

Johnn sayde, Robyn Hode;

‘He is [a] gode yoman,’ sayde the knyght,

‘Of hym I haue herde moche gode.

27

‘I graunte,’ he sayde, ‘with you to wende,

My bretherne, all in fere;

My purpos was to haue dyned to day

At Blith or Dancastere.’

28

Furth than went this gentyl knight,

With a carefull chere;

The teris oute of his iyen ran,

And fell downe by his lere.

29

They brought hym to the lodgë-dore;

Whan Robyn hym gan see,

Full curtesly dyd of his hode

And sette hym on his knee.

30

‘Welcome, sir knight,’ than sayde Robyn,

‘Welcome art thou to me;

I haue abyden you fastinge, sir,

All these ouris thre.’

31

Than answered the gentyll knight,

With wordës fayre and fre;

God the saue, goode Robyn,

And all thy fayre meynë.

32

They wasshed togeder and wyped bothe,

And sette to theyr dynere;

Brede and wyne they had right ynoughe,

And noumbles of the dere.

33

Swannes and fessauntes they had full gode,

And foules of the ryuere;

There fayled none so litell a birde

That euer was bred on bryre.

34

‘Do gladly, sir knight,’ sayde Robyn;

‘Gramarcy, sir,’ sayde he;

‘Suche a dinere had I nat

Of all these wekys thre.

35

‘If I come ageyne, Robyn,

Here by thys contrë,

As gode a dyner I shall the make

As that thou haest made to me.’

36

‘Gramarcy, knyght,’ sayde Robyn;

‘My dyner whan that I it haue,

I was neuer so gredy, bi dere worthy God,

My dyner for to craue.

37

‘But pay or ye wende,’ sayde Robyn;

‘Me thynketh it is gode ryght;

It was neuer the maner, by dere worthi God,

A yoman to pay for a knyhht.’

38

‘I haue nought in my coffers,’ saide the knyght,

‘That I may prefer for shame:’

‘Litell Johnn, go loke,’ sayde Robyn,

‘Ne let nat for no blame.

39

‘Tel me truth,’ than saide Robyn,

‘So God haue parte of the:’

‘I haue no more but ten shelynges,’ sayde the knyght,

‘So God haue parte of me.’

40

If thou hast no more,’ sayde Robyn,

‘I woll nat one peny;

And yf thou haue nede of any more,

More shall I lend the.

41

‘Go nowe furth, Littell Johnn,

The truth tell thou me;

If there be no more but ten shelinges,

No peny that I se.’

42

Lyttell Johnn sprede downe hys mantell

Full fayre vpon the grounde,

And there he fonde in the knyghtës cofer

But euen halfe [a] pounde.

43

Littell Johnn let it lye full styll,

And went to hys maysteer [full] lowe;

‘What tidyngës, Johnn?’ sayde Robyn;

‘Sir, the knyght is true inowe.’

44

‘Fyll of the best wine,’ sayde Robyn,

‘The knyght shall begynne;

Moche wonder thinketh me

Thy clot[h]ynge is so thin[n]e.

45

‘Tell me [one] worde,’ sayde Robyn,

‘And counsel shal it be;

I trowe thou warte made a knyght of force,

Or ellys of yemanry.

46

‘Or ellys thou hast bene a sori husbande,

And lyued in stroke and stryfe;

An okerer, or ellis a lechoure,’ sayde Robyn,

‘Wyth wronge hast led thy lyfe.’

47

‘I am none of those,’ sayde the knyght,

‘By God that madë me;

An hundred wynter here before

Myn auncetres knyghtes haue be.

48

‘But oft it hath befal, Robyn,

A man hath be disgrate;

But God that sitteth in heuen aboue

May amende his state.

49

‘Withyn this two yere, Robyne,’ he sayde,

‘My neghbours well it knowe,

Foure hundred pounde of gode money

Ful well than myght I spende.

50

‘Nowe haue I no gode,’ saide the knyght,

‘God hath shaped such an ende,

But my chyldren and my wyfe,

Tyll God yt may amende.’

51

‘In what maner,’ than sayde Robyn,

‘Hast thou lorne thy rychesse? ’

‘For my greatë foly,’ he sayde,

‘And for my kynd[ë]nesse.

52

‘I hade a sone, forsoth, Robyn,

That shulde hau[e] ben myn ayre,

Whanne he was twenty wynter olde,

In felde wolde iust full fayre.

53

‘He slewe a knyght of Lancaster,

And a squyer bolde;

For to saue hym in his ryght

My godes both sette and solde.

54

‘My londes both sette to wedde, Robyn,

Vntyll a certayn day,

To a ryche abbot here besyde

Of Seynt Mari Abbey.’

55

‘What is the som?’ sayde Robyn;

‘Trouth than tell thou me;’

‘Sir,’ he sayde, ‘foure hundred pounde;

The abbot told it to me.’

56

‘Nowe and thou lese thy lond,’ sayde Robyn,

‘What woll fall of the?’

‘Hastely I wol me buske,’ sayd the knyght,

‘Ouer the saltë see,

57

‘And se w[h]ere Criste was quyke and dede,

On the mount of Caluerë;

Fare wel, frende, and haue gode day;

It may no better be.’

58

Teris fell out of hys iyen two;

He wolde haue gone hys way:

‘Farewel, frende, and haue gode day;

I ne haue no more to pay.’

59

‘Where be thy frendës?’ sayde Robyn:

‘Syr, neuer one wol me knowe;

While I was ryche ynowe at home

Great boste than wolde they blowe.

60

‘And nowe they renne away fro me,

As bestis on a rowe;

They take no more hede of me

Thanne they had me neuer sawe.’

61

For ruthe thanne wept Litell Johnn,

Scarlok and Muche in fere;

‘Fyl of the best wyne,’ sayde Robyn,

‘For here is a symple chere.

62

‘Hast thou any frende,’ sayde Robyn,

‘Thy borowe that woldë be? ’

‘I haue none,’ than sayde the knyght,

‘But God that dyed on tree.’

63

‘Do away thy iapis,’ than sayde Robyn,

‘Thereof wol I right none;

Wenest thou I wolde haue God to borowe,

Peter, Poule, or Johnn?

64

‘Nay, by hym that me made,

And shope both sonne and mone,

Fynde me a better borowe,’ sayde Robyn,

‘Or money getest thou none.’

65

‘I haue none other,’ sayde the knyght,

‘The sothe for to say,

But yf yt be Our derë Lady;

She fayled me neuer or thys day.’

66

‘By dere worthy God,’ sayde Robyn,

‘To seche all Englonde thorowe,

Yet fonde I neuer to my pay

A moche better borowe.

67

‘Come nowe furth, Litell Johnn,

And go to my tresourë,

And bringe me foure hundered pound,

And loke well tolde it be.’

68

Furth than went Litell Johnn,

And Scarlok went before;

He tolde oute foure hundred pounde

By eight and twenty score.

69

‘Is thys well tolde?’ sayde [litell] Much;

Johnn sayde, ‘What gre[ue]th the?

It is almus to helpe a gentyll knyght,

That is fal in pouertë.

70

‘Master,’ than sayde Lityll John,

‘His clothinge is full thynne;

Ye must gyue the knight a lyueray,

To lappe his body therin.

71

‘For ye haue scarlet and grene, mayster,

And man[y] a riche aray;

Ther is no marchaunt in mery Englond

So ryche, I dare well say.’

72

‘Take hym thre yerdes of euery colour,

And loke well mete that it be;’

Lytell Johnn toke none other mesure

But his bowë-tree.

73

And at euery handfull that he met

He lepëd footës three;

‘What deuyllës drapar,’ sayid litell Muche,

‘Thynkest thou for to be?’

74

Scarlok stode full stil and loughe,

And sayd, By God Almyght,

Johnn may gyue hym gode mesure,

For it costeth hym but lyght.

75

‘Mayster,’ than said Litell Johnn

To gentill Robyn Hode,

‘Ye must giue the knig[h]t a hors,

To lede home this gode.’

76

‘Take hym a gray coursar,’ sayde Robyn,

‘And a saydle newe;

He is Oure Ladye’s messangere;

God graunt that he be true.’

77

‘And a gode palfray,’ sayde lytell Much,

‘To mayntene hym in his right;’

‘And a peyre of botës,’ sayde Scarlock,

‘For he is a gentyll knight.’

78

‘What shalt thou gyue hym, Litell John?’ said Robyn;

‘Sir, a peyre of gilt sporis clene,

To pray for all this company;

God bringe hym oute of tene.’

79

‘Whan shal mi day be,’ said the knight,

‘Sir, and your wyll be?’

‘This day twelue moneth,’ saide Robyn,

‘Vnder this grenë-wode tre.

80

‘It were greate shamë,’ sayde Robyn,

‘A knight alone to ryde,

Withoutë squyre, yoman, or page,

To walkë by his syde.

81

‘I shall the lende Litell John, my man,

For he shalbe thy knaue;

In a yema[n]’s stede he may the stande,

If thou greate nedë haue.’

THE SECONDE FYTTE.

82

Now is the knight gone on his way;

This game hym thought full gode;

Whanne he loked on Bernesdale

He blessyd Robyn Hode.

83

And whanne he thought on Bernysdale,

On Scarlok, Much, and Johnn,

He blyssyd them for the best company

b.

That euer he in come.

84

Then spake that gentyll knyght,

To Lytel Johan gan he saye,

To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune,

To Saynt Mary abbay.

85

And to the abbot of that place

Foure hondred pounde I must pay;

And but I be there vpon this nyght

My londe is lost for ay.

86

The abbot sayd to his couent,

There he stode on grounde,

This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght

And borowed foure hondred pounde.

87

[He borowed foure hondred pounde,]

Upon all his londë fre;

But he come this ylkë day

Dysheryte shall he be.

88

‘It is full erely,’ sayd the pryoure,

‘The day is not yet ferre gone;

I had leuer to pay an hondred pounde,

And lay downe anone.

89

‘The knyght is ferre beyonde the see,

In Englonde is his ryght,

And suffreth honger and colde,

And many a sory nyght.

90

‘It were grete pytë,’ said the pryoure,

‘So to haue his londe;

And ye be so lyght of your consyence,

Ye do to hym moch wronge.’

91

‘Thou arte euer in my berde,’ sayd the abbot,

‘By God and Saynt Rycharde;’

With that cam in a fat-heded monke,

The heygh selerer.

92

‘He is dede or hanged,’ sayd the monke,

‘By God that bought me dere,

And we shall haue to spende in this place

Foure hondred pounde by yere.’

93

The abbot and the hy selerer

Stertë forthe full bolde,

The [hye] iustyce of Englonde

The abbot there dyde holde.

94

The hyë iustyce and many mo

Had take in to they[r] honde

Holy all the knyghtës det,

To put that knyght to wronge.

95

They demed the knyght wonder sore,

The abbot and his meynë:

‘But he come this ylkë day

Dysheryte shall he be.’

96

‘He wyll not come yet,’ sayd the iustyce,

‘I dare well vndertake;’

But in sorowe tymë for them all

The knyght came to the gate.

97

Than bespake that gentyll knyght

Untyll his meynë:

Now put on your symple wedes

That ye brought fro the see.

98

[They put on their symple wedes,]

They came to the gates anone;

The porter was redy hymselfe,

And welcomed them euerychone.

99

‘Welcome, syr knyght,’ sayd the porter;

‘My lorde to mete is he,

And so is many a gentyll man,

For the loue of the.’

100

The porter swore a full grete othe,

‘By God that madë me,

Here be the best coresed hors

That euer yet sawe I me.

101

‘Lede them in to the stable,’ he sayd,

‘That eased myght they be;’

‘They shall not come therin,’ sayd the knyght,

‘By God that dyed on a tre.’

102

Lordës were to mete isette

In that abbotes hall;

The knyght went forth and kneled downe,

And salued them grete and small.

103

‘Do gladly, syr abbot,’ sayd the knyght,

‘I am come to holde my day:’

The fyrst word the abbot spake,

‘Hast thou brought my pay?’

104

‘Not one peny,’ sayd the knyght,

‘By God that maked me;’

‘Thou art a shrewed dettour,’ sayd the abbot;

‘Syr iustyce, drynke to me.

105

‘What doost thou here,’ sayd the abbot,

‘But thou haddest brought thy pay?’

‘For God,’ than sayd the knyght,

‘To pray of a lenger daye.’

106

‘Thy daye is broke,’ sayd the iustyce,

‘Londe getest thou none:’

‘Now, good syr iustyce, be my frende,

And fende me of my fone!’

107

‘I am holde with the abbot,’ sayd the iustyce,

‘Both with cloth and fee:’

‘Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!’

‘Nay, for God,’ sayd he.

108

‘Now, good syr abbot, be my frende,

For thy curteysë,

And holde my londës in thy honde

Tyll I haue made the gree!

109

‘And I wyll be thy true seruaunte,

And trewely seruë the,

Tyl ye haue foure hondred pounde

Of money good and free.’

110

The abbot sware a full grete othe,

‘By God that dyed on a tree,

Get the londe where thou may,

For thou getest none of me.’

111

‘By dere worthy God,’ then sayd the knyght,

‘That all this worldë wrought,

But I haue my londe agayne,

Full dere it shall be bought.

112

‘God, that was of a mayden borne,

Leue vs well to spede!

For it is good to assay a frende

Or that a man haue nede.’

113

The abbot lothely on hym gan loke,

And vylaynesly hym gan call;

‘Out,’ he sayd, ‘thou falsë knyght,

Spede the out of my hall!’

114

‘Thou lyest,’ then sayd the gentyll knyght,

‘Abbot, in thy hal;

False knyght was I neuer,

By God that made vs all.’

115

Vp then stode that gentyll knyght,

To the abbot sayd he,

To suffre a knyght to knele so longe,

Thou canst no curteysye.

116

In ioustës and in tournement

Full ferre than haue I be,

And put my selfe as ferre in prees

As ony that euer I se.

117

‘What wyll ye gyue more,’ sayd the iustice,

‘And the knyght shall make a releyse?

And elles dare I safly swere

Ye holde neuer your londe in pees.’

118

‘An hondred pounde,’ sayd the abbot;

The justice sayd, Gyue hym two;

‘Nay, be God,’ sayd the knyght,

a.

‘Yit gete ye it not so.

119

‘Though ye wolde gyue a thousand more,

Yet were ye neuer the nere;

Shall there neuer be myn heyre

Abbot, iustice, ne frere.’

120

He stert hym to a borde anone,

Tyll a table rounde,

And there he shoke oute of a bagge

Euen four hundred pound.

121

‘Haue here thi golde, sir abbot,’ saide the knight,

‘Which that thou lentest me;

Had thou ben curtes at my comynge,

Rewarded shuldest thou haue be.’

122

The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,

For all his ryall fare;

He cast his hede on his shulder,

And fast began to stare.

123

‘Take me my golde agayne,’ saide the abbot,

‘Sir iustice, that I toke the:’

‘Not a peni,’ said the iustice,

‘Bi Go[d, that dy]ed on tree.’

124

‘Sir [abbot, and ye me]n of lawe,

b.

Now haue I holde my daye;

Now shall I haue my londe agayne,

For ought that you can saye.’

125

The knyght stert out of the dore,

Awaye was all his care,

And on he put his good clothynge,

The other he lefte there.

126

He wente hym forth full mery syngynge,

As men haue tolde in tale;

His lady met hym at the gate,

At home in Verysdale.

127

‘Welcome, my lorde,’ sayd his lady;

‘Syr, lost is all your good?’

‘Be mery, dame,’ sayd the knyght,

a.

‘And pray for Robyn Hode,

128

‘That euer his soulë be in blysse:

He holpe me out of tene;

Ne had be his kyndënesse,

Beggers had we bene.

129

‘The abbot and I accorded ben,

He is serued of his pay;

The god yoman lent it me,

As I cam by the way.’

130

This knight than dwelled fayre at home,

The sothe for to saye,

Tyll he had gete four hundred pound,

Al redy for to pay.

131

He purueyed him an hundred bowes,

The stryngës well ydyght,

An hundred shefe of arowës gode,

The hedys burneshed full bryght;

132

And euery arowe an ellë longe,

With pecok wel idyght,

Inocked all with whyte siluer;

It was a semely syght.

133

He purueyed hym an [hondreth men],

Well harness[ed in that stede],

b.

And hym selfe in that same sete,

And clothed in whyte and rede.

134

He bare a launsgay in his honde,

And a man ledde his male,

And reden with a lyght songe

Vnto Bernysdale.

135

But as he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng,

And there taryed was he,

And there was all the best yemen

Of all the west countree.

136

A full fayre game there was vp set,

A whyte bulle vp i-pyght,

A grete courser, with sadle and brydil,

a.

With golde burnyssht full bryght.

137

A payre of gloues, a rede golde rynge,

A pype of wyne, in fay;

What man that bereth hym best i-wys

The pryce shall bere away.

138

There was a yoman in that place,

And best worthy was he,

And for he was ferre and frembde bested,

Slayne he shulde haue be.

139

The knight had ruthe of this yoman,

In placë where he stode;

He sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme,

For loue of Robyn Hode.

140

The knyght presed in to the place,

An hundreth folowed hym [free],

With bowës bent and arowës sharpe,

For to shende that companye.

141

They shulderd all and made hym rome,

To wete what he wolde say;

He toke the yeman bi the hande,

And gaue hym al the play.

142

He gaue hym fyue marke for his wyne,

There it lay on the molde.

And bad it shulde be set a broche,

Drynkë who so wolde.

143

Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght,

Tyll that play was done;

So longe abode Robyn fastinge,

Thre hourës after the none.

THE THIRDE FYTTE.

144

Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,

All that nowe be here;

Of Litell Johnn, that was the knightës man,

Goode myrth ye shall here.

145

It was vpon a mery day

That yonge men wolde go shete;

Lytell Johnn fet his bowe anone,

And sayde he wolde them mete.

146

Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute,

And alwey he slet the wande;

The proudë sherif of Notingham

By the markës can stande.

147

The sherif swore a full greate othe:

‘By hym that dyede on a tre,

This man is the best arschére

That euer yet sawe I [me.]

148

‘Say me nowe, wight yonge man,

What is nowe thy name?

In what countre were thou borne,

And where is thy wonynge wane?’

149

‘In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,

I-wys al of my dame;

Men cal me Reynolde Grenëlef

Whan I am at home.’

150

‘Sey me, Reyno[l]de Grenëlefe,

Wolde thou dwell with me?

And euery yere I woll the gyue

Twenty marke to thy fee.’

151

‘I haue a maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn,

‘A curteys knight is he;

May ye leuë gete of hym,

The better may it be.’

152

The sherif gate Litell John

Twelue monethës of the knight;

Therfore he gaue him right anone

A gode hors and a wight.

153

Nowe is Litell John the sherifës man,

God lende vs well to spede!

But alwey thought Lytell John

To quyte hym wele his mede.

154

‘Nowe so God me helpë,’ sayde Litell John,

‘And by my true leutye,

I shall be the worst seruaunt to hym

That euer yet had he.’

155

It fell vpon a Wednesday

The sherif on huntynge was gone,

And Litel Iohn lay in his bed,

And was foriete at home.

156

Therfore he was fastinge

Til it was past the none;

‘Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the,

Gyue me my dynere,’ saide Litell John.

157

‘It is longe for Grenëlefe

Fastinge thus for to be;

Therfor I pray the, sir stuarde,

Mi dyner gif me.’

158

‘Shalt thou neuer ete ne drynke,’ saide the stuarde,

‘Tyll my lorde be come to towne:’

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide Litell John,

‘I had leuer to crake thy crowne.’

159

The boteler was full vncurteys,

There he stode on flore;

He start to the botery

And shet fast the dore.

160

Lytell Johnn gaue the boteler suche a tap

His backe went nere in two;

Though he liued an hundred ier,

The wors shuld he go.

161

He sporned the dore with his fote;

It went open wel and fyne;

And there he made large lyueray,

Bothe of ale and of wyne.

162

‘Sith ye wol nat dyne,’ sayde Litell John,

‘I shall gyue you to drinke;

And though ye lyue an hundred wynter,

On Lytel Johnn ye shall thinke.’

163

Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,

The whilë that he wolde;

The sherife had in his kechyn a coke,

A stoute man and a bolde.

164

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide the coke,

‘Thou arte a shrewde hynde

In ani hous for to dwel,

For to askë thus to dyne.’

165

And there he lent Litell John

God[ë] strokis thre;

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Lytell John,

‘These strokis lyked well me.

166

‘Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,

And so thinketh me;

And or I pas fro this place

Assayed better shalt thou be.’

167

Lytell Johnn drew a ful gode sworde,

The coke toke another in hande;

They thought no thynge for to fle,

But stifly for to stande.

168

There they faught sore togedere

Two mylë way and well more;

Myght neyther other harme done,

The mountnaunce of an owre.

169

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn,

‘And by my true lewtë,

Thou art one of the best sworde-men

That euer yit sawe I [me.]

170

‘Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,

To grenë wode thou shuldest with me,

And two times in the yere thy clothinge

Chaunged shuldë be;

171

‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode

Twenty merke to thy fe:’

‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke,

‘And felowës woll we be.’

172

Thanne he fet to Lytell Johnn

The nowmbles of a do,

Gode brede, and full gode wyne;

They ete and drank theretoo.

173

And when they had dronkyn well,

Theyre trouthës togeder they plight

That they wo[l]de be with Robyn

That ylkë samë nyght.

174

They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,

As fast as they myght gone;

The lokkës, that were of full gode stele,

They brake them euerichone.

175

They toke away the siluer vessell,

And all that thei mig[h]t get;

Pecis, masars, ne sponis,

Wolde thei not forget.

176

Also [they] toke the godë pens,

Thre hundred pounde and more,

And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode,

Under the grenë wode hore.

177

‘God the saue, my derë mayster,

And Criste the saue and se!’

And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell Johnn,

Welcome myght thou be.

178

‘Also be that fayre yeman

Thou bryngest there with the;

What tydyngës fro Noty[n]gham?

Lytill Johnn, tell thou me.’

179

‘Well the gretith the proudë sheryf,

And sende[th] the here by me

His coke and his siluer vessell,

And thre hundred pounde and thre.’

180

‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,

‘And to the Trenytë,

It was neuer by his gode wyll

This gode is come to me.’

181

Lytyll Johnn there hym bethought

On a shrewde wyle;

Fyue myle in the forest he ran,

Hym happed all his wyll.

182

Than he met the proudë sheref,

Huntynge with houndes and horne;

Lytell Johnn coude of curtesye,

And knelyd hym beforne.

183

‘God the saue, my derë mayster,

And Criste the saue and se!’

‘Reynolde Grenëlefe,’ sayde the shryef,

‘Where hast thou nowe be?’

184

‘I haue be in this forest;

A fayre syght can I se;

It was one of the fayrest syghtes

That euer yet sawe I me.

185

‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,

His coloure is of grene;

Seuen score of dere vpon a herde

Be with hym all bydene.

186

‘Their tyndës are so sharpe, maister,

Of sexty, and well mo,

That I durst not shote for drede,

Lest they wolde me slo.’

187

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref,

‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’

‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi derë mayster,

Anone, and wende with me.’

188

The sherif rode, and Litell Johnn

Of fote he was full smerte,

And whane they came before Robyn,

‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’

189

Still stode the proudë sherief,

A sory man was he;

‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Grenëlefe,

Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’

190

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn,

‘Mayster, ye be to blame;

I was mysserued of my dynere

Whan I was with you at home.’

191

Sone he was to souper sette,

And serued well with siluer white,

And whan the sherif sawe his vessell,

For sorowe he myght nat ete.

192

‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,

‘Sherif, for charitë,

And for the loue of Litill Johnn

Thy lyfe I graunt to the.’

193

Whan they had souped well,

The day was al gone;

Robyn commaunde[d] Litell Johnn

To drawe of his hosen and his shone;

194

His kirtell, and his cote of pie,

That was fured well and fine,

And to[ke] hym a grene mantel,

To lap his body therin.

195

Robyn commaundyd his wight yonge men,

Vnder the grenë-wode tree,

They shulde lye in that same sute,

That the sherif myght them see.

196

All nyght lay the proudë sherif

In his breche and in his chert;

No wonder it was, in grenë wode,

Though his sydës gan to smerte.

197

‘Make glade chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,

‘Sheref, for charitë;

For this is our ordre i-wys,

Vnder the grenë-wode tree.’

198

‘This is harder order,’ sayde the sherief,

‘Than any ankir or frere;

For all the golde in mery Englonde

I wolde nat longe dwell her.’

199

‘All this twelue monthes,’ sayde Robin,

‘Thou shalt dwell with me;

I shall the techë, proudë sherif,

An outlawë for to be.’

200

‘Or I be here another nyght,’ sayde the sherif,

‘Robyn, nowe pray I the,

Smyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe,

And I forgyue it the.

201

‘Lat me go,’ than sayde the sherif,

‘For sayntë charitë,

And I woll be the best[ë] frende

That euer yet had ye.’

202

‘Thou shalt swere me an othe,’ sayde Robyn,

‘On my bright bronde;

Shalt thou neuer awayte me scathe,

By water ne by lande.

203

‘And if thou fynde any of my men,

By nyght or [by] day,

Vpon thyn othë thou shalt swere

To helpe them tha[t] thou may.’

204

Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe,

And home he began to gone;

He was as full of grenë wode

As euer was hepe of stone.

THE FOURTH FYTTE.

205

The sherif dwelled in Notingham;

He was fayne he was agone;

And Robyn and his mery men

Went to wode anone.

206

‘Go we to dyner,’ sayde Littell Johnn;

Robyn Hode sayde, Nay;

For I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,

For she sent me nat my pay.

207

‘Haue no doute, maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn;

‘Yet is nat the sonne at rest;

For I dare say, and sauely swere,

The knight is true and truste.’

208

‘Take thy bowe in thy hande,’ sayde Robyn,

‘Late Much wende with the,

And so shal Wyllyam Scarlok,

b.

And no man abyde with me.

209

‘And walke vp vnder the Sayles,

And to Watlynge-strete,

And wayte after some vnketh gest;

Vp-chaunce ye may them mete.

210

‘Whether he be messengere,

Or a man that myrthës can,

Of my good he shall haue some,

Yf he be a porë man.’

211

Forth then stert Lytel Johan,

Half in tray and tene,

And gyrde hym with a full good swerde,

Under a mantel of grene.

212

They went vp to the Sayles,

These yemen all thre;

They loked est, they loked west,

They myght no man se.

213

But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale,

By the hyë waye,

Than were they ware of two blacke monkes,

Eche on a good palferay.

214

Then bespake Lytell Johan,

To Much he gan say,

I dare lay my lyfe to wedde,

That [these] monkes haue brought our pay.

215

‘Make glad chere,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘And frese your bowes of ewe,

And loke your hertës be seker and sad,

Your stryngës trusty and trewe.

216

‘The monke hath two and fifty [men,]

And seuen somers full stronge;

There rydeth no bysshop in this londe

So ryally, I vnderstond.

217

‘Brethern,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘Here are no more but we thre;

But we bryngë them to dyner,

Our mayster dare we not se.

218

‘Bende your bowes,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘Make all yon prese to stonde;

The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth

Is closed in my honde.

219

‘Abyde, chorle monke,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘No ferther that thou gone;

Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God,

Thy deth is in my honde.

220

‘And euyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘Ryght vnder thy hattës bonde;

For thou hast made our mayster wroth,

He is fastynge so longe.’

221

‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke;

Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode;

‘He is a stronge thefe,’ sayd the monke,

‘Of hym herd I neuer good.’

222

‘Thou lyest,’ than sayd Lytell Johan,

‘And that shall rewë the;

He is a yeman of the forest,

To dyne he hath bodë the.’

223

Much was redy with a bolte,

Redly and anone,

He set the monke to-fore the brest,

To the grounde that he can gone.

224

Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen

There abode not one,

Saf a lytell page and a grome,

To lede the somers with Lytel Johan.

225

They brought the monke to the lodgë-dore,

Whether he were loth or lefe,

For to speke with Robyn Hode,

Maugre in theyr tethe.

226

Robyn dyde adowne his hode,

The monke whan that he se;

The monke was not so curtëyse,

His hode then let he be.

227

‘He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,’

Than sayd Lytell Johan:

‘Thereof no force,’ sayd Robyn,

‘For curteysy can he none.

228

‘How many men,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Had this monke, Johan?’

‘Fyfty and two whan that we met,

But many of them be gone.’

229

‘Let blowe a horne,’ sayd Robyn,

‘That felaushyp may vs knowe;’

Seuen score of wyght yemen

Came pryckynge on a rowe.

230

And euerych of them a good mantell

Of scarlet and of raye;

All they came to good Robyn,

To wyte what he wolde say.

231

They made the monke to wasshe and wype,

And syt at his denere,

Robyn Hode and Lytell Johan

They serued him both in-fere.

232

‘Do gladly, monke,’ sayd Robyn.

‘Gramercy, syr,’ sayd he.

‘Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home,

And who is your avowë?’

233

‘Saynt Mary abbay,’ sayd the monke,

‘Though I be symple here.’

‘In what offyce?’ sayd Robyn:

‘Syr, the hyë selerer.’

234

‘Ye be the more welcome,’ sayd Robyn,

‘So euer mote I the;

Fyll of the best wyne,’ sayd Robyn,

‘This monke shall drynke to me.

235

‘But I haue grete meruayle,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Of all this longë day;

I drede Our Lady be wroth with me,

She sent me not my pay.’

236

‘Haue no doute, mayster,’ sayd Lytell Johan,

‘Ye haue no nede, I saye;

This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere,

For he is of her abbay.’

237

‘And she was a borowe,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Betwene a knyght and me,

Of a lytell money that I hym lent,

Under the grëne-wode tree.

238

‘And yf thou hast that syluer ibrought,

I pray the let me se;

And I shall helpë the eftsones,

Yf thou haue nede to me.’

239

The monke swore a full grete othe,

With a sory chere,

‘Of the borowehode thou spekest to me,

Herde I neuer ere.’

240

‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Monke, thou art to blame;

For God is holde a ryghtwys man,

And so is his dame.

241

‘Thou toldest with thyn ownë tonge,

Thou may not say nay,

How thou arte her seruaunt,

And seruest her euery day.

242

‘And thou art made her messengere,

My money for to pay;

Therfore I cun the morë thanke

Thou arte come at thy day.

243

‘What is in your cofers?’ sayd Robyn,

‘Trewe than tell thou me:’

‘Syr,’ he sayd, ‘twenty marke,

Al so mote I the.’

244

‘Yf there be no more,’ sayd Robyn,

‘I wyll not one peny;

Yf thou hast myster of ony more,

Syr, more I shall lende to the.

245

‘And yf I fyndë [more,’ sayd] Robyn,

‘I-wys thou shalte it for gone;

For of thy spendynge-syluer, monke,

Thereof wyll I ryght none.

246

‘Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan,

And the trouth tell thou me;

If there be no more but twenty marke,

No peny that I se.’

247

Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe,

As he had done before,

And he tolde out of the monkës male

Eyght [hondred] pounde and more.

248

Lytell Johan let it lye full styll,

And went to his mayster in hast;

‘Syr,’ he sayd, ‘the monke is trewe ynowe,

Our Lady hath doubled your cast.’

249

‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn—

‘Monke, what tolde I the?—

Our Lady is the trewest woman

That euer yet founde I me.

250

‘By dere worthy God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘To seche all Englond thorowe,

Yet founde I neuer to my pay

A moche better borowe.

251

‘Fyll of the best wyne, and do hym drynke,’ sayd Robyn,

‘And grete well thy lady hende,

And yf she haue nede to Robyn Hode,

A frende she shall hym fynde.

252

‘And yf she nedeth ony more syluer,

Come thou agayne to me.

And, by this token she hath me sent,

She shall haue such thre.’

253

The monke was goynge to London ward,

There to holde grete mote,

The knyght that rode so hye on hors,

To brynge hym vnder fote.

254

‘Whether be ye away?’ sayd Robyn:

‘Syr, to maners in this londe,

Too reken with our reues,

That haue done moch wronge.’

255

‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,

And harken to my tale;

A better yemen I knowe none,

To seke a monkës male.’

256

‘How moch is in yonder other corser?’ sayd Robyn,

‘The soth must we see:’

‘By Our Lady,’ than sayd the monke,

‘That were no curteysye,

257

‘To bydde a man to dyner,

And syth hym bete and bynde.’

‘It is our oldë maner,’ sayd Robyn,

‘To leue but lytell behynde.’

258

The monke toke the hors with spore,

No lenger wolde he abyde:

‘Askë to drynkë,’ than sayd Robyn,

‘Or that ye forther ryde.’

259

‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd the monke,

‘Me reweth I cam so nere;

For better chepe I myght haue dyned

In Blythe or in Dankestere.’

260

‘Grete well your abbot,’ sayd Robyn,

‘And your pryour, I you pray,

And byd hym send me such a monke

To dyner euery day.’

261

Now lete we that monke be styll,

And speke we of that knyght:

Yet he came to holde his day,

Whyle that it was lyght.

262

He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale,

Under the grenë-wode tre,

And he founde there Robyn Hode,

And all his mery meynë.

263

The knyght lyght doune of his good palfray;

Robyn whan he gan see,

So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode,

And set hym on his knee.

264

‘God the sauë, Robyn Hode,

And all this company:’

‘Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght,

And ryght welcome to me.’

265

Than bespake hym Robyn Hode,

To that knyght so fre:

What nedë dryueth the to grenë wode?

I praye the, syr knyght, tell me.

266

‘And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,

Why hast thou be so longe?’

‘For the abbot and the hyë iustyce

Wolde haue had my londe.’

267

‘Hast thou thy londe [a]gayne?’ sayd Robyn;

‘Treuth than tell thou me:’

‘Ye, for God,’ sayd the knyght,

‘And that thanke I God and the.

268

‘But take not a grefe,’ sayd the knyght, ‘that I haue be so longe;

I came by a wrastelynge,

And there I holpe a porë yeman,

With wronge was put behynde.’

269

‘Nay, for God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Syr knyght, that thanke I the;

What man that helpeth a good yeman,

His frende than wyll I be.’

270

‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,’ than sayd the knyght,

‘The whiche ye lent to me;

And here is also twenty marke

For your curteysy.’

271

‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd Robyn,

‘Thou broke it well for ay;

For Our Lady, by her [hyë] selerer,

Hath sent to me my pay.

272

‘And yf I toke it i-twyse,

A shame it were to me;

But trewely, gentyll knyght,

Welcom arte thou to me.’

273

Whan Robyn had tolde his tale,

He leugh and had good chere:

‘By my trouthe,’ then sayd the knyght,

‘Your money is redy here.’

274

‘Broke it well,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Thou gentyll knyght so fre;

And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght,

Under my trystell-tre.

275

‘But what shall these bowës do?’ sayd Robyn,

‘And these arowës ifedred fre?’

‘By God,’ than sayd the knyght,

‘A porë present to the.’

276

‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan,

And go to my treasurë,

And brynge me there foure hondred pounde;

The monke ouer-tolde it me.

277

‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,

Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,

And bye hors and harnes good,

And gylte thy spores all newe.

278

‘And yf thou fayle ony spendynge,

Com to Robyn Hode,

And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle,

The whyles I haue any good.

279

‘And broke well thy foure hondred pound,

Whiche I lent to the,

And make thy selfe no more so bare,

By the counsell of me.’

280

Thus than holpe hym good Robyn,

The knyght all of his care:

God, that syt in heuen hye,

Graunte vs well to fare!

THE FYFTH FYTTE.

281

Now hath the knyght his leue i-take,

And wente hym on his way;

Robyn Hode and his mery men

Dwelled styll full many a day.

282

Lyth and lysten, gentil men,

And herken what I shall say,

How the proud[ë] sheryfe of Notyngham

Dyde crye a full fayre play;

283

That all the best archers of the north

Sholde come vpon a day,

And [he] that shoteth allther best

The game shall bere a way.

284

He that shoteth allther best,

Furthest fayre and lowe,

At a payre of fynly buttes,

Under the grenë-wode shawe,

285

A ryght good arowe he shall haue,

The shaft of syluer whyte,

The hede and the feders of ryche rede golde,

In Englond is none lyke.

286

This than herde good Robyn,

Under his trystell-tre:

‘Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men;

That shotynge wyll I se.

287

‘Buske you, my mery yonge men,

Ye shall go with me;

And I wyll wete the shryuës fayth,

Trewe and yf he be.’

288

Whan they had theyr bowes i-bent,

Theyr takles fedred fre,

Seuen score of wyght yonge men

Stode by Robyns kne.

289

Whan they cam to Notyngham,

The buttes were fayre and longe;

Many was the bolde archere

That shoted with bowës stronge.

290

‘There shall but syx shote with me;

The other shal kepe my he[ue]de,

And standë with good bowës bent,

That I be not desceyued.’

291

The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende,

And that was Robyn Hode,

And that behelde the proud[ë] sheryfe,

All by the but [as] he stode.

292

Thryës Robyn shot about,

And alway he slist the wand,

And so dyde good Gylberte

Wyth the whytë hande.

293

Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke

Were archers good and fre;

Lytell Much and good Reynolde,

The worste wolde they not be.

294

Whan they had shot aboute,

These archours fayre and good,

Euermore was the best,

For soth, Robyn Hode.

295

Hym was delyuered the good arowe,

For best worthy was he;

He toke the yeft so curteysly,

To grenë wode wolde he.

296

They cryed out on Robyn Hode,

And grete hornës gan they blowe:

‘Wo worth the, treason!’ sayd Robyn,

‘Full euyl thou art to knowe.

297

‘And wo be thou! thou proudë sheryf,

Thus gladdynge thy gest;

Other wyse thou behotë me

In yonder wylde forest.

298

‘But had I the in grenë wode,

Under my trystell-tre,

Thou sholdest leue me a better wedde

Than thy trewe lewtë.’

299

Full many a bowë there was bent,

And arowës let they glyde;

Many a kyrtell there was rent,

And hurt many a syde.

300

The outlawes shot was so stronge

That no man myght them dryue,

And the proud[ë] sheryfës men,

They fled away full blyue.

301

Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke,

In grenë wode he wolde haue be;

Many an arowe there was shot

Amonge that company.

302

Lytell Johan was hurte full sore,

With an arowe in his kne,

That he myght neyther go nor ryde;

It was full grete pytë.

303

‘Mayster,’ then sayd Lytell Johan,

‘If euer thou loue[d]st me,

And for that ylkë lordës loue

That dyed vpon a tre,

304

‘And for the medes of my seruyce,

That I haue serued the,

Lete neuer the proudë sheryf

Alyue now fyndë me.

305

‘But take out thy brownë swerde,

And smyte all of my hede,

And gyue me woundës depe and wyde;

No lyfe on me be lefte.’

306

‘I wolde not that,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Johan, that thou were slawe,

For all the golde in mery Englonde,

Though it lay now on a rawe.’

307

‘God forbede,’ sayd Lytell Much,

‘That dyed on a tre,

That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan,

Parte our company.’

308

Up he toke hym on his backe,

And bare hym well a myle;

Many a tyme he layd hym downe,

And shot another whyle.

309

Then was there a fayre castell,

A lytell within the wode;

Double-dyched it was about,

And walled, by the rode.

310

And there dwelled that gentyll knyght,

Syr Rychard at the Lee,

That Robyn had lent his good,

Under the grenë-wode tree.

311

In he toke good Robyn,

And all his company:

‘Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode,

Welcome arte thou to me;

312

‘And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort,

And of thy curteysye,

And of thy gretë kyndënesse,

Under the grenë-wode tre.

313

‘I loue no man in all this worlde

So much as I do the;

For all the proud[ë] sheryf of Notyngham,

Ryght here shalt thou be.

314

‘Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge,

a.

And let no man come in,

And arme you well, and make you redy,

And to the walles ye wynne.

315

‘For one thynge, Robyn, I the behote;

I swere by Saynt Quyntyne,

These forty dayes thou wonnest with me,

To soupe, ete, and dyne.’

316

Bordes were layde, and clothes were spredde,

Redely and anone;

Robyn Hode and his mery men

To metë can they gone.

THE VI. FYTTE.

317

Lythe and lysten, gentylmen,

And herkyn to your songe;

Howe the proudë shyref of Notyngham,

And men of armys stronge,

318

Full fast cam to the hyë shyref,

The contrë vp to route,

And they besette the knyghtës castell,

The wallës all aboute.

319

The proudë shyref loude gan crye,

And sayde, Thou traytour knight,

Thou kepest here the kynges enemys,

Agaynst the lawe and right.

320

‘Syr, I wyll auowe that I haue done,

The dedys that here be dyght,

Vpon all the landës that I haue,

As I am a trewë knyght.

321

‘Wende furth, sirs, on your way,

And do no more to me

Tyll ye wyt oure kyngës wille,

What he wyll say to the.’

322

The shyref thus had his answere,

Without any lesynge;

[Fu]rth he yede to London towne,

All for to tel our kinge.

323

Ther he telde him of that knight,

And eke of Robyn Hode,

And also of the bolde archars,

That were soo noble and gode.

324

‘He wyll auowe that he hath done,

To mayntene the outlawes stronge;

He wyll be lorde, and set you at nought,

In all the northe londe.’

325

‘I wil be at Notyngham,’ saide our kynge,

‘Within this fourteenyght,

And take I wyll Robyn Hode,

And so I wyll that knight.

326

‘Go nowe home, shyref,’ sayde our kynge,

‘And do as I byd the;

And ordeyn gode archers ynowe,

Of all the wydë contrë.’

327

The shyref had his leue i-take,

And went hym on his way,

And Robyn Hode to grenë wode,

Vpon a certen day.

328

And Lytel John was hole of the arowe

That shot was in his kne,

And dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode,

Vnder the grenë-wode tree.

329

Robyn Hode walked in the forest,

Vnder the leuys grene;

The proudë shyref of Notyngham

Thereof he had grete tene.

330

The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode,

He myght not haue his pray;

Than he awayted this gentyll knyght,

Bothe by nyght and day.

331

Euer he wayted the gentyll knyght,

Syr Richarde at the Lee,

As he went on haukynge by the ryuer-syde,

And lete [his] haukës flee.

332

Toke he there this gentyll knight,

With men of armys stronge,

And led hym to Notyngham warde,

Bounde bothe fote and hande.

333

The sheref sware a full grete othe,

Bi hym that dyed on rode,

He had leuer than an hundred pound

That he had Robyn Hode.

334

This harde the knyghtës wyfe,

A fayr lady and a free;

She set hir on a gode palfrey,

To grenë wode anone rode she.

335

Whanne she cam in the forest,

Vnder the grenë-wode tree,

Fonde she there Robyn Hode,

And al his fayre menë.

336

‘God the sauë, godë Robyn,

And all thy company;

For Our derë Ladyes sake,

A bonë graunte thou me.

337

‘Late neuer my wedded lorde

Shamefully slayne be;

He is fast bowne to Notingham warde,

For the loue of the.’

338

Anone than saide goode Robyn

To that lady so fre,

What man hath your lorde [i-]take?

. . . . . .

339

. . . . . .

‘For soth as I the say;

He is nat yet thre mylës

Passed on his way.’

340

Vp than sterte gode Robyn,

As man that had ben wode:

‘Buske you, my mery men,

For hym that dyed on rode.

341

‘And he that this sorowe forsaketh,

By hym that dyed on tre,

Shall he neuer in grenë wode

No lenger dwel with me.’

342

Sone there were gode bowës bent,

Mo than seuen score;

Hedge ne dyche spared they none

That was them before.

343

‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Robyn,

‘The sherif wolde I fayne see;

And if I may hym take,

I-quyte shall it be.’

344

And whan they came to Notingham,

They walked in the strete;

And with the proudë sherif i-wys

Sonë can they mete.

345

‘Abyde, thou proudë sherif,’ he sayde,

‘Abyde, and speke with me;

Of some tidinges of oure kinge

I wolde fayne here of the.

346

‘This seuen yere, by dere worthy God,

Ne yede I this fast on fote;

I make myn auowe to God, thou proudë sherif,

It is nat for thy gode.’

347

Robyn bent a full goode bowe,

An arrowe he drowe at wyll;

He hit so the proudë sherife

Vpon the grounde he lay full still.

348

And or he myght vp aryse,

On his fete to stonde,

He smote of the sherifs hede

With his bright[ë] bronde.

349

‘Lye thou there, thou proudë sherife,

Euyll mote thou cheue!

There myght no man to the truste

b.

The whyles thou were a lyue.’

350

His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes,

That were so sharpe and kene,

And layde on the sheryues men,

And dryued them downe bydene.

351

Robyn stert to that knyght,

And cut a two his bonde,

And toke hym in his hand a bowe,

And bad hym by hym stonde.

352

‘Leue thy hors the behynde,

And lerne for to renne;

Thou shalt with me to grenë wode,

Through myrë, mosse, and fenne.

353

‘Thou shalt with me to grenë wode,

Without ony leasynge,

Tyll that I haue gete vs grace

Of Edwarde, our comly kynge.’

THE VII. FYTTE.

354

The kynge came to Notynghame,

With knyghtës in grete araye,

For to take that gentyll knyght

And Robyn Hode, and yf he may.

355

He asked men of that countrë

After Robyn Hode,

And after that gentyll knyght,

That was so bolde and stout.

356

Whan they had tolde hym the case

Our kynge vnderstode ther tale,

And seased in his honde

The knyghtës londës all.

357

All the passe of Lancasshyre

He went both ferre and nere,

Tyll he came to Plomton Parke;

He faylyd many of his dere.

358

There our kynge was wont to se

Herdës many one,

He coud vnneth fynde one dere,

That bare ony good horne.

359

The kynge was wonder wroth withall,

And swore by the Trynytë,

‘I wolde I had Robyn Hode,

With eyen I myght hym se.

360

‘And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtës hede,

And brynge it to me,

He shall haue the knyghtës londes,

Syr Rycharde at the Le.

361

‘I gyue it hym with my charter,

And sele it [with] my honde,

To haue and holde for euer more,

In all mery Englonde.’

362

Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,

That was treue in his fay:

A, my leegë lorde the kynge,

One worde I shall you say.

363

There is no man in this countrë

May haue the knyghtës londes,

Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,

And bere a bowe in his hondes,

364

That he ne shall lese his hede,

That is the best ball in his hode:

Giue it no man, my lorde the kynge,

That ye wyll any good.

365

Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge

In Notyngham, and well more;

Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,

In what countrë that he were.

366

But alway went good Robyn

By halke and eke by hyll,

And alway slewe the kyngës dere,

And welt them at his wyll.

367

Than bespake a proude fostere,

That stode by our kyngës kne:

Yf ye wyll se good Robyn,

Ye must do after me.

368

Take fyue of the best knyghtës

That be in your lede,

And walke downe by yon abbay,

And gete you monkës wede.

369

And I wyll be your ledës-man,

And lede you the way,

And or ye come to Notyngham,

Myn hede then dare I lay,

370

That ye shall mete with good Robyn,

On lyue yf that he be;

Or ye come to Notyngham,

With eyen ye shall hym se.

371

Full hast[ë]ly our kynge was dyght,

So were his knyghtës fyue,

Euerych of them in monkës wede,

And hasted them thyder blyve.

372

Our kynge was grete aboue his cole,

A brode hat on his crowne,

Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,

They rode up in-to the towne.

373

Styf botës our kynge had on,

Forsoth as I you say;

He rode syngynge to grenë wode,

The couent was clothed in graye.

374

His male-hors and his gretë somers

Folowed our kynge behynde,

Tyll they came to grenë wode,

A myle vnder the lynde.

375

There they met with good Robyn,

Stondynge on the waye,

And so dyde many a bolde archere,

For soth as I you say.

376

Robyn toke the kyngës hors,

Hastëly in that stede,

And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leue,

A whyle ye must abyde.

377

‘We be yemen of this foreste,

Vnder the grenë-wode tre;

We lyue by our kyngës dere,

[Other shyft haue not wee.]

378

‘And ye haue chyrches and rentës both,

And gold full grete plentë;

Gyue vs some of your spendynge,

For saynt[ë] charytë.’

379

Than bespake our cumly kynge,

Anone than sayd he;

I brought no more to grenë wode

But forty pounde with me.

380

I haue layne at Notyngham

This fourtynyght with our kynge,

And spent I haue full moche good,

On many a grete lordynge.

381

And I haue but forty pounde,

No more than haue I me;

But yf I had an hondred pounde,

I wolde vouch it safe on the.

382

Robyn toke the forty pounde,

And departed it in two partye;

Halfendell he gaue his mery men,

And bad them mery to be.

383

Full curteysly Robyn gan say;

Syr, haue this for your spendyng;

We shall mete another day;

‘Gramercy,’ than sayd our kynge.

384

‘But well the greteth Edwarde, our kynge,

And sent to the his seale,

And byddeth the com to Notyngham,

Both to mete and mele.’

385

He toke out the brodë targe,

And sone he lete hym se;

Robyn coud his courteysy,

And set hym on his kne.

386

‘I loue no man in all the worlde

So well as I do my kynge;

Welcome is my lordës seale;

And, monke, for thy tydynge,

387

‘Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,

To day thou shalt dyne with me,

For the loue of my kynge,

Under my trystell-tre.’

388

Forth he lad our comly kynge,

Full fayre by the honde;

Many a dere there was slayne,

And full fast dyghtande.

389

Robyn toke a full grete horne,

And loude he gan blowe;

Seuen score of wyght yonge men

Came redy on a rowe.

390

All they kneled on theyr kne,

Full fayre before Robyn:

The kynge sayd hym selfe vntyll,

And swore by Saynt Austyn,

391

‘Here is a wonder semely syght;

Me thynketh, by Goddës pyne,

His men are more at his byddynge

Then my men be at myn.’

392

Full hast[ë]ly was theyr dyner idyght,

And therto gan they gone;

They serued our kynge with al theyr myght,

Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.

393

Anone before our kynge was set

The fattë venyson,

The good whyte brede, the good rede wyne,

And therto the fyne ale and browne.

394

‘Make good chere,’ said Robyn,

‘Abbot, for charytë;

And for this ylkë tydynge,

Blyssed mote thou be.

395

‘Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,

Or thou hens wende;

Than thou may enfourme our kynge,

Whan ye togyder lende.’

396

Up they stertë all in hast,

Theyr bowës were smartly bent;

Our kynge was neuer so sore agast,

He wende to haue be shente.

397

Two yerdës there were vp set,

Thereto gan they gange;

By fyfty pase, our kynge sayd,

The merkës were to longe.

398

On euery syde a rose-garlonde,

They shot vnder the lyne:

‘Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,’ sayd Robyn,

‘His takyll he shall tyne,

399

‘And yelde it to his mayster,

Be it neuer so fyne;

For no man wyll I spare,

So drynke I ale or wyne:

400

‘And bere a buffet on his hede,

I-wys ryght all bare:’

And all that fell in Robyns lote,

He smote them wonder sare.

401

Twyse Robyn shot aboute,

And euer he cleued the wande,

And so dyde good Gylberte

With the Whytë Hande.

402

Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,

For nothynge wolde they spare;

When they fayled of the garlonde,

Robyn smote them full sore.

403

At the last shot that Robyn shot,

For all his frendës fare,

Yet he fayled of the garlonde

Thre fyngers and mare.

404

Than bespake good Gylberte,

And thus he gan say;

‘Mayster,’ he sayd, ‘your takyll is lost,

Stande forth and take your pay.’

405

‘If it be so,’ sayd Robyn,

‘That may no better be,

Syr abbot, I delyuer the myn arowe,

I pray the, syr, serue thou me.’

406

‘It falleth not for myn ordre,’ sayd our kynge,

‘Robyn, by thy leue,

For to smyte no good yeman,

For doute I sholde hym greue.’

407

‘Smyte on boldely,’ sayd Robyn,

‘I giue the largë leue:’

Anone our kynge, with that worde,

He folde vp his sleue,

408

And sych a buffet he gaue Robyn,

To grounde he yede full nere:

‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere.

409

‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn,

‘I trowe thou canst well shete:’

Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode

Togeder gan they mete.

410

Robyn behelde our comly kynge

Wystly in the face,

So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,

And kneled downe in that place.

411

And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,

Whan they se them knele:

‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,

Now I knowe you well.

412

‘Mercy then, Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,

‘Vnder your trystyll-tre,

Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,

For my men and me!’

413

‘Yes, for God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘And also God me saue,

I askë mercy, my lorde the kynge,

And for my men I craue.’

414

‘Yes, for God,’ than sayd our kynge,

‘And therto sent I me.

With that thou leue the grenë wode,

And all thy company;

415

‘And come home, syr, to my courte,

And there dwell with me.’

‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘And ryght so shall it be.

416

‘I wyll come to your courte,

Your seruyse for to se,

And brynge with me of my men

Seuen score and thre.

417

‘But me lykë well your seruyse,

I [wyll] come agayne full soone,

And shote at the donnë dere,

As I am wonte to done.’

THE VIII. FYTTE.

418

‘Haste thou ony grenë cloth,’ sayd our kynge,

‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’

‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn,

‘Thyrty yerdës and thre.’

419

‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,

‘Now pray I the,

Sell me some of that cloth,

To me and my meynë.’

420

‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn,

‘Or elles I were a fole;

Another day ye wyll me clothe,

I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’

421

The kynge kest of his colë then,

A grene garment he dyde on,

And euery knyght also, i-wys,

Another had full sone.

422

Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,

They keste away theyr graye;

‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’

All thus our kynge gan say.

423

They bente theyr bowes, and forth they went,

Shotynge all in-fere,

Towarde the towne of Notyngham,

Outlawes as they were.

424

Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,

For soth as I you say,

And they shote plucke-buffet,

As they went by the way.

425

And many a buffet our kynge wan

Of Robyn Hode that day,

And nothynge spared good Robyn

Our kynge in his pay.

426

‘So God me helpë,’ sayd our kynge,

‘Thy game is nought to lere;

I sholde not get a shote of the,

Though I shote all this yere.’

427

All the people of Notyngham

They stode and behelde;

They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene

That couered all the felde.

428

Than euery man to other gan say,

‘I drede our kynge be slone;

Comë Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys

On lyue he lefte neuer one.’

429

Full hast[ë]ly they began to fle,

Both yemen and knaues,

And olde wyues that myght euyll goo,

They hypped on theyr staues.

430

The kynge l[o]ughe full fast,

And commaunded theym agayue;

When they se our comly kynge,

I-wys they were full fayne.

431

They ete and dranke, and made them glad,

And sange with notës hye;

Than bespake our comly kynge

To Syr Rycharde at the Lee.

432

He gaue hym there his londe agayne,

A good man he bad hym be;

Robyn thanked our comly kynge,

And set hym on his kne.

433

Had Robyn dwelled in the kyngës courte

But twelue monethes and thre,

That [he had] spent an hondred pounde,

And all his mennes fe.

434

In euery place where Robyn came

Euer more he layde downe,

Both for knyghtës and for squyres,

To gete hym grete renowne.

435

By than the yere was all agone

He had no man but twayne,

Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,

With hym all for to gone.

436

Robyn sawe yonge men shote

Full fayre vpon a day;

‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn,

‘My welthe is went away.

437

‘Somtyme I was an archere good,

A styffe and eke a stronge;

I was compted the best archere

That was in mery Englonde.

438

‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn,

‘Alas and well a woo!

Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge,

Sorowe wyll me sloo.’

439

Forth than went Robyn Hode

Tyll he came to our kynge:

‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,

Graunte me myn askynge.

440

‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale,

That semely is to se,

It is of Mary Magdaleyne,

And thereto wolde I be.

441

‘I myght neuer in this seuen nyght

No tyme to slepe ne wynke,

Nother all these seuen dayes

Nother ete ne drynke.

442

‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,

I may not be therfro;

Barefote and wolwarde I haue hyght

Thyder for to go.’

443

‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge,

‘It may no better be,

Seuen nyght I gyue the leue,

No lengre, to dwell fro me.’

444

‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn,

And set hym on his kne;

He toke his leuë full courteysly,

To grenë wode then went he.

445

Whan he came to grenë wode,

In a mery mornynge,

There he herde the notës small

Of byrdës mery syngynge.

446

‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn,

‘That I was last here;

Me lyste a lytell for to shote

At the donnë dere.’

447

Robyn slewe a full grete harte;

His horne than gan he blow,

That all the outlawes of that forest

That horne coud they knowe,

448

And gadred them togyder,

In a lytell throwe.

Seuen score of wyght yonge men

Came redy on a rowe,

449

And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,

And set them on theyr kne:

‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ‘our [derë] mayster,

Under this grenë-wode tre.’

450

Robyn dwelled in grenë wode

Twenty yere and two;

For all drede of Edwarde our kynge,

Agayne wolde he not goo.

451

Yet he was begyled, i-wys,

Through a wycked woman,

The pryoresse of Kyrkësly,

That nye was of hys kynne:

452

For the loue of a knyght,

Syr Roger of Donkesly,

That was her ownë speciall;

Full euyll motë they the!

453

They toke togyder theyr counsell

Robyn Hode for to sle,

And how they myght best do that dede,

His banis for to be.

454

Than bespake good Robyn,

In place where as he stode,

‘To morow I muste to Kyrkely,

Craftely to be leten blode.’

455

Syr Roger of Donkestere,

By the pryoresse he lay,

And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,

Through theyr falsë playe.

456

Cryst haue mercy on his soule,

That dyed on the rode!

For he was a good outlawe,

And dyde pore men moch god.

---

a.

Here begynneth a gest of Robyn Hode.

1–12. Printed without division of stanzas or verses.

2^2,3. Deficiency supplied from b.

4¹. gooe.

4². milsers.

4³. yuch.

6⁴. vnkoutg.

7¹. lacking in all.

8⁴. .iij. messis.

9³. The .iij.

9⁴. all ther.

13⁴. tillet.

15⁴. mynge.

18³. vnknuth.

32³. ynought.

33¹. felsauntes.

37¹. wened.

38³. Late for Litell, which all the others have.

39². of for haue.

39³. but .xx.: see 42⁴.

41¹. nowne.

41³. .xx. felinges.

46². in strocte.

46³. And.

47³. And.

47⁴. haue bene.

50^2,3. The verses are transposed.

50². God had.

54². Vutyll.

66³. to may.

68⁴. Bo .xxviij.

70⁴. To helpe: cf. 194⁴.

77³. betes.

78². clere.

79³. .xij.

82¹. ou.

82³. bernedtale.

83³. for he.

83⁴–118³. wanting; supplied from b.

119¹. a .M.

120⁴. Euen .cccc.

121². thon.

123⁴. Bi god ... on tree. The tops of d and of th, and a part of dy, remain.

124¹. Sir ... n of lawe.

124². Only the top of N remains.

124²–127³. wanting, being torn away; supplied from b.

128². Ha.

130³. .cccc. li.

131^1,3. an .C.

131³. aros we.

132¹. an ille.

132³. Worked all.

133^1,2. He purneyed hym an. Only a part of n in the last word remains. Well harness. Only a part of n and the tops of ess remaining.

133³–136³. wanting; supplied from b.

138². Bnd.

143¹. louge.

143². doue.

150⁴. tho thy.

160³. Thougt: an C.

160⁴. he be go.

161³. And therfore.

162². gyne.

163². he wol be.

164². read hyne?

165³. anowe.

168⁴. mountnauuce.

175³. wasars.

179². sende the. Perhaps sent the, as in 384² (b).

180¹. abowe.

181³. v myle.

182². Hnntynge.

183³. Rrynolde.

185³. vij. score.

187¹. shyrel.

199¹. this xij.

201³. thy best.

202³. scade.

206¹. Johū.

206⁴. pray.

208⁴–314¹. wanting; supplied from b.

315³. These xl.: with men.

321³. welle.

330¹. fayles.

331³. ryner.

333³. an C. li.

339³. myeles.

349³. to thy.

From 349⁴ wanting; supplied from b.

b. Title-page: Here begynneth a lytell geste of Robyn hode. At the head of the poem: Here begynneth a lytell geste of Robyn hode and his meyne, And of the proude Sheryfe of Notyngham.

2⁴. y-founde.

3³. Iohan: and always.

4¹. Scathelock.

4³. no.

5¹. be spake hym.

5³. yf ye.

6¹. hym wanting.

6². I haue.

6³. that wanting.

6⁴. vnketh.

7¹. wanting.

7³. knygot or some squyere.

8⁴. Thre.

9². The other.

9³. was of.

9⁴. all other moste.

11³. that wanting: gone.

11⁴. that wanting.

13¹. than wanting.

13⁴. tylleth.

14⁴. wolde.

15⁴. ye wanting.

16¹. beholde: Ihoan.

16². shall we.

17¹. Robyn.

17³. Scathelocke.

18³. vnketh.

20. vnto.

20². yemen.

21¹. to wanting.

21³. came there.

22¹. then was all his semblaunte.

23¹. hangynge ouer.

23⁴. somers.

24¹. full wanting.

24⁴. you.

26¹. is your.

26³. is a.

27². all thre.

28¹. went that.

29¹. vnto.

29². gan hym.

30². thou arte.

30³. abyde.

32². set tyll.

32³. right wanting.

33³. neuer so.

35⁴. that wanting.

36². whan I haue.

38³. Lytell Iohan: Robyn hode.

39¹. than wanting.

39². god haue.

39³, 41³. but .x. s.

40¹. thou haue.

40⁴. len.

41⁴. Not one.

42⁴. halfe a.

43². full lowe.

43³. tydynge.

43⁴. inough.

44⁴. clothynge: thynne.

45¹. one worde.

45³. thou were.

46². in stroke.

46⁴. hast thou.

47¹. of them.

47³. An .C. wynter.

47⁴. haue be.

49¹. within two or thre.

49³. hondreth.

50^2,3. The verses are transposed.

50². hath shapen.

51¹. than wanting.

53¹. of Lancastshyre.

53⁴. both.

54¹. beth.

56². What shall.

57⁴. may not.

58³. frendes.

59². knowe me.

60⁴. had wanting.

61². Scathelocke and Much also.

62¹. frendes.

62². borowes that wyll.

62⁴. on a.

63¹. waye: than wanting.

63³. I wyll.

64³. me wanting.

67⁴. loke that it well tolde.

68², 74¹, 77³, 83². Scathelocke.

68⁴. By eyghtene.

69¹. lytell Much.

69². greueth.

70⁴. To helpe.

71². many a.

72². it well mete it be.

73¹. And of.

73². lept ouer.

73³. deuylkyns.

73⁴. for wanting.

74³. hym the better.

74⁴. Bygod it cost him.

75¹. than wanting.

75². All vnto Robyn.

75³. an hors.

75⁴. al this.

76⁴. God leue.

78². clere.

80³. Without.

81¹. lene.

82¹. went on.

82². he thought.

83¹. bethought.

87¹. wanting.

88³. hondrde.

89². he is ryght.

98¹. wanting.

113². gan loke.

118⁴. grete ye.

119². were thou.

121⁴. Rewarde.

123⁴. By god that dyed on a tree.

124¹. Syr abbot, and ye men of lawe.

128². of my.

128³. not be.

130³. got foure hondreth.

131². dyght.

132³. I nocked.

133^1,2.

purueyed hym an hondreth men

Well harneysed in that stede.

135¹. Qy? But at Wentbrydge ther was.

136². bulle I vp pyght.

137². in good fay.

137³. that wanting.

138³. frend bestad.

138⁴. I-slayne.

139². where that.

140². hondred: fere for free.

145². shote.

146¹. shot.

146². sleste.

146⁴. gan.

147⁴. euer wanting: I me.

148⁴. wan.

149¹. sir wanting: bore.

150². Wolte.

151³. gete leue.

153². Ge gyue.

155¹. befell.

156³. to wanting.

156⁴. me to dyne.

157². so longe to be.

157³. sir wanting.

157⁴. gyue thou.

159³. the wanting.

160¹. a rap.

160². yede nygh on two.

160³. an .c. wynter.

160⁴. wors he sholde go.

161². went vp.

161³. there: made a.

161⁴. and wyne.

163¹. second John wanting.

163². whyle he.

164³. an householde to.

165³. to God wanting.

165⁴. lyketh: me wanting.

166¹. and an.

167¹. ful wanting.

168². well wanting.

169⁴. I me.

170⁴. I-chaunged.

173⁴. same day.

174³. of full wanting.

175³. and spones.

175⁴. they none.

176¹. they toke.

176³. dyde hym.

176⁴. wode tre.

178¹. And also.

179². sende the: cf. 384².

181¹. hym there.

181². whyle.

181⁴. at his.

182². hounde.

182³. coud his.

184³. syght.

185¹. I se.

185³. an herde.

186¹. His tynde.

188³. afore.

188⁴. sir wanting.

189⁴. now be trayed.

191². well wanting.

191³. se his.

192¹. Make good.

192⁴. lyfe is graunted.

193². a gone.

193³. commaunded.

194¹. cote a pye.

194². well fyne.

194³. toke.

195³. They shall lay: sote.

196¹. laye that.

196⁴. sydes do smerte.

199¹. All these.

200¹. Or I here a nother nyght sayd.

200². I praye.

200³. to-morne.

201³. the best.

201⁴. That yet had the.

202³. Thou shalt neuer a wayte me scathe.

203². or by.

204¹. haue: I-swore.

205². that he was gone.

205³. had his.

206⁴. pay.

207⁴. trusty.

208³. Scathelock.

209³. after such.

210^3,4.

Or yf he be a pore man

Of my good he shall haue some.

214⁴. these wanting.

215². frese our: leese your? dress your?

216¹. .lii.: men wanting.

218². you for yon.

224¹. .lii.

231⁴. serued them.

240³. ryghtwysman.

240⁴. his name.

242¹. art nade.

243⁴. Also.

245¹. more sayd wanting.

247⁴. hondred wanting.

267¹. gayne.

272¹. I toke it I twyse: the second I is probably a misprint.

279¹. thy .cccc. li.

280². all of this.

283³. all ther best.

284¹. all theyre best.

292². they slist.

293². acchers.

299¹. beut.

305³. dede, second d inverted.

314⁴. walle.

315³. These twelue: with me.

316¹. were wanting.

316⁴. gan they.

317². vnto.

319³. enemye.

319⁴. Agayne the lawes.

320². dedes thou.

321². doth.

322³. yode.

323¹. tolde.

323⁴. That noble were.

324¹. He wolde: had.

324³. He wolde.

325¹. woll: sayd the.

326¹. nowe wanting: thou proud sheryf: sayde our kynge wanting.

326². the bydde.

329⁴. Therfore.

330¹. fayled.

330⁴. and by.

331¹. a wayted that.

331⁴. let his.

332³. hym home.

332⁴. honde and fote.

333². on a tre.

334¹. harde wanting: This the lady, the.

334². and fre.

335¹. to the.

335². tre tre.

336¹. God the good: saue wanting.

336³. lady loue.

337¹. Late thou neuer.

337². Shamly I slayne be.

337³. fast I-bounde.

338². lady fre.

338³. I take.

338⁴, 339¹. wanting.

339⁴. on your.

340². As a: be.

340³. yonge men.

340⁴. on a.

341². on a.

341³. wode be.

341¹. Nor.

342¹. i bent.

342³. spare.

343². The knyght.

343⁴. I-quyt than.

344⁴. gan.

346². so fast.

346⁴. At is.

347¹. full wanting.

347². at his.

349². thou thryue.

349³. to the.

351². his hoode.

356². vnder-stonde.

363². hane.

368³. walked; qy? walketh: by your.

371⁴. blyth.

377⁴. repeats verse 2: Other shyft haue not we, Copland and Ed. White’s copies.

381⁴. I vouch it halfe on the. f and g: I would geue it to thee.

385¹. brode tarpe. Copland and Ed. White’s copies: seale for tarpe.

400². A wys.

401⁴. the good whyte.

402⁴. sore.

409². shote.

409⁴. than they met. f, they gan: g, gan they mete.

412^1,2. Copland and Ed. White: sayd Robyn to our king, Vnder this.

417². Copland and Ed. White: I wyll come.

421³. had so I wys: so Copland and Ed. White.

423¹. Theyr bowes bente: cf. f, g.

433². .xii.

433³. he had in Copland and Ed. White.

436². ferre: fayre in c, Copland and Ed. White.

437³. was commytted. Copland and Ed. White: was commended for.

440¹. bernysdade.

441². Qy? No tymë slepe.

443¹. he so.

449³. our dere in e.

454². places.

Explycit. kynge Edwarde and Robyn hode and Lytell Johan Enprented at London in fletestrete at the sygne of the sone By Wynken de Worde.

a bode, a gast, a gone, a nother, a vowe, be fore, be gan, be spake, for gone, i brought, launs gay, out lawes, to gyder, vnder take, etc., etc., are printed abode, etc., etc.; I wys, i-wys; & and.

It will be understood that not all probable cases of ë have been indicated.

c.

26⁴. myche.

28⁴. ere for lere.

29². hym gan, as in a.

29³. he wanting.

30³. a byde.

30⁴. oures.

32¹. wesshe.

32². sat tyll.

32³. ryght inough, as in a.

33³. non so lytell, as in a.

34². Garmercy.

34⁴. all this.

35⁴. that wanting, as in b.

36². it wanting.

37². Me thynke.

38³. Lytell Johan, as in b.

39¹. then sayd, as in a.

39². haue parte of the.

39³, 41³. .x. s..

40¹. haue, as in b.

40⁴. len, as in b.

41⁴. Not one, as in b.

42⁴. halfe a.

43². full lowe, as in b.

43³. tydynge, as in b.

44³. Myche, thyket.

45¹. one worde, as in b.

45³. were, as in b.

46¹. haste be.

46². stroke.

46³. And, as in a.

46⁴. hast led, as in a.

47¹. nene of tho.

47³. An .c. wynter.

47⁴. haue be.

48³. that syt.

49¹. this two yere, as in a.

49². well knowe.

50^2,3. order as in a, b.

50². hath shapen, as in b.

51¹. than wanting, as in b.

51². thou lose.

53¹. lancasesshyre.

53⁴. bothe, as in a, b.

54¹. bothe, as in a.

56². shall fall, as in b.

57¹. wher.

57⁴. noo better, as in a.

58¹. eyen has fallen into the next line (eyen way).

58³. frende, as in a.

58⁴. I ne haue noo nother.

59¹. the frendes.

d.

280². all of this, as in b.

281⁴. full styll.

282². [her] keneth.

283³. all thee beste.

284¹. all there beste.

286³. ye wanting.

287⁴, 288^1,2,3. cut off.

289^1,2. transposed.

290³. I bent.

291¹. can bende.

291⁴. as he.

292¹. shet.

292². they clyft.

293¹. Scathelocke.

293². good in fere.

295⁴. then wolde.

296². can they.

296³. the wanting.

297. cut off, except ylde forest in line 4.

302². on his.

302³. go ne.

303². louest.

305¹. all out.

305³. woundes depe.

306^1–3. cut off.

306⁴. now wanting: only the lower part of the words of this line remains.

307². vpon.

310³. Robyn hode lente.

312¹. myche thanket he of the.

312³. the grete.

314⁴. walle, as in b.

315. nearly all cut away.

317². herkeneth to.

319³. enmye, as in b.

319⁴. lawes, as in b.

320². [t]hou here, as in b.

323^3,4, 324^1,2. wanting.

324³. He wolde, as in b.

326¹. Goo home thou proude sheryf, as in b.

326². the bydde, as in b.

329⁴. Therfore, as in b.

331¹. wayted thys gentyll.

331⁴. his haukes.

332^3,4, 333^1,2. wanting.

334². and a, as in a.

334³. a wanting.

336³. ladye loue, as in b.

337³. bounde, as in b.

338². so wanting.

338³. I take.

338⁴, 339¹. wanting, as in a, b.

339⁴. has only [y]our way.

340². be wode.

340³. mery yonge men, as in b.

340⁴. on rode, as in a.

341². only [th]at dyed on preserved.

342. wanting.

343⁴. then shall, as in b.

344⁴. can they, as in a.

346². so faste, as in b.

346⁴. It is not, as in a.

347¹. full godd, as in a.

347². at wyll, as in a.

349². thryue, as in b.

349³. to the struste.

350². bothe sharp.

e.

436². Full fayre.

436⁴. is gone.

437³. cōmitted.

441². to slepe.

441³. Nor of all.

441⁴. Noutter ete nor.

442¹. longeth so sore to be in.

442^3,4, 443^1,2. wanting.

446⁴. donde.

447². can he.

447³. outlawes in.

449³. our dere.

f.

Title: A mery geste of Robyn Hoode and of hys lyfe, wyth a newe playe for to be played in Maye games, very plesaunte and full of pastyme. At the head of the poem: Here begynneth a lyttell geste of Robyn hoode and his mery men, and of the proude Shyryfe of Notyngham.

Insignificant variations of spelling are not noted.

1². freborne.

2⁴. yfounde.

3². lened vpon a.

3³. stode wanting.

4¹. Scathelocke: and always.

4². mylners.

4³. was no.

5³. if ye.

6¹. hym wanting.

6⁴. vnketh.

7¹. wanting.

7³. or some squyer.

9². The other.

9³. was of.

9⁴. of all other.

11³. that wanting: shall gone.

11⁴. that wanting.

13¹. than wanting.

13³. husbandeman.

13⁴. with the.

14⁴. That would.

15⁴. ye wanting.

16². shall we.

16³. farre.

18¹. Nowe walke ye vp vnto the Sayle.

18³. vnketh.

18⁴. By chaunce some may ye.

19¹. cearle misprinted for earle.

19³. hym then to.

20¹. went anone vnto.

21¹. loked in B.

21². deme (for derne) strate.

21³. there wanting.

22¹. drousli (droufli?) than: semblaunt.

23¹. hanged ouer: eyes.

23⁴. on sommers.

24¹. full wanting.

24⁴. are you.

25³. you wanting.

26¹. is your.

26³. is a.

26⁴. haue I harde.

27¹. graunt the: wynde.

27². brethren all three.

28¹. went that.

28³. eyes.

29¹. vnto.

29². gan hym.

29⁴. downe on.

30². thou art.

30³. you wanting.

32³. right wanting.

33³. fayleth neuer so.

33⁴. was spred.

35⁴. that wanting.

36¹. I thank the, knyght, then said.

36². when I haue.

36³. By god I was neuer so gredy.

37³. dere wanting.

38³. Lytell John: Robyn hoode.

39¹. than wanting.

40¹. thou haue.

40³. I shall lende.

41⁴. Not any penny.

42⁴. halfe a.

43². full lowe.

43⁴. inowe wanting.

45¹. me one.

45³. thou were.

46¹. Or yls els: haste by.

46². stroke.

46⁴. thou wanting.

47¹. of them.

47³, 49³, 55³, etc. hundreth.

48². hat be.

49¹. two or three yerers.

49². wanting.

50^2,3. transposed.

50². hath shopen.

50⁴. god it amende.

51¹. than wanting.

51². lost thy.

52³. wenters.

53¹. Lancastshyre.

56². What shall.

58¹. eyes.

58³. frendes.

58⁴. ne wanting.

59². knowe mee.

59³. Whyles.

59⁴. boste that.

60⁴. had wanting: neuer me.

61². Much also.

62¹. frendes.

62². borowes: wyll.

62³. than wanting.

62⁴. on a.

63¹. than wanting.

63³. I haue.

64¹. made me.

64³. me wanting.

65³. yf wanting.

67⁴. it well tolde.

68⁴. eyghten score.

69¹. lyttell Much.

69². greueth.

70⁴. To wrappe.

71². muche ryche.

72². that well mete it.

73¹. And of.

73². lept ouer.

73³. What the deuils.

73⁴. for wanting.

74¹. lought.

74³. hym the better.

74⁴. By god it cost.

75¹. than wanting.

75². All unto R.

75³. that knight an.

75⁴. al this.

76⁴. God lende that it.

78¹. shal.

78². clene.

78⁴. out wanting.

79⁴. Under the.

81³. may stande.

82². he thought.

83⁴. came.

84¹. spake the.

86³. xij monethes.

87¹. wanting.

87². his lande and fee.

87⁴, 95⁴. Disherited.

89². is his.

89⁴. sore.

91³. came.

92⁴. poundes.

93³. The highe.

94². taken.

96¹. not wanting.

96³. teme to.

98¹. wanting.

100³. corese.

101³. The shal.

102⁴. saluted.

103³. that the.

103⁴. me my.

104². hath made.

105⁴. To desyre you of.

106⁴. defend me from.

111¹. then wanting.

112². Sende.

112³. a assaye.

113¹. on then gan.

113². wanting.

115⁴. canst not.

118⁴. Ye get ye it.

119². were thou.

120³. of wanting.

121³. Haddest thou.

121⁴. I would haue rewarded thee.

122². royall chere.

122⁴. fast gan.

123⁴. on a.

124³. I shall.

128³. not be.

129². is wanting.

129⁴. came.

130³. got.

131². stringes were well dyght.

132³. And nocked y^e were with.

133³. sute.

134³. And rode.

135¹. But wanting: by a bridg was.

136². vp ypyght.

136⁴. burnisshed.

137². in good fay.

137³. that wanting.

138³. fayre and frend.

139². where y^e he.

140¹. the wanting.

140². him in fere.

141¹. sholdreth and: come for rome.

142². laye than.

142⁴. And drynke.

143⁴. the wanting.

145². shute.

146². alway cleft.

146⁴. gan.

147². a wanting.

147⁴. That euer I dyd see.

148¹. me thou.

148³. thou wast.

148⁴. wining.

149¹. sir wanting.

150². Wylt.

151³. gete leue.

152³. gaue to him anone.

153². He geue vs.

154¹. me wanting.

154⁴. he had yete.

156³. to wanting.

156⁴. me meate.

157¹. to long.

157². Fasting so long to.

157³. sir wanting.

157⁴. geue thou.

158⁴. had lere.

160¹. rappe.

160². backe yede nygh into.

160³. lyueth an hundreth wynter.

160⁴. worse he should go.

161². went vp.

161³. And there: a wanting.

161⁴. of wanting.

162³. liue this.

162⁴. shall ye.

163¹. and also dronke.

163². that he.

164². hyne, perhaps rightly.

164³. an householde to.

164⁴. For wanting.

165³. to God wanting.

165⁴. do lyke wel me.

166¹. a hardy.

167¹. ful wanting.

167³. for wanting.

168². wel wanting.

169⁴. I me.

170⁴. Chaunged it should.

173⁴. same day at nyght.

174¹. The hyed.

175¹. the wanting.

175³. masers and.

175⁴. they non.

176¹. they toke.

176². and three.

176³. And hyed.

176⁴. wode tree.

177⁴. Welcome thou art to me.

178¹. And so is that good.

178². That thou hast brought wyth the.

179². And he hath send the.

179³. His cope.

180¹. advow.

181¹. there wanting.

181⁴. at his.

182³. coulde his.

184¹. haue nowe.

185¹. I se.

185³. of wanting: a.

186¹. tyndes be.

187³. Buske the.

188³. afore.

188⁴. sir wanting.

189³. worthe the.

189⁴. now betrayed.

191². well wanting.

192¹. good chere.

192⁴. lyfe is graunted.

193³. commaunded.

194¹. cote a pye.

194³. toke.

195¹. wight yemen.

195³. shall: in that sorte.

196¹. that proude.

196⁴. sydes do smarte.

197¹. chere wanting.

198⁴. dwel longe.

199¹. these.

200¹. Or I here another nyght lye.

201³. the best.

202³. Thou shalt neuer wayte me skathe.

202⁴. nor by.

203². by day.

204¹. swore.

204². he wanting.

204⁴. was any man.

205². that he was gone.

206². Hode wanting.

206⁴. pay.

209¹. walke wanting: into the.

209³. And loke for some straunge.

209⁴. By chaunce you.

210². a wanting.

210^3,4. as in b.

211¹. sterte.

211². fraye.

212¹. went than vnto.

213¹. as he.

214². can.

214⁴. these monkes.

215². And bende we.

215³. harte.

216¹. but lii men.

218². Make you yonder preste.

220¹. An euell.

220². vnder the.

221¹. What hyght your.

222². shall sore rewe.

223¹. a bowe.

223². Redy.

223⁴. gan.

224¹. twoo and fifty wyght yemen.

224². abode but.

226². whan he did se.

229¹. an.

231¹. The made.

231⁴. serued them.

234². mote I thryue or the.

236². Ye nede not so to saye.

236³. hath brought it.

237¹. And wanting.

238¹. broughte.

238³. the eft agayne.

238⁴. of me.

240³. right wise.

241². mayest.

242¹. made wanting.

242³. I do the thanke.

243⁴. So mote I thryue or the.

244². not out one.

244³. hast nede.

244⁴. shall I: to wanting.

245¹. fyne more sayd.

245⁴. Thereof I wyll haue.

247¹. John layd.

247³. he wanting.

247⁴. hundreth poundes.

248⁴. cost.

249². that tolde.

249³. the trust.

252¹. And she haue nede of ony.

256¹. And what is on the other courser.

256². sothe we must.

256³. than wanting.

259⁴. second in wanting.

263¹. light fro his.

263². can.

263³. Right curteysly.

265¹. good Robin.

266⁴. They would.

267¹. agayne.

267³. than sayd.

267⁴. that wanting.

268¹. no grefe: printed in two lines.

268³. dyd helpe.

269¹. Now, by my treuthe than sayd.

269². For that, knight, thanke.

270¹. poundes.

270³. there.

270^3,4. printed in one line.

271¹. than wanting.

271³. her high.

272¹. And I should take: twyse.

272⁴. thou art.

273¹. And whan.

273². laughed and made.

274⁴. Under this trusty.

275². fethered.

275³. gentyl knyght.

276². My wyll done that it be.

277³. bye the a hors.

277⁴. the for thy (as me, be for my, by).

279². I dyd lende.

280². of all his.

280³. sytteth.

283³. they that shote al of the best.

283⁴. The best.

284¹. al of the best.

284³. of goodly.

285³. fethers.

286². his trusty.

286³, 288³. wyght yemen.

287¹. mery yemen.

287³. I shall knowe.

288². Their arowes fethere free.

289³. archers.

289⁴. shote.

291¹. can.

292². he clefte.

292⁴. the lylly white.

294¹. Whan that.

294³. than was.

294⁴. good Robin.

295¹. To him.

295³. gyft full.

295⁴. than would.

296². gan the.

297². Thus chering.

297³. Another promyse thou made to me.

297⁴. Within the wylde.

298¹. And I had y^e in the gr[e]ne forest.

298². trusty tree.

298³. me leue.

300⁴. away belyue.

301⁴. Amonge the.

302¹. John he was hort.

302². in the.

303². loues.

304⁴. nowe to.

305². smite thou of.

305³. woundes so wyde and longe.

305⁴. That I after eate no breade.

306¹. that wanting.

306². slayne.

306⁴. Though I had it all by me.

307¹. forbyd that: Much then.

307⁴. Depart.

308⁴. another a whyle.

312¹. I do the thankes for thy comfort.

312^2,3. And for.

313¹. all the.

314¹. Shutte.

314⁴. wall.

315¹. the hote.

315³. Thou shalt these xij dayes abide.

316². Redye.

316⁴. gan.

317². vnto the.

317³. Howe the proude shirife began.

319¹. can.

319³. kepest there.

319⁴. lawes.

320⁴. am true.

321². do ye no more vnto.

322³. he went.

323⁴. That noble were and.

324¹. He wolde: had.

324³. He wold.

325¹. the kynge.

326¹. Go home, thou proude sheryfe.

326². the bydde.

329⁴. Therfore.

330¹. Ther he.

330³. that gentyl.

330⁴. and by.

331¹. awayted that.

331⁴. his hauke.

332¹. misprinted To be.

332³. him home to.

332⁴. Ybounde.

333². on a tree.

333⁴. robin hode had he.

334¹. Then the lady the.

334². a wanting.

335¹. to the.

335³. There she found.

336¹. Robyn Hode.

336³. ladyes loue.

337¹. Let thou.

337². to be.

337³. bound.

338². so wanting.

338³. ytake.

338⁴. The proude shirife than sayd she.

339. Only this: He is not yet passed thre myles, You may them ouertake.

340². a man: ben.

340³. mery yemen.

340⁴. on a tree.

341². on a tree.

341^3,4. And by him that al thinges maketh No lenger shall dwell with me.

342¹. ybent.

343². The knight would.

343³. And yf ye he may him take.

343⁴. Yquyte than shall he bee.

344⁴. gan the.

346². so fast.

346⁴. That is.

347¹. full wanting.

347². at his.

349². may thou thryue.

349³. to the.

349⁴. thou wast.

351¹. start.

351². cut into.

354⁴. and wanting.

355¹. them for men.

356². vnderstode.

357¹. the compasse.

357². He wend.

358². a one.

358³. fynde any.

359⁴. eyes.

360³. He should.

361². it with.

364³. to no.

366². By halte.

366⁴. And vsed.

368². That we be.

368⁴. walked: by your.

369². on the.

369⁴. I saye.

370⁴. eyes.

371¹. hastely.

371³. They were all in.

371⁴. thyther blythe.

375². Standinge by.

376¹. toke wanting.

376⁴. you.

377⁴. Other shyft haue not we.

378². And good.

380³. full wanting.

381³. a.

381⁴. I would geve it to the.

382². And deuyde it than did he.

382³. Half he gaue to.

384². He hath sent.

384³. to wanting.

384⁴. and to.

385¹. brode seale.

385². lete me.

387⁴. trusty tre.

388¹. he had.

388⁴. fast was.

389². he can it.

389³. wyght yemen.

389⁴. Came runnyng.

391². pene.

392¹. hastely: dyght.

392². can.

394⁴. Blessed may.

395². that thou.

395³. maiest.

395⁴. together by lente.

396⁴. ben.

397¹. werd.

397². can the.

397³. fifty space.

398². The.

400^1,2. A good buffet on his head bare, For that shalbe his fyne.

400³. And those: fell to.

401⁴. the lilly white hande.

404². And than he.

405⁴. syr wanting.

406¹. the kyng.

407². largely.

407⁴. folded.

408¹. geue.

408⁴. a tall.

409². can wel.

409⁴. Togeder they gan.

410¹. Stedfastly in.

411². they sawe.

411⁴. wele.

412¹. than sayd Robin.

412². this trusty.

412⁴. for me.

413¹. And yet sayd good Robin.

413². As good god do me.

413³. aske the.

413⁴. I it.

414¹. than wanting.

414². Thy peticion I graunt the.

414³. So y^t thou wylt leue.

415¹. syr wanting.

415². There to.

417¹. But and I lyke not.

417². I wyll.

417⁴. I was.

418². now sell.

419³. To sel to me.

420¹. for good.

420³. And other.

421¹. his cote.

421³. had so ywys.

421⁴. They clothed them full soone.

422³. shal we.

422⁴. All this our kyng can.

423¹. The bent their bowes.

424². and as.

424³. And all they shot.

425⁴. kyng whan he did paye.

426¹. the kyng.

428¹. to the other can.

429¹. hastely.

430². them to come.

430³. sawe.

431⁴. of the.

432³. Robin hode.

433¹. Robin hode: dwelleth.

433³. That he had.

434². lay.

434³. and squyers.

435¹. all gone.

436⁴. wend.

437³. commended for.

438². Alas what shall I do.

439⁴. my.

440⁴. And there would I faene be.

441¹. might no time this seuen nightes.

441³. Neyther all this.

441⁴. eate nor.

442³. wolward haue I.

443³. nyghtes.

446³. I haue a lyttell lust.

447². can.

448³. wyght yemen.

448⁴. Came runnyng.

449⁴. Under the.

450¹. dwelleth.

450². yeres.

450³. Than for all.

452². Donkester.

452³. wanting.

452⁴. For euyll mot thou the.

Thus endeth the lyfe of Robyn hode.

g.

Title and heading as in f.

1². free borne.

1⁴. yfound.

2². Whilst: on the.

3². leaned vpon a.

3³. stode wanting.

4¹. Scathlock, and always.

4². milners.

4³. was no.

5¹. bespake him.

5³. if you.

6¹. hym wanting: Robin hood.

6². I haue.

6³. that wanting.

6⁴. vnketh.

7¹. wanting.

7³. or some squire.

9². The other.

9³. was of.

9⁴. of all other.

10¹. he loued.

11³. what way we: gone.

11⁴. that wanting.

13¹. than wanting.

13³. you: husbandman.

13⁴. with the.

14¹. you.

14⁴. That would.

15¹. These wanting.

15⁴. ye wanting.

16¹. be wanting.

16². shall we.

17². goe with.

18¹. Now walke ye vp vnto the shore.

18⁴. By chance some may ye meet.

19³. him then.

20¹. went anon vnto.

21¹. looked in.

21². a deme.

21³. came there.

22¹. All drouflye, perhaps (wrongly) drouslye: semblant.

22³. on the.

22⁴. The other.

23¹. ouer his eyes.

23⁴. on summers.

24¹. full wanting.

24⁴. you.

25³. you wanting.

26¹. is your.

26³. is a.

26⁴. haue I.

27². bretheren all three.

28¹. went that.

28³. eyes.

29¹. vnto the.

29². gan him.

29³. he did.

29⁴. downe on.

30². thou art.

30³. you wanting.

32³. right wanting.

33³. neuer so.

33⁴. was spread.

35⁴. that wanting.

36¹. I thanke thee knight then said.

36². when I haue.

36³. By God I was neuer so greedy.

37¹. ere you.

37². Me thinke is.

37³. dere wanting.

38³. Little John: Robin hood.

39¹. than wanting.

40¹. thou haue.

40⁴. I shall.

41⁴. Not any peny.

42⁴. halfe a.

43². full lowe.

43⁴. inowe wanting.

45¹. one word.

45³. thou wert: a wanting.

46¹. hast be.

46². stroke.

46⁴. With whores hast thou.

47¹. of these.

47³. An hundreth winters.

47⁴. haue be.

48¹. of it.

48². disgrast.

49¹. Within 2 or 3 yeares: said he.

49². wanting.

49³, 55³, 67³, etc. hundreth.

50^2,3. transposed.

50². hath shapen.

50⁴. God it amend.

51¹. than wanting.

51². lost.

52³. winters.

53¹. Lancashire.

54¹. landes be.

56². What shall.

58¹. eyes.

58³. friends.

58⁴. ne wanting.

59². a one: knowe me.

59³. Whiles.

60⁴. had wanting.

61¹. misprinted ruthe they went.

61². Much also.

62¹. friends.

62². borrowes: will.

62³. than wanting.

62⁴. on a.

63¹. thy iest: than wanting.

63². I will.

63³. will God.

64¹. made me.

64². doth misprinted for both.

64³. me wanting.

65³. yf wanting.

65⁴. faileth.

67⁴. it well tolde.

68³. tolde forth.

68⁴. eighteene score.

69¹. little much.

69². grieued.

69⁴. fallen.

70⁴. To wrap.

71². much rich.

72². that well ymet it.

73¹. And of.

73². leped ouer.

73⁴. for wanting.

74¹. full wanting: laught.

74³. the better measure.

74⁴. By God it cost.

75¹. than wanting.

75². All vnto R.

75³. an.

75⁴. all his good.

76¹. God lend that it be.

78². clene.

78⁴. bring them.

79³. months.

79⁴. Vnder the.

81³. the wanting.

82². he thought.

83⁴. came.

84¹. spake the.

85³. vpon wanting.

86³. months: there wanting.

87¹. wanting.

87². land and fee.

87⁴, 95⁴. Disherited.

88³. a.

88⁴. lay it.

89². is his.

89⁴. sore.

90⁴. You doe him.

92⁴. pounds.

93¹. and high.

93². Stert.

93³. The high.

94². taken.

95³. comes.

96¹. not wanting.

96³. to them.

98¹. wanting.

100³. best corse.

100⁴. I wanting.

101¹. them to.

101³. come there.

102⁴. saluted.

103⁴. me my.

104². hath made.

105⁴. To desire of.

106⁴. defend me against.

109². wanting.

110³. thy lande.

111¹. then wanting.

112². Send.

113¹. on them.

113². wanting.

113⁴. Step thee: of the.

116¹. tournaments.

116². farre that.

117². a wanting.

117³. Or else: safely say.

118⁴. Ye get not my land so.

119¹. thousand pound more.

119². were thou.

121². that wanting.

121³. Hadst.

121⁴. I would haue rewarded thee.

122². royall cheere.

122⁴. gan.

123². to thee.

123⁴. on a.

124¹. and you.

124². held.

128³. had not.

129². is wanting.

129⁴. came on the.

130³. got.

132³. And nocked they were with.

133³. suite.

134³. And rode.

135¹. As he went vp a bridge was.

136^1,2. wanting.

136³. with a.

137². in good.

137³. that wanting.

138³. friend bested.

138⁴. Yslaine.

139². where that.

139³. the yeoman.

139⁴. the loue.

140². him in feare.

141¹. all wanting.

142¹. markes.

142⁴. And drinke.

143². that the.

143⁴. the wanting.

146². alway claue.

146⁴. gan.

147⁴. euer I did see.

148¹. me thou.

148³. wast thou.

148⁴. wonning.

149¹. sir wanting.

149². al wanting.

150². Wilt.

151³. ye get leave.

152³. to him anon.

153². He giue vs.

154¹. me wanting.

154⁴. he had yet.

155¹. befell.

155⁴. forgot.

156². the wanting.

156³. to wanting.

156⁴. me meat.

157². Fasting so long to.

157³. sir wanting.

157⁴. giue thou.

158¹. Shalt neither eat nor drinke.

159¹. was vncourteous.

159². on the.

160¹. a rappe.

160². backe yede nigh.

160³. liueth: winters.

160⁴. he still shall goe.

161². ope.

161³. there: a large.

161⁴. and wine.

162¹. you.

162³. you liue this.

162⁴. shall ye.

163¹. eat and also drunke.

163³. in the.

164¹. my.

164². hine: perhaps rightly.

164³. an housholde for.

165³. to God wanting.

165⁴. doe like well.

166¹. and a.

167¹. ful wanting.

167². toke wanting.

167³. for wanting.

168². well wanting.

169⁴. euer I saw yet.

170⁴. changed it should.

171⁴. we will.

173³. ylke day at.

174¹. They hied.

174². they could.

174³. full wanting.

174⁴. euery one.

175¹. the wanting.

175³. masers and.

175⁴. they none.

176¹. Also they.

176². and three.

176³. And hied them to.

176⁴. wood tree.

177³. And thou.

177⁴. Welcome thou art to me.

178¹. And so is that good yeoman.

178². That thou hast brought with.

179². He hath sent thee here.

179³. His cup.

180². And by.

181¹. there wanting.

181³. he ran wanting.

181⁴. at his.

182². hound.

182³. could his.

183¹. saue thee.

183². you saue.

183⁴. haue you.

184¹. haue now be in the.

185¹. I see.

185³. of wanting.

186¹. tindes be.

187¹. my.

187³. Buske thee.

188². A foote.

188³. afore.

188⁴. sir wanting.

189³. worth thee.

189⁴. nowe wanting.

190¹. Litell wanting.

191². well wanting.

192¹. Make good.

192². of for for.

192⁴. life is graunted.

193¹. had all.

193³. commanded.

193⁴. hose and shoone.

194¹. coate a pie.

194³. tooke.

195¹. wight yeomen.

195³. That they shall lie in that sorte.

196¹. lay that.

196⁴. sides doe smart.

197¹. chere wanting.

198⁴. dwell long.

199¹. All this.

200¹. Or I heere an other night lie.

200². I pray.

200³. my: to morne.

200⁴. wanting.

201³. the best.

202³. Thou shalt: wait: scath.

202⁴. nor by.

203². or else by.

204². home againe to.

204³. as wanting.

204⁴. was any man.

205². that he was gon.

206². But Robin said.

206⁴. pay.

207³. dare sweare.

209¹. walke wanting: into the.

209³. And looke for some strange.

209⁴. By chance you.

210². a wanting.

210^3,4. as in b, excepting goods for good.

211². in a fray.

212¹. went then vnto.

213¹. as they.

213³. They were ware.

214⁴. These monkes.

215². And bend we.

215³. looke our.

216¹. hath but fifty and two man.

216⁴. royall.

217¹. Bretheren.

218². Make you yonder priest.

220¹. An.

221¹. What hight your.

222². sore rue.

223¹. a bowe.

223². Ready.

223⁴. ground he gan.

224¹. two and fiftie wight yeomen.

224². abode but.

225³. Hode wanting.

226¹. downe.

226². when he did.

226⁴. let it.

229¹. blowe we.

231⁴. serued him.

232³. you.

234². So mote I thriue of thee.

236². You neede not so to say.

236³. hath brought it.

237¹. And wanting.

238¹. hast the mony brought.

238³. eft againe.

238⁴. need of.

240¹. my.

241². not denay.

242¹. made wanting.

242³. I doe thee thanke.

243². Truth.

243⁴. So mought I thriue and thee.

244². not take one.

244³. hast need of.

244⁴. shall I: to wanting.

245¹. finde more said.

245³. spending-money.

245⁴. Thereof I will haue.

246⁴. penny let me.

247¹. John laid.

247². he wanting.

247⁴. Eight hundreth.

248³. true now.

248⁴. cost.

249². Monke that.

251¹. and to.

251³. need of.

252¹. haue need of any.

256¹. And what is in y^e other coffer.

256². we must.

256³. than wanting.

258². he wanting.

259⁴. or D.

263¹. light from his.

263². can.

263³. Right for So: down.

265¹. bespake good Robin: Hode wanting.

266³. For wanting.

266⁴. They would.

267³. then said.

267⁴. And that.

268¹. take no griefe.

268³. did I helpe.

268⁴. they put.

269¹. Now by my truth then.

269². For that knight thanke.

270¹. than wanting.

270³. there is: also wanting.

271¹. then said.

271³. her hie.

272¹. And I should take it twice.

272². for me.

273¹. And when.

273². He laughed and made.

274⁴. this trusty.

275¹. do he said.

275². fethered.

275³. the gentle.

276². My will doone that it be.

276³. Go and fetch me foure: pounds.

277³. buye thee.

278³. shalt not.

278⁴. Whilste I.

279¹. well for.

279². I did send.

280². of all his.

280³. sitteth.

281¹. take.

281². wend.

283³. And they that shoote all of the best.

283⁴. The best.

284¹. all of the best.

284³. of goodly.

285¹. he should.

285³. and feathers.

285⁴. the like.

286². his trusty.

286³. ye ready you wight yeomen.

287¹. merry yeomen.

287³. I shall know.

288². Their takles.

288³. of wanting: wight yeomen.

289³. were: archers.

289⁴. shot.

291¹. The first.

291⁴. the buttes where.

292². he claue.

292⁴. lilly-white.

293⁴. they would.

294³. then was.

295¹. To him.

295³. guift full.

295⁴. then would.

296². A great horn gan he.

297¹. be to thee.

297². Thus cheering.

297³. An other promise thou madest to me.

297⁴. Within the greene.

298¹. But and I had thee there againe.

298². the trusty.

298³. giue me.

299³. was torne.

300⁴. away beliue.

301¹. broke.

301⁴. the for that.

302¹. he was.

302². on the knee.

303². you loued.

305². thou off.

305³. wounds so wide and long.

305⁴. That I after eat no bread.

306¹. that wanting.

306². wert slaine.

306⁴. Though I had it all by me.

307¹. forbid that: Much then.

307⁴. Depart.

308³. he set.

310². of the.

311³. be thou wanting.

312¹. I do thee thanke for.

312^2,3. And for.

313¹. all the.

314⁴. the wall.

315¹. thee hite.

315². And sweare.

315³. Thou shalt these twelue daies abide with me.

316². Ready and.

316⁴. gan.

317². hearken vnto the.

317³. sheriffe began.

319³. there: enemies.

319⁴. all law.

320¹. what I.

320⁴. a wanting.

321². doe ye.

321³. you wit your.

322³. he went.

323⁴. noble were and.

324¹. He would: had.

324³. He would.

325¹. said the.

325⁴. will I.

326¹. Goe home thou proude: sayde our kynge wanting.

326². I you bid.

329⁴. Therefore had.

330¹. there he.

330³. that gentle.

331¹. Euer awaited that.

331². of the.

331⁴. his hauke.

332¹. To betray this gentle knight.

332³. him home.

332⁴. Ybound.

333². on a tree.

333³. had rather then a.

333⁴. That Robin hood had hee.

334¹. Then the lady the.

334². a wanting.

335¹. to the.

335³. There found she.

335⁴. merry menye.

336³. loue for sake.

337¹. Let thou.

337³. bound.

338². so wanting.

338³. thy lord ytake.

338⁴. The proud sheriffe then said she.

339.

he is not yet passed three miles,

you may them ouertake:

340.

Vp then start good Robin

as a man that has been wake:

Buske ye, my merry yeomen,

for him that dyed on a tree.

341². on a tree.

341³. And by him that all things maketh.

341⁴. shall dwell.

342¹. ybent.

342². More.

342³. they spared none.

343². The knight.

343³. if ye may him ouertake.

343⁴. then shall he.

344⁴. gan.

345². so fast.

345⁴. thy boote.

347¹. full wanting.

347². at his.

349¹. the for thou.

349². may thou.

349³. to thee.

350³. it on.

350⁴. driue.

351². cut in.

353². leasind.

354⁴. hode if.

355¹. them for men.

356². vnderstood.

356⁴. all the knights land.

357¹. The compasse of.

357². wend.

358². many a one.

358³. finde any.

359⁴. eyes.

360². vnto.

360³. He should.

360⁴. of for at.

361². it with.

362³. O my.

364². his best.

364³. to no.

366². halt.

366³. he slew.

366⁴. And vsed.

368². now be.

368³. by your.

368⁴. a monks.

369¹. lodesman.

369². on the.

369⁴. come at.

370⁴. eyes.

371¹. hastily.

371³. They were all: monks weeds.

371⁴. thither blithe.

372⁴. to wanting.

374¹. sommer.

374³. Vntill.

375². by the.

376³. sayd wanting.

376⁴. you.

377⁴. Other shift haue not wee.

378². good for gold.

380³. full wanting.

381¹. I wanting.

381³. an.

381⁴. I would giue it to thee.

382². And deuided it then did he.

382³. Halfe he gaue to.

382⁴. to wanting.

383². Syr wanting.

384². He hath sent.

385¹. broad seale.

386³. be my.

387¹. tyding.

387⁴. the trusty.

388¹. he had.

388⁴. full was fast.

389². gan it.

389³. wight yeomen.

389⁴. running for redy.

392¹. hastily: dight.

392². can.

393⁴. the good ale browne.

394⁴. may thou.

395¹. I for we.

395². Or that.

395³. maist.

395⁴. be lend.

396⁴. beene.

397². can.

400^1,2. A good buffet on his head beare for this shall be his fine.

400³. And those: fell in.

401². claue.

401⁴. lilly white.

403². Fore: freends faire.

403³. of wanting.

404². then for thus.

405⁴. syr wanting.

406¹. said y^e.

406². be for by, as often.

407². largely.

407⁴. folded.

408⁴. a tall frier.

409². can.

409⁴. gan they meet.

410². Stedfast in.

411¹. the said!

411². sawe.

412¹. said Robin to.

412². this trusty.

412⁴. and for mee.

413¹. And yet said good R.

413². As good God do me.

413³. aske thee.

413⁴. I it.

414¹. than wanting.

414². Thy petition I graunt thee.

414³. So that thou wilt leaue.

415¹. syr wanting.

415². There to dwell.

417¹. But and I like not.

417². I will.

417⁴. I was.

418². nowe wanting.

419³. To sell.

421¹. his cote.

421³. had so ywis.

421⁴. They clothed them full.

422². the gray.

422³. Now shall we.

422⁴. All this: can.

423¹. They bent their.

424³. And all they.

425⁴. king when he did pay.

426¹. said the.

426⁴. I shot.

428¹. togither can.

428⁴. leaueth not one.

429¹. hastely.

430². to come againe.

430³. saw our.

431⁴. of the.

432³. Robin hood.

433¹. Robin hood dwelled.

433³. That he had.

434³. and squires.

434⁴. a great.

435¹. gone.

435⁴. hym wanting.

436². faire.

436⁴. wend.

437³. was commended for the.

438². Alas what shall I doe.

440⁴. there would I faine be.

441¹. might no time this: nights.

441². one for ne.

441³. all this.

441⁴. nor for ne.

442³. haue I.

443³. nights.

446³. I haue a little lust for.

447². can.

448³. wight yeomen.

448⁴. running for redy.

449⁴. Vnder the.

450². yeeres.

450³. Then for dred.

452². Dankastre.

452³. wanting.

452⁴. For euill: they thee.

455³. good wanting.

Thus endeth the life of Robin hood.

118
ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE

‘Guye of Gisborne,’ Percy MS., p. 262; Hales and Furnivall, II, 227.

First printed in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 1765, I, 74, and, with less deviation from the original, in the fourth edition, 1794, I, 81. Reprinted from the Reliques in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, I, 114.

Robin Hood has had a dream that he has been beaten and bound by two yeomen, who have taken away his bow. He vows that he will have vengeance, and sets out in search of them with Little John. Robin and John shoot as they go, till they come to the greenwood and see a yeoman leaning against a tree, clad in a horse-hide, with head, tail, and mane. John proposes to go to the yeoman to ask his intentions. Robin considers this to be forward of John, and speaks so roughly to him that John parts company, and returns to Barnsdale. Things are in a bad way there: the sheriff of Nottingham has attacked Robin’s band; two have been slain; Scarlett is flying, and the sheriff in pursuit with seven score men. John sends an arrow at the pursuers, which kills one of them; but his bow breaks, and John is made prisoner and tied to a tree.

Robin learns from the man in horse-hide that he is seeking Robin Hood, but has lost his way. Robin offers to be his guide, and as they go through the wood proposes a shooting-match. Both shoot well, but Robin so much the better that the other breaks out into expressions of admiration, and asks his name. Tell me thine first, says Robin. “I am Guy of Gisborne;” “and I Robin Hood, whom thou long hast sought.” They fight fiercely for two hours; Robin stumbles and is hit, but invokes the Virgin’s aid, leaps up and kills Guy. He nicks Guy’s face so that it cannot be recognized, throws his own green gown over the body, puts on the horse-hide, and blows Guy’s horn. The sheriff hears in the sound tidings that Guy has slain Robin, and thinks it is Guy that he sees coming in the horse-hide. The supposed Guy is offered anything that he will ask, but will take no reward but the boon of serving the knave as he has the master. Robin hies to Little John, looses him, and gives him Sir Guy’s bow. The sheriff takes to flight, but cannot outrun John’s arrow, which cleaves his heart.

The beginning, and perhaps the development, of the story might have been more lucid but for verses lost at the very start. Robin Hood dreams of two yeomen that beat and bind him, and goes to seek them, “in greenwood where they be.” Sir Guy being one, the other person pointed at must of course be the sheriff of Nottingham (who seems to be beyond his beat in Yorkshire,[^[81]] but outlaws can raise no questions of jurisdiction), in league with Sir Guy (a Yorkshireman, who has done many a curst turn) for the capture or slaying of Robin. The dream simply foreshadows danger from two quarters. But Robin Hood is nowhere informed, as we are, that the sheriff is out against him with seven score men, has attacked his camp, and taken John prisoner. He knows nothing of this so far on as stanza 45³, where, after killing Guy, he says he will go to Barnsdale to see how his men are faring. Why then does he make his arrangements in stanzas 42–45², before he returns to Barnsdale, to pass himself off for Sir Guy? Plainly this device is adopted with the knowledge that John is a prisoner, and as a means of delivering him; which all that follows shows. Our embarrassment is the greater because we cannot point out any place in the story at which the necessary information could have been conveyed; there is no cranny where it could have been thrust in. It will not be enough, therefore, to suppose that verses have dropped out; there must also have been a considerable derangement of the story.

The abrupt transition from the introductory verses, 1, 2^1,2, is found in Adam Bell, and the like occurs in other ballads.

A fragment of a dramatic piece founded on the ballad of Guy of Gisborne has been preserved in manuscript of the date of 1475, or earlier.[^[82]] In this, a knight, not named, engages to take Robin Hood for the sheriff, and is promised gold and fee if he does. The knight accosts Robin, and proposes that they shoot together. They shoot, cast the stone, cast the axle-tree, perhaps wrestle (for the knight has a fall), then fight to the utterance. Robin has the mastery, cuts off the knight’s head, and dons his clothes, putting the head into his hood. He hears from a man who comes along that Robin Hood and his men have been taken by the sheriff, and says, Let us go kill the sheriff. Then follows, out of the order of time, as is necessary in so brief a piece, the capture of Friar Tuck and the others by the sheriff. The variations from the Percy MS. story may be arbitrary, or may be those of another version of the ballad. The friar is called Tuck, as in the other play: see Robin Hood and the Potter.

‘Syr sheryffë, for thy sakë,

Robyn Hode wull Y takë.’

‘I wyll the gyffë golde and fee,

This behestë þou holdë me.’

‘Robyn Hode, ffayre and fre,

Vndre this lyndë shotë we.’

‘With the shote Y wyll,

Alle thy lustës to full fyll.’

‘Have at the prykë!’

‘And Y cleuë the stykë.’

‘Late vs castë the stone.’

‘I grauntë well, be Seynt John.’

‘Late vs castë the exaltre.’

‘Have a foote be-forë the!

Syr knyght, ye haue a falle.’

‘And I the, Robyn, qwytë shall.’

‘Owte on the! I blowë myn horne.’

‘Hit warë better be vnborne.’

‘Lat vs fyght at ottrauncë.’

‘He that fleth, God gyfe hym myschauncë!

Now I hauë the maystry herë,

Off I smytë this sory swyrë.

This knyghtys clothis wolle I werë,

And in my hode his hede woll berë.

Welle mete, felowë myn:

What herst þou of gode Robyn?’

‘Robyn Hode and his menye

With the sheryff takyn be.’

‘Sette on footë with gode wyll,

And the sheryffë wull we kyll.’

‘Beholde wele Ffrere Tukë,

Howe he dothe his bowë plukë.

Ȝeld yow, syrs, to the sheryff[ë],

Or elles shall your bowës clyffë.’

‘Nowe we be bownden alle in samë;

Frere [T]uke, þis is no gamë.’

‘Co[m]e þou forth, þou fals outlawë:

Þou shall b[e] hangyde and ydrawë.’

‘Now, allas! what shall we doo!

We [m]ostë to the prysone goo.’

‘Opy[n] the yatis faste anon,

An[d] [d]oo theis thevys ynnë gon.’[^[83]]

Ritson pointed out that Guy of Gisborne is named with “other worthies, it is conjectured of a similar stamp,” in a satirical piece of William Dunbar, ‘Of Sir Thomas Norray.’

Was never vyld Robeine wnder bewch,

Nor ȝet Roger of Clekkinsklewch,

So bauld a bairne as he;

Gy of Gysburne, na Allan Bell,

Nor Simones sonnes of Quhynfell,

At schot war nevir so slie.[^[84]]

Ed. John Small, Part II, p. 193.

Gisburne is in the West Riding of Yorkshire, on the borders of Lancashire, seven miles from Clitheroe.

He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin

Might haue seene a full fayre sight, 36^1,2,

anticipates Byron:—

By heaven, it is a splendid sight to see,

For one who hath no friend, no brother, there.

Childe Harold, I, 40^1,2.

Translated, after Percy’s Reliques, by Bodmer, II, 128; La Motte Fouqué, in Büsching’s Erzählungen, p. 241; Doenniges, p. 174; Anastasius Grün, p. 103; Cesare Cantù, Documenti, etc., p. 799 (the first thirty-seven stanzas).

1

When shawes beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,

And leeues both large and longe,

Itt is merrry, walking in the fayre fforrest,

To heare the small birds songe.

2

The woodweele sang, and wold not cease,

Amongst the leaues a lyne:

And it is by two wight yeomen,

By deare God, that I meane.

*       *       *       *       *

3

‘Me thought they did mee beate and binde,

And tooke my bow mee froe;

If I bee Robin a-liue in this lande,

I’le be wrocken on both them towe.’

4

‘Sweauens are swift, master,’ quoth Iohn,

‘As the wind that blowes ore a hill;

Ffor if itt be neuer soe lowde this night,

To-morrow it may be still.’

5

‘Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,

Ffor Iohn shall goe with mee;

For I’le goe seeke yond wight yeomen

In greenwood where the bee.’

6

Thé cast on their gowne of greene,

A shooting gone are they,

Vntill they came to the merry greenwood,

Where they had gladdest bee;

There were the ware of [a] wight yeoman,

His body leaned to a tree.

7

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,

Had beene many a mans bane,

And he was cladd in his capull-hyde,

Topp, and tayle, and mayne.

8

‘Stand you still, master,’ quoth Litle Iohn,

‘Vnder this trusty tree,

And I will goe to yond wight yeoman,

To know his meaning trulye.’

9

‘A, Iohn, by me thou setts noe store,

And that’s a ffarley thinge;

How offt send I my men beffore,

And tarry my-selfe behinde?

10

‘It is noe cunning a knaue to ken,

And a man but heare him speake;

And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,

Iohn, I wold thy head breake.’

11

But often words they breeden bale,

That parted Robin and Iohn;

Iohn is gone to Barn[e]sdale,

The gates he knowes eche one.

12

And when hee came to Barnesdale,

Great heauinesse there hee hadd;

He ffound two of his fellowes

Were slaine both in a slade,

13

And Scarlett a ffoote flyinge was,

Ouer stockes and stone,

For the sheriffe with seuen score men

Fast after him is gone.

14

‘Yett one shoote I’le shoote,’ sayes Litle Iohn,

‘With Crist his might and mayne;

I’le make yond fellow that flyes soe fast

To be both glad and ffaine.’

15

Iohn bent vp a good veiwe bow,

And ffetteled him to shoote;

The bow was made of a tender boughe,

And fell downe to his foote.

16

‘Woe worth thee, wicked wood,’ sayd Litle Iohn,

‘That ere thou grew on a tree!

Ffor this day thou art my bale,

My boote when thou shold bee!’

17

This shoote it was but looselye shott,

The arrowe flew in vaine,

And it mett one of the sheriffes men;

Good William a Trent was slaine.

18

It had beene better for William a Trent

To hange vpon a gallowe

Then for to lye in the greenwoode,

There slaine with an arrowe.

19

And it is sayd, when men be mett,

Six can doe more then three:

And they haue tane Litle Iohn,

And bound him ffast to a tree.

20

‘Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,’ quoth the sheriffe,

‘And hanged hye on a hill:’

‘But thou may ffayle,’ quoth Litle Iohn,

‘If itt be Christs owne will.’

21

Let vs leaue talking of Litle Iohn,

For hee is bound fast to a tree,

And talke of Guy and Robin Hood,

In the green woode where they bee.

22

How these two yeomen together they mett,

Vnder the leaues of lyne,

To see what marchandise they made

Euen at that same time.

23

‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ quoth Sir Guy;

‘Good morrow, good ffellow,’ quoth hee;

‘Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,

A good archer thou seems to bee.’

24

‘I am wilfull of my way,’ quoth Sir Guye,

‘And of my morning tyde:’

‘I’le lead thee through the wood,’ quoth Robin,

‘Good ffellow, I’le be thy guide.’

25

‘I seeke an outlaw,’ quoth Sir Guye,

‘Men call him Robin Hood;

I had rather meet with him vpon a day

Then forty pound of golde.’

26

‘If you tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were better

Afore yee did part awaye;

Let vs some other pastime find,

Good ffellow, I thee pray.

27

‘Let vs some other masteryes make,

And wee will walke in the woods euen;

Wee may chance mee[t] with Robin Hoode

Att some vnsett steven.’

28

They cutt them downe the summer shroggs

Which grew both vnder a bryar,

And sett them three score rood in twinn,

To shoote the prickes full neare.

29

‘Leade on, good ffellow,’ sayd Sir Guye,

‘Lead on, I doe bidd thee:’

‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood,

‘The leader thou shalt bee.’

30

The first good shoot that Robin ledd

Did not shoote an inch the pricke ffroe;

Guy was an archer good enoughe,

But he cold neere shoote soe.

31

The second shoote Sir Guy shott,

He shott within the garlande;

But Robin Hoode shott it better then hee,

For he cloue the good pricke-wande.

32

‘Gods blessing on thy heart!’ sayes Guye,

‘Goode ffellow, thy shooting is goode;

For an thy hart be as good as thy hands,

Thou were better then Robin Hood.

33

‘Tell me thy name, good ffellow,’ quoth Guy,

‘Vnder the leaues of lyne:’

‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth good Robin,

‘Till thou haue told me thine.’

34

‘I dwell by dale and downe,’ quoth Guye,

‘And I haue done many a curst turne;

And he that calles me by my right name

Calles me Guye of good Gysborne.’

35

‘My dwelling is in the wood,’ sayes Robin;

‘By thee I set right nought;

My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale,

A ffellow thou has long sought.’

36

He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin

Might haue seene a full fayre sight,

To see how together these yeomen went,

With blades both browne and bright.

37

To haue seene how these yeomen together foug[ht],

Two howers of a summers day;

Itt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood

That ffettled them to flye away.

38

Robin was reacheles on a roote,

And stumbled at that tyde,

And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,

And hitt him ore the left side.

39

‘Ah, deere Lady!’ sayd Robin Hoode,

‘Thou art both mother and may!

I thinke it was neuer mans destinye

To dye before his day.’

40

Robin thought on Our Lady deere,

And soone leapt vp againe,

And thus he came with an awkwarde stroke;

Good Sir Guy hee has slayne.

41

He tooke Sir Guys head by the hayre,

And sticked itt on his bowes end:

‘Thou hast beene traytor all thy liffe,

Which thing must haue an ende.’

42

Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,

And nicked Sir Guy in the fface,

That hee was neuer on a woman borne

Cold tell who Sir Guye was.

43

Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye,

And with me be not wrothe;

If thou haue had the worse stroakes at my hand,

Thou shalt haue the better cloathe.

44

Robin did off his gowne of greene,

Sir Guye hee did it throwe;

And hee put on that capull-hyde,

That cladd him topp to toe.

45

‘The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne,

And with me now I’le beare;

Ffor now I will goe to Barn[e]sdale,

To see how my men doe ffare.’

46

Robin sett Guyes horne to his mouth,

A lowd blast in it he did blow;

That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,

As he leaned vnder a lowe.

47

‘Hearken! hearken!’ sayd the sheriffe,

‘I heard noe tydings but good;

For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blowe,

For he hath slaine Robin Hoode.

48

‘For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blow,

Itt blowes soe well in tyde,

For yonder comes that wighty yeoman,

Cladd in his capull-hyde.

49

‘Come hither, thou good Sir Guy,

Aske of mee what thou wilt haue:’

‘I’le none of thy gold,’ sayes Robin Hood,

‘Nor I’le none of itt haue.

50

‘But now I haue slaine the master,’ he sayd,

‘Let me goe strike the knaue;

This is all the reward I aske,

Nor noe other will I haue.’

51

‘Thou art a madman,’ said the shiriffe,

‘Thou sholdest haue had a knights ffee;

Seeing thy asking [hath] beene soe badd,

Well granted it shall be.’

52

But Litle Iohn heard his master speake,

Well he knew that was his steuen;

‘Now shall I be loset,’ quoth Litle Iohn,

‘With Christs might in heauen.’

53

But Robin hee hyed him towards Litle Iohn,

Hee thought hee wold loose him beliue;

The sheriffe and all his companye

Fast after him did driue.

54

‘Stand abacke! stand abacke!’ sayd Robin;

‘Why draw you mee soe neere?

Itt was neuer the vse in our countrye

One’s shrift another shold heere.’

55

But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe,

And losed Iohn hand and ffoote,

And gaue him Sir Guyes bow in his hand,

And bade it be his boote.

56

But Iohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand—

His arrowes were rawstye by the roote—;

The sherriffe saw Litle Iohn draw a bow

And ffettle him to shoote.

57

Towards his house in Nottingam

He ffled full fast away,

And soe did all his companye,

Not one behind did stay.

58

But he cold neither soe fast goe,

Nor away soe fast runn,

But Litle Iohn, with an arrow broade,

Did cleaue his heart in twinn.

---

1¹. When shales beeene.

1⁴. birds singe.

2¹. woodweete.

2³. by 2.

11¹. ball.

12³. 2 of.

13³. with 7.

15¹. veiwe. The word is partly pared away.

15⁴. footee.

18¹. a william.

19². 6 can ... 3.

21⁴. in they green.

22¹. these 2.

23⁴. archer: an e has been added at the end. Furnivall.

25⁴. 40li
:.

27⁴. a stroke before the v of steven. Furnivall.

28³. 3 score.

31¹. 2d
:.

32³. for on.

37². 2 howers.

44¹. did on.

55¹. kniffee.

119
ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK

a. MS. of about 1450: Cambridge University Library, Ff. 5. 48, fol. 128 b. b. One leaf of a MS. of the same age, containing stanzas 69³–72, 77²–80²: Bagford Ballads, vol. i, art. 6, British Museum.

a is printed from the manuscript in Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 54, 1806; Hartshorne’s Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 179, 1829; Ritson’s Robin Hood, ed. 1832, II, 221, collated by Sir Frederic Madden. Here printed from a fresh transcript, carefully revised by Rev. Professor Skeat.

On a bright Whitsuntide morning, Robin Hood, not having “seen his Savior” for more than a fortnight, resolves to go to mass at Nottingham. Much advises that he take twelve yeomen with him for safety, but Robin will have only Little John. They improve the time, while on their way to church, by shooting for a wager. Robin scornfully offers John three to one; but John nevertheless wins five shillings of his master, at which Robin loses his temper, and strikes John. John will be his man no more, and returns to the wood. Robin, sorry for this consequence of his bad humor, goes on to Nottingham alone. A monk at Saint Mary’s church recognizes Robin, and gives information to the sheriff, who comes with a large force to arrest the king’s felon. Robin kills or wounds many of the posse, but his sword breaks upon the sheriff’s head. In some way which we do not learn, owing to verses lost,[^[85]] Robin’s men hear that their master has been taken. They are all out of their wits but Little John. Mild Mary, he tells his comrades, will never forsake one who has been so long devoted to her, and he, with her help, will see to the monk. The next day John and Much waylay the monk, who is carrying letters to the king conveying the tidings of Robin’s capture; they kill him, take the letters, and carry them to the king themselves. The king gives them twenty pounds for their news, and makes them yeomen of the crown; he sends his privy seal to the sheriff by John, commanding that Robin Hood shall be brought to him unhurt. The sheriff, upon receiving the seal, makes John good cheer, and goes to bed heavy with wine. John and Much, while the sheriff is sleeping, make their way to the jail. John rouses the porter, runs him through,[^[86]] and takes his keys, unbinds Robin Hood, and puts a good sword in his hand; they leap from the wall where it is lowest. The sheriff finds the jailer dead in the morning, and searches the town for his captive; but Robin is in merry Sherwood. Farewell now, says John; I have done thee a good turn for an ill. Nay, says Robin, I make thee master of my men and me. So shall it never be, answers John; I care only to be a comrade. The king hears that Robin has escaped, and that the sheriff is afraid to show himself. Little John has beguiled us both, says the king. I made them yeomen of the crown, and gave them pay with my own hand! Little John loves Robin Hood better than he does us. Say no more. John has beguiled us all.

Too much could not be said in praise of this ballad, but nothing need be said. It is very perfection in its kind; and yet we have others equally good, and beyond doubt should have had more, if they had been written down early, as this was, and had not been left to the chances of tradition. Even writing would not have saved all, but writing has saved this (in large part), and in excellent form.

The landscape background of the first two stanzas has been often praised, and its beauty will never pall. It may be called landscape or prelude, for both eyes and ears are addressed, and several others of these woodland ballads have a like symphony or setting: Adam Bell, Robin Hood and the Potter, Guy of Gisborne, even the much later ballad of The Noble Fisherman. It is to be observed that the story of the outlaw Fulk Fitz Warine, which has other traits in common with Robin Hood ballads, begins somewhat after the same fashion.[^[87]]

Robin Hood’s devotion to the Virgin, st. 34, is a feature which reappears in Robin Hood and the Potter, Guy of Gisborne, Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar, and above all in The Gest. His profound piety, as evinced in stanzas 6, 7, and again in 8, 9 of The Gest, is commemorated by Bower in a passage in the Scotichronicon, of about the same date as the manuscript of the present ballad (1450), which we have every reason to assume to be derived from a lost ballad.[^[88]] Robin Hood had mass regularly sung at Barnsdale, nor would he suffer the office to be interrupted for the most pressing occasion. (We know from The Gest, st. 440, that he had a pretty chapel there, dedicated to Mary Magdalen.) One day, while so engaged, he was informed that the sheriff and his men, old foes of his, had tracked him to the very retired part of the forest where the service was going on, and was urged to fly with his best speed. This, for reverence of the sacrament, which he was then most devoutly adoring, he utterly refused to do, and then, while the rest were fearing for their lives, trusting in him whom he worshipped, fell upon his enemies, with a few of his followers who had rallied to him, and easily put them to rout. Enriched with their spoil and ransom, he was led to hold the ministers of the church (but apparently not “bishops and archbishops,” Gest, st. 15) and masses in greater veneration than ever, mindful of the common saw, God hears the man who often hears the mass.[^[89]]

There is a general resemblance between the rescue of Robin Hood in stanzas 61–81 and that of William of Cloudesly in Adam Bell, 56–94, and the precaution suggested by Much in the eighth stanza corresponds to the warning given by Adam in the eighth stanza of the other ballad. There is a verbal agreement in stanzas 71 of the first and 66 of the second.[^[90]] Such agreements or repetitions are numerous in the Robin Hood ballads, and in other traditional ballads, where similar situations occur.

Robin Hood’s rescue of Little John, in Guy of Gisborne, after quarrelling with him on a fanciful provocation, is a partial offset for Little John’s heart-stirring generosity in this ballad. We have already had several cases of ballads in which the principal actors exchange parts.

That portion of ‘Robin Hood’s Death’ in which Robin Hood gets angry with Scarlet, and shoots with Little John on his way to be let blood, may have been transferred, at least in part, from Robin Hood and the Monk.

It is hardly worth the while to ask whether the monk in this ballad is the same who is pillaged in The Gest. So rational a suggestion as that more than one monk must have fallen into Robin’s hands, in the course of his long and lucrative career, may not be conclusive, but we may rest certain that there were many Robin Hood ballads besides the few old ones which have come down to us; and if so, there would be many variations upon so agreeable a topic as the depleting of overstocked friars.

Translated, after Jamieson, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 148, No 24; by Anastasius Grün, p. 89.

1

In somer, when þe shawes be sheyne,

And leves be large and long,

Hit is full mery in feyre foreste

To here þe foulys song:

2

To se þe dere draw to þe dale,

And leve þe hilles hee,

And shadow hem in þe levës grene,

Vnder the grene-wode tre.

3

Hit befel on Whitsontide,

Erly in a May mornyng,

The son vp feyre can shyne,

And the briddis mery can syng.

4

‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John,

‘Be hym þat dyed on tre;

A more mery man þen I am one

Lyves not in Cristiantë.

5

‘Pluk vp þi hert, my dere mayster,’

Litull John can sey,

‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme

In a mornyng of May.’

6

‘Ȝe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn,

‘And does my hert mych woo;

Þat I may not no solem day

To mas nor matyns goo.

7

‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he,

‘Syn I my sauyour see;

To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn,

‘With þe myght of mylde Marye.’

8

Than spake Moche, þe mylner sun,

Euer more wel hym betyde!

‘Take twelue of þi wyght ȝemen,

Well weppynd, be þi side.

Such on wolde þi selfe slon,

Þat twelue dar not abyde.’

9

‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn,

‘Be my feith I wil non haue,

But Litull John shall beyre my bow,

Til þat me list to drawe.’

10

‘Þou shall beyre þin own,’ seid Litull Jon,

‘Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,

And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon,

‘Vnder þe grene-wode lyne.’

11

‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode,

‘In feith, Litull John, with the,

But euer for on as þou shetis,’ seide Robyn,

‘In feith I holde þe thre.’

12

Thus shet þei forth, þese ȝemen too,

Bothe at buske and brome,

Til Litull John wan of his maister

Fiue shillings to hose and shone.

13

A ferly strife fel þem betwene,

As they went bi the wey;

Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings,

And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.

14

With þat Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon,

And smote hym with his hande;

Litul Jon waxed wroth þerwith,

And pulled out his bright bronde.

15

‘Were þou not my maister,’ seid Litull John,

‘Þou shuldis by hit ful sore;

Get þe a man wher þou w[ilt],

For þou getis me no more.’

16

Þen Robyn goes to Notyngham,

Hym selfe mornyng allone,

And Litull John to mery Scherwode,

The pathes he knew ilkone.

17

Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,

Sertenly withouten layn,

He prayed to God and myld Mary

To bryng hym out saue agayn.

18

He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,

And kneled down before the rode;

Alle þat euer were þe church within

Beheld wel Robyn Hode.

19

Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke,

I pray to God woo he be!

Fful sone he knew gode Robyn,

As sone as he hym se.

20

Out at þe durre he ran,

Fful sone and anon;

Alle þe ȝatis of Notyngham

He made to be sparred euerychon.

21

‘Rise vp,’ he seid, ‘þou prowde schereff,

Buske þe and make þe bowne;

I haue spyed þe kynggis felon,

Ffor sothe he is in þis town.

22

‘I haue spyed þe false felon,

As he stondis at his masse;

Hit is long of þe,’ seide þe munke,

‘And euer he fro vs passe.

23

‘Þis traytur name is Robyn Hode,

Vnder þe grene-wode lynde;

He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,

Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.’

24

Vp þen rose þis prowde shereff,

And radly made hym ȝare;

Many was þe moder son

To þe kyrk with hym can fare.

25

In at þe durres þei throly thrast,

With staves ful gode wone;

‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode,

‘Now mysse I Litull John.’

26

But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde,

Þat hangit down be his kne;

Þer as þe schereff and his men stode thyckust,

Thedurwarde wolde he.

27

Thryes thorowout þem he ran þen,

For soþe as I yow sey,

And woundyt mony a moder son,

And twelue he slew þat day.

28

His sworde vpon þe schireff hed

Sertanly he brake in too;

‘Þe smyth þat þe made,’ seid Robyn,

‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!

29

‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn,

‘Alasse! agayn my wylle;

But if I may fle þese traytors fro,

I wot þei wil me kyll.’

30

Robyn in to the churchë ran,

Throout hem euerilkon,

*       *       *       *       *

31

Sum fel in swonyng as þei were dede,

And lay stil as any stone;

Non of theym were in her mynde

But only Litull Jon.

32

‘Let be your rule,’ seid Litull Jon,

‘Ffor his luf þat dyed on tre,

Ȝe þat shulde be duȝty men;

Het is gret shame to se.

33

‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode

And ȝet scapyd away;

Pluk vp your hertis, and leve þis mone,

And harkyn what I shal say.

34

‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day,

And ȝet wil, securly;

Þerfor I trust in hir specialy

No wyckud deth shal he dye.

35

‘Þerfor be glad,’ seid Litul John,

‘And let þis mournyng be;

And I shal be þe munkis gyde,

With þe myght of mylde Mary.

36

. . . . . . .

‘We will go but we too;

And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John,

. . . . . . .

37

‘Loke þat ȝe kepe wel owre tristil-tre,

Vnder þe levys smale,

And spare non of this venyson,

Þat gose in thys vale.’

38

Fforþe þen went these ȝemen too,

Litul John and Moche on fere,

And lokid on Moch emys hows,

Þe hye way lay full nere.

39

Litul John stode at a wyndow in þe mornyng,

And lokid forþ at a stage;

He was war wher þe munke came ridyng,

And with hym a litul page.

40

‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch,

‘I can þe tel tithyngus gode;

I se wher þe munke cumys rydyng,

I know hym be his wyde hode.’

41

They went in to the way, þese ȝemen boþe,

As curtes men and hende;

Þei spyrred tithyngus at þe munke,

As they hade bene his frende.

42

‘Ffro whens come ȝe?’ seid Litull Jon,

‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray,

Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,]

Was takyn ȝisterday.

43

‘He robbyt me and my felowes boþe

Of twenti marke in serten;

If þat false owtlay be takyn,

Ffor soþe we wolde be fayn.’

44

‘So did he me,’ seid þe munke,

‘Of a hundred pound and more;

I layde furst hande hym apon,

Ȝe may thonke me þerfore.’

45

‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John,

‘And we wil when we may;

We wil go with you, with your leve,

And bryng yow on your way.

46

‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,

I tell you in certen;

If þei wist ȝe rode þis way,

In feith ȝe shulde be slayn.’

47

As þei went talking be þe way,

The munke and Litull John,

John toke þe munkis horse be þe hede,

Fful sone and anon.

48

Johne toke þe munkis horse be þe hed,

Ffor soþe as I yow say;

So did Much þe litull page,

Ffor he shulde not scape away.

49

Be þe golett of þe hode

John pulled þe munke down;

John was nothyng of hym agast,

He lete hym falle on his crown.

50

Litull John was so[re] agrevyd,

And drew owt his swerde in hye;

This munke saw he shulde be ded,

Lowd mercy can he crye.

51

‘He was my maister,’ seid Litull John,

‘Þat þou hase browȝt in bale;

Shalle þou neuer cum at our kyng,

Ffor to telle hym tale.’

52

John smote of þe munkis hed,

No longer wolde he dwell;

So did Moch þe litull page,

Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell.

53

Þer þei beryed hem boþe,

In nouþer mosse nor lyng,

And Litull John and Much infere

Bare þe letturs to oure kyng.

54

. . . . . . .

He knelid down vpon his kne:

‘God ȝow saue, my lege lorde,

Ihesus yow saue and se!

55

‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’

To speke John was full bolde;

He gaf hym þe letturs in his hond,

The kyng did hit vnfold.

56

Þe kyng red þe letturs anon,

And seid, So mot I the,

Þer was neuer ȝoman in mery Inglond

I longut so sore to se.

57

‘Wher is þe munke þat þese shuld haue brouȝt?’

Oure kyng can say:

‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,

‘He dyed after þe way.’

58

Þe kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon

Twenti pound in sertan,

And made þeim ȝemen of þe crown,

And bade þeim go agayn.

59

He gaf John þe seel in hand,

The sheref for to bere,

To bryng Robyn hym to,

And no man do hym dere.

60

John toke his leve at oure kyng,

Þe sothe as I yow say;

Þe next way to Notyngham

To take, he ȝede þe way.

61

Whan John came to Notyngham

The ȝatis were sparred ychon;

John callid vp þe porter,

He answerid sone anon.

62

‘What is þe cause,’ seid Litul Jon,

‘Þou sparris þe ȝates so fast?’

‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid [þe] porter,

‘In depe prison is cast.

63

‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,

Ffor sothe as I yow say,

Þei slew oure men vpon our wallis,

And sawten vs euery day.’

64

Litull John spyrred after þe schereff,

And sone he hym fonde;

He oppyned þe kyngus priue seell,

And gaf hym in his honde.

65

Whan þe scheref saw þe kyngus seell,

He did of his hode anon:

‘Wher is þe munke þat bare þe letturs?’

He seid to Litull John.

66

‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litul John,

‘Ffor soþe as I yow say,

He has made hym abot of Westmynster,

A lorde of þat abbay.’

67

The scheref made John gode chere,

And gaf hym wyne of the best;

At nyȝt þei went to her bedde,

And euery man to his rest.

68

When þe scheref was on slepe,

Dronken of wyne and ale,

Litul John and Moch for soþe

Toke þe way vnto þe jale.

69

Litul John callid vp þe jayler,

And bade hym rise anon;

He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn prison,

And out of hit was gon.

70

The porter rose anon sertan,

As sone as he herd John calle;

Litul John was redy with a swerd,

And bare hym to þe walle.

71

‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litul John,

‘And take þe keyes in honde:’

He toke þe way to Robyn Hode,

And sone he hym vnbonde.

72

He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,

His hed [ther]with for to kepe,

And ther as þe walle was lowyst

Anon down can þei lepe.

73

Be þat þe cok began to crow,

The day began to spryng;

The scheref fond þe jaylier ded,

The comyn bell made he ryng.

74

He made a crye thoroout al þe tow[n],

Wheder he be ȝoman or knave,

Þat cowþe bryng hym Robyn Hode,

His warison he shuld haue.

75

‘Ffor I dar neuer,’ said þe scheref,

‘Cum before oure kyng;

Ffor if I do, I wot serten

Ffor soþe he wil me heng.’

76

The scheref made to seke Notyngham,

Bothe be strete and stye,

And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,

As liȝt as lef on lynde.

77

Then bespake gode Litull John,

To Robyn Hode can he say,

I haue done þe a gode turne for an euyll,

Quyte þe whan þou may.

78

‘I haue done þe a gode turne,’ seid Litull John,

‘Ffor sothe as I yow say;

I haue brouȝt þe vnder grene-wode lyne;

Ffare wel, and haue gode day.’

79

‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode,

‘So shall hit neuer be;

I make þe maister,’ seid Robyn Hode,

‘Off alle my men and me.’

80

‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,

‘So shalle hit neuer be;

But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John,

‘No noder kepe I be.’

81

Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of prison,

Sertan withoutyn layn;

Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,

Ffor sothe they were full fayne.

82

They filled in wyne, and made hem glad,

Vnder þe levys smale,

And ȝete pastes of venyson,

Þat gode was with ale.

83

Than worde came to oure kyng

How Robyn Hode was gon,

And how þe scheref of Notyngham

Durst neuer loke hym vpon.

84

Then bespake oure cumly kyng,

In an angur hye:

Litull John hase begyled þe schereff,

In faith so hase he me.

85

Litul John has begyled vs bothe,

And þat full wel I se;

Or ellis þe schereff of Notyngham

Hye hongut shulde he be.

86

‘I made hem ȝemen of þe crowne,

And gaf hem fee with my hond;

I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure kyng,

‘Thorowout all mery Inglond.

87

‘I gaf theym grith,’ þen seid oure kyng;

‘I say, so mot I the,

Ffor sothe soch a ȝeman as he is on

In all Inglond ar not thre.

88

‘He is trew to his maister,’ seid our kyng;

‘I sey, be swete Seynt John,

He louys better Robyn Hode

Then he dose vs ychon.

89

‘Robyn Hode is euer bond to hym,

Bothe in strete and stalle;

Speke no more of this mater,’ seid oure kyng,

‘But John has begyled vs alle.’

90

Thus endys the talkyng of the munke

And Robyn Hode i-wysse;

God, þat is euer a crowned kyng,

Bryng vs all to his blisse!

---

a.

A curl over final n, as in Robyn, John, on, sawten, etc.; a crossed h, as in John, mych, etc.; crossed ll, as in full, litull, well, etc.; a hooked g, as in mornyng, kyng, etc., have been treated as not significant. As to Robyn, cf. 7³, 11^1,3, 13⁴, 14¹, etc., where there is simple n; as to John, 10^1,3, 14³, 31⁴, etc., where we have Jon; as to Litull, 14^1,3, 39¹, 68³, 69¹, 70³, 71¹, where we have Litul. And is printed for &; be twene, be fore, be side, be held, be spake, þer with, thorow out, with outen, etc., are joined.

3¹. tide no longer legible.

7¹. seid h ..., illegible after h.

8^3,6. xij.

10¹. þⁱ nown.

12⁴, 13³. v s’.

14¹. lyed before Robyn struck through.

23³. of a C li.

27¹. thorow at: but cf. 30².

27⁴. xij.

30¹. Robyns men to the churche ran: Madden. There are no men with Robin. “This line is almost illegible. It certainly begins with Robyn, and the second word is not men. I read it, Robyn into the churche ran.” Skeat.

30². A gap here between two pages, and there are commonly six stanzas to a page. At least six are required for the capture of Robin Hood and the conveying of the tidings to his men.

43². Of xx.

44¹. me me in my copy, probably by inadvertence.

44². Of a C li.

53¹. hym.

56¹. Þ^e kyng.

58². xx li.

77⁴. b has Quit me, which is perhaps better.

78². perhaps saie; nearly illegible.

90². I wysse.

b.

69³. þe prison.

70⁴. throw to.

71¹. be jayler.

71². toke.

72². hed ther with.

72³. wallis were.

72⁴. down ther they.

77². [t]hen for can (?).

77⁴. Quit me.

78². the saye.

78³. þe grene.

79^1,3. Hode wanting.

120
ROBIN HOOD’S DEATH

A. ‘Robin Hoode his Death,’ Percy MS., p. 21; Hales and Furnivall, I, 53.

B. ‘Robin Hood’s Death and Burial.’ a. The English Archer, Paisley, John Neilson, 1786: Bodleian Library, Douce, F. F. 71 (6), p. 81. b. The English Archer, York, printed by N. Nickson, in Feasegate, n. d.: Bodleian Library, Douce, F. F. 71 (4), p. 70.

B is given in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 183, “from a collation of two different copies” of a York garland, “containing numerous variations, a few of which are retained in the margin.”

A. Robin Hood is ailing, and is convinced that the only course for him is to go to Kirklees priory for blooding. Will Scarlet cannot counsel this, unless his master take fifty bowmen with him; for a yeoman lives there with whom there is sure to be a quarrel. Robin bids Scarlet stay at home, if he is afraid. Scarlet, seeing that his master is wroth, will say no more.[^[91]] Robin Hood will have no one go with him but Little John, who shall carry his bow. John proposes that they shall shoot for a penny along the way, and Robin assents.

The opening of the ballad resembles that of Robin Hood and the Monk. There Robin’s soul is ill at ease, as here his body, and he resolves to go to Nottingham for mass; Much, the Miller’s son, advises a guard of twelve yeomen; Robin will take none with him except John, to bear his bow;[^[92]] and John suggests that they shall shoot for a penny as they go.

A very interesting passage of the story here followed, of which we can barely guess the contents, owing to nine stanzas having been torn away. Robin Hood and John keep up their shooting all the way, until they come to a black water, crossed by a plank. On the plank an old woman is kneeling, and banning Robin Hood. Robin Hood asks why, but the answer is lost, and it is not probable that we shall ever know: out of her proper malignancy, surely, or because she is a hired witch, for Robin is the friend of lowly folk. But if this old woman is banning, others, no doubt women, are weeping, for somehow they have learned that he is to be let blood that day at the priory, and foresee that ill will come of it. Robin is disturbed by neither banning nor weeping; the prioress is his cousin, and would not harm him for the world. So they shoot on until they come to Kirklees.

Robin makes the prioress a present of twenty pound, with a promise of more when she wants, and she falls to work with her bleeding-irons. The thick blood comes, and then the thin, and Robin knows that there has been treason. John asks, What cheer? Robin answers, Little good. Nine stanzas are again wanting, and again in a place where we are not helped by the other version. John must call from the outside of the building, judging by what follows. An altercation seems to pass between Robin and some one; we should suppose between Robin and Red Roger. Robin slips out of a shot-window, and as he does so is thrust through the side by Red Roger. Robin swoops off Red Roger’s head, and leaves him for dogs to eat. Then Red Roger must be below, and John is certainly below. He would have seen to Red Roger had they both been within. But John must be under a window on a different side of the building from that whence Robin issues, for otherwise, again, he would have seen to Red Roger. We are driven to suppose that the words in st. 19 pass between Robin above and Roger below.

Though Robin is near his last breath, he has, he says, life enough to take his housel. He must get it in a very irregular way, but he trusts it will “bestand” him.[^[93]] John asks his master’s leave to set fire to Kirklees, but Robin will not incur God’s blame by harming any woman [“widow”] at his latter end. Let John make his grave of gravel and greet, set his sword at his head, his arrows at his feet, and lay his bow by his side.[^[94]]

B, though found only in late garlands, is in the fine old strain. Robin Hood says to Little John that he can no longer shoot matches, his arrows will not flee; he must go to a cousin to be let blood. He goes, alone, to Kirkley nunnery, and is received with a show of cordiality. His cousin bloods him, locks him up in the room, and lets him bleed all the livelong day, and until the next day at noon. Robin bethinks himself of escaping through a casement, but is not strong enough. He sets his horn to his mouth and blows thrice, but so wearily that Little John, hearing, thinks his master must be nigh to death. John comes to Kirkley, breaks the locks, and makes his way to Robin’s presence. He begs the boon of setting fire to Kirkley, but Robin has never hurt woman in all his life, and will not at his end. He asks for his bow to shoot his last shot, and where the arrow lights there his grave shall be.[^[95]] His grave is to be of gravel and green, long enough and broad enough, a sod under his head, another at his feet, and his bow by his side, that men may say, Here lies bold Robin Hood.

The account of Robin Hood’s death which is given in The Gest, agrees as to the main items with what we find in A. The prioress of Kirkesly, his near kinswoman, betrayed him when he went to the nunnery to be let blood, and this she did upon counsel with Sir Roger of Donkester, with whom she was intimate. The Life of Robin Hood in the Sloane MS, which is mostly made up from The Gest, naturally repeats this story.

Grafton, in his Chronicle, 1569, citing “an olde and auncient pamphlet,” says: For the sayd Robert Hood, beyng afterwardes troubled with sicknesse, came to a certain nonry in Yorkshire, called Bircklies, where, desiryng to be let blood, he was betrayed and bled to death: edition of 1809, p. 221. So the Harleian MS, No 1233, article 199, of the middle of the seventeenth century, and not worth citing, but cited by Ritson. According to Stanihurst, in Holinshed’s Ireland (p. 28 of ed. of 1808), after Robin Hood had been betrayed at a nunnery in Scotland called Bricklies, Little John was fain to flee the realm, and went to Ireland, where he executed an extraordinary shot, by which he thought his safety compromised, and so removed to Scotland, and died there.

Martin Parker’s True Tale of Robin Hood, which professes to be collected from chronicles, ascribes Robin Hood’s death to a faithless friar, who pretended “in love to let him blood,” when he had a fever, and allowed him to bleed to death. Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight, a late and thoroughly worthless broadside ballad, says simply, He sent for a monk to let him blood, who took his life away.

A Russian popular song has an interesting likeness to the conclusion of Robin Hood’s Death. The last survivor of a band of brigands, feeling death to be nigh, exclaims:

Bury me, brothers, between three roads,

The Kief, and the Moscow, and the Murom famed in story.

At my feet fasten my horse,

At my head set a life-bestowing cross,

In my right hand place my keen sabre.

Whoever passes by will stop;

Before my life-bestowing cross will he utter a prayer,

At the sight of my black steed will he be startled,

At the sight of my keen sword will he be terrified.

‘Surely this is a brigand who is buried here,

A son of the brigand, the bold Stenka Razín.’

Sakharof, Skazaniya Russkago Naroda, I, iii, 226.[^[96]]

Dimos, twenty years a Klepht, tells his comrades to make his tomb wide and high enough for him to fight in it, standing up, and to leave a window, so that the swallows may tell him that spring has come and the nightingales that it is May: Fauriel, I, 56; Zambelios, p. 607, 13; Passow, p. 85. This is a song of the beginning of the present century.

B is translated in Le Magasin Pittoresque, 1838, p. 126 f; by Loève-Veimars, p. 223; by Cantù, Documenti alla Storia Universale, V, III, p. 801; Anastasius Grün, p. 200; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, No 20.