Thou gentyll knyght and trewe,
And bye hors and havnes 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 have any good.
279.
‘And broke well thy foure hondred pound,