And gyve 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,