Before you shall shoot, the thing I’ll dispute,
For I am head forester here.’
“‘These thirteen long summers,’ quoth Robin, ‘I’m sure,
My arrows I here have let fly;
Where freely I range, methinks it is strange
You should have more power than I.
“‘This forest,’ quoth Robin, ‘I think is my own,
And so are the nimble deer too;
Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear,
I’ll not be affronted by you.’