Thryes thorow at them he ran,
Then for sothe as I yow say,
And woundyt many a modur sone,
And xii he slew that day.110
Hys sworde vpon the schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too;
"The smyth that the made," seid Robyn,
"I pray God wyrke hym woo.
"For now am I weppynlesse," seid Robyne,115
"Alasse, agayn my wylle;
But if I may fle these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kylle."
Robyns men to the churche ran
Throout hem euerilkon;120
Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,
And lay still as any stone.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only Litulle Jon.
"Let be your [dule]," seid Litulle Jon,125
"For his luf that dyed on tre;
Ze that shulde be duzty men,
Hit is gret shame to se.
"Oure maister has bene hard bystode,
And zet scapyd away;130
Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone,
And herkyn what I shal say.
"He has seruyd our lady many a day,
And zet wil securly;
Therefore I trust in her specialy135
No wycked deth shal he dye.
"Therfor be glad," seid Litul Johne,
"And let this mournyng be,
And I shall be the munkes gyde,
With the myght of mylde Mary.140
"And I mete hym," seid Litull Johne,
"We wille go but we too
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