Good Robin bound him to his brand,
But that prov'd likewise vain,
The beggar lighted on his hand
With his pike-staff again.
I wot he might not draw a sword
For forty days and mair;
Good Robin could not speak a word,95
His heart was never so sair.
He could not fight, he could not flee,
He wist not what to do;
The beggar with his noble tree
Laid lusty flaps him to.100
He paid good Robin back and side,
And beft him up and down,
And with his pike-staff still laid on hard,
Till he fell in a swoon.
"Fy, stand up, man," the beggar said,105
"'Tis shame to go to rest;
Stay still till thou get my money,
I think it were the best.
"And syne go to the tavern house,
And buy both wine and ale;110
Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse,
Thou hast been at a dale."
Good Robin answer'd never a word,
But lay still as a stane;
His cheeks were white as any clay,115
And closed were his eyen.
The beggar thought him dead but fail,
And boldly bown'd away;—
I would you had been at the dale,
And gotten part of the play.120
[THE SECOND PART.]
Now three of Robin's men, by chance,
Came walking by the way,
And found their master in a trance,
On ground where he did lay.