JACKE.
Out alas! what have ye done?160
If my maister come, he will breke your crown.
THE POTTER.
Why, thou horeson, art thou here yet?
Thou shouldest have bene at markèt.
JACKE.
I met with Robin Hode, a good yemàn,
He hath broken my pottes,
And called you kuckolde by your name.
THE POTTER.
Thou mayst be a gentylman, so god me save,
But thou semest a noughty knave.
Thou callest me cuckolde by my name,
And I swere by god and saynt John170
Wyfe had I never none.
This cannot I denye,
But if thou be a good felowe,
I wil sel mi horse, mi harneis, pottes and paniers to,
Thou shalt have the one halfe and I will have the other;
If thou be not so content,
Thou shalt have stripes, if thou were my brother.
ROBYN HODE.
Harke, potter, what I shall say:
This seven yere and more thou hast used this way,
Yet were thou never so curteous to me,180
As one penny passage to paye.