"I make myn avowe to god," sayd the coke,
"Thou arte a shrewde hynde,
In an householde to dwel,
For to ask thus to dyne."
And there he lent Lytel Johan85
Good strokes thre;
"I make myn avowe," said Lytell Johan,
"These strokes lyketh well me.
"Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy
And so thynketh me;90
And or I passe fro this place,
Asayed better shalt thou be."
Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde,
The coke toke another in honde;
They thought nothynge for to fle,95
But styfly for to stonde.
There they fought sore togyder,
Two myle way and more;
Myght neyther other harme done,
The mountenaunce of an houre.100
"I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan,
"And be my trewe lewtè,
Thou art one of the best swerdemen,
That ever yet sawe I me.
"Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,105
To grene wood thou sholdest with me,
And two tymes in the yere thy clothynge
Ichaunged sholde be;
"And every yere of Robyn Hode
Twenty marke to thy fee:"110
"Put up thy swerde," sayd the coke,
"And felowes wyll we be."
Then he fette to Lytell Johan
The numbles of a doo,
Good brede and full good wyne;115
They ete and dranke therto.
And whan they had dronken well,
Ther trouthes togyder they plyght,
That they wolde be with Robyn
That ylke same day at nyght.120