"Who is your mayster?" sayd the monke;65
Lytell Johan sayd "Robyn Hode;"
"He is a stronge thefe," sayd the monke,
"Of hym herd I never good."
"Thou lyest," than sayd Lytell Johan,
"And that shall rewe the;70
He is a yeman of the forèst,
To dyne he hath bode the."
Much was redy with a bolte,
Redly and anone,
He set the monke to fore the brest,75
To the grounde that he can gone.
Of fyfty two wyght [yonge men]
There abode not one,
Saf a lytell page, and a grome,
To lede the somers with [Johan].80
They brought the monke to the lodge dore,
Whether he were loth or lefe,
For to speke with Robyn Hode,
Maugre in theyr tethe.
Robyn dyde adowne his hode,85
The monke whan that he se;
The monke was not so curteyse,
His hode then let he be.
"He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy god,"
Than said Lytell Johan:90
"Thereof no force," sayd Robyn,
"For curteysy can he none.
"How many men," sayd Robyn,
"Had this monke, Johan?"
"Fifty and two whan that we met,95
But many of them be gone."
"Let blowe a horne," sayd Robyn,
"That felaushyp may us knowe;"
Seven score of wyght yemen,
Came pryckynge on a rowe.100
And everych of them a good mantell
Of scarlet and of raye;
All they came to good Robyn,
To wyte what he wolde say.