There they met with good Robyn,
Stondynge on the waye,
And so dyde many a bolde archere,
For soth as I you say. {67}
Robyn toke the kynges hors,
Hastely in that stede,
And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leve,
A whyle ye must abyde ;
We be yemen of this foreste,
Under the grene wode tre,