Thow art worthey to ber a bowe,
Yn what plas that thow ‘gang.’ [243]
Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,
Forsoyt, he seyde, and that a godde ;
Yn mey cart ys the bow
That ‘I had of Robyn Hode.’ [244]
Knowest thow Robyn Hode ? seyde the screffe,
Potter, y prey the tell thou me.
“A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem,
Under hes tortyll tre.”