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.”