“Master, how haffe yow far yn Notynggam ?
Haffe[250] yow solde yowr war ?”
“Ye, be mey trowthe, Leytyll [251] John,
Loke thow take no car ;
Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,
For all howr chaffar.”
He ys foll wellcom, seyde Lytyll John,
Thes tydyng ys foll godde.
The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde
[He had never sene Roben Hode].