They march’d with mickle pride,
And never delay’d, nor halted, nor stay’d
Till they came to the green-wood side.
Said he to his archers, Tarry here,
Your bows make ready all,
That if need should be, you may follow me,
And see you observe my call.
I’ll go first in person, he cry’d,
With the letters of my good king,
Well sign’d and seal’d, and if he will yield,