Then spake Moche the mylner sune,
Euer more wel hym betyde,
Take xii of thi wyght zemen
Welle weppynd be ther side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon
That xii dar not abyde,
Off alle my mery men, seid Robyne,
Be my feithe I wil non haue.
But litulle Johne shalle beyre my bow
Til that me list to drawe