‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode,

‘Sherif, for charitë,

And for the loue of Litill Johnn

Thy lyfe I graunt to the.’

193

Whan they had souped well,

The day was al gone;

Robyn commaunde[d] Litell Johnn

To drawe of his hosen and his shone;

194