‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere.

409

‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn,

‘I trowe thou canst well shete:’

Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode

Togeder gan they mete.

410

Robyn behelde our comly kynge

Wystly in the face,

So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,