Much was ready with a bolt[836],
Rathely[837] and anon,
He set the Monk to-fore[838] the breast
To the ground that he gan gon[839].
CCXXIV
Of two and fifty wight yeomen
There abode not one,
Save a little page and a groom
To lead the somers on.
CCXXV
They brought the Monk to the lodgè door,
Whether he were loath or lief[840],
For to speak with Robin Hood,
Maugre in his teeth[841].
CCXXVI
Robin did a-down his hood,
The Monk when that he see;
The Monk was not so courteous,
His hood he lettè be.
CCXXVII
‘He is a churl, by dear-worth God,’
Then said Little John.
‘Thereof no force[842],’ said Robin Hood,
‘For courtesy can be none.’