CCCXCV
‘Now shalt thou see what life we lead,
Ere thou hennès[904] wend;
Then thou mayst inform our King,
When ye together lend[905].’
CCCXCVI
Up they started all in haste,
Their bows were smartly bent;
Our King was never so aghast,
He weened to have been shent[906].
CCCXCVII
Two yards[907] there were up set,
Thereto gan they gang;
By fifty paces, our King said,
The markès were too lang.
CCCXCVIII
On every side a rose garlànd,
They shot under the line:
‘Who fails of the garland,’ said Robin,
‘His tackle he shall tine[908],
CCCXCIX
‘And yield it unto his mastèr,
Be it never so fine;
For no man will I spare,’ he said,
‘So drink I ale or wine;