Fifteenth Century Prose and Verse Part 10

"I have been in this forest; A fair sight can I see; It was one of the fairest sights That ever yet saw I me!

Yonder I see a right fair hart, His colour is of green!

Seven score of deer upon a herd, Be with him all bedeen, His tynde are so sharp, Master, Of sixty and well mo, That I durst not shoot for dread, Lest they would me slo!"

"I make mine avow to G.o.d!" said the Sheriff, "That sight would I fain see!"

"Busk you thitherward, my dear Master Anon, and wend with me!"

The Sheriff rode, and Little JOHN, Of foot he was full smart; And when they came afore ROBIN, "Lo, here is the master Hart!"

Still stood the proud Sheriff: A sorry man was he!

"Woe the worth, REYNOLD GREENLEAF, Thou hast betrayed me!"

"I make mine avow to G.o.d," said Little JOHN, "Master, ye be to blame!

I was mis-served of my dinner, When I was with you at home!"

Soon he was to supper set, And served with silver white: And when the Sheriff saw his vessel, For sorrow, he might not eat!

"Make good cheer," said ROBIN HOOD, "Sheriff! for charity!

And for the love of Little JOHN Thy life is granted to thee!"

When they had supped well, The day was all agone, ROBIN commanded Little JOHN To draw off his hosen and his shoon, His kirtle and his courtepy, That was furred well fine; And took him a green mantle, To lap his body therein.

ROBIN commanded his wight young men, Under the green-wood tree, They shall lay in that same suit, That the Sheriff might them see.

All night lay that proud Sheriff, In his breech and in his s.h.i.+rt: No wonder it was in green wood Though his sides do smart.

"Make glad cheer," said ROBIN HOOD, "Sheriff, for charity!

For this is our order, I-wis, Under the green-wood tree!"

"This is harder order," said the Sheriff, "Than any Anchor or Frere!

For all the gold in merry England, I would not long dwell here!"

"All these twelve months," said ROBIN, "Thou shalt dwell with me!

I shall thee teach, proud Sheriff, An outlaw for to be!"

"Ere I here another night lie," said the Sheriff, "ROBIN, now I pray thee!

Smite off my head, rather to-morn, And I forgive it thee!

Let me go then," said the Sheriff, "For saint charity!

And I will be thy best friend, That yet had ye!"

"Thou shalt swear me an oath!" said ROBIN, "On my bright brand, Thou shalt never await me scathe!

By water ne by land!

And if thou find any of my men, By night, or by day, Upon thine oath, thou shalt swear To help them that thou may!"

Now has the Sheriff ysworn this oath, And home he began to gone; He was as full of green wood, As ever was heap of stone.

+-- The fourth fytte.+

The Sheriff dwelled in Nottingham, He was fain that he was gone, And ROBIN and his merry men Went to wood anon.

"Go we to dinner?" said Little JOHN.

ROBIN HOOD said, "Nay!

For I dread our Lady be wroth with me; For she [has] sent me not my pay!"

"Have no doubt, Master!" said Little JOHN.

"Yet is not the sun not at rest: For I dare say and safely swear The Knight is true and trust!"

"Take thy bow in thy hand!" said ROBIN.

"Let MUCH wend with thee!

And so shall WILLIAM SCATHELOCK; And no man abide with me!

And walk up under the Sayles, And to Watling Street; And wait after such unketh guest, Upchance ye may them meet.

Whether he be messenger, Or a man that mirths can; Of my good, he shall have some If he be a poor man!"

Forth then started Little JOHN, Half in tray or teen, And girded him with a full good sword Under a mantle of green.

They went up to the Sayles, These yeomen all three, They looked East, they looked West, They might no man see.

But as they looked in Bernysdale, By the highway Then were they 'ware of two black monks, Each on a good palfrey.

Then bespake Little JOHN, To MUCH he 'gan say: "I dare lay my life to wed These monks have brought our pay!"

"Make glad cheer," said Little JOHN, "And frese our bows of yew!

And look your hearts be sicker and sad, Your strings trusty and true!"

The monk had fifty and two [men]

And seven somers full strong, There rideth no Bishop in this land So royally I understand.

"Brethren," said Little JOHN, "Here are no more but we three; But we bring them to dinner, Our Master, dare we not see!"

"Bend your bows!" said Little JOHN, "Make all yon press to stand!

The foremost monk, his life and his death, Are closed in my hand.

Abide, churl Monk!" said Little JOHN, "No further that thou go, If thou dost, by dear-worthy G.o.d!

Thy death is in my hand!

And evil thrift on thy head!" said Little JOHN, "Right under thy hat's band: For thou hast made our Master wroth, He is fasting so long!"

"Who is your Master?" said the Monk.

Little JOHN said, "ROBIN HOOD!"

"He is a strong thief!" said the Monk; "Of him heard I never good!"

"Thou liest then!" said Little JOHN, "And that shall rue thee!

He is a yeoman of the forest; To dine, he hath bidden thee!"

MUCH was ready with a bolt, Readily and anon, He set the Monk tofore the breast To the ground that he can gone.

Of fifty-two wight young yeomen There abode not one; Save a little page and a groom To lead the somers with Little JOHN.

They brought the Monk to the lodge door, Whether he were loth or lief, For to speak with ROBIN HOOD, Maugre in their teeth.

ROBIN did adown his hood, The Monk when that he see, The Monk who was not so courteous His hood then let he be.

"He is a churl, Master! by dear-worthy G.o.d!"

Then said Little JOHN.

"Thereof no force!" said ROBIN, "For courtesy can he none!

How many men," said ROBIN, "Had this Monk, JOHN?"

"Fifty and two when that we met; But many of them be gone."

"Let blow a horn!" said ROBIN, "That fellows.h.i.+p may us know!"

Seven score of wight yeomen Came p.r.i.c.king on a row, And everych of them a good mantle Of scarlet and of ray, All they came to good ROBIN To wit what he would say.

They made the Monk to wash and wipe, And sit at his dinner, ROBIN HOOD and Little JOHN They served him both in-fere.

"Do gladly, Monk!" said ROBIN.

"Grammercy, Sir!" said he.

"Where is your Abbey, when ye are at home; And who is your avow?"

"St. Mary's Abbey," said the Monk, "Though I be simple here."

"In what office?" said ROBIN.

"Sir! the High Cellarer."

"Ye be the more welcome," said ROBIN.

"So ever might I thee."

"Fill of the best wine!" said ROBIN, "This Monk shall drink to me!

But I have great marvel," said ROBIN, "Of all this long day, I dread our Lady be wroth with me, She sent me not my pay!"

"Have no doubt, Master!" said Little JOHN, "Ye have no need, I say: This Monk, it hath brought, I dare well swear!

For he is of her Abbey."

"And She was a borrow," said ROBIN, "Between a Knight and me, Of a little money that I him lent Under the green-wood tree; And if thou hast that silver ybrought, I pray thee let me see, And I shall help thee eftsoons If thou have need to me!"

The Monk swore a full great oath, With a sorry cheer, "Of the borrowhood thou speakest to me Heard I never ere!"

"I make mine avow to G.o.d!" said ROBIN, "Monk, thou art to blame!

For G.o.d is held a righteous man, And so is his dame.

Thou toldest with thine own tongue Thou mayst not say 'Nay!'

How thou art her servant, And servest her every day: And thou art made her messenger, My money for to pay.

Therefore I can the more thanks, Thou art come to thy day!

What is in your coffers?" said ROBIN; "True, then, tell thou me?"

"Sir!" he said, "twenty marks!

Also might I thee!"

"If there be no more," said ROBIN, "I will not one penny.

If thou hast myster of any more, Sir, more I shall lend to thee!