325. ‘I wil be at Notyngham,’ sayde our kynge, ‘Within this fourteennyght, And take I wyll Robyn Hode And so I wyll that knight. 326. ‘Go nowe home, shyref,’ sayde our kynge, ‘And do as I byd thee; And ordeyn gode archers ynowe, Of all the wyde contrë.’ 327. The shyref had his leve i-take, And went hym on his way; And Robyn Hode to grenë wode, Upon a certen day. 328. And Lytel John was hole of the arowe That shot was in his kne, And dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode, Under the grene wode tree. 329. Robyn Hode walked in the forest, Under the levys grene; The proud shyref of Notyngham Thereof he had grete tene. 330. The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode, He myght not have his pray; Than he awayted this gentyll knyght, Bothe by nyght and day. 331. Ever he wayted the gentyll knyght, Syr Richarde at the Lee, As he went on haukynge by the ryver-syde And lete his haukës flee. 332. Toke he there this gentyll knight, With men of armys stronge, And led hym to Notynghamwarde, Bounde bothe fote and hande. 333. The sheref sware a full grete othe, Bi him that dyed on rode, He had lever than an hundred pound That he had Robyn Hode. 334. This harde the knyghtës wyfe, A fayr lady and a free; She set hir on a gode palfrey, To grene wode anone rode she. 335. Whanne she cam in the forest, Under the grene wode tree, Fonde she there Robyn Hode, And all his fayre menë. 336. ‘God thee savë, gode Robyn, And all thy company; For Our derë Ladyes sake, A bonë graunte thou me. 337. ‘Late never my wedded lorde Shamefully slayne be; He is fast bowne to Notinghamwarde, For the love of thee.’ 338. Anone than saide goode Robyn To that lady so fre, ‘What man hath your lorde ytake?’ [‘The proude shirife,’ than sayd she. 339. ‘You may them overtake, Robyn,] For soth as I thee say; He is nat yet thre mylës Passed on his way.’ 340. Up than sterte gode Robyn, As man that had ben wode: ‘Buske you, my mery men, For hym that dyed on rode. 341. ‘And he that this sorowe forsaketh, By hym that dyed on tre, Shall he never in grenë wode No lenger dwel with me.’ 342. Sone there were gode bowës bent, Mo than seven score; Hedge ne dyche spared they none That was them before. 343. ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn, ‘The sherif wolde I fayne see; And if I may him take, I-quyt then shall he be.’ 344. And when they came to Notingham, They walked in the strete; And with the proudë sherif i-wys Sonë can they mete. 345. ‘Abyde, thou proudë sherif,’ he sayde, ‘Abyde, and speke with me; Of some tidinges of oure kinge I wolde fayne here of thee.