Holde thy hande, frere, and here me speke. FRYER. Say on, ragged knave, Me semeth ye begyn to swete. 90 ROBYN HODE. In this forest I have a hounde, I wyl not give him for an hundreth pound. Geve me leve my home to blowe, That my hounde may knowe. FRYER. Blowe on, ragged knave, without any doubte, Untyll bothe thyne eyes starte out. Here be a sorte of ragged knaves come in, Clothed all in Kendale grene, And to the they take their way nowe. ROBYN HODE. Peradventure they do so. 100 FRYER. I gave the leve to blowe at thy wyll, Now give me leve to whistell my fyll. ROBYN HODE. Whystell, frere, evyl mote thou fare, Untyll bothe thyne eyes stare[L104]. FRYER. Now Cut and Bause! Breng forth the clubbes and staves, And downe with those ragged knaves! ROBYN HODE. How sayest thou, frere, wylt thou be my man, To do me the best servyse thou can? Thou shalt have both golde and fee, 110 And also here is a lady free, I wyll geve her unto the, And her chapplayn I the make, To serve her for my sake. FRYER. Here is a huckle duckle, an inch above the buckle; She is a trul of trust, to serve a frier at his lust, A prycker, a prauncer, a terer of shetes,[L117] A wagger of buttockes[L118] when other men slepes. Go home, ye knaves, and lay crabbes in the fyre, For my lady and I wil daunce in the myre, 120 For veri pure joye. ROBYN HODE. Lysten, to [me], my mery men all, And harke what I shall say; Of an adventure I shall you tell, That befell this other daye. With a proude potter I met, And a rose garlande on his head, The floures of it shone marvaylous freshe; This seven yere and more he hath used this waye, Yet was he never so curteyse a potter, 130 As one peny passage to paye. Is there any of my mery men all That dare be so bolde To make the potter paie passage, Either silver or golde? LYTELL JOHN. Not I master, for twenty pound redy tolde, For there is not among us al one That dare medle with that potter, man for man. I felt his handes not long agone, But I had lever have ben here by the, 140 Therfore I knowe what he is. Mete him when ye wil, or mete him whan ye shal, He is as propre a man as ever you medle withal. ROBYN HODE. I will lai with the, Litel John, twenti pound so read, If I wyth that potter mete, I wil make him pay passage, maugre his head. LETTEL JOHN. I consente therto, so eate I bread, If he pay passage maugre his head, Twenti pound shall ye have of me for your mede. THE POTTERS BOY JACKE. Out alas, that ever I sawe this daye! 150 For I am clene out of my waye From Notyngham towne; If I hye me not the faster, Or I come there the market wel be done.[L154] ROBYN HODE.