Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
Let me se, are thy pottes hole and sounde?[L155]
JACKE.
Yea, meister, but they will not breake the ground.
ROBYN HODE.
I wil them breke, for the cuckold thi maisters sake;
And if they will breake the grounde,[L158]
Thou shalt have thre pence for a pound.
JACKE.
Out alas! what have ye done? 160
If my maister come, he will breke your crown.
THE POTTER.
Why, thou horeson, art thou here yet?
Thou shouldest have bene at markèt.
JACKE.
I met with Robin Hode, a good yemàn,
He hath broken my pottes,
And called you kuckolde by your name.
THE POTTER.
Thou mayst be a gentylman, so god me save,
But thou semest a noughty knave.
Thou callest me cuckolde by my name,
And I swere by god and saynt John 170
Wyfe had I never none.
This cannot I denye,
But if thou be a good felowe,
I wil sel mi horse, mi harneis, pottes and paniers to,
Thou shalt have the one halfe and I will have the other;
If thou be not so content,
Thou shalt have stripes, if thou were my brother.
ROBYN HODE.
Harke, potter, what I shall say:
This seven yere and more thou hast used this way,
Yet were thou never so curteous to me, 180
As one penny passage to paye.
THE POTTER.
Why should I pay passage to thee?
ROBYN HODE.
For I am Robyn Hode, chiefe gouernoure
Under the grene woode tree.
THE POTTER.
This seven yere have I used this way up and downe,
Yet payed I passage to no man,
Nor now I wyl not beginne, so do the worst thou can.[L187]
ROBYN HODE.
Passage shalt thou pai here under the grene-wode tre,
Or els thou shalt leve a wedde with me.[L189]
THE POTTER.
If thou be a good felowe, as men do the call, 190
Laye awaye thy bowe,
And take thy sword and buckeler in thy hande,
And see what shall befall.
ROBIN HODE.
Lyttle John, where art thou?
LYTTEL [JOHN].
Here, mayster, I make god a vowe.
I tolde you, mayster, so god me save,
That you shoulde fynde the potter a knave.[L197]
Holde your buckeler faste in your hande,
And I wyll styfly by you stande,
Ready for to fyghte; 200
Be the knave never so stoute,
I shall rappe him on the snoute,
And put hym to flyghte.
35, maister, C.
64 ell, C.
70 You, you, C.
82, donee, C.
104, starte, C.
117, shefes, C.
118, ballockes, C.
154, maryet, C.
155, the, C.
158, not breake, in C.
187, to do, C.; _to_ or _so_ omitted in W.
189, wedded, C, wed, W.
197, your, C.
FRAGMENT OF AN INTERLUDE (?) OF ROBIN HOOD.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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