"Now so god me helpe," sayd Lytel Johan,[L41] "And be my trewe lewtè, I shall be the worste servaunte to hym That ever yet had he." It befell upon a Wednesday, 45 The sheryfe on hontynge was gone, And Lytel Johan lay in his bed, And was foryete at home. Therfore he was fastynge Tyl it was past the none; 50 "Good syr stuard, I pray the, Geve me to dyne," sayd Lytel Johan. "It is to long for Grenelefe, Fastynge so long to be; Therfore I pray the, stuarde, 55 My dyner gyve thou me." "Shalt thou never ete ne drynke," said the stuarde, "Tyll my lord be come to towne;" "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan, "I had lever to cracke thy crowne." 60 The butler was full uncurteys, There he stode on flore; He sterte to the buttery, And shet fast the dore. Lytell Johan gave the buteler such a rap, 65 His backe yede nygh on two; Tho he lyved an hundreth wynter, The wors he sholde go. He sporned the dore with his fote, It went up wel and fyne,[L70] 70 And there he made a large lyveray Both of ale and wyne. "Syth ye wyl not dyne," sayd Lytel Johan, "I shall gyve you to drynke, And though ye lyve an hondred wynter, 75 On Lytell Johan ye shall thynk." Lytell Johan ete, and Lytell [Johan] dronke, The whyle that he wolde; The sheryfe had in hys kechyn a coke, A stoute man and a bolde. 80 "I make myn avowe to god," sayd the coke, "Thou arte a shrewde hynde, In an householde to dwel, For to ask thus to dyne." And there he lent Lytel Johan 85 Good strokes thre; "I make myn avowe," said Lytell Johan, "These strokes lyketh well me. "Thou arte a bolde man and an hardy And so thynketh me; 90 And or I passe fro this place, Asayed better shalt thou be." Lytell Johan drewe a good swerde, The coke toke another in honde; They thought nothynge for to fle, 95 But styfly for to stonde. There they fought sore togyder, Two myle way and more; Myght neyther other harme done, The mountenaunce of an houre. 100 "I make myn avowe to god," sayd Lytell Johan, "And be my trewe lewtè, Thou art one of the best swerdemen, That ever yet sawe I me. "Coowdest thou shote as well in a bowe, 105 To grene wood thou sholdest with me, And two tymes in the yere thy clothynge Ichaunged sholde be;