The Knight started out of the door, Away was all his care! And on he put his good clothing, The other he left there. He went him forth full merry singing As men have told in tale, His Lady met him at the gate At home in Verysdale. "Welcome, my Lord!" said his Lady, "Sir, lost is all your good?" "Be merry, Dame!" said the Knight, "And pray for ROBIN HOOD! That ever his soul be in bliss; He helped me out of my teen. Ne had not been his kindness, Beggars had we been! The Abbot and I accorded be; He is served of his pay! The good yeoman lent it me, As I came by the way." This Knight then dwelled fair at home, The sooth for to say, Till he had got four hundred pounds All ready for to pay. He purveyed him an hundred bows, The strings well dight; An hundred sheafs of arrows good, The heads burnished full bright: And every arrow an ell long With peacock well ydight; Ynocked all with white silver, It was a seemly sight. He purveyed him an hundred men, Well harnessed in that stead, And himself in that same set And clothed in white and red. He bare a lancegay in his hand, And a man led his mail, And riden with a light song Unto Bernysdale. But at Wentbridge there was a wrestling, And there tarried was he: And there was all the best yeomen Of all the West country. A full fair game there was up set; A white bull up i-pight; A great courser, with saddle and bridle With gold burnished full bright; A pair of gloves, a red gold ring, A pipe of wine, in fay: What man beareth him best, Iwis The prize shall bear away. There was a yeoman in that place, And best worthy was he. And for he was far and fremd bestead Yslain he should have be. The Knight had ruth of his yeoman In place where that he stood: He said, "The yeoman should have no harm, For love of ROBIN HOOD!" The Knight pressed into the place, An hundred followed him free, With bows bent and arrows sharp For to shend that company. They shouldered all and made him room To wit what he would say; He took the yeoman by the hand And gave him all the play; He gave him five marks for his wine, There it laid on the mould: And bade it should be set abroach, Drink who so would! Thus long tarried this gentle Knight Till that play was done: So long abode ROBIN fasting, Three hours after the noon. +The third fytte.+