The Sheriff dwelled in Nottingham, He was fain that he was gone, And ROBIN and his merry men Went to wood anon. "Go we to dinner?" said Little JOHN. ROBIN HOOD said, "Nay! For I dread our Lady be wroth with me; For she [has] sent me not my pay!" "Have no doubt, Master!" said Little JOHN. "Yet is not the sun not at rest: For I dare say and safely swear The Knight is true and trust!" "Take thy bow in thy hand!" said ROBIN. "Let MUCH wend with thee! And so shall WILLIAM SCATHELOCK; And no man abide with me! And walk up under the Sayles, And to Watling Street; And wait after such unketh guest, Upchance ye may them meet. Whether he be messenger, Or a man that mirths can; Of my good, he shall have some If he be a poor man!" Forth then started Little JOHN, Half in tray or teen, And girded him with a full good sword Under a mantle of green. They went up to the Sayles, These yeomen all three, They looked East, they looked West, They might no man see. But as they looked in Bernysdale, By the highway Then were they 'ware of two black monks, Each on a good palfrey. Then bespake Little JOHN, To MUCH he 'gan say: "I dare lay my life to wed These monks have brought our pay!" "Make glad cheer," said Little JOHN, "And frese our bows of yew! And look your hearts be sicker and sad, Your strings trusty and true!" The monk had fifty and two [men] And seven somers full strong, There rideth no Bishop in this land So royally I understand. "Brethren," said Little JOHN, "Here are no more but we three; But we bring them to dinner, Our Master, dare we not see!" "Bend your bows!" said Little JOHN, "Make all yon press to stand! The foremost monk, his life and his death, Are closed in my hand. Abide, churl Monk!" said Little JOHN, "No further that thou go, If thou dost, by dear-worthy God! Thy death is in my hand! And evil thrift on thy head!" said Little JOHN, "Right under thy hat's band: For thou hast made our Master wroth, He is fasting so long!" "Who is your Master?" said the Monk. Little JOHN said, "ROBIN HOOD!" "He is a strong thief!" said the Monk; "Of him heard I never good!" "Thou liest then!" said Little JOHN, "And that shall rue thee! He is a yeoman of the forest; To dine, he hath bidden thee!" MUCH was ready with a bolt, Readily and anon, He set the Monk tofore the breast To the ground that he can gone. Of fifty-two wight young yeomen There abode not one; Save a little page and a groom To lead the somers with Little JOHN. They brought the Monk to the lodge door, Whether he were loth or lief, For to speak with ROBIN HOOD, Maugre in their teeth. ROBIN did adown his hood, The Monk when that he see, The Monk who was not so courteous His hood then let he be. "He is a churl, Master! by dear-worthy God!" Then said Little JOHN.