And great horns 'gan they blow! "Woe worth the treason!" said ROBIN; "Full evil thou art to know! And woe be thou, thou proud Sheriff! Thus gladding thy guest, Otherwise thou behote me In yonder wild forest, But had I thee in green wood, Under my trystel tree, Thou shouldst leave me a better wed, Than thy true lewte." Full many a bow there was bent, And arrows let they glide! Many a kirtle there was rent, And hurt many a side! The outlaws' shot was so strong That no man might them drive, And the proud Sheriff's men They fled away full blyve. ROBIN saw the [am]bushment to broke, In green wood he would have been; Many an arrow there was shot Among that company. Little JOHN was hurt full sore, With an arrow in his knee, That he might neither go nor ride: It was full great pity! "Master!" then said Little JOHN, "If ever thou lovest me; And for that ilk Lord's love That died upon a tree! And for the meeds of my service, That I have served thee: Let never the proud Sheriff Alive now find me! But take out thy brown sword And smite all off my head! And give me wounds dead and wide, No life on me be left!" "I would not that," said ROBIN, "JOHN! that thou be slo, For all the gold in merry England, Though it lay now on a row!" "God forbid!" said Little MUCH, "That died on a tree! That thou shouldst, Little JOHN! 'Part our company!" Up he took him on his back, And bare him well nigh a mile: Many a time, he laid him down, And shot another while. Then was there a fair Castle A little within the wood; Double ditched it was about, And walled, by the rood: And there dwelt that gentle Knight, Sir RICHARD AT THE LEE, That ROBIN had lent his good Under the green-wood tree. In he took good ROBIN And all his company. "Welcome be thou, ROBIN HOOD! Welcome art thou, to me! And much thank thee of thy comfort And of thy courtesy, And of thy great kindness Under the green-wood tree! I love no man, in all this world So much as I do thee! For all the proud Sheriff of NOTTINGHAM; Right here shalt thou be! Shut the gates, and draw the bridge; And let no man come in! And arm you well, and make you ready! And to the wall ye win! For one thing, ROBIN! I thee behote I swear by St. Quintin! These twelve days thou wonest with me, To sup, eat, and dine!" Boards were laid and cloths spread Readily and anon: ROBIN HOOD and his merry men To meat 'gan they gone. +¶ The sixth fytte.+