The King came to Nottingham With Knights in great array For to take that gentle Knight And ROBIN HOOD, if he may. He asked men of that country After ROBIN HOOD, And after that gentle Knight That was so bold and stout. When they had told him the case, Our King understood their tale And seized in his hand The Knight's land all. All the pass of Lancashire He went both far and near; Till he came to Plom[p]ton Park He failed many of his deer. There our King was wont to see Herdes many a one, He could unneath find one deer That bare any good horn. The King was wondrous wroth withal, And swore, "By the Trinity! I would I had ROBIN HOOD! With eyen I might him see! And he that would smite off the Knight's head, And bring it to me; He shall have the Knight's lands Sir RICHARD AT THE LEE. I give it him with my charter, And seal it [with] my hand, To have and hold for evermore In all merry England." Then bespake a fair old Knight, That was true in his fay, "O my liege Lord the King, One word I shall you say! There is no man in this country May have the Knight's lands While ROBIN HOOD may ride or gone And bear a bow in his hands, That he ne shall lose his head, That is the best ball in his hood: Give it to no man, my Lord the King! That ye will any good!" Half a year dwelled our comely King In Nottingham, and well more, Could he not hear of ROBIN HOOD, In what country that he were: But always went good ROBIN By halke and eke by hill, And always slew the King's deer And welt them at his will. Then bespake a proud for'ster That stood by our King's knee, "If ye will see good ROBIN Ye must do after me! Take five of the best Knights That be in your lead, And walk down by yon Abbey And get you monks' weed! And I will be your leadsman And lead you the way! And or ye come to Nottingham, Mine head then dare I lay! That ye shall meet with good ROBIN, In life if that he be: Or ye come to Nottingham With eyen ye shall him see!" Full hastily our King was dight, So were his Knightes five, Everych of them in monks' weed, And hasted them thither blithe. Our King was great above his cowl, A broad hat on his crown. Right as he were Abbot like, They rode up into the town. Stiff boots our King had on, For sooth as I you say, He rode singing to green wood, The convent was clothed in grey. His mail horse and his great somers Followed our King behind, Till they came to green wood A mile under the lynde. There they met with good ROBIN Standing on the way, And so did many a bold archer, For sooth as I you say. ROBIN took the King's horse, Hastily in that stead: And said, "Sir Abbot! by your leave; A while ye must abide! We be yeoman of this forest, Under the green-wood tree, We live by our King's deer, Under the green-wood tree; And ye have churches and rents both,