And gold full great plenty: Give us some of your spending, For saint charity!" Then bespake our comely King, Anon then said he, "I brought no more to green wood. But forty pounds with me. I have lain at Nottingham, This fortnight with our King; And spent I have full much good On many a great Lording: And I have but forty pounds, No more than have I me. But if I had a hundred pounds, I would give it to thee!" ROBIN took the forty pounds, And departed it in two parts: Halfendell he gave his merry men, And bade them merry to be. Full courteously ROBIN 'gan say, "Sir, have this for your spending! We shall meet another day." "Grammercy!" then said our King. "But well thee greeteth EDWARD our King, And sent to thee his seal; And biddeth thee come to Nottingham, Both to meat and meal!" He took out the broad targe And soon he let him see. ROBIN could his courtesy, And set him on his knee. "I love no man in all the world So well as I do my King! Welcome is my Lord's seal! And monk for thy tiding, Sir Abbot, for thy tidings, To-day, thou shalt dine with me! For the love of my King, Under my trystel tree." Forth he led our comely King Full fair by the hand; Many a deer there was slain, And full fast dightand. ROBIN took a full great horn, And loud he 'gan blow, Seven score of wight young men Came ready on a row. All they kneeled on their knee Full fair before ROBIN. The King said, himself until, And swore, "By Saint AUSTIN! Here is a wondrous seemly sight! Methinketh, by God's pine! His men are more at his bidding Than my men be at mine." Full hastily was their dinner ydight, And thereto 'gan they gone; They served our King with all their might, Both ROBIN and Little JOHN. Anon before our King was set The fat venison, The good white bread, the good red wine, And thereto the fine ale brown. "Make good cheer!" said ROBIN, "Abbot, for charity! And for this ilk tiding Blessed might thou be! Now shalt thou see what life we lead, Or thou hence wend, That thou may inform our King When ye together lend." Up they start all in haste, Their bows were smartly bent: Our King was never so sore aghast; He wended to have been shent! Two yards there were up set Thereto 'gan they gang. "By fifty paces," our King said, "The marks were too long!" On every side a rose garland, They shot under the line. "Whoso faileth of the rose garland," saith ROBIN, "His tackle he shall tine, And yield it to his Master, Be it never so fine! (For no man will I spare, So drink I ale or wine!) And bear a buffet on his head Iwis right all bare." And all that fell in ROBIN's lot, He smote them wondrous sore. Twice ROBIN shot about, And ever he cleaved the wand; And so did good "GILBERT, With the good white hand." Little JOHN and good SCATHELOCK, For nothing would they spare.