Yf it be so, than sayd our kynge, It may no better be ; Seven nyght I gyve the leve, No lengre, to dwell fro me. Gramercy, lorde, then sayd Robyn, And set hym on his kne ; He toke his leve full courteysly, To grene wode then went he. {79} Whan he came to grene wode, In a mery mornynge, There he herde the notes small Of byrdes mery syngynge. It is ferre gone, sayd Robyn, That I was last here, Me lyste a lytell for to shote At the donne dere. Robyn slewe a full grete harte, His horne than gan he blow, That all the outlawes of that forèst, That horne coud they knowe, And gadred them togyder, In a lytell throwe, Seven score of wight yonge men, Came redy on a rowe ; And fayre dyde of theyr hodes, And set them on theyr kne : Welcome, they sayd, our maystèr, Under this grene wode tre. Robyn dwelled in grene wode, Twenty yere and two, For all drede of Edwarde our kynge Agayne wolde he not goo. {80} Yet he was begyled, I wys, Through a wycked womàn, The pryoresse of Kyrkesly, That nye was of his kynne, For the love of a knyght, Syr Roger of Donkestèr,[212] That was her owne speciall, Full evyll mote they ‘fare.’[213] They toke togyder theyr counsell Robyn Hode for to sle, And how they myght best do that dede, His banis for to be. Than bespake good Robyn, In place where as he stode, To morow I muste to Kyrkesley, Craftely to be leten blode. Sir Roger of Donkestere, By the pryoresse he lay, And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode Through theyr false playe. Cryst have mercy on his soule, That dyed on the rode ! For he was a good outlawe, And dyde pore men moch god. {81} [Illustration] II. ROBYN HODE [AND THE POTTER]. This curious, and hitherto unpublished, and even unheard of, old piece is given from a manuscript among Bishop More’s collections, in the public library of the University of Cambridge (Ee. 4. 35). The writing, which is evidently that of a vulgar and illiterate person, appears to be of the age of Henry the Seventh, that is, about the year 1500; but the composition (which he has irremediably corrupted) is probably of an earlier period, and much older, no doubt, than “The Play of Robyn Hode,” which seems allusive to the same story. At the end of the original is “Expleycyt Robyn Hode.” {82} In schomer, when the leves spryng, The bloschems on every bowe, So merey doyt the berdys syng, Yn wodys merey now. Herkens, god yemen, Comley, cortessey, and god, On of the best that yever bar bou, Hes name was Roben Hode. Roben Hood was the yemans name, That was boyt corteys and fre ; For the loffe of owr ladey, All wemen werschep ‘he.’[214] Bot as the god yeman stod on a day, Among hes mery manèy, He was war of a prowd potter, Cam dryfyng owyr the ‘ley.’[215]