Y grant[230] therto, seyde the potter, Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode ; Bot thow can sell mey pottes well, Com ayen as thow yode.[231] Nay, be mey trowt, seyde Roben, And then y bescro mey hede, Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen, And eney weyffe well hem chepe. Than spake Leytell John, And all hes felowhes heynd, Master, be well war of the screffe of Notynggam, For he ys leytell howr frende. Thorow the helpe of howr ladey, Felowhes, let me alone ; Heyt war howte, seyde Roben, To Notynggam well y gon. Robyn went to Notynggam, Thes pottes for to sell ; The potter abode with Robens men, Ther he fered not eylle.[232] {87} Tho Roben droffe on hes wey, So merey ower the londe. Heres mor and affter ys to saye, The best ys beheynde. [THE SECOND FIT.] When Roben cam to Notynggam, The soyt yef y scholde saye, He set op hes horse anon, And gaffe hem hotys and haye. Yn the medys of the towne, Ther he schowed hes war, Pottys ! pottys ! he gan crey foll sone, Haffe hansell for the mar. Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate, Schowed he hes chaffar ; Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow, And chepyd fast of hes war. Yet, Pottys, gret chepe ! creyed Robyn, Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde. And all that saw[233] hem sell, Seyde he had be no potter long. {88} The pottys that wer werthe pens feyfte, He solde tham for pens thre : Preveley seyde man and weyffe, Ywnder potter schall never the. Thos Roben solde foll fast, Tell he had pottys bot feyffe ; Op he hem toke of his car, And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe. Therof sche was foll fayne, Gereamarsey, sir, than seyde sche,[234] When ye com to thes contre ayen, Y schall bey of ‘they’[235] pottys, so mot y the. Ye schall haffe of the best, seyde Roben, And swar be the treneytè. Foll corteysley ‘she’[236] gan hem call, Come deyne with the screfe and me. Godamarsey, seyde Roben, Yowr bedyng schall be doyn. A mayden yn the pottys gan ber, Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon. Whan Roben ynto the hall cam, The screffe sone he met, The potter cowed of corteysey, And sone the screffe he gret. [Illustration: THE BANQUET.] [Illustration: THE BANQUET.] {89} “Loketh[237] what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me ! Feyffe pottys smalle and grete !” He ys fol welcom, seyd the screffe, Let os was, and ‘go’[238] to mete. As they sat at her methe, With a nobell cher, Two of the screffes men gan speke Off a gret wagèr, Was made the thother daye, Off a schotyng was god and feyne,[239] Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye, Who scholde thes wager wen. Styll than sat thes prowde potter, Thos than thowt he, As y am a trow Cerstyn man, Thes schotyng well y se. When they had fared of the best, With bred and ale and weyne, To the ‘bottys they’[240] made them prest, With bowes and boltys[241] foll feyne.