I seeke an outlawe, the straunger sayd, Men call him Robin Hood ; Rather Ild meet with that proud outlàwe Than fortye pound soe good. {120} “Now come with me, thou wighty yemàn And Robin thou soone shalt see ; But first let us some pastime find Under the greenwood tree. First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even, We may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here at some unsett steven.” They cutt them down two summer shroggs, That grew both under a breere, And sett them threescore rood in twaine, To shoote the prickes y-fere. Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood, Leade on, I do bidd thee. Nay, by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd, My leader thou shalt bee. The first time Robin shot at the pricke, He mist but an inch it fro : The yeoman he was an archer good, But he cold never shoote soe. The second shoote had the wightye yemàn, He shot within the garlànd : But Robin he shott far better than hee, For he clave the good pricke-wande. {121} A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd ; Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode ; For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better than Robin Hoode. Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he, Under the leaves of lyne. Nay, by my faith, quoth bold Robin, Till thou have told me thine. I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee, And Robin to take Ime sworne ; And when I am called by my right name I am Guy of good Gisbòrne. My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin, By thee I set right nought : I am Robin Hood of Barnèsdale, Whom thou so long hast sought. He that had neyther beene kythe nor kin, Might have seen a full fayre fight, To see how together these yeomen went With blades both browne and bright. To see how these yeomen together they fought Two howres of a summers day : Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy Them fettled to flye away. {122} Robin was reachles on a roote And stumbled at that tyde ; And Guy was quicke and nimble withall, And hitt him ore the left syde. Ah, deere ladye, sayd Robin Hood tho, Thou art both[273] mother and may, I think it was never mans destinye To dye before his day. Robin thought on our ladye deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with a[n] awkwarde[274] stroke, And he sir Guy[275] hath slayne. He took sir Guys head by the hayre, And sticked itt upon his bowes end : “Thou hast beene a traytor all thy life, Which thing must have an end.” {123} Robin pulled forth an Irish knife, And nicked sir Guy in the face, That he was never on woman born Cold tell whose head it was. Sayes, Lye there, lye there, now sir Guye, And with me be not wrothe ; Iff thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, Thou shalt have the better clothe. Robin did off his gown of greene, And on sir Guy did it throwe, And he put on that capull hyde, That cladd him topp to toe.