All dreri then was his[121] semblaunte, And lytell was hys pryde, Hys one fote in the sterope stode, That other waved besyde. Hys hode hangynge over hys eyen two, He rode in symple aray ; A soryer man than he was one Rode never in somers-day. Lytell Johan was curteyse, And set hym on his kne : Welcome be ye, gentyll knyght, Welcome are you to me. [Illustration: COURTESY OF LITTLE JOHN.] [Illustration: COURTESY OF LITTLE JOHN.] {7} Welcome be thou to grene wood, Hende knyght and fre ; My mayster hath abyden you fastynge, Syr, all these oures thre. Who is your mayster ? sayd the knyght. Johan saydé, Robyn Hode. He is a good yeman, sayd the knyght, Of hym I have herde moch good. I graunte, he sayd, with you to wende, My brethren all in-fere ;[122] My purpose was to have deyned to day At Blythe or Dankastere. Forthe than went this[123] gentyll knyght, With a carefull chere, The teres out of his eyen ran, And fell downe by his lere.[124] They brought hym unto the lodge dore, When Robyn gan hym se, Full curteysly dyde of his hode, And set hym on his kne. Welcome, syr knyght, then said Robyn, Welcome thou arte to me, I haue abyde you fastynge, syr, All these houres thre. Then answered the gentyll knyght, With wordes fayre and fre, God the save, good Robyn, And all thy fayre meynè. They washed togyder and wyped bothe, And set tyll theyr dynere ; Brede and wyne they had ynough, And nombles of the dere ; Swannes and fesauntes they had full good, And foules of the revere ; There fayled never so lytell a byrde, That ever was bred on brere. Do gladly, syr knyght, sayd Robyn. Gramercy, syr, sayd he, Suche a dyner had I not Of all these wekes thre ; If I come agayne, Robyn, Here by this countrè, As good a dyner I shall the make, As thou hast made to me. Gramercy, knyght, sayd Robyn, My dyner whan I have, I was never so gredy, by dere worthy god, My dyner for to crave. {9} But pay or ye wende, sayd Robyn, Me thynketh it is good ryght ; It was never the maner, by dere worthy god, A yeman to pay[125] for a knyght. I have nought in my cofers, sayd the knyght, That I may profer for shame. Lytell Johan, go loke, sayd Robyn,[126] Ne let not for no blame. Tell me trouth, sayd Robyn, So god hath parte of the. I have no more but ten shillings, sayd the knyght, So god hath parte of me. Yf thou have no more, sayd Robyn, I wyll not one peny ; And yf thou have nede of ony more, More shall I len the. Go now forth, Lytell Johan, The trouthe tell thou me, Yf there be no more but ten shillings, Not one peny that I se. Lytell Johan spred downe his mantèll Full fayre upon the grounde, And there he founde in the knyghtes cofer But even halfe a pounde. {10}