Opening the text

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

General

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Outlaws -- Poetry; Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Poetry; Songs, English -- England -- Texts

I have none other, sayd the knyght,
   The sothe for to say,
 But yf it be our dere lady,
   She fayled me never or this day.

 By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,
   To seche all Englond thorowe,
 Yet founde I never to my pay,
   A moch better borowe. {14}

 Come now forthe, Lytell Johan,
   And goo to my tresourè,
 And brynge me foure hondred pounde,
   And loke that it well tolde be.

 Forthe then wente Lytell Johan,
   And Scathelocke went before,
 He tolde out foure houndred pounde,
   By eyghtene score.[137]

 Is this well tolde ? sayd lytell Much.
   Johan sayd, What greveth the ?
 It is almes to helpe a gentyll knyght
   That is fall in povertè.

 Mayster, than sayd Lytell Johan,
   His clothynge is full thynne,
 Ye must gyve the knyght a lyveray,
   To ‘lappe’[138] his body ther in.

 For ye have scarlet and grene, mayster,
   And many a ryche aray,
 There is no marchaunt in mery Englònde
   So ryche, I dare well saye.

 Take hym thre yerdes of every coloure,
   And loke that well mete it be.
 Lytell Johan toke none other mesure
   But his bowe tre,

[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]

[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]

{15}

 And of every handfull that he met
   He lept ouer fotes thre.
 What devilkyns draper, sayd litell Much,
   Thynkyst thou to be ?

 Scathelocke stoode full styll and lough,
   And sayd, By god allmyght,
 Johan may gyve hym the better mesure,
   By god, it cost him but lyght.

 Mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,
   All unto Robyn Hode,
 Ye must gyve that knight an hors,
   To lede home al this good.

 Take hym a gray courser, sayd Robyn,
   And a sadell newe ;
 He is our ladyes messengere,
   God lene[139] that he be true.

 And a good palfraye, sayd lytell Moch,
   To mayntayne hym in his ryght.
 And a payre of botes, sayd Scathelocke,
   For he is a gentyll knyght.

 What shalt thou gyve hym, Lytel Johan ? sayd Robyn.
   Syr, a payre of gylte spores clene,
 To pray for all this company :
   God brynge hym out of tene ! {16}

 Whan shall my daye be, sayd the knyght,
   Syr, and your wyll be ?
 This daye twelve moneth, sayd Robyn,
   Under this grene wode tre.

 It were grete shame, sayd Robyn,
   A knyght alone to ryde,
 Without squyer, yeman or page,
   To walke by hys syde.

 I shall the lene Lytyll Johan my man,
   For he shall be thy knave ;
 In a yemans steed he may the stonde,
   Yf thou grete nede have.


THE SECONDE FYTTE.

 Nowe is the knyght went on this way,
   This game he thought full good,
 When he loked on Bernysdale,
   He blyssed Robyn Hode ;

 And whan he thought on Bernysdale,
   On Scathelock, Much, and Johan,
 He blyssed them for the best company
   That ever he in come. {17}

 Then spake that gentyll knyght,
   To Lytel Johan gan he saye,
 To morowe I must to Yorke toune,
   To Saynt Mary abbay ;

 And to the abbot of that place
   Foure hondred pounde I must pay :
 And but I be there upon this nyght
   My londe is lost for ay.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

General

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Outlaws -- Poetry; Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Poetry; Songs, English -- England -- Texts

I have none other, sayd the knyght,
   The sothe for to say,
 But yf it be our dere lady,
   She fayled me never or this day.

 By dere worthy god, sayd Robyn,
   To seche all Englond thorowe,
 Yet founde I never to my pay,
   A moch better borowe. {14}

 Come now forthe, Lytell Johan,
   And goo to my tresourè,
 And brynge me foure hondred pounde,
   And loke that it well tolde be.

 Forthe then wente Lytell Johan,
   And Scathelocke went before,
 He tolde out foure houndred pounde,
   By eyghtene score.[137]

 Is this well tolde ? sayd lytell Much.
   Johan sayd, What greveth the ?
 It is almes to helpe a gentyll knyght
   That is fall in povertè.

 Mayster, than sayd Lytell Johan,
   His clothynge is full thynne,
 Ye must gyve the knyght a lyveray,
   To ‘lappe’[138] his body ther in.

 For ye have scarlet and grene, mayster,
   And many a ryche aray,
 There is no marchaunt in mery Englònde
   So ryche, I dare well saye.

 Take hym thre yerdes of every coloure,
   And loke that well mete it be.
 Lytell Johan toke none other mesure
   But his bowe tre,

[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]

[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN AND THE KNIGHT.]

{15}

 And of every handfull that he met
   He lept ouer fotes thre.
 What devilkyns draper, sayd litell Much,
   Thynkyst thou to be ?

 Scathelocke stoode full styll and lough,
   And sayd, By god allmyght,
 Johan may gyve hym the better mesure,
   By god, it cost him but lyght.

 Mayster, sayd Lytell Johan,
   All unto Robyn Hode,
 Ye must gyve that knight an hors,
   To lede home al this good.

 Take hym a gray courser, sayd Robyn,
   And a sadell newe ;
 He is our ladyes messengere,
   God lene[139] that he be true.

 And a good palfraye, sayd lytell Moch,
   To mayntayne hym in his ryght.
 And a payre of botes, sayd Scathelocke,
   For he is a gentyll knyght.

 What shalt thou gyve hym, Lytel Johan ? sayd Robyn.
   Syr, a payre of gylte spores clene,
 To pray for all this company :
   God brynge hym out of tene ! {16}

 Whan shall my daye be, sayd the knyght,
   Syr, and your wyll be ?
 This daye twelve moneth, sayd Robyn,
   Under this grene wode tre.

 It were grete shame, sayd Robyn,
   A knyght alone to ryde,
 Without squyer, yeman or page,
   To walke by hys syde.

 I shall the lene Lytyll Johan my man,
   For he shall be thy knave ;
 In a yemans steed he may the stonde,
   Yf thou grete nede have.


THE SECONDE FYTTE.

 Nowe is the knyght went on this way,
   This game he thought full good,
 When he loked on Bernysdale,
   He blyssed Robyn Hode ;

 And whan he thought on Bernysdale,
   On Scathelock, Much, and Johan,
 He blyssed them for the best company
   That ever he in come. {17}

 Then spake that gentyll knyght,
   To Lytel Johan gan he saye,
 To morowe I must to Yorke toune,
   To Saynt Mary abbay ;

 And to the abbot of that place
   Foure hondred pounde I must pay :
 And but I be there upon this nyght
   My londe is lost for ay.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

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