The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crown of gold so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth. The second, to tell him, without any doubt, How soon he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrink, But tell him there truly what he does think. Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man wit? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel. Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me, I am like your lordship, as ever may be: And if you will but lend me your gown, There is none shall know us at fair London town. Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appear 'fore our father the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall be. And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birth, Tell me to one penny what I am worth. For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jews, as I have been told; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I think, thou art one penny worser than he. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,[128] I did not think I had been worth so little! --Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride this whole world about. You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth again; And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soon! --Now from the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think. Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry: You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury; But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for me. The king he laughed, and swore by the mass, I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place! Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed, For, alack, I can neither write nor read. Four nobles a week then I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me; And tell the old abbot when thou com'st home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John. FOOTNOTES: [126] Hurt. [127] Place. [128] St. Botolph. ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTAL FRIAR. In the summer time, when leaves grow green, And flowers are fresh and gay, Robin Hood and his merry men Were all disposed to play.