36 . . . . . . . ‘We will go but we too; And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John, . . . . . . . 37 ‘Loke þ_a_t ȝe kepe wel owre tristil-tre, Vnd_e_r þe levys smale, And spare non of this venyson, Þ_a_t gose in thys vale.’ 38 Fforþe þen went these ȝemen too, Litul John and Moche on fere, And lokid on Moch emys hows, Þe hye way lay full nere. 39 Litul John stode at a wyndow i_n_ þe mornyng, And lokid forþ at a stage; He was war wher þe munke came ridyng, And w_i_t_h_ hym a litul page. 40 ‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch, ‘I can þe tel tithyngus gode; I se wher þe munke cu_m_ys rydyng, I know hym be his wyde hode.’ 41 They went in to the way, þese ȝeme_n_ boþe, As curtes men and hende; Þei spyrred tithyngus at þe munke, As they hade bene his frende. 42 ‘Ffro whens come ȝe?’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray, Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,] Was takyn ȝist_e_rday. 43 ‘He robbyt me and my felowes boþe Of twenti marke in s_er_ten; If þ_a_t false owtlay be takyn, Ffor soþe we wolde be fayn.’ 44 ‘So did he me,’ seid þe munke, ‘Of a hundred pound and more; I layde furst hande hym apon, Ȝe may thonke me þ_er_fore.’ 45 ‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John, ‘And we wil when we may; We wil go w_i_t_h_ you, w_i_t_h_ yo_u_r leve, And bryng yow on yo_u_r way. 46 ‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow, I tell you in certen; If þei wist ȝe rode þ_i_s way, In feith ȝe shulde be slayn.’ 47 As þei went talking be þe way, The munke and Litull John, John toke þe munk_i_s horse be þe hede, Fful sone and anon. 48 Johne toke þe munk_i_s horse be þe hed, Ffor soþe as I yow say; So did Much þe litull page, Ffor he shulde not scape away. 49 Be þe golett of þe hode John pulled þe munke down; John was nothyng of hym agast, He lete hym falle on his crown. 50 Litull John was so[re] agrevyd, And drew owt his swerde in hye; This munke saw he shulde be ded, Lowd mercy can he crye. 51 ‘He was my maist_er_,’ seid Litull John, ‘Þ_a_t þ_o_u hase browȝt in bale; Shalle þ_o_u neu_er_ cu_m_ at our kyng, Ffor to telle hym tale.’ 52 John smote of þe munk_i_s hed, No long_er_ wolde he dwell; So did Moch þe litull page, Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell. 53 Þ_e_r þei beryed hem boþe, In nouþ_er_ mosse nor lyng, And Litull John and Much infere Bare þe letturs to oure kyng. 54 . . . . . . . He knelid down vpon his kne: ‘God ȝow saue, my lege lorde, Ih_es_us yow saue and se! 55 ‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’ To speke John was full bolde; He gaf hym þe letturs i_n_ his hond, The kyng did hit vnfold.