Of all the men in the morning thou art the worst, To mete with the I have no lust; For he that meteth a frere or a fox in the morning, To spede ill that day he standeth in jeoperdy. Therfore I had lever mete with the devil of hell, 65 (Fryer, I tell the as I thinke,) Then mete with a fryer or a fox In a mornyng, or I drynk. FRYER Avaunt, thou ragged knave! this is but a mock; If thou make mani words thou shal have a knock. 70 ROBYN HODE Harke, frere, what I say here: Over this water thou shalt me bere, The brydge is borne away. FRYER To say naye I wyll not; To let the of thine oth it were great pitie and sin; 75 But up on a fryers backe, and have even in! ROBYN HODE Nay, have over. FRYER Now am I, frere, within, and thou, Robin, without, To lay the here I have no great doubt. Now art thou, Robyn, without, and I, frere, within, 80 Lye ther, knave; chose whether thou wilte sinke or swym. ROBYN HODE Why, thou lowsy frere, what hast thou done? FRYER Mary, set a knave over the shone. ROBYN HODE Therfore thou shalt abye. FRYER Why, wylt thou fyght a plucke? 85 ROBYN HODE And God send me good lucke. FRYER Than have a stroke for fryer Tucke. ROBYN HODE Holde thy hande, frere, and here me speke. FRYER Say on, ragged knave, Me semeth ye begyn to swete. 90 ROBYN HODE In this forest I have a hounde, I wyl not give him for an hundreth pound. Geve me leve my horne to blowe, That my hounde may knowe. FRYER Blowe on, ragged knave, without any doubte, 95 Untyll bothe thyne eyes starte out. Here be a sorte of ragged knaves come in, Clothed all in Kendale grene, And to the they take their way nowe. ROBYN HODE Peradventure they do so. 100 FRYER I gave the leve to blowe at thy wyll, Now give me leve to whistell my fyll. ROBYN HODE Whystell, frere, evyl mote thou fare! Untyll bothe thyne eyes stare. FRYER Now Cut and Bause! 105 Breng forth the clubbes and staves, And downe with those ragged knaves! ROBYN HODE