171 ‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode Twe_n_ty merke to thy fe:’ ‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke, ‘And felowës woll we be.’ 172 Thanne he fet to Lytell John_n_ The nowmbles of a do, Gode brede, and full gode wyne; They ete and drank theretoo. 173 And when they had dronkyn well, Theyre trouthës togeder they plight That they wo[l]de be with Robyn That ylkë samë nyght. 174 They dyd them to the tresoure-hows, As fast as they myght gone; The lokkës, that were of full gode stele, They brake them euerichone. 175 They toke away the siluer vessell, And all th_a_t thei mig[h]t get; Pecis, masars, ne sponis, Wolde thei not forget. 176 Also [they] toke the godë pe_n_s, Thre hundred pounde and more, And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode, Under the grenë wode hore. 177 ‘God the saue, my derë mayster, And Criste the saue and se!’ And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell John_n_, Welcome myght thou be. 178 ‘Also be that fayre yeman Thou bryngest there with the; What tydyngës fro Noty[n]gham? Lytill John_n_, tell thou me.’ 179 ‘Well the gretith the proudë sheryf, And sende[th] the here by me His coke and his siluer vessell, And thre hundred pounde and thre.’ 180 ‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn, ‘And to the Trenytë, It was neuer by his gode wyll This gode is come to me.’ 181 Lytyll John_n_ there hym bethought On a shrewde wyle; Fyue myle i_n_ the forest he ran, Hym happed all his wyll. 182 Than he met the proudë sheref, Huntynge with houndes and horne; Lytell John_n_ coude of curtesye, And knelyd hym beforne. 183 ‘God the saue, my derë mayster, And Criste the saue and se!’ ‘Reynolde Grenëlefe,’ sayde the shryef, ‘Where hast thou nowe be?’ 184 ‘I haue be in this forest; A fayre syght can I se; It was one of the fayrest syghtes That euer yet sawe I me. 185 ‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte, His coloure is of grene; Seuen score of dere vpon a herde Be with hym all bydene. 186 ‘Their tyndës are so sharpe, maister, Of sexty, and well mo, That I durst not shote for drede, Lest they wolde me slo.’ 187 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref, ‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’ ‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi derë mayster, Anone, and we_n_de w_i_t_h_ me.’ 188 The sherif rode, and Litell John_n_ Of fote he was full smerte, And whane they came before Robyn, ‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’ 189 Still stode the proudë sherief, A sory man was he; ‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Grenëlefe, Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’ 190 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell John_n_, ‘Mayster, ye be to blame; I was mysserued of my dynere Whan I was w_i_t_h_ you at home.’