293 Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke Were archers good and fre; Lytell Much and good Reynolde, The worste wolde they not be. 294 Whan they had shot aboute, These archours fayre and good, Euermore was the best, For soth, Robyn Hode. 295 Hym was delyuered the good arowe, For best worthy was he; He toke the yeft so curteysly, To grenë wode wolde he. 296 They cryed out on Robyn Hode, And grete hornës gan they blowe: ‘Wo worth the, treason!’ sayd Robyn, ‘Full euyl thou art to knowe. 297 ‘And wo be thou! thou proudë sheryf, Thus gladdynge thy gest; Other wyse thou behotë me In yonder wylde forest. 298 ‘But had I the in grenë wode, Under my trystell-tre, Thou sholdest leue me a better wedde Than thy trewe lewtë.’ 299 Full many a bowë there was bent, And arowës let they glyde; Many a kyrtell there was rent, And hurt many a syde. 300 The outlawes shot was so stronge That no man myght them dryue, And the proud[ë] sheryfës men, They fled away full blyue. 301 Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke, In grenë wode he wolde haue be; Many an arowe there was shot Amonge that company. 302 Lytell Johan was hurte full sore, With an arowe in his kne, That he myght neyther go nor ryde; It was full grete pytë. 303 ‘Mayster,’ then sayd Lytell Johan, ‘If euer thou loue[d]st me, And for that ylkë lordës loue That dyed vpon a tre, 304 ‘And for the medes of my seruyce, That I haue serued the, Lete neuer the proudë sheryf Alyue now fyndë me. 305 ‘But take out thy brownë swerde, And smyte all of my hede, And gyue me woundës depe and wyde; No lyfe on me be lefte.’ 306 ‘I wolde not that,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Johan, that thou were slawe, For all the golde in mery Englonde, Though it lay now on a rawe.’ 307 ‘God forbede,’ sayd Lytell Much, ‘That dyed on a tre, That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan, Parte our company.’ 308 Up he toke hym on his backe, And bare hym well a myle; Many a tyme he layd hym downe, And shot another whyle. 309 Then was there a fayre castell, A lytell within the wode; Double-dyched it was about, And walled, by the rode. 310 And there dwelled that gentyll knyght, Syr Rychard at the Lee, That Robyn had lent his good, Under the grenë-wode tree. 311 In he toke good Robyn, And all his company: ‘Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode, Welcome arte thou to me; 312 ‘And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort, And of thy curteysye, And of thy gretë kyndënesse, Under the grenë-wode tre. 313 ‘I loue no man in all this worlde So much as I do the; For all the proud[ë] sheryf of Notyngham, Ryght here shalt thou be. 314 ‘Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge, #a.# And let no man come in, And arme you well, and make you redy, And to the walles ye wynne.