358 There our kynge was wont to se Herdës many one, He coud vnneth fynde one dere, That bare ony good horne. 359 The kynge was wonder wroth withall, And swore by the Trynytë, ‘I wolde I had Robyn Hode, With eyen I myght hym se. 360 ‘And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtës hede, And brynge it to me, He shall haue the knyghtës londes, Syr Rycharde at the Le. 361 ‘I gyue it hym with my charter, And sele it [with] my honde, To haue and holde for euer more, In all mery Englonde.’ 362 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght, That was treue in his fay: A, my leegë lorde the kynge, One worde I shall you say. 363 There is no man in this countrë May haue the knyghtës londes, Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone, And bere a bowe in his hondes, 364 That he ne shall lese his hede, That is the best ball in his hode: Giue it no man, my lorde the kynge, That ye wyll any good. 365 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge In Notyngham, and well more; Coude he not here of Robyn Hode, In what countrë that he were. 366 But alway went good Robyn By halke and eke by hyll, And alway slewe the kyngës dere, And welt them at his wyll. 367 Than bespake a proude fostere, That stode by our kyngës kne: Yf ye wyll se good Robyn, Ye must do after me. 368 Take fyue of the best knyghtës That be in your lede, And walke downe by yon abbay, And gete you monkës wede. 369 And I wyll be your ledës-man, And lede you the way, And or ye come to Notyngham, Myn hede then dare I lay, 370 That ye shall mete with good Robyn, On lyue yf that he be; Or ye come to Notyngham, With eyen ye shall hym se. 371 Full hast[ë]ly our kynge was dyght, So were his knyghtës fyue, Euerych of them in monkës wede, And hasted them thyder blyve. 372 Our kynge was grete aboue his cole, A brode hat on his crowne, Ryght as he were abbot-lyke, They rode up in-to the towne. 373 Styf botës our kynge had on, Forsoth as I you say; He rode syngynge to grenë wode, The couent was clothed in graye. 374 His male-hors and his gretë somers Folowed our kynge behynde, Tyll they came to grenë wode, A myle vnder the lynde. 375 There they met with good Robyn, Stondynge on the waye, And so dyde many a bolde archere, For soth as I you say. 376 Robyn toke the kyngës hors, Hastëly in that stede, And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leue, A whyle ye must abyde. 377 ‘We be yemen of this foreste, Vnder the grenë-wode tre; We lyue by our kyngës dere, [Other shyft haue not wee.] 378 ‘And ye haue chyrches and rentës both, And gold full grete plentë; Gyue vs some of your spendynge, For saynt[ë] charytë.’ 379 Than bespake our cumly kynge, Anone than sayd he; I brought no more to grenë wode But forty pounde with me.