380 I haue layne at Notyngham This fourtynyght with our kynge, And spent I haue full moche good, On many a grete lordynge. 381 And I haue but forty pounde, No more than haue I me; But yf I had an hondred pounde, I wolde vouch it safe on the. 382 Robyn toke the forty pounde, And departed it in two partye; Halfendell he gaue his mery men, And bad them mery to be. 383 Full curteysly Roby_n_ gan say; Syr, haue this for your spendyng; We shall mete another day; ‘Gramercy,’ than sayd our kynge. 384 ‘But well the greteth Edwarde, our kynge, And sent to the his seale, And byddeth the com to Notyngham, Both to mete and mele.’ 385 He toke out the brodë targe, And sone he lete hym se; Robyn coud his courteysy, And set hym on his kne. 386 ‘I loue no man in all the worlde So well as I do my kynge; Welcome is my lordës seale; And, monke, for thy tydynge, 387 ‘Syr abbot, for thy tydynges, To day thou shalt dyne with me, For the loue of my kynge, Under my trystell-tre.’ 388 Forth he lad our comly kynge, Full fayre by the honde; Many a dere there was slayne, And full fast dyghtande. 389 Robyn toke a full grete horne, And loude he gan blowe; Seuen score of wyght yonge men Came redy on a rowe. 390 All they kneled on theyr kne, Full fayre before Robyn: The kynge sayd hym selfe vntyll, And swore by Saynt Austyn, 391 ‘Here is a wonder semely syght; Me thynketh, by Goddës pyne, His men are more at his byddynge Then my men be at myn.’ 392 Full hast[ë]ly was theyr dyner idyght, And therto gan they gone; They serued our kynge with al theyr myght, Both Robyn and Lytell Johan. 393 Anone before our kynge was set The fattë venyson, The good whyte brede, the good rede wyne, And therto the fyne ale and browne. 394 ‘Make good chere,’ said Robyn, ‘Abbot, for charytë; And for this ylkë tydynge, Blyssed mote thou be. 395 ‘Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede, Or thou hens wende; Than thou may enfourme our kynge, Whan ye togyder lende.’ 396 Up they stertë all in hast, Theyr bowës were smartly bent; Our kynge was neuer so sore agast, He wende to haue be shente. 397 Two yerdës there were vp set, Thereto gan they gange; By fyfty pase, our kynge sayd, The merkës were to longe. 398 On euery syde a rose-garlonde, They shot vnder the lyne: ‘Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,’ sayd Robyn, ‘His takyll he shall tyne, 399 ‘And yelde it to his mayster, Be it neuer so fyne; For no man wyll I spare, So drynke I ale or wyne: 400 ‘And bere a buffet on his hede, I-wys ryght all bare:’ And all that fell in Robyns lote, He smote them wonder sare. 401 Twyse Robyn shot aboute, And euer he cleued the wande, And so dyde good Gylberte With the Whytë Hande.