Then John bent up his good yewe-bowe And fettl’d[939] him to shoote: The bow was made of a tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. XVIII ‘Woe worth thee, wicked wood,’ sayd John, ‘That ere thou grew on a tree! For now this day thou art my bale, My boote[940] when thou shold bee.’ XIX His shoote it was but loosely shott, Yet it flewe not in vaine, For itt met one of the Sheriff’s men, Good William à Trent was slaine. XX It had bene better of William à Trent To have hangèd upon a gallòw, Than to be that day in the grene-wood To meet Little John’s arrowe. XXI But as it is said, when men be mett Fyve can doe more than three, The Sheriffe hath taken Little John, And bound him fast to a tree. XXII ‘Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, And hangèd hye on a hill.’-- ‘But thou mayst fayle,’ quoth Little John, ‘If itt be Christ his will.’ XXIII Let us leave talking of Little John, And thinke of Robin Hood, How he is gone to the wight yemàn, Where under the leaves he stood. XXIV ‘Good morrowe, good fellowe,’ sayd Robin so fayre, ‘Good morrowe, good fellow,’ quoth he: ‘Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande A good archere thou sholdst bee.’ XXV ‘I am wilfull[941] of my waye,’ quo’ the yeman, ‘And of my morning tyde[942].’ ‘I’le lead thee through the wood,’ sayd Robin; ‘Good fellow, I’le be thy guide.’ XXVI ‘I seeke an outlàwe,’ the straunger sayd, ‘Men call him Robin Hood; Rather I’ld meet with that proud outlàwe, Than fortye pound of go’d.’-- XXVII ‘If you two met, it wold be seene Whether were better man: But let us under the levès grene Some other pastime plan. XXVIII ‘Let us some other masteryes[943] make Among the woods so even, Wee may chance meet with Robin Hood Here att some unsett steven[944].’ XXIX They cutt them downe two summer shroggs[945], That grew both under a breere, And sett them threescore rood in twinne[946] To shoot the prickes[947] y-fere. XXX ‘Leade on, good fellowe,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘Leade on, I doe bidd thee.’-- ‘Nay by my faith, good fellowe,’ hee sayd, ‘My leader thou shalt bee.’ XXXI The first good shoot that Robin led, He mist but an inch it fro’: The yeoman he was an archer good, But he cold ne’er shoote soe. XXXII The second shoote had the wight yemàn, He shote within the garlànde: But Robin he shott far better than hee, For he clave the good pricke wande. XXXIII ‘God’s blessing upon thy heart!’ he sayd; ‘Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode; For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better than Robin Hood.’ XXXIV