‘I have spyèd the false felon, As he stondis at his masse; Hit is long of[972] the,’ seide the munke ‘And ever he fro us passe. XXIII ‘This traytur name is Robyn Hode, Under the grene-wode lynde; He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound, Hit shalle never out of my mynde.’ XXIV Up then rose this prowde Shereff, And radly[973] made hym yare[974]; Many was the moder son To the kyrk with hym can fare. XXV In at the durres thei throly thrast[975], With stavès ful gode wone[976]; ‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode, ‘Now mysse I Litull John.’ XXVI But Robyn toke out a two-hond sworde, That hangit down be his kne; Ther as the Schereff and his men stode thyckust, Thethurwarde wolde he. XXVII Thryes thorowout them he ran then, Forsothe as I yow sey, And woundyt mony a moder son, And twelve he slew that day. XXVIII His sworde upon the Schereff hed Sertanly he brake in two; ‘The smyth that the made,’ seid Robyn, ‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo! XXIX ‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn, ‘Alasse! agayn my wylle; But if[977] I may fle these traytors fro, I wot thei wil me kyll.’ XXX Robyn into the churchë ran, Throout hem everilkon ... [Then word is gone to his yemen In grene-wode wher they wone[978].] XXXI Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede, And lay stil as any stone; Non of theym were in her mynde But only Litull John. XXXII ‘Let be your rule[979],’ seid Litull John, ‘Ffor his luf that dyed on tre; Ye that shulde be dughty[980] men, Het is gret shame to se. XXXIII ‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode And yet scapyd away; Pluk up your hertis, and leve this mone[981], And harkyn what I shal say. XXXIV ‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day, And yet wil, securly; Therfor I trust in hir specialy No wyckud deth shal he dye. XXXV ‘Therfor be glad,’ seid Litull John, ‘And let this mournyng be; And I shal be the munkis gyde[982], With the myght of mylde Mary.’ XXXVI [Than spake Moche, the mylner son,] ‘We will go but we two.’-- ‘An I mete hym,’ seid Litull John, [‘I trust to wyrke hym woo.] XXXVII ‘Loke that ye kepe wel owre tristil-tre[983], Under the levys smale[984], And spare non of this venyson, That gose in thys vale.’ XXXVIII Fforthe then went these yemen two, Litull John and Moche on fere[985], And lokid on Moch’ emys hows[986],-- The hye-way lay full nere. XXXIX Litull John stode at a wyndow in the mornyng, And lokid forth at a stage[987]; He was war wher the munke came ridyng, And with hym a litul page. XL