After Robin had travelled a good day's journey from his mother's house he sat down, and, being weary, he fell asleep. No sooner had slumber closed his eye-lids, but he thought he saw many goodly proper little personages in antic measures tripping about him, and withal he heard such music, as he thought that Orpheus, that famous Greek fiddler (had he been alive), compared to one of these had been but a poor musician. As delights commonly last not long, so did those end sooner than Robin would willingly they should have done; and for very grief he awaked, and found by him lying a scroll wherein was written these lines following, in golden letters:— "Robin, my only son and heir, How to live take thou no care: By nature thou hast cunning shifts, Which I'll increase with other gifts. Wish what thou wilt, thou shalt it have; And for to fetch both fool and knave, Thou hast the power to change thy shape, To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape, Transformed thus, by any means See none thou harm'st but knaves and queans: But love thou those that honest be, And help them in necessity. Do thus and all the world shall know The pranks of Robin Goodfellow, For by that name thou called shalt be To age's last posterity; And if thou keep my just command, One day thou shalt see Fairy-land!" Robin, having read this, was very joyful, yet longed he to know whether he had the power or not, and to try it he wished for some meat. Presently a fine dish of roast veal was before him. Then wished he for plum-pudding; he straightway had it. This liked him well, and, because he was weary, he wished himself a horse: no sooner was his wish ended, but he was changed into as fine a nag as you need see, and leaped and curveted as nimbly as if he had been in stable at rack and manger a full month. Then he wished himself a black dog, and he was so; then a green tree, and he was so. So from one thing to another, till he was quite sure that he could change himself to anything whatsoever he liked. Thereupon, full of delight at his new powers, Robin Goodfellow set out, eager to put them to the test. As he was crossing a field, he met with a red-faced carter's clown and called to him to stop. "Friend," quoth he, "what is a clock?" "A thing," answered the clown, "that shows the time of the day." "Why, then," said Robin Goodfellow, "be thou a clock and tell me what time of the day it is." "I owe thee not so much service," answered the clown again, "but, because thou shalt think thyself beholden to me, know that it is the same time of the day as it was yesterday at this time!" These shrewd answers vexed Robin Goodfellow, so that in himself he vowed to be revenged of the clown, which he did in this manner.