Ballads of Robin Hood and other Outlaws Part 6

82.

Now is the knight gone on his way; This game hym thought full G.o.de; Whanne he loked on Bernesdale He blessyd Robyn Hode.

83.

And whanne he thought on Bernysdale, On Scarlok, Much and Johnn He blyssyd them for the best company That ever he in come.

84.

Then spake that gentyll knyght, To Lytel Johan gan he saye, 'To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune, To Saynt Mary abbay.

85.

'And to the abbot of that place Foure hondred pounde I must pay; And but I be there upon this nyght My londe is lost for ay.'

86.

The abbot sayd to his covent, There he stode on grounde, 'This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght And borowed foure hondred pounde.

87.

['He borowed four hondred pounde]

Upon all his londe fre; But he come this ylke day Disherited shall he be.'

88.

'It is full erely,' sayd the pryoure, The day is not yet ferre gone; I had lever to pay an hondred pounde, And lay downe anone.

89.

'The knyght is ferre beyonde the see, In Englonde is his ryght, And suffreth honger and colde And many a sory nyght.

90.

'It were grete pyte,' said the pryoure, 'So to have his londe; And ye be so lyght of your consyence, Ye do to hym moch wronge.'

91.

'Thou arte ever in my berde,' sayd the abbot, 'By G.o.d and Saynt Rycharde'; With that cam in a fat-heded monke, The heygh selerer.

92.

'He is dede or hanged,' sayd the monke, 'By G.o.d that bought me dere, And we shall have to spende in this place Foure hondred pounde by yere.'

93.

The abbot and the hy selerer Sterte forthe full bolde, The highe justyce of Englonde The abbot there dyde holde.

94.

The hye justyce and many mo Had take in to theyr honde Holy all the knyghtes det, To put that knyght to wronge.

95.

They demed the knyght wonder sore, The abbot and his meyne: 'But he come this ylke day Dysheryte shall he be.'

96.

'He wyll not come yet,' sayd the justyce, 'I dare well undertake'; But in sorowe tyme for them all The knight came to the gate.

97.

Than bespake that gentyll knyght Untyll his meyne: 'Now put on your symple wedes That ye brought fro the see.'

98.

[They put on their symple wedes,]

They came to the gates anone; The porter was redy hymselfe And welcomed them everychone.

99.

'Welcome, syr knyght,' sayd the porter, 'My lorde to mete is he, And so is many a gentyll man, For the love of thee.'

100.

The porter swore a full grete othe: 'By G.o.d that made me, Here be the best coresed hors That ever yet sawe I me.

101.

'Lede them in to the stable,' he sayd, 'That eased myght they be'; 'They shall not come therin,' sayd the knyght, 'By G.o.d that dyed on a tre.'

102.

Lordes were to mete isette In that abbotes hall; The knyght went forth and kneled down, And salved them grete and small.

103.

'Do gladly, syr abbot,' sayd the knyght, 'I am come to holde my day.'

The fyrst word that the abbot spake, 'Hast thou brought my pay?'

104.

'Not one peny,' sayd the knyght, 'By G.o.d that maked me.'

'Thou art a shrewed dettour,' sayd the abbot; 'Syr justyce, drynke to me.

105.

'What doost thou here,' sayd the abbot, 'But thou haddest brought thy pay?'

'For G.o.d,' than sayd the knyght, 'To pray of a lenger daye.'

106.

'Thy daye is broke,' sayd the justyce, 'Londe getest thou none.'

'Now, good syr justyce, be my frende And fende me of my fone!'

107.

'I am holde with the abbot,' sayd the justyce, 'Both with cloth and fee.'

'Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!'

'Nay, for G.o.d,' sayd he.

108.

'Now, good syr abbot, be my frende, For thy curteyse, And holde my londes in thy honde Tyll I have made the gree!

109.

'And I wyll be thy true servaunte, And trewely serve the, Tyll ye have foure hondred pounde Of money good and free.'

110.

The abbot sware a full grete othe, 'By G.o.d that dyed on a tree, Get the londe where thou may, For thou getest none of me.'

111.

'By dere worthy G.o.d,' then sayd the knyght, 'That all this worlde wrought, But I have my londe agayne, Full dere it shall be bought.

112.