A Bundle of Ballads Part 13

The abbot sware a full great oath, "By him that died on a tree, Get the land where thou may, For thou gettest none of me."

"By dere-worthy G.o.d," then said the knight, "That all this world wrought, But I have my land again, Full dear it shall be bought; G.o.d, that was of a maiden borne, Lene us well to speed!

For it is good to a.s.say a friend Ere that a man have need."

The abb-ot loathl-y on him gan look, And villainousl-y gan call; "Out," he said, "thou fals-e knight!

Speed thee out of my hall!"

"Thou liest," then said the gentle knight, "Abbot in thy hall; Fals-e knight was I nev-er, By him that made us all."

Up then stood that gentle knight, To the abb-ot said he, "To suffer a knight to kneel so long, Thou canst no courtes-y.

In joust-es and in tournem-ent Full far then have I be, And put myself as far in press As any that e'er I see."

"What will ye give more?" said the just-ice, "And the knight shall make a release; And ell-es dare I safely swear Ye hold never your land in peace."

"An hundred pound," said the abb-ot.

The justice said, "Give him two."

"Na-y, by G.o.d," said the knight, "Yet get ye it not so: Though ye would give a thousand more, Yet were thou never the nere; Shall there never be mine heir, Abb-ot, just-ice, ne frere."

He stert him to a board anon, To a table round, And there he shook out of a bag Even fo-ur hundred pound.

"Have here thy gold, sir abb-ot," said the knight, "Which that thou lentest me; Haddest thou been curteys at my com-ing, Rewarded shouldst thou have be."

The abb-ot sat still, and ate no more.

For all his royal cheer, He cast his hood on his should-er, And fast began to stare.

"Take me my gold again," said the abb-ot, "Sir just-ice, that I took thee."

"Not a penny," said the just-ice, "By him that died on a tree."

"Sir abbot, and ye men of law, Now have I held my day, Now shall I have my land again, For aught that you can say."

The knight stert out of the door, Away was all his care, And on he put his good cloth-ing, The other he left there.

He went him forth full merry sing-ing, As men have told in tale, His lady met him at the gate, At home in Uterysdale.

"Welc-ome, my lord," said his lady; "Sir, lost is all your good?"

"Be merry, dam-e," said the knight, "And pray for Robin Hood, That ever his soul-e be in bliss, He holp me out of my tene; Ne had not be his kind-enesse, Beggars had we been.

The abb-ot and I accorded ben, He is served of his pay, The good yeoman lent it me, As I came by the way."

This knight then dwell-ed fair at home, The sooth for to say, Till he had got four hundred pound, All ready for to pay.

He p-urveyed him an hundred bows, The string-es well ydight, An hundred sheaf of arrows good, The heads burn-ished full bright, And every arrow an ell-e long, With peac.o.c.k well ydight, I-nock-ed all with white silv-er, It was a seemly sight.

He p-urveyed him an hundred men, Well harneysed in that stead, And h-imself in that sam-e set, And clothed in white and red.

He bare a launsgay in his hand, And a man led his male, And ridden with a light song, Unto Barnisdale.

As he went at a bridge there was a wresteling, And there tarried was he, And there was all the best yeom-en Of all the west countree.

A full fair game there was upset, A white bull up i-pight; A great cours-er with saddle and bridle, With gold burn-ished full bright; A pair of gloves, a red gold ring, A pipe of wine, in good fay: What man beareth him best, i-wis, The prize shall bear away.

There was a yeoman in that place, And best worth-y was he.

And for he was ferre and fremd bestad, I-slain he should have be.

The knight had ruth of this yeom-an, In place where that he stood, He said that yeoman should have no harm, For love of Robin Hood.

The knight press-ed into the place, An hundred followed him free, With bow-es bent, and arrows sharp, For to shend that company.

They shouldered all, and made him room, To wete what he would say, He took the yeoman by the hand, And gave him all the play; He gave him five mark for his wine, There it lay on the mould, And bade it should be set abroach, Drink-e who so would.

Thus long tarried this gentle knight, Till that play was done, So long abode Rob-in fasting, Three hours after the none.

THE THYRDE FYTTE.

Lithe and listen, gentle men, All that now be here, Of Little John, that was the knight's man, Good mirth ye shall hear.

It was upon a merry day, That young men would go shete, Little John fet his bow anon, And said he would them meet.

Three times Little John shot about, And always cleft the wand, The proud sher-iff of Nottingham By the marks gan stand.

The sheriff swore a full great oath, "By him that died on a tree, This man is the best arch-er That ever yet saw I me.

Sa-y me now, wight young man, What is now thy name?

In what country were thou born, And where is thy wonning wan?"

"In Hold-ernesse I was bore, I-wis all of my dame, Men call me Reynold Greenleaf, Whan I am at hame."

"Say me, Reynold Greenleaf, Wilt thou dwell with me?

And every year I will thee give Twent-y mark to thy fee."

"I have a master," said Little John, "A curteys knight is he, Ma-y ye get leave of him, The better may it be."

The sher-iff gat Little John Twelve months of the knight, Theref-ore he gave him right anon A good horse and a wight.

Now is Little John the sheriff's man, He give us well to speed, But alw-ay thought Little John To quite him well his meed.

"Now so G.o.d me help," said Little John, "And by my true lewt-e, I sh-all be the worst serv-ant to him That ever yet had he!"

It befell upon a Wednesday, The sheriff a-hunting was gone, And Little John lay in his bed, And was forgot at home.

Therefore he was fast-ing Till it was past the none.

"Good sir Steward, I pray thee, Give me to dine," said Little John; "It is too long for Greenleaf, Fast-ing so long to be; Therefore I pray thee, stew-ard, My dinner give thou me!"

"Shalt thou never eat ne drink," said the stew-ard, "Till my lord be come to town."

"I make mine avow," said Little John, "I had liever to crack thy crown!"

The butler was full uncurteys, There he stood on floor, He stert to the b.u.t.tery, And shut fast the door.

Little John gave the butler such a stroke His back yede nigh in two, Though he lived an hundred winter, The worse he should-e go.

He spurned the door with his foot, It went up well and fine, And there he made a large liveray Both of ale and wine.

"Sith ye will not dine," said Little John, "I shall give you to drink, And though ye live an hundred winter, On Little John ye shall think!"

Little John ate, and Little John drank, The whil-e that he would.

The sheriff had in his kitchen a cook, A stout man and a bold.

"I make mine avow to G.o.d," said the cook, "Thou art a shrewd-e hind, In an household to dwell, For to ask thus to dine."

And there he lent Little John, Good strok-es three.

"I make mine avow," said Little John, "These strok-es liketh well me.