A Gest Of Robyn Hode - The Third Fytte (144-204)

Argument.--The narrative of the knight's loan is for the moment dropped, in order to relate a gest of Little John, who is now (81.2) the knight's 'knave' or squire. Going forth 'upon a mery day,' Little John shoots with such skill that he attracts the attention of the Sheriff of Nottingham (who is here and elsewhere the type of Robin Hood's enemies), and enters his service for a year under the name of Reynold Greenleaf. While the sheriff is hunting, Little John fights his servants, robs his treasure-house, and escapes back to Robin Hood with 'three hundred pound and more.' He then bethinks him of a shrewd wile, and inveigles the sheriff to leave his hunting in order to see a right fair hart and seven score of deer, which turn out to be Robin and his men. Robin Hood exacts an oath of the sheriff, equivalent to an armistice; and he returns home, having had his fill of the greenwood.

THE THIRD FYTTE

144.

Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen,

All that now be here;

Of Litell Johnn, that was the knight's man,

Goode myrth ye shall here.

145.

It was upon a mery day

That yonge men wolde go shete;

Lytell Johnn fet his bowe anone,

And sayde he wolde them mete.

146.

Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute,

And alwey he slet the wande;

The proud' sherif of Notingham

By the mark's can stande.

147.

The sherif swore a full greate othe:

'By hym that dyede on a tre,

This man is the best arschere

That ever yet sawe I me.

148.

'Say me nowe, wight yonge man,

What is nowe thy name?

In what countr' were thou borne,

And where is thy wonynge wane?'

149.

'In Holdernes, sir, I was borne,

I-wys al of my dame;

Men cal me Reynolde Gren'lef

Whan I am at home.'

150.

'Sey me, Reynolde Gren'lefe,

Wolde thou dwell with me?

And every yere I woll thee gyve

Twenty marke to thy fee.'

151.

'I have a maister,' sayde Litell Johnn,

'A curteys knight is he;

May ye lev' gete of hym,

The better may it be.'

152.

The sherif gate Litell John

Twelve moneth's of the knight;

Therefore he gave him right anone

A gode hors and a wight.

153.

Nowe is Litell John the sherifes man,

God lende us well to spede!

But alwey thought Lytell John

To quyte hym wele his mede.

154.

'Nowe so God me helpe,' sayde Litell John,

'And by my true leutye,

I shall be the worst servaunt to hym

That ever yet had he.'

155.

It fell upon a Wednesday

The sherif on huntynge was gone,

And Litel John lay in his bed,

And was foriete at home.

156.

Therfore he was fastinge

Til it was past the none;

'Gode sir stuarde, I pray to thee,

Gyve me my dynere,' saide Litell John.

157.

'It is longe for Gren'lefe

Fastinge thus for to be;

Therfor I pray thee, sir stuarde,

Mi dyner gif me.'

158.

'Shalt thou never ete ne drynke' saide the stuarde,

'Tyll my lorde be come to towne.'

'I make myn avowe to God,' saide Litell John,

'I had lever to crake thy crowne.'

159.

The boteler was full uncurteys,

There he stode on flore;

He start to the botery

And shet fast the dore.

160.

Lytell Johnn gave the boteler suche a tap

His backe went nere in two;

Though he lived an hundred ier,

The wors shuld he go.

161.

He sporned the dore with his fote;

It went open wel and fyne;

And there he made large lyveray,

Bothe of ale and of wyne.

162.

'Sith ye wol nat dyne,' sayde Litell John,

'I shall gyve you to drinke;

And though ye lyve an hundred wynter,

On Lytel Johnn ye shall thinke.'

163.

Litell John ete, and Litel John drank,

The while that he wolde;

The sherife had in his kechyn a coke,

A stoute man and a bolde.

164.

'I make myn avowe to God,' said the coke,

'Thou arte a shrewde hynde

In ani hous for to dwel,

For to aske thus to dyne.'

165.

And there he lent Litell John

God' strokis thre;

'I make myn avowe to God,' sayde Lytell John,

'These strokis lyked well me.

166.

'Thou arte a bolde man and hardy,

And so thinketh me;

And or I pas fro this place

Assayed better shalt thou be.'

167.

Lytell Johnn drew a ful gode sworde,

The coke took another in hande;

They thought no thynge for to fle,

But stifly for to stande.

168.

There they faught sore togedere

Two myl' way and well more;

Myght nether other harme done,

The mountnaunce of an owre.

169.

'I make myn avowe to God,' sayde Litell Johnn,

'And by my true lewt';

Thou art one of the best sworde-men

That ever yit sawe I me.

170.

'Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe,

To grene wode thou shuldest with me,

And two times in the yere thy clothinge

Chaunged shuld' be;

171.

'And every yere of Robyn Hode

Twenty merke to thy fe.'

'Put up thy swerde,' saide the coke,

'And felowes woll we be.'

172.

Thanne he fet to Lytell Johnn

The nowmbles of a do,

Gode brede, and full gode wyne;

They ete and drank theretoo.

173.

And when they had dronkyn well,

Theyre trouthes togeder they plight

That they wolde be with Robyn

That ylk' sam' nyght.

174.

They dyd them to the tresoure-hows,

As fast as they myght gone;

The lokkes, that were of full gode stele,

They brake them everichone.

175.

They toke away the silver vessell,

And all that thei might get;

Pecis, masars, ne sponis,

Wolde thei not forget.

176.

Also they toke the god' pens,

Thre hundred pounde and more,

And did them streyte to Robyn Hode,

Under the grene wode hore.

177.

'God thee save, my dere mayster,

And Criste thee save and se!'

And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell Johnn,

'Welcome myght thou be.

178.

'Also be that fayre yeman

Thou bryngest there with thee;

What tydyng's fro Notyngham?

Lytill Johnn, tell thou me.'

179.

'Well thee gretith the proude sheryf,

And sendeth thee here by me

His coke and his silver vessell,

And thre hundred pounde and thre.'

180.

'I make myne avowe to God,' sayde Robyn,

'And to the Trenyt',

It was never by his gode wyll

This gode is come to me.'

181.

Lytyll Johnn there hym bethought

On a shrewde wyle;

Fyve myle in the forest he ran,

Hym happ'd all his wyll.

182.

Than he met the proude sheref,

Huntynge with houndes and horne;

Lytell Johnn coude of curtesye,

And knelyd hym beforne.

183.

'God thee save, my dere mayster,

Ande Criste thee save and se!'

'Reynolde Grenelefe,' sayde the shryef,

'Where hast thou nowe be?'

184.

'I have be in this forest;

A fayre syght can I se;

It was one of the fayrest syghtes

That ever yet sawe I me.

185.

'Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte,

His coloure is of grene;

Seven score of dere upon a herde

Be with hym all bydene.

186.

'Their tyndes are so sharp, maister,

Of sexty, and well mo,

That I durst not shote for drede,

Lest they wolde me slo.'

187.

'I make myn avowe to God,' sayde the shyref,

'That syght wolde I fayne se.'

'Buske you thyderwarde, my dere mayster,

Anone, and wende with me.'

188.

The sherif rode, and Litell Johnn

Of fote he was full smerte,

And whane they came before Robyn,

'Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.'

189.

Still stode the proude sherief,

A sory man was he;

'Wo the worthe, Raynolde Grenelefe,

Thou hast betrayed nowe me.'

190.

'I make myn avowe to God,' sayde Litell Johnn,

'Mayster, ye be to blame;

I was mysserved of my dynere

When I was with you at home.'

191.

Sone he was to souper sette,

And served well with silver white,

And when the sherif sawe his vessell,

For sorowe he myght nat ete.

192.

'Make glad chere,' sayde Robyn Hode,

'Sherif, for charit',

And for the love of Litill Johnn

Thy lyfe I graunt to thee.'

193.

Whan they had soup'd well,

The day was al gone;

Robyn commaunded Litell Johnn

To drawe of his hosen and his shone;

194.

His kirtell, and his cote of pie,

That was fured well and fine,

And toke hym a grene mantel,

To lap his body therein.

195.

Robyn commaundyd his wight yonge men,

Under the grene-wode tree,

They shulde lye in that same sute

That the sherif myght them see.

196.

All nyght lay the proude sherif

In his breche and in his schert;

No wonder it was, in grene wode,

Though his syd's gan to smerte.

197.

'Make glad chere,' sayde Robyn Hode,

'Sheref, for charit';

For this is our ordre i-wys

Under the grene-wode tree.'

198.

'This is harder order,' sayde the sherief,

'Than any ankir or frere;

For all the golde in mery Englonde

I wolde nat longe dwell her.'

199.

'All this twelve monthes,' sayde Robin,

'Thou shalt dwell with me;

I shall thee tech', proude sherif,

An outlawe for to be.'

200.

'Or I be here another nyght,' sayde the sherif,

'Robyn, nowe pray I thee,

Smyte of min hede rather to-morrowe,

And I forgyve it thee.

201.

'Lat me go,' than sayde the sherif,

'For saynt' charit',

And I woll be the best' frende

That ever yet had ye.'

202.

'Thou shalt swere me an othe,' sayde Robyn,

'On my bright bronde;

Shalt thou never awayte me scathe

By water ne by lande.

203.

'And if thou fynde any of my men,

By nyght or by day,

Upon thyn oth' thou shalt swere

To helpe them that thou may.'

204.

Now hath the sherif sworne his othe,

And home he began to gone;

He was as full of gren'-wode

As ever was hepe of stone.