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Ballads of Robin Hood and other Outlaws Part 7

Ballads of Robin Hood and other Outlaws - LightNovelsOnl.com

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'G.o.d, that was of a mayden borne, Leve us well to spede!

For it is good to a.s.say a frende Or that a man have nede.'

113.

The abbot lothely on hym gan loke, And vylaynesly hym gan call; 'Out,' he sayd, 'thou false knyght, Spede thee out of my hall!'

114.

'Thou lyest,' then sayd the gentyll knyght, 'Abbot, in thy hal; False knyght was I never, By G.o.d that made us all.'

115.

Up then stode that gentyll knyght, To the abbot sayd he, 'To suffre a knyght to knele so longe, Thou canst no curteysye.

116.

'In joustes and in tournement Full ferre than have I be, And put myself as ferre in prees As ony that ever I se.'

117.

'What wyll ye gyve more,' sayd the justyce, 'And the knyght shall make a releyse?

And elles dare I safly swere Ye holde never your londe in pees.'

118.

'An hondred pounde,' sayd the abbot; The justice sayd, 'Gyve hym two'; 'Nay, be G.o.d,' sayd the knyght, 'Yit gete ye it not so.

119.

'Though ye wolde gyve a thousand more, Yet were ye never the nere; Shal there never be myn heyre Abbot, justice, ne frere.'

120.

He stert hym to a borde anone, Tyll a table rounde, And there he shoke oute of a bagge Even four hundred pound.

121.

'Have here thi golde, sir abbot,' saide the knight, 'Which that thou lentest me; Had thou ben curtes at my comynge, Rewarded shuldest thou have be.'

122.

The abbot sat styll, and ete no more, For all his ryall fare; He cast his hede on his shulder, And fast began to stare.

123.

'Take me my golde agayne,' saide the abbot, 'Sir justice, that I toke thee.'

'Not a peni,' said the justice, 'Bi G.o.d, that dyed on tree.'

124.

'Sir abbot, and ye men of lawe, Now have I holde my daye: Now shall I have my londe agayne, For ought that you can saye.'

125.

The knyght stert out of the dore, Awaye was all his care, And on he put his good clothynge, The other he lefte there.

126.

He wente hym forth full mery syngynge, As men have tolde in tale; His lady met hym at the gate, At home in Verysdale.

127.

'Welcome, my lorde,' sayd his lady; 'Syr, lost is all your good?'

'Be mery, dame,' sayd the knyght, 'And pray for Robyn Hode,

128.

'That ever his soule be in blysse: He holpe me out of tene; Ne had be his kyndenesse, Beggers had we bene.

129.

'The abbot and I accorded ben, He is served of his pay; The G.o.d yoman lent it me As I cam by the way.'

130.

This knight than dwelled fayre at home, The sothe for to saye, Tyll he had gete four hundred pound, Al redy for to pay.

131.

He purveyed him an hundred bowes, The strynges well ydyght, An hundred shefe of arowes G.o.de, The hedys burneshed full bryght;

132.

And every arowe an elle longe, With pec.o.k well idyght, Inocked all with whyte silver; It was a semely syght.

133.

He purveyed him an hondreth men, Well harnessed in that stede, And hym selfe in that same sete, And clothed in whyte and rede.

134.

He bare a launsgay in his honde, And a man ledde his male, And reden with a lyght songe Unto Bernysdale.

135.

But as he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng, And there taryed was he, And there was all the best yemen Of all the west countree.

136.

A full fayre game there was up set, A whyte bulle up i-pyght, A grete courser, with sadle and brydil, With golde burnyssht full bryght.

137.

A payre of gloves, a rede golde rynge, A pype of wyne, in fay; What man that bereth hym best i-wys The pryce shall bere away.

138.

There was a yoman in that place, And best worthy was he, And for he was ferre and frembde bested, Slayne he shulde have be.

139.

The knight had ruthe of this yoman, In place where that he stode; He sayde that yoman shulde have no harme, For love of Robyn Hode.

140.

The knyght presed in to the place, An hundreth folowed hym [free], With bowes bent and arowes sharpe, For to shende that companye.

141.

They shulderd all and made hym rome, To wete what he wolde say; He took the yeman bi the hande, And gave hym al the play.

142.

He gave hym five marke for his wyne, There it lay on the molde, And bad it shulde be set a broche, Drynke who so wolde.

143.

Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght, Tyll that play was done; So long abode Robyn fastinge Thre houres after the none.

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