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I am wilfulle of my waye, quo' the yeman,
And of my morning tyde.

Ile lead thee through the wood, fayd Robin;
Good fellow, Ile be thy guide.

I feeke an outlawe, the ftraunger fayd,

Men call him Robin Hood ;

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We

may chance to meete with Robin Hood Here at fome unfett fteven.

They cutt them down two fummer fhroggs,
That grew both under a breere,

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And fett them threefcore rood in twaine

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To fhoote the prickes y-fere.

Leade on, good fellowe, quo Robin Hood,

Leade on, I do bidd thee.

Nay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd,

My leader thou shalt bee.

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The

The first time Robin fhot at the pricke,
He mift but an inch it fro:

The yeoman he was an archer good,

But he cold never do foe.

The fecond shoote had the wightye yeman,

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He shot within the garland:

But Robin he fhott far better than hee,
For he clave the good pricke wande.

A bleffing upon thy heart, he fayd;

Good fellowe, thy fhooting is goode; For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better than Robin Hoode.

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Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, fayd he,

Under the leaves of lyne.

Nay by my faith, quoth bolde Robin,

Till thou have told me thine.

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I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee,

And Robin to take Ime fworne,

And when I am called by my right name

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I am Guy of good Gisborne.

My dwelling is in this wood, 'fayes Robin,

By thee I fet right nought:

I am Robin Hood of Barnèfdale,

Whom thou fo long haft fought.

He

He that had neyther beene kithe nor kin,
Might have seen a full fayre sight,
To fee how together these yeomen went
With blades both browne and bright.

To fee how these yeomen together they fought
Two howres of a fummers day:

Yett neither Robin Hood nor fir Guy

Them fettled to flye away.

Robin was reachles on a roote,

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And ftumbled at that tyde;

And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,

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And hitt him upon the syde.

Ah deere Ladye, fayd Robin Hoode tho,

That art but mother and may',

I think it was never mans destinye

To dye before his day.

Robin thought on our ladye deere,

And foone leapt up againe,

And strait he came with a backward' ftroke,
And he fir Guy hath flayne.

He tooke fir Guys head by the hayre,
And stucke it upon his bowes end:
Thou hast beene a traytor all thy life,
Which thing must have an end.

G 2

Ver. 163. awkwarde. MS.

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Robin

Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,

And nicked fir Guy in the face,

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That he was never on woman born,
Cold know whose head it was.

Sayes, Lye there, lye there, now fir Guye,
And with me be not wrothe;

Iff thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, 175
Thou shalt have the better clothe.

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Thy bowe, thy arrowes, and litle horne,

Now with me I will beare;

For I will away to Barnèsdale,

To fee how my men doe fare.

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Robin Hood fett Guyes horne to his mouth, 185

And a loud blaft in it did blow.
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned under a lowe.

Hearken, hearken, fayd the sheriffe,

I heare nowe tydings good,

For yonder I heare fir Guyes horne blow,

And he hath flaine Robin Hoode.

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Yonder

Yonder I heare fir Guyes horne blowe,

Itt blowes foe well in tyde,

And yonder comes that wightye yeoman,

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Cladd in his capull hyde.

Come hyther, come hyther, thou good fir Guy,

Afke what thou wilt of mee.

O I,will none of thy gold, fayd Robin,
Nor I will none of thy fee:

But now I have flaine the master, he fayes,

Let me goe ftrike the knave,

For this is all the meede I aske,

None other rewarde I'le have.

Thou art a madman, fayd the sheriffe,

Thou sholdst have had a knightes fee: But feeing thy asking hath beene foe bad, Well granted it shal bee.

When Little John heard his master speake,
Well knewe he it was his steven:
Now shall I be loofet, quoth Little John,
With Chrift his might in heaven.

Faft Robin hee hyed him to Little John,
He thought to loose him blive;

The fheriffe and all his

companye

Faft after him can drive.

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