Chapter IV: Introduction (2)

The Frenchmen threw the bridge adown
That over the water they might not pass.
Our King made him ready then;
And to the town of Turreyn went more and less.
The Frenchmen, our King about becast
With Battles strong on every side;
The Duke of ORLEANS said in haste
"The King of England shall abide.
Who gave him leave this way to pass?
I trust that I shall him beguile
Full long ere he come to Calais."
The Duke of BOURBON answered soon
And swore by God and by St. DENIS
"We will play them every each one,
These Lords of England at the tennis;
Their gentlemen, I swear by St. JOHN!
And archers we will sell them great plenty:
And so will we rid [of] them soon,
Six for a penny of our money."
Then answered the Duke of BAR,
Words that were of great pride:
"By God!" he said, "I will not spare
Over all the Englishmen for to ride,
If that they dare us abide:
We will overthrow them in fere [_company_],
And take them prisoners in this tide:
Then come home again to our dinner!"

=THE FAMOUS BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.=

HENRY our King that was so good;
He prepared there full royally:
Stakes he let [_caused to_] hew in a wood,
And then set them before his archers verily.
The Frenchmen our ordnance gan espy.
They that we ordained for to ride
Lighted adown, with sorrow truly;
So on their feet fast gan abide.

Our King went up upon a hill high
And looked down to the valleys low:
He saw where the Frenchmen came hastily
As thick as ever did hail or snow.
Then kneeled our King down, in that stound,
And all his men on every side:
Every man made a cross and kissed the ground,
And on their feet fast gan abide.
Our King said, "Sirs, what time of the day?"
"My Liege," they said, "it is nigh Prime [9 _a.m._]"
"Then go we to our journey,
By the grace of JESU, it is good time:
For saints that lie in their shrine,
To GOD for us be praying.
All the Religious of England, in this time,
_Ora pro nobis_ for us they sing."

St. GEORGE was seen over the host:
Of very truth this sight men did see.
Down was he sent by the HOLY GHOST,
To give our King the victory.

Then blew the trumpets merrily,[22]
These two Battles [_Armies_] together yede.
Our archers stood up full heartily,
And made the Frenchmen fast to bleed.
Their arrows went fast, without any let,
And many shot they throughout;
Through habergeon, breastplate, and bassinet.
An eleven thousand were slain in that rout.

=KING HENRY'S TRIUMPH IN LONDON.=

Our gracious King, as I well know,
That day he fought with his own hand.
He spared neither high ne low.
There was never King in no land,
That ever did better on a day.
Wherefore England may sing a song:
_Laus DEO!_ may we say;
And other prayers ever among.
The Duke of ORLEANS, without nay,
That day was taken prisoner.
The Duke of BOURBON also in fere:
And also the Duke of BAR truly.
Sir BERGYGAUNTE he gan him yield;
And other Lords of France many.

Lo, thus our comely King conquered the field,
By the grace of God omnipotent,
He took his prisoners, both old and young,
And towards Calais forth he went.

He shipped there with good intent:[23]
To Canterbury full fair he passed,
And offered to St. THOMAS's shrine.
And through Kent he rode in haste;
To Eltham he came all in good time.[24]
And over Blackheath, as he was riding,[25]
Of the city of London he was ware.
"Hail, royal city!" said our King,
"CHRIST keep thee ever from sorrow and care!"
And then he gave that noble city his blessing
He prayed JESU it might well fare!
To Westminster did he ride,
And the French prisoners with him also:
He ransomed them in that tide,
And again to their country he let them go.

=THE LAMENTABLE SIEGE OF ROUEN.=

Thus of this matter I make an end,
To th'effect of the Battle have I gone:
For in this book I cannot comprehend
The greatest battle of all, called the Siege of Rouen.
For that Siege lasted three years and more,
And there a rat was at forty pence
For in the city the people hungered sore.
Women and children, for fault of meat, were lore;
And some for pain bare bones were gnawing,
That at their breasts had two children sucking.

Of the Siege of Rouen it to write were pity,
It is a thing so lamentable:
Yet every High Feast, our King, of his charity,
Gave them meat to their bodies comfortable;
And at the last the town won, without fable.

Thus of all as now I make an end:
To the bliss of heaven, GOD our souls send!

_Thus endeth the Battle of Agincourt._

Imprinted at London in Foster lane,
in Saint Leonard's parish,
by me JOHN SKOT.

FINIS.

Footnotes:

[9] 1st August 1415.

[10] 7th August 1415.

[11] _It should be_ Clef de caus.

[12] 14th August 1415.

[13] 10th September 1415.

[14] _It should be_ Sir LIONEL BRAQUEMONT.

[15] 22nd September 1415.

[16] 22nd September 1415.

[17] _It should be_ Sir THOMAS ERPINGHAM.

[18] _It should be_ Sir GILBERT UMFREVILLE.

[19] _It should be_ Sir WILLIAM BOURCHIER.

[20] ?8th October 1415.

[21] _It should be_ Somme.

[22] 25th October 1415.

[23] 16th November 1415.

[24] 22nd November 1415.

[25] 23rd November 1415.

THOMAS OCCLEVE,

Clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal.

_The Letter of CUPID._

[THOMAS OCCLEVE,

Clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal.]

_The Letter of CUPID._

[Old forms like _serven_, serve; _wollen_, will; _tellen_, tell; _doin_, done; and the Imperatives _bethe_, be; _telleth_, tell; occur in this Poem.]

=T. Occleve. 1402.=

CUPIDO, (unto whose commandement
The gentle kindred of goddis on high
And people infernal be obedient;
And mortal folk all serven busily),
Of the goddess son CYTHERA only;
Unto all those that to our deity
Be subjects, heartly greeting, sende we!

In general, we wollen that ye know
That Ladies of honour and reverence,
And other Gentlewomen havin sow
Such seed of complaint in our audience,
Of men that do them outrage and offence;
That it our earis grieveth for to hear,
So piteous is the effect of this matere.

Passing all landis, on the little isle
That cleped is Albion, they most complain,
They say that there is crop and root of guile:
So can those men dissimulen and feign,
With standing dropis in their eyen twain;
When that their heartis feeleth no distress,
To blinden women with their doubleness.

Their wordis, spoken be so sighingly,
With so piteous a cheer and countenance
That every wight that meaneth truely
Deemeth that they in heart have such grievance.
They say, "So importable is their penance,
That but their lady lust to shew them grace
They, right anon, must starven in the place."

"Ah, Lady mine!" they say, "I you ensure
As doth me grace! and I shall ever be,
While that my life may laste and endure
To you as humble and low in each degree
As possible is, and keep all things secree
Right as yourselven liste that I do!
And elles must mine hearte burst in two."

Full hard it is, to know a manis heart
For outward may no man the truthe deem,
When word out of his mouth may none astert
But it by reason seemed a wight to queme,
So it is said of heart, as it would seem.
O faithful woman! full of innocence!
Thou art deceived by false appearance!

By process moveth oft woman's pity.
Weening all things were as these men ysay,
They grant them grace, of their benignity,
For that men shoulden not, for their sake die,
And with good hearte, set them in the way
Of blissful love: keep it, if they con!
Thus, otherwhile, women beth ywon.

And when this man the pan hath by the steel
And fully is in his possession;
With that woman keepeth he no more to deal
After, if he may finden in the town
Any woman, his blind affection
On to bestow. But evil mote he preve!
A man, for all his oaths, is hard to believe!

And for that every false Man hath a Make,
(As unto every wight is light to know)
When this traitor, this woman hath forsake,
He fast him speedeth unto his fellow.
Till he be there, his heart is on a low;
His false deceit ne may him not suffice,
But of his treason telleth all the wise.

Is this a fair avaunt? Is this honour?
A man himself accuse thus and defame!
Is it good to confess himself a traitor?
And bring a woman into slanderous name
And tell how he her body hath do shame?
No worship may he thus, to him conquer,
But great dislander unto him and her!

To her! Nay! Yet ywas it no reprefe;
For all for virtue was, that she ywrought!
But he that brewed hath all this mischief,
That spake so fair, and falsely inward thought;
His be the slander! as it by reason ought
And unto her be thank perpetual
That, in such a neede helpen can so well.

Although through manis sleight and subtilty,
A silly simple and innocent woman
Betrayed is: no wonder! since the city
Of Troy, as that the story tellen can,
Betrayed was, through the deceit of man,
And set on fire, and all down overthrow;
And finally destroyed, as men know.

Betrayen not men cities great and kings?
What wight is it that can shape remedy
Against these falsely proposed things?
Who can the craft such craftes to espy
But man? whose wit is e'er ready to apply
To thing that sowning is into falshede?
Woman! beth'ware of false men! I thee rede.

And, furthermore, have these men in usage
That where they not likely been to sped,
Such as they been with a double visage,
They procuren, for to pursue their need;
He prayeth him, in his cause to proceed,
And largely guerdoneth he his travail.
Little wot women, how men them assail!

Another wretch, unto his fellow saith,
"Thou fishest fair! She which that thee hath fired
Is false, inconstant, and she hath no faith.
She for the road of folk is so desired;
And, as an horse, from day to day she is hired!
That when thou twinnest from her company,
Cometh another; and bleared is thine eye!

Now prick on faste! and ride thy journey
While thou art there! For she, behind thy back,
So liberal is, she will nothing withsay,
But smartly of another take a smack.
And thus faren these women all the pack
Whoso them trusteth, hanged mote he be!
Ever they desire change and novelty."

Whereof proceedeth this, but of envy?
For that he himselve her ne winnen may.
He speaketh her reprefe and villainy;
As manis blabbing tongue is wont alway.
Thus divers men full often make assay.
For to disturben folk in sundry wise,
For they may not acheven their emprise.

Many one eke would speaken for no good,
That hath in love his time spent and used.
Men wist, his Lady his asking withstood;
Ere that he were of her, plainly refused.
Or waste and vain were all that he had mused:
Wherefore he can none other remedy,
But on his Lady shapeth him to lie.

"Every woman," he saith, "is light to get,
Can none say, 'Nay!' if she be well ysought;
Whoso may leisure have with her to treat
Of his purpose ne shall be failen ought
But he on madness be so deep ybrought
That he shende all with open homeliness;
That loven women not, as that I guess."

To slaunder women thus, what may profit
To gentles? namely, that them armen should,
And in defence of women them delight
As that the Order of Gentilesse would?
If that a man list gentle to be held
He must all flee that thereto is contrary.
A slanderous tongue is his great adversary!

A foul vice is of tongue to be light.
For _whoso mochil clappeth, gabbeth oft_.
The Tongue of Man so swift is, and so wight
That when it is yraised up on loft,
Reason it sueth so slowly and soft,
That it him never overtaken may.
Lord! so these men been trusty in assay!

Albeit that men find one woman nice,
Inconstant, recheless, and variable,
Deignous and proud, full filled of malice,
Withouten faith or love, and deceivable,
Sly, quaint, false, in all untrust culpable,
Wicked or fierce, or full of cruelty:
Yet followeth not that such all women be!

When the high God angellis formed had,
Among them alle formed were there none
That founden were malicious and bad?
Yes! all men wot that there were many one
That for their pride fell from heaven anon.
Should we, forthy, give all angels proud name?
Nay, he that that sustaineth, is to blame!

Of twelve Apostles, one a traitor was;
The remenant yet good weren and true.
So if it happen men finden, percase,
A woman false; such good is to eschew:
And deeme not that they be all untrue.
I see well, that men's owne falseness
Them causeth woman for to trust the less.

O, every man ought have a hearte tender
Unto woman, and deem her honourable;
Whether her shape be thick, or else slender,
Or she be good or bad! It is no fable.
Every wight wot, that wit hath reasonable,
That of a woman, he descended is:
Then is it shame of her to speak amiss!

A wicked tree good fruit may none forth bring;
For such the fruit is aye as is the tree.
Take heed of whom thou took thy beginning!
Let thy mother be mirror unto thee!
Honour her, if thou wilt honoured be!
Despiseth her then not, in no manere!
Lest that thereby thy wickedness appear.

An old proverb there said is, in English,
_That bird or fowl, soothly, is dishonest
What that he be, and holden full churlish
That useth to defoulen his own nest_.
Men to say well of women, it is the best:
And naught for to despise them, ne deprave;
If that they will their honour keep or save.

The Ladies ever complainen them on Clerks
That they have made bookis of their defame;
In which they despise women and their works,
And speaken of them great reproof and shame:
And causeless give them a wicked name.
Thus they despised be, on every side,
Dislandered and blown upon full wide.

Those sorry bookes maken mention
How women betrayed in especial
ADAM, DAVID, SAMPSON, and SOLOMON,
And many one more; who may rehearse them all,
The treasons that they have done, and shall?
The world their malice may not comprehend
(As Clerkis feign), for it ne hath none end.

OVID, in his book called _Remedy
Of Love_, great reproof of woman writeth,
Wherein, I know that he did great folly;
And every wight who, in such case, him delighteth.
A Clerkis custom is, when he enditeth
Of women (be it prose, or rhyme, or verse)
Say, "They be wicked!" all know he the reverse.

And the book Scholars learned in their childhead
For they of women beware should in age,
And for to love them ever be in dread.
Sith to deceive is set all their courage,
They say peril to cast is advantage,
Namely, of such as men have in been wrapped:
For many a man, by woman hath mishapped.

No charge is what so that these Clerkis sain
Of all their writing I ne do no cure
All their labour and travail is in vain
For between me and my Lady Nature
Shall not be suffred, while the world may 'dure.
Thus these Clerkis, by their cruel tyranny,
On silly women kithen their mastery.

Whilom full many of them were in my chain
Ytied; and now, what for unwieldy age
And unlust, they may not to love attain:
And sain that "Love is but very dotage!"
Thus, for that they themself lacken courage,
They folk exciten by their wicked saws
For to rebell against me, and my laws!

But, maugre them that blamen women most,
Such is the force of mine impression
That, suddenly, I can fell all their boast,
And all their wrong imagination.
It shall not be in their election
The foulest slut in all the town to refuse;
If that me list, for all that they can muse:

But her in heart as brenningly desire
As though she were a Duchess, or a Queen;
So can I folkis heartis set on fire
And, as me list, them senden joy or teen.
They that to women ben ywhet so keen,
My sharpe piercing strokis, how they smite,
Shall feel and know, and how they kerve and bite!

Pardie! this Clerk, this subtle sly OVID
And many another have deceived be
Of women, as it knowen is full wide.
What! no men more! and that is great dainty
So excellent a Clerk as was he!
And other more, that coulde full well preach
Betrapped were, for aught that they could teach!

And trusteth well, that it is no marvail!
For women knowen plainly their intent.
They wist how softily they could assail
Them; and what falsehood they in hearte meant:
And thus they Clerkis in their danger hent,
_With one venom, another is destroyed!_
And thus these Clerkis often were annoyed.

These Ladies, ne these gentles ne'ertheless,
Where none of those that wroughten in this wise;
But such women as weren vertueless
They quittin thus these old Clerkis wise.
To Clerkis muchil less ought to suffice
Than to dispraven women generally;
For worship shall they geten noon thereby.

If that these men, that lovers them pretend,
To women weren faithful, good, and true,
And dread them to deceive, or to offend;
Women, to love them woulde not eschew.
But, every day hath man an harte new!
It upon one abiden can no while.
What force is it, such a wight to beguile?

Men bearen, eke, the women upon hand
That lightly, and withouten any pain
They wonnen be; they can no wight withstand
That his disease list to them to complain!
They be so frail, they may them not refrain!
But whoso liketh them may lightly have;
So be their heartis easy in to grave.

To Master JEAN DE MEUN, as I suppose,
Then, it is a lewd occupation,
In making of the _Romance of the Rose_,
So many a sly imagination,
And perils for to rollen up and down,
So long process, so many a sly cautel
For to deceive a silly damosel!

Nought can I see, ne my wit comprehend,
That art, and pain, and subtilty should fail
For to conquer, and soon to make an end;
When men a feeble place shall assail:
And soon, also, to vanquish a battle
Of which no wight shall maken resistance;
Ne heart hath none to stonden at defence.

Then mote it follow, of necessity,
Sith art asketh so great engine and pain
A woman to deceive, what so she be?
Of constancy be they not so barren
As that some of these subtle Clerkis feign;
But they be, as that women oughten be,
Sad, constant, and fulfilled of pity.

How friendly was MEDEA to JASON
In his Conquering of the Fleece of Gold!
How falsely quit he her true affection,
By whom victory he gat as he would!
How may this man, for shame, be so bold
To falsen her, that, from his death and shame
Him kept, and gat him so great a prize and name?

Of Troy also, the traitor AENEAS,
The faithless wretch! how he himself forswor
To DIDO, which that Queen of Carthage was
That him relieved of his smartis sore!
What gentilesse might she have doon more
Than she, with heart unfeigned, to him kidde?
And what mischief to her thereof betid!

In my _Legend of Martyrs_ may men find
(Whoso that liketh therein for to read)
That oathis ne behest may man not bind
Of reprovable shame have they no dread
In manis hearte truth ne hath no stead.
The soil is naught; there may be no trothe grow!
To women, namely, it is not unknown.

Clerkis feign also there is no malice
Like unto woman's wicked crabbedness.
O Woman! how shalt thou thyself chevice;
Sith men of thee so mochil harm witness?
Beth ware! O Woman! of their fickleness.
Kepeth thine owne! what men clap or crake!
And some of them shall smart, I undertake!

Malice of women! What is it to dread?
They slay no man, destroyen no cities,
Ne oppress people, ne them overlead,
Betray Empires, Realmes, or Duchies,
Nor bereaven men their landis, ne their mees,
Empoison folk, ne houses set on fire,
Ne false contractis maken for no hire.

Trust, Perfect Love, and Entire Charity,
Fervent Will, and Entalented Courage,
All thewis good, as sitteth well to be,
Have women ay, of custom and usage.
And well they can a manis ire assuage,
With softe wordis, discreet and benign.
What they be inward, they show outward by sign.

Womanis heart unto no cruelty
Inclined is; but they be Charitable,
Piteous, Devout, Full of Humility,
Shamefaste, Debonaire, and Amiable,
Dread full, and of their wordis measurable:
What women, these have not, peradventure;
Followeth not the way of her nature.

Men sayen that our First Mother na'theless
Made all mankinde lose his liberty,
And nakid it of joye, doubteless,
For Godis hestes disobeyed she,
When she presumed to taste of the tree,
That God forbade that she eat thereof should.
And ne had the Devil be, no more she would!

The envious swelling, that the Fiend our foe
Had unto man in hearte, for his wealth,
Sent a serpent, and made her for to go
To deceive EVE; and thus was manis health
Bereft him by the Fiend, right in a stealth,
The woman not knowing of the deceit,
God wot! Full far was it from her conceit!

Wherefore I say, that this good woman EVE
Our father ADAM, ne deceived nought.
There may no man for a deceit it preve
Properly, but if that she, in heart and thought,
Had it compassed first, ere she it wrought.
And for such was not her impression,
Men may it call no Deceit, by reason.

Ne no wight deceiveth, but he purpose!
The fiend this deceit cast, and nothing she.
Then it is wrong to deemen or suppose
That of this harm she should the cause be.
Wytith the Fiend, and his be the maugree!
And all excused have her innocence,
Save only, that she brake obedience!

And touching this, full fewe men there be,
Unnethis any, dare I safely say!
From day to day, as men may all day see,
But that the hest of God they disobey.
Have this in minde, siris! I you pray.
If that ye be discreet and reasonable;
Ye will her holde the more excusable!

And where men say, "In man is stedfastness;
And woman is of her courage unstable."
Who may of ADAM bear such a witness?
Tellith me this! Was he not changeable?
They bothe werin in one case semblable.
Save that willing the Fiend deceived EVE;
And so did she not ADAM, by your leave!

Yet was this sinne happy to mankind,
The Fiend deceived was, for all his sleight;
For aught he could him in his sleightis wind,
God, to discharge man of the heavy weight
Of his trespass, came down from heaven on height
And flesh and blood he took of a Virgine,
And suffered death, him to deliver of pine.

And God, to whom there may nothing hid be,
If He in woman knowen had such malice,
As men record of them in generalty;
Of our Lady, of Life Reparatrice
Nold have been born: but for that she of vice
Was void, and full of virtue, well He wist,
Endowid! of her to be born Him list.

Her heaped virtue hath such excellence
That all too lean is manis faculty
To declare it; and therefore in suspense
Her due praising put must needis be.
But this we witen, verily, that she,
Next God, the best friend is that to Man 'longeth.
The Key of Mercy by her girdle hangeth!

And of mercy hath every man such need,
That razing that, farewel the joy of man!
And of her power, now takith right good heed!
She mercy may well and purchasen can.
Depleasith her not! Honoureth that woman!
And other women honour for her sake!
And but ye do, your sorrow shall awake!

In any book also, where can ye find
That of the workis, or the death or life,
Of JESU spelleth or maketh any mind,
That women Him forsook, for woe or strife?
Where was there any wight so ententife
Abouten Him as woman? Proved none!
The Apostles him forsooken everichone.

Woman forsook him not! For all the faith
Of holy church in woman left only!
These are no lies, for Holy Writ thus saith,
Look! and ye shall so find it hardily!
And therefore I may well proven thereby
That in woman reigneth stable constancy;
And in men is change and variancy.

Thou Precious Gem of martyrs, Margarite!
That of thy blood dreadest none effusion!
Thou Lover true! Thou Maiden mansuete!
Thou, constant Woman! in thy passion
Overcame the Fiendis temptation!
And many a wight convertid thy doctrine,
Unto the faith of God, holy Virgin!

But, understandeth this! I commend her nought,
By encheson of her virginity.
Trusteth, it came never into thought!
For ever werry against Chastity.
And ever shall. But, lo, this moveth me,
Her loving heart and constant to her lay
Drove out of my remembrance I ne may.

Now holdith this for firm, and for no lie!
That this true and just commendation
Of women tell I for no flattery;
Nor because of pride or elation:
But only, lo! for this intention
To give them courage of perseverance
In virtue, and their honour to advance.

The more the virtue, the less is the pride.
Virtue so digne is, and so noble in kind,
That Vice and he will not in fere abide.
He putteth vices clean out of his mind,
He flyeth from them, he leaveth them behind.
O, Woman! that of Virtue, art hostess;
Great is thy honour, and thy worthiness!

Then will I thus concluden and define.
We, you command! our ministers each one
That ready ye be our hestes to incline!
That of these false men, our rebell foon,
Ye do punishement! and that, anon!
Void them our Court! and banish them for ever!
So that therein more comen may they never!

Fulfilled be it! Ceasing all delay,
Look that there be none excusation!
Written in the air, the lusty month of May,
In our Palace, where many a million
Of lovers true, have habitation;
In the year of grace, joyful and jocond,
A thousand and four hundred and second.

_Thus endeth

The letter of CUPID._

_The Ballad of
ROBIN HOOD._
The first printed edition by
WYNKYN DE WORDE,
about 1510.

+¶ Here
beginneth a
little geste of Robin
Hood and his meiny: and of the
proud Sheriff of Nottingham.+

=FIRST PRINTED _ROBIN HOOD_ BALLAD.=

=Printed by W. de Worde, about 1510.=

Lithe and listen, Gentlemen
That be of free-born blood!
I shall you tell of a good yeoman:
His name was ROBIN HOOD.
ROBIN was a proud outlaw,
Whiles he walked on ground,
So courteous an outlaw as he was one,
Was never none yfound.
ROBIN stood in Bernysdale,
And leaned him to a tree;
And by him stood Little JOHN,
A good yeoman was he:
And also did good SCATHELOCK,
And MUCH the miller's son,
There was no inch of his body
But it was worth a groom.
Then bespake him Little JOHN,
All unto ROBIN HOOD,
"Master, if ye would dine betime,
It would do you much good!"
Then bespake good ROBIN,
"To dine I have no lust,
Till I have some bold Baron,
Or some unketh guest,
That may pay for the best,
Or some Knight or some Squire
That dwelleth here by West."
A good manner then had ROBIN,
In land where that he were,
Every day or he would dine,
Three _Masses_ would he hear.
The one in the worship of the Father
The other of the Holy Ghost,
The third was of our dear Lady
That he loved, aldermost.
ROBIN loved our dear Lady;
For doubt of deadly sin,
Would he never do company harm
That any woman was in.
"Master!" then said Little JOHN,
"And we our board shall spread,
Tell us, Whither we shall gone,
And what life we shall lead?
Where we shall take? Where we shall leave?
Where we shall abide behind?
Where shall we rob? where shall we 'reave?
Where we shall beat and bind?"
"Thereof no force!" said ROBIN,
"We shall do well enough!
But look, ye do no husband harm,
That tilleth with his plough!
No more ye shall no good yeoman
That walketh by green-wood shaw!
Ne no Knight, ne no Squire
That would be a good fellaw!
These Bishops and these Archbishops,
Ye shall them beat and bind!
The High Sheriff of NOTTINGHAM,
Him hold ye in your mind!"
"This word shall be held," saith Little JOHN,
"And this lesson shall we lere!
It is far day, God send us a guest,
That we were at our dinner!"
"Take thy good bow in thy hand," said ROBIN,
"Let MUCH wend with thee!
And so shall WILLIAM SCATHELOCK!
And no man abide with me.
And walk up to the Sayles,
And so to Watling street,
And wait after some unketh guest,
Upchance, ye may them meet:
Be he Earl or any Baron,
Abbot or any Knight,
Bring him to lodge to me!
His dinner shall be dight!"
They went unto the Sayles,
These yeomen all three;
They looked East, they looked West,
They might no man see.
But as they looked in Bernysdale,
By a derne street,
Then came there a Knight riding:
Full soon they 'gan him meet.
All dreary then was his semblante,
And little was his pride,
His one foot in the stirrup stood,
That other waved beside.
His hood hanged in his eyen two,
He rode in simple array;
A sorrier man than he was one,
Rode never in summer's day.
Little JOHN was full curteys,
And set him on his knee,
"Welcome be ye, gentle Knight!
Welcome are ye to me!
Welcome be thou to green wood,
Hende Knight and free!
My master hath abiden you fasting,
Sir! all these hours three!"
"Who is your master?" said the Knight.
JOHN said, "ROBIN HOOD!"
"He is a good yeoman," said the Knight;
"Of him I have heard much good!
I grant," he said, "with you to wend,
My brethren all in-fere:
My purpose was to have dined to-day
At Blyth or Doncaster."
Forth then went that gentle Knight,
With a careful cheer;
The tears out of his eyen ran,
And fell down by his leer.
They brought him unto the lodge door:
When ROBIN 'gan him see,
Full courteously did off his hood,
And set him on his knee.
"Welcome, Sir Knight!" then said ROBIN,
"Welcome thou art to me;
I have abide you fasting, Sir,
All these hours three!"
Then answered the gentle Knight
With words fair and free,
"God thee save, good ROBIN!
And all thy fair meiny!"
They washed together, and wiped both;
And set till their dinner:
Bread and wine they had enough,
And nombles of the deer;
Swans and pheasants they had full good,
And fowls of the river.
There failed never so little a bird
That ever was bred on brere.
"Do gladly, Sir Knight!" said ROBIN.
"Grammercy, Sir!" said he,
"Such a dinner had I not
Of all these weekes three:
If I come again, ROBIN,
Here by this country,
As good a dinner, I shall thee make
As thou hast made to me!"
"Grammercy, Knight!" said ROBIN,
"My dinner when I have
I was never so greedy, by dear-worthy God!
My dinner for to crave:
But pay ere ye wend!" said ROBIN;
"Methinketh it is good right,
It was never the manner, by dear-worthy God!
A yeoman pay for a Knight!"
"I have nought in my coffers," said the Knight,
"That I may proffer, for shame!"
"Little JOHN! go look!" said ROBIN HOOD,
"Ne let not, for no blame,
Tell me truth!" said ROBIN,
"So God have part of thee!"
"I have no more but ten shillings," said the Knight,
"So God have part of me!"
"If thou have no more," said ROBIN,
"I will not one penny!
And if thou have need of any more;
More shall I lend thee!
Go now forth, Little JOHN,
The truth, tell thou me!
If there be no more but ten shillings,
Not one penny that I see!"
Little JOHN spread down his mantle
Full fair upon the ground;
And there he found, in the Knight's coffer,
But even half a pound.
Little JOHN let it lie full still,
And went to his master full low.
"What tidings, JOHN?" said ROBIN.
"Sir, the Knight is true enow!"
"Fill of the best wine!" said ROBIN,
"The Knight shall begin!
Much wonder thinketh me
Thy clothing is so thin!
Tell me one word," said ROBIN,
"And counsel shall it be:
I trow thou wert made a Knight, of force,
Or else of yeomanry!
Or else thou hast been a sorry husband
And lived in stroke and strife,
And okerer or else a lecher," said ROBIN,
"With wrong hast thou led thy life!"
"I am none of them," said the Knight,
"By God that made me!
A hundred winters herebefore,
My ancestors Knights have be
But oft it hath befallen, ROBIN!
A man hath been disgrate,
But God that sitteth in heaven above,
May amend his state!
Within this two year, ROBIN!" he said,
"(My neighbours well it know!)
Four hundred pounds of good money
Full well then might I spend.
Now, have I no goods," said the Knight;
"God hath shapen such an end,--
But my children and my wife,
Till God it may amend!"
"In what manner," said ROBIN,
"Hast thou lost thy riches?"
"For my great folly," he said,
"And for my kindness!
I had a son, forsooth, ROBIN!
That should have been my heir:
When he was twenty winters old,
In field would joust full fair.
He slew a Knight of Lancashire
And a Squire bold.
For to save him in his right
My goods be set and sold,
My lands be set to wed, ROBIN!
Until a certain day
To a rich Abbot here besides,
Of Saint MARY'S Abbey."
"What is the sum?" said ROBIN;
"Truth then tell thou me!"
"Sir," he said, "four hundred pounds,
The Abbot told it to me!"
"Now, and thou lose thy land!" said ROBIN,
"What shall 'fall of thee?"
"Hastily I will me busk," said the Knight,
"Over the salt sea,
And see where CHRIST was quick and dead
On the Mount of Calvary!
Farewell, friend! and have good day!
It may not better be!"
Tears fell out of his eyen two,
He would have gone his way.
"Farewell, friends, and have good day!
I ne have more to pay!"
"Where be thy friends?" said ROBIN.
"Sir! never one will know me!
While I was rich enough at home
Great boast then would they blow;
And now they run away from me
As beasts in a row,
They take no more heed of me
Than they me never saw!"
For ruth then wept Little JOHN,
SCATHELOCK and MUCH also.
"Fill of the best wine!" said ROBIN,
"For here is a simple cheer.
Hast thou any friends," said ROBIN,
"The borrows that will be?"
"I have none!" then said the Knight,
"But God that died on the tree!"
"Do way thy japes!" said ROBIN,
"Thereof will I right none!
Weenest thou I will have God to borrow,
PETER, PAUL, or JOHN?
Nay, by Him that me made,
And shaped both sun and moon!
Find a better borrow," said ROBIN,
"Or money gettest thou none!"
"I have none other!" said the Knight,
"The sooth for to say,
But if it be Our dear Lady
She failed me never or this day!"
"By dear worthy God!" said ROBIN,
"To seek all England through,
Yet found I never to my pay
A much better borrow!
Come now forth, Little JOHN!
And go to my treasure!
And bring me four hundred pound,
And look that it well told be!"
Forth then went Little JOHN
And SCATHELOCK went before,
He told out four hundred pound
By eighteen [? _eight and twenty_] score.
"Is this well told?" say Little MUCH."
JOHN said, "What grieveth thee?
It is alms to help a gentle Knight
That is fallen in poverty!"
"Master!" then said Little JOHN,
"His clothing is full thin!
Ye must give the Knight a livery
To lap his body therein:
For ye have scarlet and green, Master!
And many a rich array;
There is no merchant in merry England
So rich, I dare well say."
"Take him three yards of every colour,
And look it well meeted be!"
Little JOHN took none other measure
But his bow tree;
And of every handful that he met
He leaped over feet three.
"What devilkins draper!" said Little MUCH,
"Thinkst thou to be?"
SCATHELOCK stood full still, and laughed,
And said "By God Almight!
JOHN may give him the better measure,
For it cost him but light!"
"Master!" said Little JOHN,
All unto ROBIN HOOD,
"Ye must give the Knight an horse
To lead home all this good."
"Take him a grey courser!" said ROBIN,
"And a saddle new!
He is Our Lady's Messenger;
God leve that he be true!"
"And a good palfrey," said Little MUCH,
"To maintain him in his right!"
"And a pair of boots," said SCATHELOCK,
"For he is a gentle Knight!"
"What shalt thou give him, Little JOHN?" said ROBIN,
"Sir; a pair of gilt spurs clean,
To pray for all this company;
God bring him out of teen!"
"When shall my day be," said the Knight,
"Sir! and your will be?"
"This day twelvemonth!" said ROBIN,
"Under this green-wood tree.
It were great shame," said ROBIN,
"A Knight alone to ride;
Without Squire, yeoman, or page,
To walk by his side!
I shall thee lend, Little JOHN, my man;
For he shall be thy knave!
In a yeoman's stead, he may thee stand,
If thou great need have!"

+¶ The second fytte.+

Now is the Knight went on his way,
This game him thought full good,
When he looked on Bernysdale,
He blessed ROBIN HOOD:
And when he bethought on Bernysdale,
On SCATHELOCK, MUCH, and JOHN;
He blessed them for the best company
That ever he in come.
Then spake that gentle Knight,
To Little JOHN 'gan he say,
"To-morrow, I must to York town,
To Saint Mary's Abbey,
And to the Abbot of that place
Four hundred pound I must pay:
And but I be there upon this night
My land is lost for aye!"
The Abbot said to his Convent,
There he stood on ground:
"This day twelve months came there a Knight,
And borrowed four hundred pound.
[He borrowed four hundred pound]
Upon his land and fee;
But he come this ilk day
Disherited shall he be!"
"It is full early!" said the Prior,
"The day is not yet far gone!
I had lever to pay an hundred pound
And lay [it] down anon.
The Knight is far beyond the sea
In England is his right,
And suffereth hunger and cold
And many a sorry night:
It were great pity," said the Prior,
"So to have his land:
And ye be so light of your conscience
Ye do to him much wrong!"
"Thou art ever in my beard," said the Abbot;
"By God and Saint Richard!"
With that came in, a fat-headed monk,
The High Cellarer.
"He is dead or hanged!" said the Monk,
"By God that bought me dear!
And we shall have to spend in this place,
Four hundred pounds by year!"
The Abbot and High Cellarer
Start forth full bold:
The Justice of England,
The Abbot there did hold.
The High Justice, and many mo,
Had taken into their hand
Wholly all the Knight's debt,
To put that Knight to wrong.
They deemed the Knight wonder sore
The Abbot and his meiny,
But he come this ilk day
Disherited shall he be.
"He will not come yet," said the Justice,
"I dare well undertake!"
But in sorrow time for them all,
The Knight came to the gate.
Then bespake that gentle Knight
Until his meiny,
"Now, put on your simple weeds
That ye brought from the sea!"
[They put on their simple weeds,]
They came to the gates anon,
The Porter was ready himself,
And welcomed them everych one.
"Welcome, Sir Knight!" said the Porter;
"My Lord, to meat is he;
And so is many a gentleman
For the love of thee!"
The Porter swore a full great oath
"By God that made me!
Here be the best coresed horse
That ever yet saw I me!
Lead them into the stable!" he said,
"That eased might they be!"
"They shall not come therein!" said the Knight,
"By God that died on a tree!"
Lords were to meat yset
In that Abbot's hall:
The Knight went forth, and kneeled down,
And salued them, great and small.
"Do gladly, Sir Abbot!" said the Knight,
"I am come to hold my day!"
The first word the Abbot spake,
"Hast thou brought my pay?"
"Not one penny!" said the Knight,
"By God that maked me!"
"Thou art a shrewd debtor!" said the Abbot;
"Sir Justice, drink to me!
What doest thou here," said the Abbot,
"But thou hadst brought thy pay?"
"For God!" then said the Knight,
"To pray of a longer day!"
"Thy day is broke!" said the Justice;
"Land gettest thou none!"
"Now, good Sir Justice! be my friend!
And fend me of my fone!"
"I am hold with the Abbot!" said the Justice,
"Both with cloth and fee!"
"Now, good Sir Sheriff! be my friend!"
"Nay, for God!" said he.
"Now, good Sir Abbot! be my friend!
For thy courtesy;
And hold my lands in thy hand
Till I have made thee gree:
And I will be thy true servant
And truly serve thee
Till ye have four hundred pounds
Of money good and free."
The Abbot sware a full great oath,
"By God that died on a tree!
Get thee land where thou mayest;
For thou gettest none of me!"
"By dear worthy God," then said the Knight,
"That all this world wrought!
But I have my land again,
Full dear it shall be bought!
God that was of Maiden born,
Leave us well to speed!
For it is good to assay a friend
Or that a man have need!"
The Abbot loathly on him 'gan call:
And villainously him 'gan look:
"Out," he said, "thou false Knight!
Speed thee out of my hall!"
"Thou liest!" then said the gentle Knight,
"Abbot in thy hall!
False Knight was I never,
By God that made us all!"
Up then stood that gentle Knight:
To the Abbot, said he,
"To suffer a Knight to kneel so long,
Thou canst no courtesy!
In jousts and in tournament
Full far then have I be;
And put myself as far in press
As any that ever I see."
"What will ye give more," said the Justice,
"And the Knight shall make a release?
And else I dare safely swear
Ye hold never your land in peace!"
"An hundred pounds!" said the Abbot.
The Justice said, "Give him two!"
"Nay, by God!" said the Knight,
"Yet get ye it not so!
Though ye would give a thousand more,
Yet wert thou never the near!
Shalt there never be mine heir,
Abbot! Justice! ne Friar!"
He started him to a board anon,
Till a table round,
And there he shook out of a bag
Even four hundred pound.
"Have here thy gold, Sir Abbot!" said the Knight,
"Which that thou lentest me!
Hadst thou been courteous at my coming,
Rewarded shouldst thou have be!"
The Abbot sat still, and eat no more,
For all his royal fare:
He cast his head on his shoulder,
And fast began to stare.
"Take me my gold again!" said the Abbot,
"Sir Justice, that I took thee!"
"Not a penny!" said the Justice,
"By God that died on the tree!"
"Sir Abbot, and ye Men of Law!
Now have I held my day!
Now shall I have my land again
For ought that you can say!"

The Knight started out of the door,
Away was all his care!
And on he put his good clothing,
The other he left there.
He went him forth full merry singing
As men have told in tale,
His Lady met him at the gate
At home in Verysdale.
"Welcome, my Lord!" said his Lady,
"Sir, lost is all your good?"
"Be merry, Dame!" said the Knight,
"And pray for ROBIN HOOD!
That ever his soul be in bliss;
He helped me out of my teen.
Ne had not been his kindness,
Beggars had we been!
The Abbot and I accorded be;
He is served of his pay!
The good yeoman lent it me,
As I came by the way."

This Knight then dwelled fair at home,
The sooth for to say,
Till he had got four hundred pounds
All ready for to pay.
He purveyed him an hundred bows,
The strings well dight;
An hundred sheafs of arrows good,
The heads burnished full bright:
And every arrow an ell long
With peacock well ydight;
Ynocked all with white silver,
It was a seemly sight.
He purveyed him an hundred men,
Well harnessed in that stead,
And himself in that same set
And clothed in white and red.
He bare a lancegay in his hand,
And a man led his mail,
And riden with a light song
Unto Bernysdale.
But at Wentbridge there was a wrestling,
And there tarried was he:
And there was all the best yeomen
Of all the West country.
A full fair game there was up set;
A white bull up i-pight;
A great courser, with saddle and bridle
With gold burnished full bright;
A pair of gloves, a red gold ring,
A pipe of wine, in fay:
What man beareth him best, Iwis
The prize shall bear away.
There was a yeoman in that place,
And best worthy was he.
And for he was far and fremd bestead
Yslain he should have be.
The Knight had ruth of his yeoman
In place where that he stood:
He said, "The yeoman should have no harm,
For love of ROBIN HOOD!"
The Knight pressed into the place,
An hundred followed him free,
With bows bent and arrows sharp
For to shend that company.
They shouldered all and made him room
To wit what he would say;
He took the yeoman by the hand
And gave him all the play;
He gave him five marks for his wine,
There it laid on the mould:
And bade it should be set abroach,
Drink who so would!
Thus long tarried this gentle Knight
Till that play was done:
So long abode ROBIN fasting,
Three hours after the noon.

+The third fytte.+