Part 50

Johne toke his leve at cure kyng, The sothe as I yow say; The next way to Notyngham To take he zede the way.

When Johne came to Notyngham The zatis were sparred ychone; Johne callid vp the porter, He answerid sone anon.

“What is the cause,” seid Litul John, “Thou sparris the zates so fast?” “Because of Robyn Hode,” seid porter, “In depe prison is cast.

“Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok, For sothe as I yow say, Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis, And sawtene vs euery day.”

Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff, And sone he hym fonde; He oppyned the kyngus privè seelle, And gaf hyn in his honde.

When the schereft saw the kyngus seelle, He did of his hode anon; “Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?” He said to Litulle Johne.

“He is so fayn of hym,” seid Litulle Johne, “For sothe as I yow sey, He has made hym abot of Westmynster, A lorde of that abbay.”

The scheref made John gode chere, And gaf hym wine of the best; At nyzt thei went to her bedde, And euery man to his rest.

When the scheref was on-slepe Dronken of wine and ale, Litul Johne and Moche for sothe Toke the way vnto the jale.

Litul Johne callid vp the jayler, And bade him ryse anon; He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson, And out of hit was gon.

The portere rose anon sertan, As sone as he herd John calle; Litul Johne was redy with a swerd, And bare hym to the walle.

“Now will I be porter,” seid Litul Johne, “And take the keyes in honde;” He toke the way to Robyn Hode, And sone he hym vnbonde.

He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond, His hed with for to kepe, And ther as the walle was lowyst Anon down can thei lepe.

Be that the cok began to crow, The day began to sprynge, The scheref fond the jaylier ded, The comyn belle made he rynge.

He made a crye thoroowt al the tow, Whedur he be zoman or knave, That cowthe brynge hyrn Robyn Hode, His warisone he shuld haue.

“For I dar neuer,” said the scheref, “Cum before oure kynge, For if I do, I wot serten, For sothe he wil me henge.”

The scheref made to seke Notyngham, Bothe be strete and stye, And Robyn was in mery Scherwode As lizt as lef on lynde.

Then bespake gode Litulle Johne, To Robyn Hode can he say, “I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle, Quyte me whan thou may.

“I haue done the a gode turne,” said Litulle Johne, “For sothe as I you saie; I haue brouzt the vnder grene wode lyne; Fare wel, and haue gode day.”

“Nay, be my trouthe,” seid Robyn Hode, “So shalle hit neuer be; I make the maister,” seid Robyn Hode, “Off alle my men and me.”

“Nay, be my trouthe,” seid Litulle Johne, “So shall hit neuer be, But lat me be a felow,” seid Litulle Johne, “Non odur kepe I’ll be.”

Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisone, Sertan withoutyn layne; When his men saw hym hol and sounde, For sothe they were ful fayne.

They filled in wyne, and made him glad, Vnder the levys smale, And zete pastes of venysone, That gode was with ale.

Than worde came to oure kynge, How Robyn Hode was gone, And how the scheref of Notyngham Durst neuer loke hyme vpone.

Then bespake oure cumly kynge, In an angur hye, “Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff, In faith so hase he me.

“Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe, And that fulle wel I se, Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham Hye hongut shuld he be.

“I made hem zemen of the crowne, And gaf hem fee with my hond, I gaf hem grithe,” seid oure kyng, “Thorowout alle mery Inglond.

“I gaf hem grithe,” then seide oure kyng, “I say, so mot I the, For sothe soche a zeman as he is on In alle Ingland ar not thre.