The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey Affter bowhes to wende;The best bow that the yeman browthe Roben set on a stryng.
"Now schall y wet and thow be god,And polle het op to they ner;"
"So god me helpe,"seyde the prowde potter,"Thys ys bot rygzt weke ger."
To a quequer Roben went,A god bolt owthe he toke;So ney on to the marke he went,He fayled not a fothe.
All they schot abowthe agen,The screffes men and he;Off the marke he welde not fayle,He cleffed the preke on thre.
The screffes men thowt gret schame,The potter the mastry wan;The screffe lowe and made god game,And seyde,"Potter,thow art a man;Thow art worthey to ber a bowe,Yn what plas that thow gang."
"Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,Forsoyt,"he seyde,"and that a godde;Yn mey cart ys the bow That I had of Robyn Hode."
"Knowest thow Robyn Hode?"seyde the screffe,"Potter,y prey the tell thou me;"
"A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem,Under hes tortyll tree."
"Y had lever nar a hundred ponde,"seyde the screffe,And swar be the trenite,["Y had lever nar a hundred ponde,"he seyde,]
"That the fals owtelawe stod be me.
"And ye well do afftyr mey red,"seyde the potter,"And boldeley go with me,And to morow,or we het bred,Roben Hode wel we se."
"Y well queyt the,"kod the screffe,And swer be god of meythe;Schetyng thay left,and hom they went,Her scoper was redey deythe.
Upon the morow,when het was day,He boskyd hem forthe to reyde;The potter hes carte forthe gan ray,And wolde not [be]leffe beheynde.
He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe,And thankyd her of all thyng:
"Dam,for mey loffe,and ye well thys wer,Y geffe yow her a golde ryng."
"Gramarsey,"seyde the weyffe,"Sir,god eylde het the;"
The screffes hart was never so leythe,The feyr forest to se.
And when he cam ynto the foreyst,Yonder the leffes grene,Berdys ther sange on bowhes prest,Het was gret joy to sene.
"Her het ys mercy to be,"seyde Roben,"For a man that had hawt to spende;Be mey horne we schall awet Yeff Roben Hode be ner hande."
Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe,And blow a blast that was full god,That herde hes men that ther stode,Fer downe yn the wodde;"I her mey master,"seyde Leytell John;They ran as thay wer wode.
Whan thay to thar master cam,Leytell John wold not spar;"Master,how haffe yow far yn Notynggam?
How haffe yow solde yowr war?"
"Ye,be mey trowthe,Leytyll John,Loke thow take no car;Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,For all howr chaffar."
"He ys foll wellcom,"seyde Lytyll John,"Thes tydyng ys foll godde;"
The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde [He had never sene Roben Hode.]
"Had I west that beforen,At Notynggam when we wer,Thow scholde not com yn feyr forest Of all thes thowsande eyr."
"That wot y well,"seyde Roben,"Y thanke god that ye be her;Therfor schall ye leffe yowr horse with hos,And all your hother ger."
"That fend I godys forbode,"kod the screffe,"So to lese mey godde;"
"Hether ye cam on horse foll hey,And hom schall ye go on fote;And gret well they weyffe at home,The woman ys foll godde.
"Y schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,Het hambellet as the weynde;Ner for the loffe of yowr weyffe,Off mor sorow scholde yow seyng."
Thes parted Robyn Hode and the screffe,To Notynggam he toke the waye;Hes weyffe feyr welcomed hem hom,And to hem gan sche saye:
"Seyr,how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst?
Haffe ye browt Roben hom?"
"Dam,the deyell spede him,bothe bodey and bon,Y haffe hade a foll grete skorne.
"Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod,He hayt take het fro me,All bot this feyr palffrey,That he hayt sende to the."
With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng,And swhar be hem that deyed on tre,"Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys That Roben gaffe to me.
"Now ye be corn hom to Notynggam,Ye schall haffe god ynowe;"
Now speke we of Roben Hode,And of the pottyr onder the grene bowhe.
"Potter,what was they pottys worthe To Notynggam that y ledde with me?"
"They wer worth two nobellys,"seyd he,"So mot y treyffe or the;So cowde y had for tham,And y had ther be."
"Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,"seyde Roben,"Of money feyr and fre;And yever whan thou comest to grene wod,Wellcom,potter to me."
Thes partyd Robyn,the screffe,and the potter,Ondernethe the grene-wod tre;God haffe mersey on Robyn Hodys solle,And saffe all god yemanrey!
