her shyft have not we.

378.
'And ye have chyrches and rentes both,
And gold full grete plente;
Gyve us some of your spendynge,
For saynt charyte.'

379.
Than bespake our cumly kynge,
Anone than sayd he;
'I brought no more to grene-wode
But forty pounde with me.

380.
'I have layne at Notyngham,
This fourtynyght with our kynge,
And spent I have full moche good
On many a grete lordynge.

381.
'And I have but forty pounde,
No more than have I me:
But if I had an hondred pounde,
I wolde vouch it safe on thee.'

382.
Robyn toke the forty pounde,
And departed it in two partye;
Halfendell he gave his mery men,
And bad them mery to be.

383.
Full curteysly Robyn gan say;
'Syr, have this for your spendyng;
We shall mete another day';
'Gramercy,' than sayd our kynge.

384.
'But well thee greteth Edwarde our kynge,
And sent to thee his seale,
And byddeth thee com to Notyngham,
Both to mete and mele.'

385.
He toke out the brode targe,
And sone he lete hym se;
Robyn coud his courteysy,
And set hym on his kne.

386.
'I love no man in all the worlde
So well as I do my kynge;
Welcome is my lordes seale;
And, monke, for thy tydynge,

387.
'Syr abbot, for thy tydynges,
To day thou shalt dyne with me,
For the love of my kynge,
Under my trystell-tre.'

388.
Forth he lad our comly kynge,
Full fayre by the honde;
Many a dere there was slayne,
And full fast dyghtande.

389.
Robyn toke a full grete home,
And loude he gan blowe;
Seven score of wyght yonge men
Came redy on a rowe.

390.
All they kneled on theyr kne,
Full fayre before Robyn:
The kynge sayd hymselfe untyll,
And swore by Saynt Austyn,

391.
'Here is a wonder semely sight;
Me thynketh, by Goddes pyne,
His men are more at his byddynge
Then my men be at myn.'

392.
Full hastely was theyr dyner i-dyght,
And therto gan they gone;
They served our kynge with all theyr myght,
Both Robyn and Lytell Johan.

393.
Anone before our kynge was set
The fatte venyson,
The good whyte brede, the good rede wyne,
And therto the fyne ale and browne.

394.
'Make good chere,' said Robyn,
'Abbot, for charyte;
And for this ylke tydynge,
Blyssed mote thou be.

395.
'Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede