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God that sittis in Trinité Gyffe thaym grace wel to the      That listyns me a whyle. Alle that lovys of melody Of hevon blisse God graunte thaim party      (Theyr soules shelde fro peryle) At festis and at mangery, To tell of kyngis that is worthy      Talis that byn not vyle. And ye wil listyn how hit ferd Betwene Kyng Edward and a scheperd,      Ye shalle lawgh of gyle. Oure kyng went hym in a tyde To pley hym be a ryver side      In a mornyng of May. Knyght ne squyer wold he non But hymself and a grome,      To wende on that jorney. With a scheperde con he mete, And gret hym with wordis swete,      Without any delay. The scheperde lovyd his hatte so well, He did hit off never a dele,      But seid, “Sir, gud-day.” The kyng to the herde seid than, “Of whens art thou, gode man,      Also mot I the?” “In Wynsaure was I borne. Hit is a myle but here beforne;      The town then maist thou see. I am so pylled with the kyng That I most fle fro my wonyng,      And therfore woo is me. I hade catell; now have I non; Thay take my bestis and don thaim slone,      And payen but a stik of tre.” The kyng seid, “Hit is gret synne That thei of sich werkis wil not blynne,      And Edward wot hit noght. But come tomorne when it is day Thou shalbe sirvyd of thi pay.      Therof have thou no thoght. For in your towne born I was. I have dwellid in diverse place      Sithe I thens was broght. In the courte I have sich a frende: The treserer, or then I wende,      For thi luffe shalle be soght.” This gret lord the herd con frayne, “What wil men of your kyng seyne?      Wel litull gode, I trowe.” The herd onsweryd hym right noght, But on his schepe was all his thoght,      And seid agayn, “Char, how!” Then loogh oure kyng and smyled stille: “Thou onsweris me not at my will;      I wolde thai were on a lawe! I aske thee tythyngis of oure kyng, Of his men and his wyrkyng;      For sum I have sorow. “I am a marchant and ride aboute, And fele sithis I am in dowte      For myn owne ware. I tell it thee in priveté, The kyngis men oon to me      A thousand pounde and mare. Owe he ought mycull in this cuntré? What silver shall he pay thee,      For Goddis haly are? Sith thou art neghtbur myne, I wil my nedis do and thyne;      Tharof have thou no care.” “Sir,” he seid, “be Seynt Edmonde, Me is owand four pounde      And odde twa schillyng. A stikke I have to my witness. Of hasill I mene that hit is;      I ne have no nother thyng. And gif thou do as thou has me hote, Then shall I gif thee a cote,      Withowt any lesyng; Sevon schelyng tomorne at day Whan I am sirvyd of my pay.”      “Graunte,” seid oure kyng. “Tel me, sir, what is thi name, That I for thee have no blame,      And where thi wonnyng is.” “Sir,” he seid, “as mot I the, Adam the scheperde men callen me,      For certan soth iwysse.” The scheperde seid, “Whos son art thou of oure towne? Hat not thi fadur Hochon,      Also have thou blisse?” “No, for God,” seid oure kyng, “I wene thou knowist me nothyng;      Thou redis alle amysse. “My fadur was a Walsshe knyght; Dame Isabell my modur hyght,      Forsothe as I tell thee. In the castell was hir dwellyng Thorow commaundment of the kyng,      Whene she thar shuld be. Now wayte thou wher that I was borne. The tother Edward here beforne,      Full well he lovyd me, Sertanly withowte lye. Sum tyme I live be marchandye,      And passe well ofte the see. “I have a son is with the whene; She lovys hym well, as I wene;      That dar I savely say. And he pray hir of a bone, Yif that hit be for to done,      She will not onys say nay; And in the courte I have sich a frende, I shalbe sirvyd or I wende,      Withowt any delay. Tomorne at undur speke with me; Thou shalbe sirvyd of thi moné      Er than hye mydday.” “Sir, for Seynt Thomas of Ynde, In what place shall I thee fynde,      And what shalle I thee calle?” “My name,” he seid, “is Joly Robyn; Ilke man knowes hit well and fyne,      Bothe in bowre and halle. Pray the porter, as he is fre, That he let thee speke with me,      Soo faire hym mot befalle. For fer owtward shall I not be; Sumquer I trow thou shall me see,      Within the castell wall. “For thou and other that lene your thyng, Wel ofte sithes ye banne the kyng,      And ye ar not to blame; Hit er other that do that dede; Thei were worthy, so God me spede,      Therfor to have gret shame. And if I wist whilke thei were, Hit shulde come the kyng to ere,      Be God and be Seynt Jame. Then durst I swere thei shuld abye That dose oure kyng that vilanye,      For he berys all the fame.” The herd onswerd to the kyng, “Sir, be Seynt Jame, of this tithyng      Thou seist therof right well: Thei do but gode, the kyngis men; Thei ar worse then sich ten      That bene with hym no dell. Thei goo aboute be eight or nyne And done the husbondis mycull pyne,      That carfull is theire mele. Thai take geese, capons, and henne, And alle that ever thei may with renne,      And reves us oure catell. “Sum of theim was bonde sore, And afturwarde hanget therfore,      Forsoth, as I yow say. Yet ar ther of theim nyne moo, For at my hows thei were also      Certis yisturday. Thei toke my hennes and my geese And my schepe with all the fleese,      And ladde theim forth away. Be my doghtur thei lay al nyght; To come agayne thei have me hyght;      Of helpe I wolde yow pray. “With me thei lefte alle their thyng, That I am sicur of theire comyng,      And that me rewes soore. I have fayre chamburs thre, But non of theim may be with me      While that thei be thore. Into my carthaws thei me dryfe; Out at the dur thei put my wyfe,      For she is olde gray hore. Had I helpe of sum lordyng, I shulde make with thame recknyng;      Thei shulde do so no more. “For other thre felowes and I, We durst wel take party      These nyne for to mete. I have slyngus smert and gode To mete with theim yif thei were wode,      And reve hem her lyves swete. The best archer of ilkon, I durst mete hym with a stone,      And gif hym leve to schete. Ther is no bow that shall laste To draw to my slynges caste,      Nought be feel fete. “Ther is non archer in this lande, And I have my slyng in hande.      For I dar lay with hym ale That whoso sonyst hittis a bauke For to have the tother haut      To what thyng he will hale — That whoso furst smytis a thyng Of his bow or my slyng      Undurstande my tale — Be the deth that I shall dye, Therto my hed then dar I ley,      Now sone in this swale.” With talis he made the kyng to dwell, With mony moo then I can tell,      Till hit was halfe-gatis prime. His hatte was bonde undur his chyn; He did hit nothyng off to hym:      He thoght hit was no tyme. “Robyn,” he seid, “I pray thee Hit is thi will: come hom with me,      A morsell for to dyne.” The kyng list of his bourdis lere; “Gladly,” he seid, “My lefe fere,      I wil be on of thyne.” As thei hamward con gon, The kyng saw conyngis mony on;      Therat he can smyle. “Adam,” he seid, “Take up a ston And put hit in thi slyng anon;      Abyde we here a while. Gret bourde it wold be Of theim to slee twoo or thre,      I swere thee be Seynt Gyle.” “Do way!” quod Adam, “Let be that! Be God, I wolde not for my hat      Be takyn with sich a gyle. “Hit is alle the kynges waren; Ther is nouther knyght ne sqwayne      That dar do sich a dede, Any conynges here to sla And with the trespas awey to ga,      But his sidis shulde blede. The warner is hardy and fell; Sirtanly, as I thee tell,      He will take no mede. Whoso dose here sich maistrye, Be thou wel sicur he shall abye      And unto prison lede. “Ther is no wilde foule that will flyne But I am sicur hym to hittyne;      Sich mete I dar thee hote Yif hit be so my slyng will last. Yif I fayle of hym a caste,      Brok than welle my cote. When we come and sitten insame, I shalle tech thee a gamme;      I can hit wel be rote. Then shal thou se my slyng slaght, And of the best take us a draght,      And drynk well right be note.” The scheperde hows ful mery stode Undur a forest fayre and gode,      Of hert and hynde gret mynde. The kyng seid, “Be God Almyght, In thy hert thou may be light      Hamward when thou shall wende; I thee swere, be Goddis grace, And I had here sich a place,      I shulde have of that kynde; Outher on even or on morneng, Sum of theim shuld come to ryng,      Therwith to make me a frende.” The herd bade, “Let soch wordis be! Sum man myght here thee;      Thee were bettur be still. Wode has erys, fylde has sight; Were the forster here now right,      Thy wordis shuld like thee ille. He has with hym yong men thre; Thei be archers of this contré,      The kyng to sirve at wille, To kepe the dere bothe day and nyght, And for theire luf a loge is dight      Full hye upon an hill. “I wolde have here no standyng, But ride now forth in my blessyng      And make us wel at ese. I am glad thou come with me; Goo sit now wher thi willes be,      Right at thine owne ese; Though sumdel of my gode be lorne, I shall have more; and God beforne,      He may hit wel increse; And I shall tech thee play — When tyme comys, thou shalt asay      Whilke play be not lese.” A fayre cloth on the borde he leyd; Into the boure he made a brayde,      Gode mete for to fette. Brede of whete bultid small, Two peny ale he brought withall:      Therof wolde he not lett; A fesaunde brid and therwith a crane. Other fowles were ther gode ane      Before the kyng he sette. “Adam,” quod the kyng, “blessed thou be: Here is bettur then thou heghtist me,      Today when that we mette.” “Sir,” he seid, “do now gladly; Yet have I mete that were worthy      A gret lord for to fech.” He broght a heron with a poplere, Curlews, boturs, bothe in fere,      The maudlart and hur mech, And a wylde swan was bake. “Sich fowle con my slyng take;      Theroff am I no wrech; I bade felawes to my dynere And sithen thei wil not cum here,      A devell have who that rech! “Yif thou wilt ete, thou shall non wave; But gif thou will any drynk have,      Thou most con thy play; When thou seest the cuppe anon, But thou sei passilodion      Thou drynkis not this day. Sely Adam shall sitt thee hende And onswere with berafrynde,      Leve upon my ley.” The kyng seid that he wold lere: “Me think it bourde for to here:      Teche me, I thee pray.” “Passilodyon, that is this: Whoso drynkis furst, iwys,      Wesseyle the mare dele! Berafrynde also, I wene, Hit is to make the cup clene,      And fylle hit efte full wele. Thus shal the game go aboute, And whoso falys of this route,      I swere be Seynt Mighell, Get hym drynk wher he will, He getis non here (this is my skill)      Noght to another sele.” The kyng seid, “Let se that drynke; I shall say right that I thynke:      Me thirstis swyth sore.” The scheperde bade the cup fill; The kyng to drynk hade gode will      With passilodion more. ……………………………….      “I con right wel my lore.” “Berafrynde,” iseid Adam, “Iwysse thou art a wytty man;      Thou shalt wel drynk therfore.” Thus thei sate withoute strife, The kyng with Adam and his wyfe,      And made hym mery and glad. The scheperde bade “the cuppe fill”; The kyng to drynke hade gode will;      His wife did as he bade. When the cuppe was come anon, The kyng seid “passylodion”      When he the cuppe hade. Hit was a game of gret solas; Hit comford all that ever ther was;      Therof thai were noght sade. The scheperde ete till that he swatte, And than nou erst he drew his hatt      Into the benke-ende. And when he feld the drynk was gode, He wynkid and strokyd up his hode,      And seid, “Berafrynde.” He was qwyte as any swan; He was a wel begeten man,      And comyn of holy kynde. He wold not ete his cromys drye: He lovyd nothyng but it were trie,      Nether fer ne hende. Then seid the kyng in his reson, “Whoso were in a gode town,      This wold ha costed dere, In this maner to be fed With alkyn dentey wel bested,      As we have had now here. I shalle thee whyte, be hode myne: Now hade I lever a conyne      Dight in my manere; But yif hit were of buk or doo, Ther is no mete i-lovyd soo,      And I come ther hit were.” The scheperde seid, “So mot thou the, Con thou heyle a priveté?      And thou shalt se gode game.” “Ye!” seid the kyng, “Be my leuté, And ellis have I mycul maugré      Yif hit be for my frame. What man that wrye a gode frende, Though he were right sibbe of my kynde,      He were worthy gret shame.” Then seid Adam, “Thou seis soth; Yet I have a morsel for thi toth,      And ellis I were to blame.” He went and fett conyngis thre, Alle baken well in a pasty,      With wel gode spicerye, And other baken mete alsoo, Bothe of hert and of roo;      The venyson was full trye. “Sir,” he seid, “asay of this: Thei were yisturday qwyk, iwysse,      Certan, withouten lye; Hidur thei come be mone-light. Eete therof well aplight,      And schewe no curtasye.” To the scheperd seid the kyng, “The forsters luf this over al thyng.      Thou art alle thaire felawe: To thaire profett thou con foulis slyng, And thei will venyson to thee bryng:      Therof stande thei non awe. Were thou as perfete in a bowe, Thou shulde have moo dere, I trowe,      Soth to say in sawe. Yet I rede that thou fande Than any forster in this land      An arow for to drawe.” Then seid the scheperde, “Nothing soo: I con a game worth thei twoo      To wynne me a brede: Ther is no hert ne bucke so wode That I ne get without blode,      And I of hym have nede. I have a slyng for the nones That is made for gret stonys;      Therwith I con me fede. What dere I take undur the side, Be thou siker he shall abide      Til I hym home will lede. “Conyngus with my nother slyng I con slee and hame bryng,      Sumtyme twoo or thre; I ete thaim not myself alon: I send presandes mony on,      And fryndes make I me, Til gentilmen and yemanry. Thei have thaim all; thei ar worthy —      Those that ar privee. Whatso thai have, it may be myne, Corne and brede, ale and wyne,      And alle that may like me. Do now gladly, Joly Robyne: Yet shall thou drynk a draught fyne      Of gode drynk, as I wene; Of Lanycoll thou shall prove: That is a cuppe to my behove;      Of maser it is ful clene. Hit holdis a gode thrydendele Ful of wyne every mele;      Before me it is sene. Fil the cuppe,” he seid anon, “And play we passilodion,      Sith no moo that we bene.” When the drynk was filled, The wife askid, “Who shuld begynne,      The godeman, sir, or ye?” “Take my geyst,” seid Adam than, “Sith he his gamme con;      I wil that it so be.” The kyng toke the cuppe anon And seid, “Passilodion!”      Hym thoght it was gode gle. The sheperde seid “Certanly, Berafrynd shalbe redy,      Also mot I the.” He drank and made the cuppe ful clene, And sith he spake wordis kene,      That gamme was to here: “This cuppe hit hat Lonycoll; I luf it wel, for it is holl;      It is me lefe and dere; Fil it efte to Joly Robyn; Iwisse, he drank no bettur wyne      Of alle this seven yere! To alle that wil my gamme play, Fill it be the ee, I thee pray,      My bourdis that wil lere.” Then dranke oure kyng and toke his leve; The sheperd seid, “Sir, not thee greve,      And it thi wille be: I shalle the schew, Joly Robyn, A litull chaumbur that is myne,      That was made for me.” The kyng therof was ful glad, And did as the scheperde bad:      Moo bourdis wold he se. He lad hym into a privé place Ther venyson plenté in was,      And the wyne so claré. Undur the erth it was dight, Feire it was, and clene of syght,      And clergially was hit wroght. The kyng seid, “Here is feyre ese: A man myght be here wel at ese,      With gamme yif he were saught.” The kyng seid, “Gramercy, and have goday!” The scheperde onswerid and said, “Nay,      Yet ne gose thou nought; Thou shalle preve furst of a costrell tre That gode frendis send to me,      The best that myght be bought. “Telle me now, whilke is the best wyne Of Lonycoll, cuppe myne,      Als thou art gode and hynde? Play onys ‘passilodion,’ And I shall onswer sone anon,      Certes, ‘Berafrynde.’ This chambur hat Hakderne, my page; He kepis my thyng and takis no wage,      In worde wher that I wende. Ther is no man this place con wrye But thiself, yif thou wilt sey,      And than art thou unkynde. “Ther is no man of this contré So mycull knowes of my priveté      As thou dose, Joly Robyn; Whil that I liff, welcum to me; Wyne and ale I dar hete thee,      And gode flesshe for to dyne.” The kyng his stede he can stride, And toke his leve for to ride;      Hym thoght it was hye tyme. The scheperde seid, “I will with thee goo: I dar thee hete a foule or twoo,      Parauntur with a conyne.” The kyng rode softely on his way. Adam folowyd, and wayted his pray:      Conyngus saw he thre. “Joly Robyn, chese thou which thou wylt; Hym that rennys er hym that sitt,      And I shall gif hym thee.” “He that sittis and wil not lepe: Hit is the best of alle the hepe,      Forsoth so thynkith me.” The scheperde hit hym with a stone And breke in two his brest-bon;      Thus sone ded was he. The kyng seid, “Thou art to alow: Take hym als that rennyth now,      And than con thou thy crafte.” “Be God,” quod Adam, “here is a ston That shalle be his bane anon.”      Thus sone his life was rafte. What fowle that sittis or flye, Whether it were ferre or nye,      Sone with hym it lafte. “Sir,” he seid, “forsoth I trowe This is bettur then any bowe,      For alle the fedurt schafte.” “Joly Robyn, brok wel my pray That I have wone here to day.      I vouchesafe wele more. I pray thee telle it to no man In what maner that I hit wan;      I myght have blame therfore. And gif thou do my errand of right, Thou shalle have that I thee hyght,      I swere be Goddis ore.” The kyng seid, “Take me thy tayle, For my hors, I wolde not thee fayle,      A peny that thou lore.” The kyng to court went anon, And Adam to his schepe con gon;      His dogge lay ther full stille. Home er nyght come he noght; New mete with hym he broght:      For defaute wolde he not spill. “Wife,” he seid, “be not sory: I wil to courte certanly;      I shalle have alle my will. Joly Robyn, that dynet with me, Hase behette me my moné,      As he can lawe and skill. “He is a marchande of gret powere: Many man is his tresirere;      Men awe hym mony a pounde. The best frend he had sith he was borne Was the tother Edwart here beforne,      Whil he was holl and sounde. He hase a son is with the qwene; He may do more then other fyftene,      He swerys be Seynt Edmonde. Though he shuld gif of his catell, I shalle have myne, everydell,      Of penys holl and rownde.” On morow when he shuld to court goo, In russet clothyng he tyret hym tho,      In kyrtil and in curtebye, And a blak furred hode That wel fast to his cheke stode,      The typet myght not wrye. The mytans clutt forgate he noght; The slyng cumys not out of his thoght,      Wherwith he wrought maystrie. Toward the court he can goo; His doghtur lemman met he thoo,      And alle his cumpanye. He thoght more then he seyde. Towarde the court he gaf a brayde,      And yede a well gode pas. And when he to the yatis come, He askid the porter and his man      Wher Joly Robyn was. He was warned what he shuld seyn.1 Of his comyng he was fayne,      I swere be Goddis grace. “Sir, I shall tel thee wher he is.” And than began thaire gammen, iwis,      When he come forth in place. The kyng seid to erles tweyne, “Ye shall have gode bourd, in certayne,      Yif that ye will be stille, Of a scheperde that I see That is hidur come to me      For to speke his wille. I pray yow alle, and warne betyme, That ye me calle Joly Robyne,      And ye shalle lawgh your fille. He wenys a marchand that I be. Men owe hym silver her for fe;      I shalle hym helpe thertille. “But a wager I dar lay (And ye will as I yow say),      A tune of wyne, iwysse: Ther is no lorde that is so gode, Though he avayle to hym his hode,      That he wil do off his. Sir Raufe of Stafford, I pray thee, Goo wete what his will be,      And telle me how hit is.” “Gladly, lord, so mot I the. Whilke bourdis I wolde ful fayn se,      Of thyngus that fallis amysse.” And whan he to the herde came, He seid, “Al hayle, godeman.      Whidur wiltow goo?” He onsweryd as he thought gode (But he did not off his hode      To hym never the moo), “Joly Robyn, that I yondur see, Bid hym speke a worde with me,      For he is not my foo.” Then onswerid that erle balde, “Take the porter thi staffe to halde,      And thi mytens also.” “Nay, felow,” he seid, “so mot I the, My staffe ne shal not goo fro me.      I will hit kepe in my hande. Ne my mytans getis no man Whil that I thaim kepe can,      Be Goddis Sone Alweldande. Joly Robyn, that I yondur see, Goo bidde hym speke a worde with me,      I pray thee, for Goddis sande. I wolde wete how hit is: I am aferd my schepe go mysse      On other mennys lande.” And when he to the kyng came, Then seid the kyng, “Welcum, Adam,      As to my powere!” “Joly Robyn,” he seid, “wel mot thou be! Be God, so shuld thou to me      On other stede than here. I am commyn, thou wat wherfore; Thi travayle shal not be forlore:      Thou knowis wel my manere.” “For God,” seid the kyng tho, “Thou shalbe sirvyd er thou goo;      Forthy make glad chere.” “Joly Robyn,” he seid, “I pray thee Speke with me a worde in priveté.”      “For God,” quod the kyng, “gladly!” He freyned the kyng in his ere “What lordis that thei were      That stondis here thee bye?” “The erle of Lancastur is the ton, And the erle of Waryn, Sir John,      Bolde and as hardy; Thei mow do mycull with the kyng: I have tolde hem of thi thyng.”      Then seid he, “Gremercy!” The scheperde seid, “Sirs, God blesse yew! I know yow not, be swete Jhesu!”      And swere a wel gret oth. “Felaw,” they seid, “I leve thee well: Thou hase sene Robyn or this sell;      Ye ne ar nothyng wrothe.” “No, siris,” he seid, “so mot I the, We ar neghtburs, I and he;      We were never loth.” As gret lordis as thei ware, He toke off his hode never the mare,      But seid, “God save yow both.” The lordis seid to hym anon, “Joly Robyn, let hym noght gon      Till that he have etyn. Hym semys a felow for to be. Moo bourdis yet mow we se      Er his errand be gettyn.” The kyng to the scheperde con say, “Fro me ne gost thou not away      Tille we togedur have spokyn. An errande I hyght thee for to done. I wolde that thou were sirvyd sone,      That hit be not forgetyn. “Goo we togedur to the marshall, And I myself shall tel the tale,      The bett may thou spede.” “Robyn,” he seid, “thou art trwe; Iwis, it shalle thee never rew:      Thou shalt have thy mede.” To the hall he went, a ful gode pase, To seke wher the stuarde was;      The scheperde with hym yede. Long hym thought til mydday That he ne were sirvyd of his pay;      He wolde have done his dede. When he into the hall came, Ther fande he no maner of man;      The kyng hym bade, “Abyde. I wil go aboute thi nede, For to loke gif I may spede,      For thing that may betide.” “Robyn, dwel not long fro me. I know no man here but thee;      This court is noght but pride, I ne can of no sich fare: These hye halles, thei ar so bare!      Why ar thei made so wyde?” Then lowgh the kyng, and began to go, And with his marsshale met he tho.      He commaundit hym ayeyne. “Felaw,” he seid, “herkyn a light, And on myne errand go thou tyte,      Also mot thou thynne: A scheperde abides me in hall: Of hym shall we lagh alle,      At the meyte when that we bene. He is cum to aske four pounde; Goo and fech it in a stounde,      The sothe that I may sene. “Twey schelyng ther is more: Forgete hem not, be Goddis ore,      That he ne have alle his pay. I wolde not for my best stede But he were sirvyd er he yede,      Er then hye mydday. He wenys a marchande that I be; Joly Robyn he callis me,      For sirtan sothe to say. Now sone to mete when I shall goo, Loke he be noght fer me fro.”      “Lorde,” he seid then, “nay.” Forthe the marshale can gon, And brought the stuard sone anon,      And did adowne his hode. “Herstow, felow, hast thou do The thyng that I seid thee to,      For the gode rode?” “Sir,” he seid, “it is redy; I know hym not, be Oure Lady,      Before me thogh he stode.” “Goo, take yond man and pay betyme, And bidde hym thonke Joly Robyn;      We shall sone have gamme gode.” Forthe thei went all thre, To pay the scheperde his moné      Ther he stode in the halle. The stiward at hym frayned tho, “What askis thou, felow, er thou goo?      Telle me, among us alle.” “Sir,” he seid, “so mot I the, Foure pounde ye owe to me,      So fayre mot me befalle! Twey schillyngis is ther odde: I have wytnesse therof, be God,      Within this castell wall. “Hit is skorid here on a tayle; Have; brok hit wel withowt fayle:      I have kepte hit lang enogh!” The stiwarde: “Therof I ne rech: Iwisse, I have therto no mech!”      At hym ful fast thei loogh; “Ne were Joly Robyn, that I here se, To-day ye gate no moné of me,      Made thou it never so towgh; But for his luf, go tel it here.” Then made the scheperde right glad chere,      When he the silver drowgh. He did it up, the sothe to say, But sum therof he toke away      In his hand ful rathe. “Joly Robyn,” he seid, “herkyn to me A worde or tweyn in priveté      Togedur betwene us bath. I hight the yisturday seven shyllyng. Have: brok it wel to thi clothyng.      Hit wil do thee no skathe. And for thou hast holpyn me now, Evermore felowes I and thow,      And mycull thanke, sir, now have ye.” “Graunt mercy, sir,” seid than he, “But silver shalt thou non gif me,      I swere be Seynt Martyne!” “Be God,” seid the scheperde, “yys!” “Nay,” seid oure kyng, “iwys,      Noght for a tune of wyne. For thi luf I wolde do more Then speke a worde or twa the fore      Thou may preve sumtyme. Yif thou be fastyng, cum with me And take a morsell in priveté;      Togedur then shalle we dyne.” “Nay, sir,” he seid, “so God me spede! To the kyngis meyte have I no nede.      I wil therof no dele. Ther is non of his proud meny That hase alway so gode plenté      I have every sele.” The kyng bare wittnesse, and seid, “Ya! But thou myght onys, er thou ga,      Etyn with me a mele. The grettist lordis of this lande Have bidde thee tary, I undurstonde,      And therfore bere thee well.” “For thi luff, Robyn, I wil gladly. Today then mett I myne enmye,      Forsothe as I thee tell: He that be my doghtur lay. I tolde thee of hym yisturday.      I wolde he were in hell. At my howse is alle the rowte. They wil do harme whil I am owte.      Full yvel then dar I dwell. Wold thou speke for me to the kyng, He wolde avow me my slyngyng;      Thaire pride then shulde I fell.” Kyng Edwart onswerid agayne, “I wil go to these erles twane      That stode lang ore be me. Thai ar aperte of my knowyng. Thei shall speke for thee to the kyng,      That wrokyn shal thou be. In this courte thai ar twenty At my biddyng to bidde redy      To do a gode jornay; When thou comys home, make no bost: Thei shalbe takyn er thou it wost,      Though thai were sech thre.” Thus the kyng held hym with tale, That alle that ever was in the sale      Of hym hade gret ferly. Togedur thei yede up and down As men that seid thare orison,      But no man wist why. The scheperde keppid his staf ful warme, And happid it ever undur his harme      As he romyd hym by. He wold no man toke it hym fro Til that he shulde to meyte goo,      Sich was his curtasy. The kyng commaundit al his That no man speke to hym amysse,      As thei wolde be his frynde. When tablys were layd and clothis sprad, The scheperde into the hall was lad      To begynne a bordis ende. His mytans hang be his spayre, And alway hodit like a frere      To meyte when he shulde wende. And when the waytis blew lowde hym be, The scheperde thoght, “What may this be?”      He wende he hade herd a fende. And alle that hym aboute stode Wende that man hade bene wode,      And lowgh hym to hethyng For he so nycely yede in halle, And bare a staffe among thaim alle,      And wolde take it nothyng. The stwarde seid to Joly Robyn, “Goo wesshe, sir, for it is tyme,      At the furst begynyng; And for that odur Edwart love, Thou shalt sitte here above,      Instidde alle of the kyng.” When he had wasshen and fayre isett, The qwene anon to hym was fett,      For sche was best worthy. At every ende of the deyse Sate an erle, withowt lese,      And a fayre lady. The kyng commandit the stuard tho To the scheperde for to goo      And pray hym specially A tabul dormant that he begynne; “Then shal we lawgh, that be herein,      Of his rybaudy.” “Adam,” he seid, “sit here down, For Joly Robyn of this towne,      He gifis thee gode worde. And for thou art of his knoyng, We vouchsafe, olde and yong,      That thou begynne the borde.” “Perdy,” seid the scheperde, “nowe Hit shal be thought, if that I mow,      Hit is wel kept in horde. But if I do Robyn a gode journé, Ellis mot I hangyt be      With a hempyn corde.” And when the hall was rayed out, The scheperde lokid al aboute,      How that hit myght bene. Surketis overal he con holde; Of knyghtis and of persons bolde,      Sich hade he non sene. The prince was feched to the borde To speke with the kyng a worde,      And also with the qwene. Then he frayned hym in his ere If he wolde “passilodion” lere,      And “berafrende” bedene. “Lorde,” he seid, “what may that be? I know it not, be Goddis tre.      It is a new language.” “I leve thee well,” seid the kyng, “Thou may not know al thyng:      Thou therto ne has non age. Ther is a mon in this town That will it preve gode reson      To kyng, squyer, and page. And gif thou wille gif any mede, I shal do thee to hym lede,      Unto his scole a stage. “Hit is a scheperde that I of mene; At his howse then have I bene      Within this seven-nyght. A dosan knyghtis, and thai had cum with me, Thei shulde have had mete plenté      Of that I fonde redy dyght.” Then he tolde hym alle the case, Of passilodion, what it was,      And berafrynde, I plight. “He sittis yonde, in a furred hode; Goo, bere hym here a golde ryng gode,      And that anon right, “And thank hym mycul for Joly Robyn. He wenys that it be name myne,      Forsoth as I thee say. He wot I have a son here, That is the quene lefe and dere:      I tolde hym so yisturday. As ofte as thou wilt to hym gan, Name passilodian,      And wete what he will say.” “Lorde,” he said, “I wil gladly: I can hit wel and perfitely;      Now have I lornyd a play.” When he to the scheperde came, He seid, “Do gladly, gode Adam,      And mycull gode hit thee doo. Micul thanke for Joly Robyn, That thou did my lorde to dyne;      And other ther is also: Whi playes thou not passilodion As thou did yisturday at home?      I wil onswer therto. I know thi gamme to the ende, For to say ‘berafrynde,’      As have I rest and roo.” Then loogh the herd, and liked ille, And seid, “Lefe childe, be stille,      For Goddis swete tre! Go sei thi fadur he is to blame That he for gode dose me schame.      Why has he wryed me? Have I maugré for my god dede, Shall I never more marchand fede,      Ne telle my pryveté.” He stroked up his hud for tene, And toke a cuppe and mad it clene.      A gret draught then drank he. The prynce seid, “That was wel done. Hit shalbe filled ayeyn ful sone,      Alle of the best wyne. Play passilodion, and ha no drede, And have a gold ryng to thi mede,      And were it for luf myne.” “I wil it not, forsothe to sey: Hit shulde not laste me halfe a day,      Be Goddis swete pyne. When it were brokyn, fare well he! An hatte were bettur then sech thre      For reyne and sonneschyne.” When the prince hade hym beholde, He yede and sate hym where he wolde,      As skille and reson is. And alle the lordyngis in the halle On the herd thei lowgen alle      When any cuppe yede amys. When thei hade etyne and clothis draw, And wasshen, as hit is landis lawe,      Certan sothe iwysse, Than dranke thai aftur sone anon, And played passilodion      Tille ilke man hade his. The lordis anon to chawmbur went. The kyng aftur the scheperd sent;      He was broght forth full sone. He clawed his hed, his hare he rent, He wende wel to have be schent:      He ne wyst what was to done. When he French and Latyn herde, He hade mervell how it ferde,      And drow hym ever alone. “Jhesu,” he seid, “for thi gret grace, Bryng me fayre out of this place.      Lady, now here my bone. “What eyled me? Why was I wode, That I cowth so litell gode      Myselven for to wrye? A, Lord God, that I was unslye! Alasse, that ever he come so nye,      The sothe that I shulde seye! Wolde God, for His modurs luf, Bryng me onys at myn abofe      I were out of theire eye, Shuld I never, for no faire spech, Marchande of my cowncell teche,      Soo aferde I am to dye.” The kyng saw he was sory; He had thereof gret myrth forthi,      And seid, “Come nere, Adam; Take the spices and drynk the wyne As homely as I did of thyne,      So God thee gif thedame.” Fulle carfully in he yede; “Have I this for my gode dede?      Me rewes that I here came.” He toke the wyne and laft the spice; Then wist thei wel that he was nyce.      Wel carfull was that man. He ete the spyce, the wyne he drank, Oure kyng on the scheperde wanke      Prively with his eye. “Joly Robyn,” he thoght, “wo thou be That tyme that I ever met with thee,      Er ever that I thee seye. Be God,” he thought, “had I thee nowe Ther were yisturday I and thow,      Paynes then shulde thou drye. I shulde chastis thee so with my slyng, Thou shulde no moo tythyngis bryng,      On horse though thou were hye.” The kyng commaundit a squyer tere, “Goo telle the scheperde in his ere      That I am the kyng, And thou shall se sich cowntenence That hym had lever be in Fraunce,      When he heris of that tythyng. He has me schewid his priveté: He wil wene ded to be,      And make therfore mournyng. Hit shalle hym meve al to gode: I wolde not ellis, be the rode,      Nought for my best gold ryng.” The squyer pryvely toke his leve And plucked the scheperde be the sleve      For to speke hym with. “Man,” he said, “thou art wode! Why dose thou not down thi hode?      Thou art all out of kith. Hit is the kyng that spekis to thee, May do thee what his willis be,      Berefe thee lym and lith; And gif thou have do any trespas, Fall on knees and aske grace,      And he will gif thee grith.” Then was that herd a carful man, And never so sory as he was than,      When he herd that sawe. He wist not what hym was gode, But then he putte doun his hode;      On knees he fel down lawe. “Lorde,” he seid, “I crye thee mercy! I knew thee not, be Oure Lady,      When I come into this sale. For had I wist of this sorowe When that we met yistur-morowe,      I had not ben in this bale.”      NON FINIS SED PUNCTUS.

(t-note) Give; well to prosper All who love melody; (see note) Of heaven’s; part shield from peril banquet Tales; are If; went trickery one time by nor squire servingman go; day trip he met; (see note) greeted hat took it off not a bit herdsman As I hope to prosper Windsor just in front of here can pillaged by must; dwelling; (t-note) woe livestock animals; have them slain; (see note) pay only a stick of wood deeds; stop knows tomorrow supplied with; deserts don’t worry various places Since; thence a certain treasurer, before I leave love asked say believe Turn back, ho laughed; quietly as I would like on fire you information about performance merchant many times; fear commodities confidentially owe more; (t-note) very much; (see note) ought he to pay you holy grace neighbor business by; (see note) [To] me is owed; (t-note) two odd shillings as hazel I complain; (see note) I have no other if; promised give; coat lie Seven shillings provided with Agreed (see note) prosper indeed Isn’t your father called As you hope to have believe; not at all guess all wrong Welsh was called By (see note) you know The other Certainly trade cross; sea [who] is; queen believe dare; safely If; for a boon possible once before nine; (see note) provided with; money Before high noon India; (see note) (see note) Every; very well private and public Ask; noble good things; (see note) far away Somewhere lend; goods times; curse It is others make me prosper knew which to the king’s ear (see note) dare; pay for it do reputation information speak of it ten times worse are; not at all go around in a group of; (t-note) farmers great suffering [So] that anxious; their [every] meal run with rob from us; property tightly tied up; (see note) hanged for it more house Certainly led (see note) promised [So] that I am sure makes me very unhappy rooms can [stand to] there cart-house; drive door barnyard muck lord; (t-note) reckoning (t-note) dare; part slings stinging even if; violent take from them their the lot (each) give; leave to shoot amount to; distance of shot Not by many feet i.e., who could compete; (see note) If bet soonest; target? the other[’s] hawk? draw back the arrow hits With shade early morning was half over didn’t take it off [That] it To have a bite to eat wanted to learn his funny customs dear companion I’m your man many a rabbit fun kill (see note) Give up; Forget it; (t-note) trick rabbit warren swain slay go man in charge; ruthless bribe such a feat pay the penalty [be] led sure; hit food; promise shot Enjoy together know; by heart game killed with my sling drink by token [With a] great amount of hart and hind heart; happy If some of that species Either; evening join the dance; (see note) (see note) Don’t talk like that better to be quiet (see note) (see note) not please you at all for their sake a lodge is built; (see note) high I don’t want us to stand here with my; (t-note) [let’s] make; ease came where you prefer part; lost by God test Which play is not a trick table back room; dash food; fetch sifted fine also; (t-note) refrain young pheasant in abundance [that] he promised now enjoy [yourself] I still have fetch spoonbill; (see note) bitterns; together mallard; mate; (see note) [that] was cheapskate invited since whoever cares want to; pass up none of it learn; game Unless; (see note) Good old; handy to you (see note) Trust me; (see note) wanted to learn (see note) Share out more liquor empty again fails in this custom (see note) [Let] him get my view of what’s right till; occasion just what I’m very thirsty (t-note) (t-note) know; lesson Certainly; clever sat; disagreement cheered sweated for the first time; pulled off Onto; bench-end felt pushed white; (see note) begotten descent crumbs choice Of any kind; (see note) talk If someone have every kind of delicacy; arranged; (t-note) requite; hood; (t-note) rather; rabbit Prepared Unless it were of buck or doe dish so well praised where As you hope to prosper conceal a secret loyalty Or else; blame Even if; to my advantage [to reveal it] informs on closely related to me by birth tidbit to your taste spices roe deer choice try some alive Hither truly don’t stand on ceremony ally They aren’t at all afraid of doing so with speech Again; advise; attempt Rather than Not at all twice as much piece of roast meat; (t-note) wild If purpose hit carry i.e., mine other I make myself friends; (t-note) With landowners great and small discreet Grain please me From; try; (see note) that suits me maple; pure third of a gallon Since there are no more of us (see note) Choose Since fun then; sharp; (see note) is called hollow beloved For copiously whoever wants to learn don’t be offended If (t-note) like clary; (see note) constructed appearance skillfully; made satisfied You don’t go yet taste; from a wooden keg sent As; nice Certainly (see note) Wherever in the world reveal; (t-note) then you would be much; private business promise straddle promise Perhaps lay in wait for choose or [to] you group praise also death taken (see note) far or near remained feathered; (see note) enjoy grant; (t-note) won rightly mercy Give; tally stick lost (see note) before lack; die will [go] dined promised knows the law and what is right treasurer; (see note) other; (see note) whole [who] is; (see note) some of his goods every part pennies dressed himself then tunic; short coat; (t-note) (see note) firmly [That] the scarf could not conceal rag mittens; (see note) comes performed great feats daughter’s lover made a sudden movement went quickly gates glad fun; (t-note) right there two quiet ahead of time believes here; livestock to [get] it If you will do barrel lower doff find out (t-note) Which foe bold; (see note) Give; hold (see note) Almighty grace amiss To the best of my ability (see note) as you would [be welcome] to me place come; know why effort; wasted polite behavior So cheer up asked the first; (see note) They have much influence about your matter Thank you (t-note) believe before; occasion not at odds neighbors hostile were quite a guy may achieved together better; succeed you will never regret it reward at a brisk pace went treated to his satisfaction wanted to found see if I can succeed No matter what may happen know nothing of such carrying on laughed told him to go back little quickly (see note) food (t-note) moment grace deserts horse Unless Before high (see note) [the steward] put down Do you hear cross (see note) choose that; promptly Where (see note) Two; in addition tally stick enjoy care; (see note) match If it were not for would get No matter how difficult you made it count (t-note) obtained packed it up; (see note) promptly both make use of it for harm helped allies Thank you (see note) (see note) on your behalf; (t-note) demonstrate part retinue such a large amount [As]; time behave gang Hardly approve bring down long before; (t-note) known to be of my acquaintance revenged ready to command day’s fight threats before you know it three times as many kept him talking hall wonder prayer tucked; arm roamed his [people] friend; (see note) Sit at the head of a table (see note) [he was] still hooded; friar musicians; (see note) crazy laughed him to scorn foolishly give it up not at all wash other (see note) Instead nicely sat down fetched high table truly (see note) uncouth behavior speaks well of you acquaintance Gosh; (see note) as far as I’m concerned secret Unless; day’s work arranged completely; (t-note) Surcoats everywhere he beheld; (see note) he [the king] asked together with it i.e., by the cross believe You aren’t old enough sense if; recompense school; grade; (see note) speak if prepared I assure you right away much [to] the queen find out know game Enjoy your food may it do had there’s another thing peace; (see note) was uncomfortable in exchange for good does betrayed If I have blame pulled; hood; anger cleaned it out have wear want; truly suffering may it fare well A hat would be rain; sunshine wanted right and reasonable laughed (see note) cleared the tablecloths the country’s custom each; his [drink] expected; ruined (see note) how it was going kept to himself; (t-note) prayer; (see note) crazy so little knew what was good for me betray careless out on top [So that] distressed nearer unpretentiously prosperity anxiously I’m sorry (see note) ignorant i.e., the king; (t-note) winked (see note) Or endure chastise refined he had rather (t-note) expect It will lead to nothing but good for him; (t-note) I wouldn’t want it any other way You don’t know how to behave [Who] can Deprive you of limb and limb protection speech low (t-note) hall distress trouble (see note)