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if genuine, fbers that he bad real pretenfions to the Earl-
dom of Huntington, and that his true name was ROBERT
FITZ-OOTH. Yet the most ancient poems on Robin Hood
make no mention of this Earldom. He is expressly afferted
to have been a yeoman
* in a very
old legend in verse pre-
ferved in the archives of the public library at Cambridge †
in eight FYTTES or Parts, printed in black letter, quarto,
thus inferibed, "Here begynneth a lytell gefte of Robyn
"bode and his meyne, and of the proude heryfe of Notyng-
"bam." The first lines are,

"Lithe and lyften, gentylmen,
"That be of fre bore blode:
"I shall you tell of a good YEMAN,
"His name was Robyn hode.

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Robyn was a proude out-lawe,
"Whiles he walked on grounde;

"So curteyfe an outlawe as he was one,
"Was never none yfounde." &c.

The printer's colophon is, " Explicit Kinge Edwarde "and Robin hode and Lyttel Johan. Enprented at London in "Fleteftrete at the fygne of the fone by Wynkin de Worde." In Mr. Garrick's Collection is a different edition of the Same poem "Imprinted at London upon the thre Črane "wharfe by Wyllyam Copland." containing at the end a little dramatic piece on the subject of Robin Hood and the Friar, not found in the former copy, called, "A newwe playe "for to be played in Maye games very plefaunte and full of paftyme. (..) D.”

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I fhall conclude thefe preliminary remarks with obferving, that the hero of this ballad was the favourite fubject of popular fongs fo early as the time of K. Edw. III. In the

VOL. I.

G

Vifions

† Num. D. 5. 2.

Stukeley, in bis Palæographia Britannica, No. II. 1746. *See allo the following ballad, v. 147. Old Plays, 4to. K, vol. 10.

Vifions of Pierce Plowman, written in that reign, a monk
Jays,

I can rimes of Koben Hod, and Kandal of Chester,
Bur of our Lorde and our Lady, I lerne nothyng at all.
Fol. 26. Ed. 1550.

See alfo in Bp. Latimer's Sermons † a very curious and characteristical flory, which fhews what respect was shewn to the memory of our archer in the time of that prelate.

HAN fhaws beene fheene, and fhraddes* full

WH

And leaves both large and longe,

Itt's merrye walkyng in the fayre forrèft

To heare the small birdes fonge.

[fayre,

The woodweele fang, and wold not cease,
Sitting upon the spraye,

5

Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.

Now by my faye, fayd jollye Robin,

A fweaven I had this night;

I dreamt me of tow wighty yemen,
That fast with me can fight.

Methought they did me beate and binde,
And tooke my bowe me froe;

Iff I be Robin alive in this lande,
Ile be wroken on them towe.

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Ser. 6th before K. Ed. Apr. 12. fol. 75. Gilpin's life of Lat. p. 122.

*It fhould perhaps be Swards: i. e. the furface of the ground: viz. "when the fields are in their beauty.”

Sweavens are swift, fayd Lyttle John,

As the wind blowes over the hill; For iff itt be never fo loude this night, To-morrow it may be still.

Bufke yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
And John fhall goe with mee,
For Ile goe feeke yond wighty yeomen,
In greenwood where they bee.

20

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A fword and a dagger he wore by his fide,

Of manye a man the bane;

And he was clad in his capull hyde

35

Topp and tayll and mayne.

Stand ftill, mafter, quoth Litle John

Under this tree fo grene,

And I will go to yond wight yeoman

To know what he doth meane.

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Ah! John, by me thou fetteft noe ftore,

And that I farley finde:

How often fend I my men before,
And tarry my felfe behinde ?

It is no cunning a knave to ken,

bowe,

And a man but heare him fpeake; And it were not for bursting of my John, I thy head wold breake.

As often wordes they breeden bale,
So they parted Robin and John;
And John is gone to Barnefdale :

The gates + he knoweth eche one.

45

5.

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One shoote now I will fhoote, quoth John,

With Chrift his might and mayne;

1

† i.e. ways, passes, paths, ridings, Gate is a common word in the North for way.

· Ile

Ile make yond fheriffe that wends foe faft,
To stopp he shall be fayne.

Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,

65

And fetteled him to fhoote:

The bow was made of tender boughe,

And fell downe at his foote.

Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,

That ever thou grew on a tree; For now this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee.

76

His shoote it was but loosely fhott,
Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,
For itt mett one of the sherriffes men,
And William a Trent was flaine.

£75

It had bene better of William a Trent

To have bene abed with forrowe,

wood flade

80

Than to be that day in the green
To meet with Little Johns arrowe.

But as it is faid, when men be mett
Fyve can doe more than three,
The sheriffe hath taken little John,

And bound him faft to a tree.

And hanged hye on a hill.

Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,

85

But

G 3

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