67, a caward.
69, A.
76, seyde hels.
77, went yemen.
78, thes.
MS. 90, yemerey.
97, grat.
100, yede.
109-112. These lines stand in the MS. in the order 3, 2, 1, 4.
113-116. This stanza is wrongly placed in the MS. after v. 96. It should he either in the place where it stands, or else begin the next fit.
[THE SECOND FIT.]
When Roben cam to Notynggam, The soyt yef y scholde saye, He set op hes horse anon, And gaffe hem hotys and haye.
Yn the medys of the towne, 125 Ther he schowed hes war; "Pottys! pottys!" he gan crey foll sone, "Haffe hansell for the mar."
Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate Schowed he hes chaffar; 130 Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow, And chepyd fast of hes war.
Yet, "Pottys, gret chepe!" creyed Royn, "Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;"
And all that saw hem sell,[L135] 135 Seyde he had be no potter long.
The pottys that wer werthe pens feyffe, He sold tham for pens thre; Preveley seyde man and weyffe, "Ywnder potter schall never the." 140
Thos Roben solde foll fast, Tell he had pottys bot feyffe; Op he hem toke of his ear, And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe.
Therof sche was foll fayne, 145 "Gramarsey, sir," than seyde sche;[L146]
"When ye com to thes contre ayen, Y schall bey of they pottys, so mot y the."[L148]
"Ye schall haffe of the best," seyde Roben, And swar be the treneyte; 150 Foll corteysley she gan hem call,[L151]
"Com deyne with the screfe and me."
"Godamarsey," seyde Roben, "Yowr bedyng schalle be doyn; A mayden yn the pottys gan ber, 155 Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon.
Whan Roben ynto the hall cam, The screffe sone he met; The potter cowed of corteysey, And sone the screffe he gret. 160
"Loketh what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me;[L161]
Feyffe pottys smalle and grete!"
"He ys fol wellcom," seyd the screffe, "Let os was, and go to mete."[L164]
As they sat at her methe, 165 With a nobell cher, Two of the screffes men gan speke Off a gret wager,
Was made the thother daye,[L169]
Off a schotyng was god and feyne,[L170] 170 Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye, Who scholde thes wager wen.
Styll than sat thes prowde potter, Thos than thowt he; "As y am a trow Cerstyn man, 175 Thes schotyng well y se."
Whan they had fared of the best.
With bred and ale and weyne, To the bottys they made them prest,[L179]
With bowes and boltys foll feyne.[L180] 180
The screffes men schot foll fast, As archares that weren godde; Ther cam non ner ney the marke Bey halfe a god archares bowe.
Stell then stod the prowde potter, 185 Thos than seyde he; "And y had a bow, be the rode, On schot scholde yow se."
"Thow schall haffe a bow," seyde the screffe, "The best that thow well cheys of thre; 190 Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge,[L191]
Asay schall thow be."
The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey Affter bowhes to wende; The best bow that the yeman browthe 195 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." 200
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, 205 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; 210 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."[L214]
"Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe, 215 Forsoyt," he seyde, "and that a godde; Yn mey cart ys the bow That I had of Robyn Hode."[L218]
"Knowest thow Robyn Hode?" seyde the screffe, "Potter, y prey the tell thou me;" 220 "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,] 225 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." 230
"Y well queyt the," kod the screffe, And swer be god of meythe;[L232]
Schetyng thay left, and hom they went, Her scoper was redey deythe.
Upon the morow, when het was day, 235 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: 240 "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, 245 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.[L250] 250