Opening
THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH POPULAR BALLADS
EDITED BY FRANCIS JAMES CHILD
IN FIVE VOLUMES VOLUME III
NEW YORK DOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC.
This Dover edition, first published in 1965, is an unabridged and unaltered republication of the work originally published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, as follows:
Vol. I—Part I, 1882; Part II, 1884 Vol. II—Part III, 1885; Part IV, 1886 Vol. III—Part V, 1888; Part VI, 1889 Vol. IV—Part VII, 1890; Part VIII, 1892 Vol. V—Part IX, 1894; Part X, 1898.
This edition also contains as an appendix to Part X an essay by Walter Morris Hart entitled “Professor Child and the Ballad,” reprinted in toto from Vol. XXI, No. 4, 1906 [New Series Vol. XIV, No. 4] of the _Publications of the Modern Language Association of America_.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65–24347
Manufactured in the United States of America
Dover Publications, Inc. 180 Varick Street New York, N.Y. 10014
ADVERTISEMENT TO PART V
NUMBERS 114–155
REV. PROFESSOR SKEAT has done me the great service of collating Wynken de Worde’s text of The Gest of Robin Hood, the manuscript of Robin Hood and the Monk and of Robin Hood and the Potter, and all the Robin Hood broadsides in the Pepys collection. Mr MACMATH has collated the fragments of the earlier copy of The Gest which are preserved in the Advocates’ Library, and, as always, has been most ready to respond to every call for aid. I would also gratefully acknowledge assistance received from Mr W. ALDIS WRIGHT, of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Rev. EDMUND VENABLES, Precentor of Lincoln; Dr FURNIVALL; and, in America, from Mr W. W. NEWELL, Miss PERINE and Mrs DULANY.
F. J. C.
FEBRUARY, 1888.
ADVERTISEMENT TO PART VI
NUMBERS 156–188
Mr MACMATH has helped me in many ways in the preparation of this Sixth Part, and, as before, has been prodigal of time and pains. I am under particular obligations to Mr ROBERT BRUCE ARMSTRONG, of Edinburgh, for his communications concerning the ballad-folk of the Scottish border, and to Dr WILHELM WOLLNER, of the University of Leipsic, and Mr GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE, my colleague in Harvard College, for contributions (indicated by the initials of their names) which will be found in the Additions and Corrections. Dr WOLLNER will continue his services. Mr JOHN KARŁOWICZ, of Warsaw, purposes to review in ‘Wisła’ all the English ballads which have Polish affinities, and Professor ALEXANDER VESSELOFSKY has allowed me to hope for his assistance; so that there is a gratifying prospect that the points of contact between the English and the Slavic popular ballads will in the end be amply brought out. Thanks are due and are proffered, for favors of various kinds, to Lieutenant-Colonel LUMSDEN, of London, Lieutenant-Colonel PRIDEAUX, of Calcutta, Professor SKEAT, Miss ISABEL FLORENCE HAPGOOD, Professor VINOGRADOF, of Moscow, Professor GEORGE STEPHENS, Mr AXEL OLRIK, of Copenhagen (to whom the completion of SVEND GRUNDTVIG’S great work has been entrusted), Mr JAMES BARCLAY MURDOCH, of Glasgow, Dr F. J. FURNIVALL, Professor C. R. LANMAN, Mr P. Z. ROUND, and Mr W. W. NEWELL.
F. J. C.
JULY, 1889.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME III
BALLAD PAGE 114. JOHNIE COCK 1 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 495.)
115. ROBYN AND GANDELEYN 12
116. ADAM BELL, CLIM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY 14 (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; IV, 496; V, 297.)
117. A GEST OF ROBYN HODE 39 (Additions and Corrections: III, 519; IV, 496; V, 240, 297.)
118. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE 89
119. ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK 94
120. ROBIN HOOD’S DEATH 102 (Additions and Corrections: V, 240, 297.)
121. ROBIN HOOD AND THE POTTER 108 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 497.)
122. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER 115
123. ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTAL FRIAR 120 (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)
124. THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD 129
125. ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 133 (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)
126. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TANNER 137
127. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TINKER 140
128. ROBIN HOOD NEWLY REVIVED 144
129. ROBIN HOOD AND THE PRINCE OF ARAGON 147
130. ROBIN HOOD AND THE SCOTCHMAN 150
131. ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER 152
132. THE BOLD PEDLAR AND ROBIN HOOD 154 (Additions and Corrections: V, 240.)
133. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, I 155
134. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, II 158
135. ROBIN HOOD AND THE SHEPHERD 165
136. ROBIN HOOD’S DELIGHT 168
137. ROBIN HOOD AND THE PEDLARS 170
138. ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN A DALE 172
139. ROBIN HOOD’S PROGRESS TO NOTTINGHAM 175
140. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THREE SQUIRES 177
141. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING WILL STUTLY 185 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 497.)
142. LITTLE JOHN A BEGGING 188
143. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP 191
144. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD 193
145. ROBIN HOOD AND QUEEN KATHERINE 196
146. ROBIN HOOD’S CHASE 205
147. ROBIN HOOD’S GOLDEN PRIZE 208 (Additions and Corrections: III, 519.)
148. THE NOBLE FISHERMAN, OR, ROBIN HOOD’S PREFERMENT 211
149. ROBIN HOOD’S BIRTH, BREEDING, VALOR AND MARRIAGE 214
150. ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN 218 (Additions and Corrections: III, 519.)
151. THE KING’S DISGUISE, AND FRIENDSHIP WITH ROBIN HOOD 220
152. ROBIN HOOD AND THE GOLDEN ARROW 223 (Additions and Corrections: V, 241.)
153. ROBIN HOOD AND THE VALIANT KNIGHT 225
154. A TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD 227
155. SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW’S DAUGHTER 233 (Additions and Corrections: III, 519; IV, 497; V, 241, 297.)
156. QUEEN ELEANOR’S CONFESSION 257 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 498; V, 241, 297.)
157. GUDE WALLACE 265 (Additions and Corrections: V, 242.)
158. HUGH SPENCER’S FEATS IN FRANCE 275 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 499; V, 243.)
159. DURHAM FIELD 282 (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)
160. THE KNIGHT OF LIDDESDALE 288
161. THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 289 (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 499; V, 243, 297.)
162. THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT 303 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 502; V, 244, 297.)
163. THE BATTLE OF HARLAW 316 (Additions and Corrections: V, 245.)
164. KING HENRY FIFTH’S CONQUEST OF FRANCE 320 (Additions and Corrections: V, 245.)
165. SIR JOHN BUTLER 327
166. THE ROSE OF ENGLAND 331
167. SIR ANDREW BARTON 334 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 502; V, 245.)
168. FLODDEN FIELD 351 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507; V, 298.)
169. JOHNIE ARMSTRONG 362 (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 507; V, 298.)
170. THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE 372 (Additions and Corrections: V, 245, 298.)
171. THOMAS CROMWELL 377
172. MUSSELBURGH FIELD 378 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507.)
173. MARY HAMILTON 379 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507; V, 246, 298.)
174. EARL BOTHWELL 399 (Additions and Corrections: V, 247.)
175. THE RISING IN THE NORTH 401
176. NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS 408 (Additions and Corrections: V, 299.)
177. THE EARL OF WESTMORELAND 416 (Additions and Corrections: V, 299.)
178. CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O GORDON 423 (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 513; V, 247, 299.)
179. ROOKHOPE RYDE 439
180. KING JAMES AND BROWN 442
181. THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY 447 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 515.)
182. THE LAIRD O LOGIE 449 (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 515; V, 299.)
183. WILLIE MACINTOSH 456 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)
184. THE LADS OF WAMPHRAY 458 (Additions and Corrections: III, 520.)
185. DICK O THE COW 461
186. KINMONT WILLIE 469 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)
187. JOCK O THE SIDE 475
188. ARCHIE O CAWFIELD 484 (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)
ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 496
114
JOHNIE COCK
#A.# Percy Papers, Miss Fisher’s MS., No 5, 1780.
#B.# ‘Johnny Cock,’ Pieces of Ancient Poetry from Unpublished Manuscripts and Scarce Books, Bristol, 1814, [John Fry], p. 53.
#C.# ‘Johnny Cock,’ Pieces of Ancient Poetry, etc., p. 51.
#D.# ‘Johnie of Cockerslee,’ Kinloch’s annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 38 bis.
#E.# ‘Johnie o Cocklesmuir,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 29; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 36.
#F.# ‘Johnie of Breadislee,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, I, 59, 1802.
#G.# ‘Johnnie Brad,’ Harris MS., fol. 25.
#H.# ‘Johnnie o Cocklesmuir,’ Buchan’s MSS, I, 82; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 77, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
#I.# ‘Johnie of Braidisbank,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 23.
#J.# Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 181.
#K.# Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xxxi: one stanza.
#L.# Harris MS., fol. 25 b: one stanza.
#M.# Froude, Thomas Carlyle, II, 335, New York, 1882, supplemented by Mrs Aitken: one stanza.
The first notice in print of this precious specimen of the unspoiled traditional ballad is in Ritson’s Scotish Song, 1794, I, xxxvi, note 25: the Rev. Mr Boyd, the translator of Dante, had a faint recollection of three ballads, one of which was called ‘Johny Cox.’ Before this, 1780, a lady of Carlisle had sent a copy to Doctor Percy, #A#. Scott, 1802, was the first to publish the ballad, selecting “the stanzas of greatest merit” from several copies which were in his hands. John Fry gave two valuable fragments, #C#, #B# (which he did not separate), in his Pieces of Ancient Poetry, 1814, from a manuscript “appearing to be the text-book of some illiterate drummer.”[1] I have been able to add only three versions to those which were already before the world, #A#, #D#, #G#; and of these #D# is in part the same as #E#, previously printed by Kinloch.
Pinkerton, Select Scotish Ballads, II, xxxix, 1783, has preserved a stanza, which he assigns to a supposititious ballad of ‘Bertram the Archer:’[2]
‘My trusty bow of the tough yew, That I in London bought, And silken strings, if ye prove true, That my true-love has wrought.’
This stanza agrees with #J# 6, and with #A# 18, #H# 19 in part, and is very likely to belong here; but it might be a movable passage, or commonplace.
All the versions are in accord as to the primary points of the story. A gallant young fellow, who pays no regard to the game-laws, goes out, despite his mother’s entreaties, to ding the dun deer down. He kills a deer, and feasts himself and his dogs so freely on it that they all fall asleep. An old palmer, a silly auld, stane-auld carl, observes him, and carries word to seven foresters [fifteen #B#, three (?) #C#]. They beset Johnie and wound him; he kills all but one, and leaves that one, badly hurt, to carry tidings of the rest. Johnie sends a bird to his mother to bid her fetch him away, #F# 19, 20, cf. #B# 13; a bird warns his mother that Johnie tarries long, #H# 21 (one of Buchan’s parrots). The boy in #A# 20, 21 is evidently a corruption of bird. Information is given the mother in a different way in #L#. #B-G# must be adjudged to be incomplete; #I-M# are mere fragments. #H# has a false and silly conclusion, 22–24, in imitation of Robin Hood and of Adam Bell. Mrs Harris had heard another version besides #G# (of which she gives only one stanza, #L#), in which “Johnie is slain and thrown owre a milk-white steed; news is sent to Johnie’s mother, who flies to her son.” It is the one forester who is not quite killed that is thrown over his steed to carry tidings home, #F# 18, #G# 11. #D# 19, #E# 17, and Mrs Harris’s second version are, as to this point, evidently corrupted.
The hero’s name is Johnny Cock, #B# 2, #C# 1; Johny Cox, Rev. Mr Boyd; John o Cockis (Johny Cockis?), #H# 17; Johny o Cockley’s Well, #A# 14; o Cockerslee, #D# 14; of Cockielaw, in one of the versions used by Scott for #F#; o Cocklesmuir, #E# 13, #H# 15. Again, Johnie Brad, #G# 1, #L#; Johnie o Breadislee, #F# 14; Braidislee, #J# 2.
The hunting-ground, or the place where Johnie is discovered, is up in Braidhouplee, down in Bradyslee, #A# 6, high up in Bradyslee, low down in Bradyslee, #A# 12; Braidscaur Hill, #D# 6, Braidisbanks, #D# 12, #I# 1; Bride’s Braidmuir, #H# 2, 5; Broadspear Hill, #E# 2, 5; Durrisdeer only in #F# 4. The seven foresters are of Pickeram Side, #A# 3, 19; of Hislinton, #F# 9. #B# 1^1 reads, Fifteen foresters in the braid alow; which seems to require emendation, perhaps simply to Braid alow, perhaps to Braidislee.
With regard to the localities in #A#, Percy notes that Pickeram Side is in Northumbria, and that there is a Cockley Tower in Erringside, near Brady’s Cragg, and a Brady’s Cragg near Chollerford Bridge. There is a Cockley, alias Cocklaw, in Erringside, near Chollerton, in the south division of Tynedale Ward, parish of St John Lee. The Erring is a small stream which enters the Tyne between Chollerton and Chollerford. Again, Cocklaw Walls appears in the map of the Ordnance Survey, a little to the north and east of Cockley in Erringside, and Cocklaw Walls may represent the Cockley’s Well of the ballad. (Percy notes that Cockley’s Well is said to be near Bewcastle, Cumberland.) I have not found Brady’s Cragg or Pickeram Side in the Ordnance Survey maps, nor indeed any of the compounds of Braidy or Braid anywhere.
There is a Braid a little to the south of Edinburgh, Braid Hills and Braid Burn; and Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. 17, says that there is tradition for this region having been the hunting-ground.
Scott’s copy, #F#, lays the scene in Dumfriesshire, and there is other tradition to the same effect.[3]
Percy was struck with the occurrence of the wolf in #A# 17, found also in #B# 10, #C# 5. He considered, no doubt, that the mention of the wolf was a token of the high antiquity of the ballad. “Wolues that wyryeth men, wommen and children” are spoken of in Piers Plowman, #C#, Passus, X, v. 226, Skeat, 1886, I, 240, and the #C# text is assigned to about 1393. Holinshed (1577), I, 378, says that though the island is void of wolves south of the Tweed, yet the Scots cannot boast the like, since they have grievous wolves.
#F# is translated by Schubart, p. 187; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 41, Hausschatz, p. 224; Doenniges, p. 10; Gerhard, p. 51; R. von Bismarck, Deutsches Museum, 1858, I, 897; Cesare Cantù, Documenti alla Storia Universale, V, 806; in Le Magasin Pittoresque, 1838, p. 127 b; by Loève-Veimars, p. 296. Grundtvig, p. 269, No 41, translates a compound of #F#, #I#, #E# (Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 36), and #B#; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 18, a mixture of #F# and others.
A
Communicated to Percy by Miss Fisher, of Carlisle, 1780, No 5 of MS.
1 Johny he has risen up i the morn, Calls for water to wash his hands; But little knew he that his bloody hounds Were bound in iron bands. bands Were bound in iron bands
2 Johny’s mother has gotten word o that, And care-bed she has taen: ‘O Johny, for my benison, I beg you’l stay at hame; For the wine so red, and the well baken bread, My Johny shall want nane.
3 ‘There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side, At Pickeram where they dwell, And for a drop of thy heart’s bluid They wad ride the fords of hell.’
4 Johny he’s gotten word of that, And he’s turnd wondrous keen; He’s put off the red scarlett, And he’s put on the Lincolm green.
5 With a sheaf of arrows by his side, And a bent bow in his hand, He’s mounted on a prancing steed, And he has ridden fast oer the strand.
6 He’s up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee, And under a buss o broom, And there he found a good dun deer, Feeding in a buss of ling.
7 Johny shot, and the dun deer lap, And she lap wondrous wide, Until they came to the wan water, And he stemd her of her pride.
8 He ’as taen out the little pen-knife, ’Twas full three quarters long, And he has taen out of that dun deer The liver bot and the tongue.
9 They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood, And the blood it was so sweet, Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds To fall in a deep sleep.
10 By then came an old palmer, And an ill death may he die! For he’s away to Pickram Side, As fast as he can drie.
11 ‘What news, what news?’ says the Seven Forsters, ‘What news have ye brought to me?’ ‘I have noe news,’ the palmer said, ‘But what I saw with my eye.
12 ‘High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee, And under a buss of scroggs, O there I spied a well-wight man, Sleeping among his dogs.
13 ‘His coat it was of light Lincolm, And his breeches of the same, His shoes of the American leather, And gold buckles tying them.’
14 Up bespake the Seven Forsters, Up bespake they ane and a’: O that is Johny o Cockleys Well, And near him we will draw.
15 O the first y stroke that they gae him, They struck him off by the knee; Then up bespake his sister’s son: ‘O the next’ll gar him die!’
16 ‘O some they count ye well-wight men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha wakend me, And askd gin I wad be taen.
17 ‘The wildest wolf in aw this wood Wad not ha done so by me; She’d ha wet her foot ith wan water, And sprinkled it oer my brae, And if that wad not ha wakend me, She wad ha gone and let me be.
18 ‘O bows of yew, if ye be true, In London, where ye were bought, Fingers five, get up belive, Manhuid shall fail me nought.’
19 He has killd the Seven Forsters, He has killd them all but ane, And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, To carry the bode-words hame.
20 ‘Is there never a boy in a’ this wood That will tell what I can say; That will go to Cockleys Well, Tell my mither to fetch me away?’
21 There was a boy into that wood, That carried the tidings away, And many ae was the well-wight man At the fetching o Johny away.
B
Pieces of Ancient Poetry from Unpublished Manuscripts and Scarce Books, Bristol, 1814, p. 53.
1 Fifteen foresters in the Braid alow, And they are wondrous fell; To get a drop of Johnny’s heart-bluid, They would sink a’ their souls to hell.
2 Johnny Cock has gotten word of this, And he is wondrous keen; Heś custan off the red scarlet, And on the Linkum green.
3 And he is ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till he came to yon wan water, And there Johnny Cock did lie.
4 They have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they met wi’ an old palmer, Was walking along the way.
5 ‘What news, what news, old palmer? What news have you to me?’ ‘Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons That ever my eyes did see.’
* * * * *
6 He’s taen out a horn from his side, And he blew both loud and shrill, Till a’ the fifteen foresters Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.
7 They have sworn a bluidy oath, And they swore all in one, That there was not a man among them a’ Would blaw such a blast as yon.
8 And they have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they came to yon wan water, Where Johnny Cock did lie.
9 They have shotten little Johnny Cock, A little above the ee: . . . . . . . ‘For doing the like to me.
10 ‘There’s not a wolf in a’ the wood Woud ’ ha’ done the like to me; ‘She’d ha’ dipped her foot in coll water, And strinkled above my ee, And if I would not have waked for that, ‘She’d ha’ gane and let me be.
11 ‘But fingers five, come here, [come here,] And faint heart fail me nought, And silver strings, value me sma things, Till I get all this vengeance rowght!’
12 He ha[s] shot a’ the fifteen foresters, Left never a one but one, And he broke the ribs a that ane’s side, And let him take tiding home.
13 ‘... a bird in a’ the wood Could sing as I could say, It would go in to my mother’s bower, And bid her kiss me, and take me away.’
C
Pieces of Ancient Poetry from Unpublished Manuscripts and Scarce Books, Bristol, 1814, p. 51.
1 Johnny Cock, in a May morning, Sought water to wash his hands, And he is awa to louse his dogs, That’s tied wi iron bans. That’s tied wi iron bans
2 His coat it is of the light Lincum green, And his breiks are of the same; His shoes are of the American leather, Silver buckles tying them.
3 ‘He’ hunted up, and so did ‘he’ down, Till ‘he’ came to yon bush of scrogs, And then to yon wan water, Where he slept among his dogs.
* * * * *
4 Johnny Cock out-shot a’ the foresters, And out-shot a the three; Out shot a’ the foresters, Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.
5 ‘Woe be to you, foresters, And an ill death may you die! For there would not a wolf in a’ the wood Have done the like to me.
6 ‘For’ ’twould ha’ put its foot in the coll water And ha strinkled it on my bree, And gin that would not have done, Would have gane and lett me be.
7 ‘I often took to my mother The dandoo and the roe, But now I’l take to my mother Much sorrow and much woe.
8 ‘I often took to my mother The dandoo and the hare, But now I’l take to my mother Much sorrow and much care.’
D
Kinloch’s annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 38 bis: a West-Country version.
1 Up Johnie raise in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gude gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands
2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs, Ye’ll busk and mak them boun, For I’m going to the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun.’
3 Whan Johnie’s mither gat word o that, On the very bed she lay, Says, Johnie, for my malison, I pray ye at hame to stay.
4 Your meat sall be of the very, very best, Your drink sall be the same, And ye will win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame.
5 But Johnie has cast aff the black velvet, And put on the Lincoln twine, And he is on to gude greenwud, As fast as he could gang.
6 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak, He’s aff, and left the toun, He’s aff unto the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun.
7 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And he lookit aneath the sun, And there he spied the dun deer sleeping, Aneath a buss o whun.
8 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he’s scaithed him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer’s pride.
9 They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud.
10 By ther cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, And he’s aff to the proud foresters, As fast as he could dree.
11 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man? What news? come tell to me:’ ‘I heard na news, I speird na news But what my een did see.
12 ‘As I cam in by Braidisbanks, And doun amang the whuns, The bonniest youngster eer I saw Lay sleepin amang his hunds.
13 ‘His cheeks war like the roses red, His neck was like the snaw; His sark was o the holland fine, And his jerkin lac’d fu braw.’
14 Up bespak the first forester, The first forester of a’: O this is Johnie o Cockerslee; Come draw, lads, we maun draw.
15 Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester of a’: An this be Johnie o Cockerslee, To him we winna draw.
16 The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the bree; Up bespak the uncle’s son, ‘The niest will gar him die.’
17 The second shot that eer they shot, It scaithd him near the heart; ‘I only wauken,’ Johnie cried, ‘Whan first I find the smart.
18 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will gar them die.’
19 He has killed six o the proud foresters, And wounded the seventh sair: He laid his leg out owre his steed, Says, I will kill na mair.
20 ‘Oh wae befa thee, silly auld man, An ill death may thee dee! Upon thy head be a’ this blude, For mine, I ween, is free.’
E
Kinloch’s MSS, VII, 29: from recitation in the North Country.
1 Johnie rose up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gud gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands
2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs, Ye’ll busk and mak them boun, For I’m gaing to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun.’
3 Whan Johnie’s mither heard o this, She til her son has gane: ‘Ye’ll win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame.
4 ‘Your meat sall be o the very, very best, And your drink o the finest wine; And ye will win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame.’
5 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak, Nor wad he stay at hame; But he’s on to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun.
6 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And a little below the sun, And there he spied the dun deer lying sleeping, Aneath a buss o brume.
7 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he has woundit him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer’s pride.
8 They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud.
9 By there cam a silly auld man, A silly auld man was he, And he’s aff to the proud foresters, To tell what he did see.
10 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man, What news? come tell to me:’ ‘Na news, na news,’ said the silly auld man, ‘But what mine een did see.
11 ‘As I cam in by yon greenwud, And doun amang the scrogs, The bonniest youth that ere I saw Lay sleeping atween twa dogs.
12 ‘The sark that he had on his back Was o the holland sma, And the coat that he had on his back Was laced wi gowd fu braw.’
13 Up bespak the first forester, The first forester ava: ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, It’s time we war awa.’
14 Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester ava: ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, To him we winna draw.’
15 The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the thie; Up bespak the uncle’s son, The niest will gar him die.
16 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will mak them dee.’
17 He has killed six o the proud foresters, And he has woundit the seventh sair; He laid his leg out oure his steed, Says, I will kill na mair.
F
Scott’s Minstrelsy, I, 59, 1802; made up from several different copies. Nithsdale.
1 Johnie rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands: ‘Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs, That are bound wi iron bands.’
2 When Johnie’s mother gat word o that, Her hands for dule she wrang: ‘O Johnie, for my bennison, To the grenewood dinna gang!
3 ‘Eneugh ye hae o the gude wheat-bread, And eneugh o the blude-red wine, And therefore for nae vennison, Johnie, I pray ye, stir frae hame.’
4 But Johnie’s buskt up his gude bend bow, His arrows, ane by ane, And he has gane to Durrisdeer, To hunt the dun deer down.
5 As he came down by Merriemass, And in by the benty line, There has he espied a deer lying, Aneath a bush of ling.
6 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap, And he wounded her on the side, But atween the water and the brae, His hounds they laid her pride.
7 And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel That he’s had out her liver and lungs, And wi these he has feasted his bludey hounds As if they had been erl’s sons.
8 They eat sae much o the vennison, And drank sae much o the blude, That Johnie and a’ his bludey hounds Fell asleep as they had been dead.
9 And by there came a silly auld carle, An ill death mote he die! For he’s awa to Hislinton, Where the Seven Foresters did lie.
10 ‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle? What news bring ye to me?’ ‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle, ‘Save what these eyes did see.
11 ‘As I came down by Merriemass, And down amang the scroggs, The bonniest childe that ever I saw Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
12 ‘The shirt that was upon his back Was o the holland fine; The doublet which was over that Was o the Lincome twine.
13 ‘The buttons that were on his sleeve Were o the gowd sae gude; The gude graie hounds he lay amang, Their mouths were dyed wi blude.’
14 Then out and spak the first forester, The heid man ower them a’: If this be Johnie o Breadislee, Nae nearer will we draw.
15 But up and spak the sixth forester, His sister’s son was he: If this be Johnie o Breadislee, We soon shall gar him die.
16 The first flight of arrows the foresters shot, They wounded him on the knee; And out and spak the seventh forester, The next will gar him die.
17 Johnie’s set his back against an aik, His fute against a stane, And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a’ but ane.
18 He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side, But and his collar bane; He’s laid him twa-fald ower his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame.
19 ‘O is there na a bonnie bird Can sing as I can say, Could flee away to my mother’s bower, And tell to fetch Johnie away?’
20 The starling flew to his mother’s window-stane, It whistled and it sang, And aye the ower-word o the tune Was, Johnie tarries lang!
21 They made a rod o the hazel-bush, Another o the slae-thorn tree, And mony, mony were the men At fetching our Johnie.
22 Then out and spake his auld mother, And fast her teirs did fa; Ye wad nae be warnd, my son Johnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa.
23 ‘Aft hae I brought to Breadislee The less gear and the mair, But I neer brought to Breadislee What grieved my heart sae sair.
24 ‘But wae betyde that silly auld carle, An ill death shall he die; For the highest tree on Merriemass Shall be his morning’s fee.’
25 Now Johnie’s gude bend bow is broke, And his gude graie dogs are slain, And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done.
G
Harris MS., fol. 25: from Mrs Harris’s recitation.
1 Johnnie Brad, on a May mornin, Called for water to wash his hands, An there he spied his twa blude-hounds, Waur bound in iron bands. bands Waur bound in iron bands
2 Johnnie’s taen his gude bent bow, Bot an his arrows kene, An strippit himsel o the scarlet red, An put on the licht Lincoln green.
3 Up it spak Johnnie’s mither, An’ a wae, wae woman was she: I beg you bide at hame, Johnnie, I pray be ruled by me.
4 Baken bread ye sall nae lack, An wine you sall lack nane; Oh Johnnie, for my benison, I beg you bide at hame!
5 He has made a solemn aith, Atween the sun an the mune, That he wald gae to the gude green wood, The dun deer to ding doon.
6 He luiket east, he luiket wast, An in below the sun, An there he spied the dun deer, Aneath a bush o brume.
7 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He wounded her in the side; The nexten shot that Johnnie shot, I wat he laid her pride.
8 He’s eaten o the venison, An drunken o the blude, Until he fell as sound asleep As though he had been dead.
9 Bye there cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, An he’s on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as he can flee.
10 ‘As I cam in by yonder haugh, An in among the scroggs, The bonniest boy that ere I saw Lay sleepin atween his dogs.’
* * * * *
11 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He shot them a’ but ane, An he flang him owre a milk-white steed, Bade him bear tidings hame.
H
Buchan’s MSS, I, 82; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 77, Percy Society, vol. xvii.
1 Johnnie raise up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he’s commant his bluidy dogs To be loosd frae their iron bands. bands To be loosd frae their iron bands
2 ‘Win up, win up, my bluidy dogs, Win up, and be unbound, And we will on to Bride’s Braidmuir, And ding the dun deer down.’
3 When his mother got word o that, Then she took bed and lay; Says, Johnnie, my son, for my blessing, Ye’ll stay at hame this day.
4 There’s baken bread and brown ale Shall be at your command; Ye’ll win your mither’s blythe blessing, To the Bride’s Braidmuir nae gang.
5 Mony are my friends, mither, Though thousands were my foe; Betide me life, betide me death, To the Bride’s Braidmuir I’ll go.
6 The sark that was on Johnnie’s back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine.
7 The coat that was upon his back Was o the linsey brown; And he’s awa to the Bride’s Braidmuir, To ding the dun deer down.
8 Johnnie lookd east, Johnnie lookd west, And turnd him round and round, And there he saw the king’s dun deer, Was cowing the bush o brune.
9 Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap, He wounded her in the side; Between him and yon burnie-bank, Johnnie he laid her pride.
10 He ate sae muckle o the venison, He drank sae muckle bleed, Till he lay down between his hounds, And slept as he’d been dead.
11 But by there came a stane-auld man, An ill death mat he dee! For he is on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as gang could he.
12 ‘What news, what news, ye stane-auld man? What news hae ye brought you wi?’ ‘Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters, But what your eyes will see.
13 ‘As I gaed i yon rough thick hedge, Amang yon bramly scroggs, The fairest youth that eer I saw Lay sleeping between his dogs.
14 ‘The sark that was upon his back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine.’
15 Then out it speaks the first forester: Whether this be true or no, O if it’s Johnnie o Cocklesmuir, Nae forder need we go.
16 Out it spake the second forester, A fierce fellow was he: Betide me life, betide me death, This youth we’ll go and see.
17 As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge, And down yon forest gay, They came to that very same place Where John o Cockis he lay.
18 The first an shot they shot at him, They wounded him in the thigh; Out spake the first forester’s son: By the next shot he maun die.
19 ‘O stand ye true, my trusty bow, And stout steel never fail! Avenge me now on all my foes, Who have my life i bail.’
20 Then Johnnie killd six foresters, And wounded the seventh sair; Then drew a stroke at the stane-auld man, That words he neer spake mair.
21 His mother’s parrot in window sat, She whistled and she sang, And aye the owerturn o the note, ‘Young Johnnie’s biding lang.’
22 When this reached the king’s own ears, It grievd him wondrous sair; Says, I’d rather they’d hurt my subjects all Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir.
23 ‘But where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, Will gang the morn to Johnnie’s castle, See how the cause may be.’
24 Then he’s calld Johnnie up to court, Treated him handsomelie, And now to hunt in the Bride’s Braidmuir, For life has license free.
I
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 23.
1 Johnie rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands, hands And he is awa to Braidisbanks, To ding the dun deer down. down To ding the dun deer down
2 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And it’s lang before the sun, And there he did spy the dun deer lie, Beneath a bush of brume.
3 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he’s woundit her in the side; Out then spake his sister’s son, ‘And the neist will lay her pride.’
* * * * *
4 They’ve eaten sae meikle o the gude venison, And they’ve drunken sae muckle o the blude, That they’ve fallen into as sound a sleep As gif that they were dead.
* * * * *
5 ‘It’s doun, and it’s doun, and it’s doun, doun, And it’s doun amang the scrogs, And there ye’ll espy twa bonnie boys lie, Asleep amang their dogs.’
* * * * *
6 They waukened Johnie out o his sleep, And he’s drawn to him his coat: ‘My fingers five, save me alive, And a stout heart fail me not!’
* * * * *
J
Chambers’s Scottish Ballads, p. 181, stanzas 13, 16, 17, 21, 22, 23, 26: from the recitation of a lady resident at Peebles.
1 His coat was o the scarlet red, His vest was o the same; His stockings were o the worset lace, And buckles tied to the same.
2 Out then spoke one, out then spoke two, Out then spoke two or three; Out spoke the master forester, ‘It’s Johnie o Braidislee.
3 ‘If this be true, thou silly auld man, Which you tell unto me, Five hundred pounds of yearly rent It shall not pay your fee.’
* * * * *
4 ‘O wae be to you seven foresters! I wonder ye dinna think shame, You being seven sturdy men, And I but a man my lane.
5 ‘Now fail me not, my ten fingers, That are both long and small! Now fail me not, my noble heart! For in thee I trust for all.
6 ‘Now fail me not, my good bend bow, That was in London coft! Now fail me not, my golden string, Which my true lover wrocht!’
* * * * *
7 He has tossed him up, he has tossed him doun, He has broken his collar-bone; He has tied him to his bridle reins, Bade him carry the tidings home.
K
Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xxxi.
‘There’s no a bird in a’ this foreste Will do as meikle for me As dip its wing in the wan water An straik it on my ee-bree.’
L
Harris MS., fol. 25 b.
But aye at ilka ae mile’s end She fand a cat o clay, An written upon the back o it ‘Tak your son Johnnie Brod away.’
M
Froude’s Life of Carlyle, 1795–1875, II, 335, New York, 1882, completed by a communication of Mr Macmath: as sung by Carlyle’s mother.
‘O Busk ye, O busk ye, my three bluidy hounds, O busk ye, and go with me, For there’s seven foresters in yon forest, And them I want to see.’ see And them I want to see
* * * * *
#A.#
‘The Seven Forsters at Pickeram Side’ is a title supplied by Percy.
6^2. I wun is added by Percy, at the end.
7^3, 17^3. one water.
15^1. Oh.
19^4. bord words, or bood words.
#B# follows #C# in Fry without a break. Words distinguished by ’ ’ in #B#, #C# are emendations or additions of Fry. 4, 5 come between 12 and 13.
1^1. braid alow.
10^1. the word.
10^5. would have.
11^2. hearted.
13^3. bows.
4^3. Out-shot.
#D.#
“There is a West-Country version of this ballad, under the title of Johnie of Cockerslee, differing very little from the present. The variations in the reading I have marked at their respective places.” Kinloch. Assuming that Kinloch has given all the variations (which include six entire stanzas), the West-Country version is reproduced by combining these readings with so much of the other copy, Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 38, as did not vary.
15^3. Kinloch neglected to alter Cocklesmuir here.
#E.#
6^3. lying is struck through, probably to improve the metre. Kinloch made two slight changes in printing.
#H.#
5^1. Mony ane. (?)
9^1. Johnnie lap: probably an error of the copyist.
9^2, 18^2. wound: cf. 20^2.
21^4. bidding.
Dixon has changed stane-auld to silly-auld in 11^1, 12^1, 20^3; Cockis to Cockl’s in 17^4; and has Scotticised the spelling.
#I.#
Motherwell notes a stanza as wanting after 3, some stanzas as wanting after 4, 5.
#J.#
“The version of the ballad here given is partly copied from those printed in the Border Minstrelsy and in the publications of Messrs Kinloch and Motherwell, and is partly taken from the recitation of a lady resident at Peebles and from a manuscript copy submitted to me by Mr Kinloch. The twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, twenty-first, twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-sixth, and twenty-seventh stanzas are here printed for the first time.” Chambers. The 14th stanza had been printed by Scott, #F# 12; the 23d, repeated here (6), by Pinkerton; the 27th is #D# 20. The first half of the 12th is #D# 13^{1,2}, and the remainder Chambers’s own: compare his 11 and #F# 11, from which it seems to have been made.
#L.#
“I have heard another version, where Johnnie is slain and thrown ‘owre a milk-white steed.’ News is sent to Johnnie’s mother, who flies to her son; But aye at ilka ae mile’s end, etc.”
#M.#
“While she [Carlyle’s mother] was at Craigenputtock, I made her train me to two song-tunes; and we often sang them together, and tried them often again in coming down into Annandale.” The last half of the stanza is cited. Letter of T. Carlyle, May 18, 1834, in Froude’s Life, 1795–1835, II, 335.
“Mrs Aitken, sister of T. Carlyle, sent me [January 15, 1884] the first two lines to complete the stanza of this Johny Cock, but can call up no more of the ballad.” Letter of Mr Macmath.
115
ROBYN AND GANDELEYN
Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 14 b, British Museum.
Printed by Ritson, Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 48, and by Thomas Wright, Songs and Carols (selected from the Sloane MS.), No X, London, 1836, and again in his edition of the whole MS. for the Warton Club, 1856, p. 42. The manuscript is put at about 1450.
Wright remarks on the similarity of the name Gandelyn to Gamelyn in the tale assigned to the Cook in some manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales, and on the resemblance of the tale of Gamelyn to Robin Hood story. But he could hardly have wished to give the impression that Robin in this ballad is Robin Hood. This he no more is than John in the ballad which precedes is Little John; though Gandelyn is as true to his master as Little John is, and is pronounced to be by the king, in ‘Robin Hood and the Monk.’ Ritson gave the ballad the title of ‘Robin Lyth,’ looking on the ‘lyth’ of the burden as the hero’s surname; derived perhaps from the village of Lythe, two or three miles to the north of Whitby. A cave on the north side of the promontory of Flamborough, called Robin Lyth’s Hole (popularly regarded as the stronghold of a pirate), may have been, Ritson thinks, one of the skulking-places of the Robin who fell by the shaft of Wrennok. “Robin Hood,” he adds, “had several such in those and other parts; and, indeed, it is not very improbable that our hero had been formerly in the suite of that gallant robber, and, on his master’s death, had set up for himself.” Thought is free.
Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, page 44, No. 6.
1 I herde a carpyng of a clerk, Al at ȝone wod_es_ ende, Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn; Was þ_er_ no_n_ oþ_er_ þynge. Robyn_n_ lyth in grene wode bowndy_n_
2 Stronge theuys wern þo chylderi_n_ no_n_, But bowme_n_ gode and hende; He wenty_n_ to wode to gety_n_ he_m_ fleych, If God wold it he_m_ sende.
3 Al day we_n_ty_n_ þo chylderi_n_ too, And fleych fowndy_n_ he no_n_, Til it wer_e_ a-geyn euy_n_; Þe chylderi_n_ wold go_n_ hom.
4 Half a_n_ honderid of fat falyf der He comy_n_ a-ȝon, And alle he wern fayr and fat i-now, But markyd was þ_er_ no_n_: ‘Be der_e_ God,’ seyde gode Robyn, ‘Here of we xul haue on.’
5 Roby_n_ bent his joly bowe, Þ_er_ in he set a flo; Þe fattest der of alle Þe herte he clef a to.
6 He hadde not þe der i-flawe, Ne half out of þe hyde, Th_ere_ cam a schrewde arwe out of þe west, Þ_a_t felde Robert_es_ pryde.
7 Gandeleyn lokyd hy_m_ est and west, Be eu_er_y syde: ‘Hoo hat my_n_ mayst_er_ slayin? Ho hat do_n_ þis dede? Xal I neu_er_ out of grene wode go Til I se [his] sydis blede.’
8 Gandeleyn lokyd hy_m_ est and lokyd west, And sowt vnd_er_ þe sun_n_e; He saw a lytil boy He clepy_n_ Wrennok of Donne.
9 A good bowe in his hond, A brod arwe þ_er_ ine, And fowr_e_ and twenti goode arwys, Trusyd in a þrumme: ‘Be war þe, war þe, Gandeleyn, Her-of þu xalt ha_n_ sum_m_e.
10 ‘Be war þe, war þe, Ga_n_deleyn, Her of þu gyst plente:’ ‘Eu_er_ on for a_n_ oþ_er_,’ seyde Gandeleyn; ‘Mysau_n_t_er_ haue he xal fle.
11 ‘Qwer-at xal o_ur_ marke be?’ Seyde Gandeleyn: ‘Eu_er_yche at oþ_er_is herte,’ Seyde Wrennok ageyn.
12 ‘Ho xal ȝeue þe ferste schote?’ Seyde Ga_n_deleyn: ‘And I xul ȝeue þe on be-forn,’ Seyde Wrennok ageyn.
13 Wrennok schette a ful good schote, And he schet not to hye; Þrow þe sa_n_choþis of his bryk; It towchyd neyþ_er_ thye.
14 ‘Now hast þu ȝouy_n_ me on be-forn,’ Al þus to Wrennok seyde he, ‘And þrow þe myȝt of o_ur_ lady A better_e_ I xal ȝeue þe.’
15 Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe, And set þ_er_ in a flo; He schet þrow his grene certyl, His h_er_te he clef on too.
16 ‘Now xalt þu neu_er_ ȝelpe, Wrennok, At ale ne at wyn, Þ_a_t þu hast slawe goode Roby_n_, And his knaue Gandeleyn.
17 ‘Now xalt þu neu_er_ ȝelpe, Wrennok, At wyn ne at ale, Þ_a_t þu hast slawe goode Roby_n_, And Ga_n_deley_n_ his knaue.’
Roby_n_ lyȝth in grene wode bowndy_n_
* * * * *
Written continuously, without division of stanzas or verses. The burden, put after 1, stands at the head of the ballad.
And for & always.
1^4. gynge.
4^3. I now.
4^5. Robyn wanting.
5^1. went.
7^6. Ti I.
9^3. & xx.
10^2. hir.
12^3. ȝewe.
12^4. seyd.
14^3. þ^u myȝt.
17^4. Ga_n_delyyn: knawe.
Last line: bowdy_n_.
116
ADAM BELL, CLIM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY
#a.# Two fragments, stanzas 113^4–128^2, 161^2–170, of an edition by John Byddell, London, 1536: Library of the University of Cambridge.[4]
#b.# A fragment, stanzas 53^3–111^3, by a printer not identified: formerly in the possession of J. Payne Collier.[5]
#c.# ‘Adambel, Clym of the cloughe, and Wyllyam of cloudesle,’ William Copeland, London [1548–68]: British Museum, C. 21, c. 64.[6]
#d.# ‘Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesle,’ James Roberts, London, 1605: Bodleian Library, C. 39, Art. Selden.
#e.# Another edition with the same title-page: Bodleian Library, Malone, 299.
#f.# ‘Adam Bell, Clime of the Cloug[he], and William off Cloudeslee,’ Percy MS., p. 390: British Museum. Hales and Furnivall, III, 76.
‘Adam Bell’ is licensed to John Kynge in the Stationers’ Registers, 19 July, 1557–9 July, 1558: Arber, I, 79. Again, among copies which were Sampson Awdeley’s, to John Charlewood, 15 January, 1582; and, among copies which were John Charlwoode’s, to James Robertes, 31 May, 1594: Arber, II, 405, 651. Seven reprints of the seventeenth century, later than #d#, are noted in Mr W. C. Hazlitt’s Handbook, p. 35.
The larger part of #a# has been reprinted by Mr F. S. Ellis, in his catalogue of the library of Mr Henry Huth, I, 128 f, 1880.[7] #b# was used by Mr W. C. Hazlitt for his edition of the ballad in Remains of the Early Popular Poetry of England, II, 131.[8] #c# was reprinted by Percy in his Reliques, 1765, I, 129, with corrections from #f#; and by Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, 1791, p. 5, with the necessary emendations of Copland’s somewhat faulty text. #d# is followed by a Second Part, described by Ritson, in temperate terms, as “a very inferior and servile production.” It is here given (with much reluctance) in an Appendix.
Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly, outlawed for breach of the game-laws, swear brotherhood, and betake themselves to Inglewood, a forest adjacent to Carlisle. William is a wedded man, and one day tells his brethren that he means to go to Carlisle to see his wife and children. Adam would not advise this, lest he should be taken by the justice. William goes to Carlisle, nevertheless, knocks at his window, and is admitted by Alice, his wife, who tells him with a sigh that the place has been beset for him a half year and more. While they make good cheer, an old woman, whom William had kept seven years for charity, slips out, and informs the justice that William is come to town.[9] The justice and the sheriff come presently with a great rout to take William. Man and wife defend the house till it is set on fire. William lets his wife and children down with sheets, and shoots on till his bowstring is burnt, then runs into the thick of his foes with sword and buckler, but is felled by doors and windows thrown on him, and so taken. The sheriff orders the gates of Carlisle to be shut close, and sets up a gallows to hang William. A boy, friendly to the family, gets out at a crevice in the wall, and carries word to Adam and Clim, who instantly set out for the rescue.
Adam and Clim find the gates shut so fast that there is no chance of getting in without a stratagem. Adam has a fair written letter in his pocket: they will make the porter think that they have the king’s seal. They beat on the gate till the porter comes, and demand to be let in as messengers from the king to the justice. The porter demurs, but they browbeat him with the king’s seal; he opens the gate; they wring his neck and take his keys. First bending their bows and looking to the strings, they make for the market-place, where they find Cloudesly lying in a cart, on the point to be hanged. William sees them, and takes hope. Adam makes the sheriff his mark, Clim the justice; both fall, deadly wounded; the citizens fly; the outlaws loose Cloudesly’s ropes. William wrings an axe from the hand of an officer, and smites on every side; Adam and Clim shoot till their arrows are gone, then draw their swords. Horns are blown, and the bells rung backwards; the mayor of Carlisle comes with a large force, and the fight is hotter than ever. But all for naught, for the outlaws get to the gates, and are soon in Inglewood, under their trysty-tree.
Alice had come to Inglewood to make known to Adam and Clim what had befallen her husband, but naturally had not found them, since they were already gone to William’s rescue. A woman is heard weeping, and Cloudesly, taking a turn to see what this may mean, comes upon his wife and three boys. Very sad she is, but the sight of her husband makes all well. Three harts are killed for supper, and William gives Alice the best for standing so boldly by him. The outlaws determine to go to the king to get a charter of peace. William takes his eldest son with him, leaving Alice and the two younger at a nunnery. The three brethren make their way to the king’s presence, without leave of porter or announcement by usher, kneel down and hold up their hands, and ask grace for having slain the king’s deer. The king inquires their names, and when he hears who they are says they shall all be hanged, and orders them into arrest. Adam Bell once more asks grace, since they have come to the king of their free will, or else that they may go, with such weapons as they have, when they will ask no grace in a hundred years. The king replies again that all three shall be hanged. Hereupon the queen reminds the king that when she was wedded he had promised to grant the first boon she should ask; she had hitherto asked nothing, but now begs the three yeomen’s lives. The king must needs consent.
Immediately thereafter comes information that the outlaws had slain the justice and the sheriff, the mayor of Carlisle, all the constables and catchpolls, the sergeants of the law, forty foresters, and many more. This makes the king so sad that he can eat no more; but he wishes to see these fellows shoot that have wrought all this woe. The king’s archers and the queen’s go to the butts with the three yeomen, and the outlaws hit everything that is set up. Cloudesly holds the butts too wide for a good archer, and the three set up two hazel rods, twenty score paces apart; he is a good archer, says Cloudesly, that cleaves one of these. The king says no man can do it; but Cloudesly cleaves the wand. The king declares him the best archer he ever saw. William says he will do a greater mastery: he will lay an apple on his son’s head (a boy of seven), and split it in two at six score paces. The king bids him make haste so to do: if he fail, he shall be hanged; and if he touch the boy, the outlaws shall be hanged, all three. Cloudesly ties the child to a stake, turning its face from him, sets an apple on its head, and, begging the people to remain quiet, cleaves the apple in two. The king gives Cloudesly eighteen pence a day as his bowman, and makes him chief rider over the North Country. The queen adds twelve pence, makes him a gentleman of cloth and fee and his two brothers yeomen of her chamber, gives the boy a place in her wine-cellar, and appoints Alice her chief gentlewoman and governess of her nursery. The yeomen express their thanks, go to Rome [to some bishop, in the later copy] to be absolved of their sins, live the rest of their lives with the king, and die good men, all three.
The rescue of Robin Hood by Little John and Much in No 117, sts 61–82, has a general resemblance to the rescue of Cloudesly by Adam and Clim in this ballad, st. 52 ff. The rescue of Will Stutly has also some slight similarity: cf. No 141, sts 26–33, and 70, 79–81, of ‘Adam Bell.’
The shooting of an apple from a boy’s head, sts 151–62, is, as is well known, a trait in several German and Norse traditions, and these particular feats, as well as everything resembling them, have been a subject of eager discussion in connection with the apocryphal history of William Tell.
The Icelandic saga of Dietrich of Bern, compiled, according to the prologue, from Low German tales and ballads, narrates that young Egil, a brother of Weland the Smith, came to Nidung’s court with the fame of being the best bowman in the world. Nidung, to prove his skill, required Egil [on pain of death] to shoot an apple from the head of his son, a child of three years, only one trial being permitted. Egil split the apple in the middle. Though allowed but one chance, Egil had provided himself with three arrows. When asked why, he answered the king that the two others were meant for him, if he had hit the boy with the first. Saga Ðiðriks Konungs af Bern, ed. Unger, c. 75, p. 90 f; Peringskiöld, Wilkina Saga, c. 27, p. 63 f; Raszmann, Die Deutsche Heldensage, II, 247 f; the Swedish rifacimento, Sagan om Didrik af Bern, ed. Hyltén-Cavallius, c. 73, p. 54. The Icelandic saga was composed about 1250.
Saxo, writing about 1200, relates nearly the same incidents of Toko, a man in the service of King Harold Bluetooth († c. 985). Toko, while drinking with comrades, had bragged that he was good enough bowman to hit the smallest apple on top of a stick at the first shot. This boast was carried to the king, who exacted a fulfilment of it on pain of death; but the apple was to be set on the head of Toko’s son. The father exhorted the boy to stand perfectly still, and, to make this easier, turned the child’s face from the direction of the shot; then, laying out three arrows from his quiver, executed the required feat. When the king asked why he had taken three arrows, Toko replied, To wreak the miss of the first with the points of the others. Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, Book x, ed. Holder, p. 329 f.
The White Book of Obwalden, written about 1470, informs us that Tell, a good archer, having refused to bow to Gesler’s hat, was ordered by the landvogt to shoot an apple from the head of one of his children. Unable to resist, Tell laid-by a second arrow, shot the apple from the child’s head, and being asked why he had reserved the other arrow, replied that if the first had missed he would have shot Gesler or one of his men with the second.[10]
This story is introduced into a piece of verse on the origin of the Swiss confederacy, of nearly the same date as the prose document. In this the landvogt says to Tell that if he does not hit with the first shot, it will cost him his life; the distance is one hundred and twenty paces, as in the English ballad, and Tell says simply that he would have shot the landvogt if he had hit his son.[11] (Tell uses a cross-bow, not the long-bow, as the English.)
Henning Wulf, a considerable person in Holstein, who had headed an unsuccessful outbreak against Christian the First of Denmark, was captured and brought before the king. The king, knowing Henning to be an incomparable archer, ordered him to shoot an apple from the head of his only son, a child: if he succeeded, he was to go free. The exploit was happily accomplished. But Henning had put a second arrow into his mouth, and the king asked the object. The second arrow was for the king, had the boy been hit. Henning Wulf was outlawed. The story, which is put at 1472, is the subject of a painting preserved in a church.[12]
The Norwegian king, Haraldr Harðráðr († 1066), who has a grudge against Hemingr, son of Áslákr, undertakes to put him to proof in shooting, swimming, and snow-shoe sliding. They go to a wood, and both execute extraordinary feats with bow and lance; but Hemingr is much superior to the king. The king orders Hemingr to shoot a nut from his brother Björn’s head, on pain of death for missing. Hemingr would rather die than venture such a shot; but his brother offers himself freely, and undertakes to stand still. Then let the king stand by Björn, says Hemingr, and see whether I hit. But the king prefers to stand by Hemingr, and appoints somebody else to the other position. Hemingr crosses himself, calls God to witness that the king is responsible, throws his lance, and strikes the nut from his brother’s head, doing him no harm. Hemings Ðáttr, Flateyjarbók, III, 405 f (1370–80); Müller, Sagabibliothek, III, 356 ff. This story was probably derived from an old song, and is preserved in Norwegian and Färöe ballads: ‘Harald kongin og Hemingen unge,’ Landstad, Norske Folkeviser, No 15, #A#, #B#, pp. 177–188; ‘Geyti Áslaksson,’ Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 17, #A-C#, II, 149–163. In Norwegian #A#, 5–10, the shot is exacted under pain of imprisonment. Hemingen insists that the king shall take a place near his brother [son], whom he exhorts to stand erect and bold; one half of the nut falls, the other is left on the head; the king asks what was to have been done with a second arrow which Hemingen had secreted, and is answered as in the previous cases.[13] The first and last of these incidents are wanting in #B# (19–22). In the Färöe ballad, #A#, 53–62, the king tells Geyti (whom he also calls Hemingur) that he must shoot a nut from his brother’s head. Geyti asks the king to go to the wood with him to see the result, invokes God and St Olav, hits the nut without touching his brother. It is not till the next day that the king asks Geyti why he had two arrows with him in the wood.
The same story, pleasingly varied for the occasion, is found in the saga of the Norwegian king Ólafr Tryggvason († 1000). The king hears that Eindriði, a handsome, rich, and amiable young man, is unconverted. Eindriði is a good swimmer, bowman, and dirk-thrower. Ólafr, a proficient in all such exercises, proposes to try masteries with him in the feats which he has repute for, on the terms that if Eindriði is beaten he shall be baptized, but if victor shall hold such faith as he will. The first trial is in swimming, and in this Ólafr shows unequivocal superiority. The next day they shoot at a target, and the advantage, after two essays, is rather with Eindriði. The king compliments Eindriði; but the issue between them is not yet decided. This fine young fellow’s salvation is at stake, and expedients which one might otherwise scruple at are justifiable. Ólafr knows that Eindriði tenderly loves a pretty child, four or five years old, his sister’s son. This boy shall be our target, says the king. A chessman (the king-piece) on his head shall be the mark, to be shot off without hurting the boy. Eindriði must needs submit, but means to have revenge if the child comes to harm. The king orders a cloth to be passed round the boy’s head, each end of which is to be held firmly by a man, so as to prevent any stirring when the whiz of the arrow is heard. Ólafr signs both himself and the point of his arrow with the cross, and shoots; the arrow takes off the chessman, passing between it and the head, grazing the crown and drawing some little blood. The king bids Eindriði take his turn; but Eindriði’s mother and sister beg him with tears to desist, and he, though ready to take the risk, yields to their entreaties, and leaves the victory with Ólafr. On the third day there is a match at a game with dirks. For a time no one can say which does the better; but in the end Ólafr performs feats so marvellous as in Eindriði’s conviction to demonstrate the assistance of a deity: wherefore he consents to be baptized. Saga Ólafs Tryggvasonar, Fornmanna Sögur, II, 259–74, c. 235; Flateyjarbók, I, 456–64, cc. 359–64.
Punker, a warlock of Rorbach (a town not far from Heidelberg), had obtained from the devil, as the regular recompense for his having thrice pierced the crucifix, the power of making three unerring shots daily, and had so been able to pick off in detail all but one of the garrison of a besieged town. To put his skill to proof, a certain nobleman ordered him to shoot a piece of money from his own son’s head. Punker wished to be excused, for he feared that the devil might play him false; but being induced to make the trial, knocked the coin from the boy’s cap, doing him no damage. Before shooting, he had stuck another arrow into his collar, and asked why, replied that if the devil had betrayed him, and he had killed the child, he would have sent the other bolt through the body of the person who had obliged him to undertake the performance. Malleus Maleficarum, Pars II, Quæstio I, c. xvi.[14] The date of the transaction is put at about 1420.
The last three forms of this tradition have the unimportant variations of brother and brother, or uncle and nephew, for father and son, and of nut, chessman, or coin for apple.
The story is German-Scandinavian, and not remarkably extended.[15] The seven versions agree in two points: the shot is compulsory; the archer meditates revenge in case he harms the person on whose head the mark is placed.[16] These features are wanting in the English ballad. William of Cloudesly offers of his own free motion to shoot an apple from his son’s head, and this after the king had declared him the best archer he had ever seen, for splitting a hazel-rod at twenty score paces; so that the act was done purely for glory. To be sure, the king threatens him with death if he does not achieve what he has undertaken, as death is also threatened in four of the seven German-Scandinavian stories for refusal to try the shot or for missing; but the threats in sts 154 f of the English ballad are a revival of the vow in sts 119 f. Justice has been balked by the unconditional boon granted the queen; aggravating and exasperating circumstances have come to light since this unadvised grace was conceded, and a hope is presented for a pretext under which the king may still hang the outlaws, all three. The shooting of the apple from the boy’s head, isolated from any particular connection, is perhaps all of the German-Scandinavian story that was known to the English ballad-maker, and all minor resemblances may well be fortuitous.[17]
If the shooting of an apple by somebody from somebody’s head is to be regarded as the kernel of the story, its area may then be considerably extended.
Castrén heard the following story among the Finns in Russian Karelia. Robbers had carried a man off over a lake. The son of the captive, a boy of twelve, followed along the other side of the lake, threatening to shoot them if they did not let his father go. These threats, for a time, only procured worse treatment for the prisoner; but at last the boy was told that his father should be released if he could shoot an arrow across the water and split an apple laid on his father’s head. This the boy did, and his father was liberated. Castrén’s Reiseerinnerungen aus den Jahren 1838–44, ed. Schiefner, p. 89 f.
A Persian poet introduces into a work composed about 1175 this anecdote.[18] A distinguished king was very fond of a beautiful slave, so much so that he was never easy unless he was in some way engaged with him. When the king amused himself with shooting, this slave would tremble with fear, for the king would make his mark of an apple placed on his favorite’s head, split the apple, and in so doing make the slave sick with alarm.
J. Grimm had seen a manuscript of travels in Turkey, in the Cassel library, with a picture of an archer aiming at an apple on a child’s head. Deutsche Mythologie, I, 317, note, ed. 1875.
With regard to the Persian story, Benfey observes that it must be admitted as possible that the shooting of an apple from the head of a beloved person may have been pitched upon in various localities, independently, as the mark of supreme skill in archery, but that this is not likely, and that the history of tradition requires us rather to presume that the conception was original in one instance only, and borrowed in the remainder; in which case the borrowing would be by the West from the East, and not the other way. We can come to no decision, however, he adds, until the source of the Persian story, or some older form of it, shall have been discovered. (Göttinger Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1861, p. 680.) The cautiousness of the imperial scholar is worthy of all imitation. The Persian saga, as it is sometimes called, is, in the perhaps mutilated form in which we have it, an inconsistent and inept anecdote; the German-Scandinavian saga is a complete and rational story. In this story it is fundamental that the archer executes a successful shot under circumstances highly agitating to the nerves; he risks the life of a beloved object, and in the majority of versions his own life is at stake besides. That the act must be done under compulsion is the simplest corollary. If the archer is cool enough to volunteer the shot, then the chief difficulty in making it is removed. This is a fault in the English ballad, where the father is unconcerned, and all the feeling is shown by the spectators. Cloudesly had already split a hazel-rod at twenty score paces; what was it for him to hit an apple at six score?[19]
But we are still far from covering the range of stories which have been treated as having some significant relation to that of Egil. Any shot at an apple, any shot at an object on a child’s person (provided the case be not a fact and recent), has been thought worth quoting, as a probable sprout from the same root. For examples: In an Esthonian popular tale, one Sharpeye hits an apple which a man a long way off is holding by his mouth. In a Servian poem, the hero, Milosch, sends an arrow through a ring, and hits a golden apple on the point of a lance. Bellerophon’s sons, Hippolochus and Isandrus, disputing which should be king of the Lycians, it was proposed that the question should be settled by seeing which could shoot through a ring placed on the breast of a child lying on his back. Laodamia, sister of the competitors, offered her son Sarpedon for the trial, and the uncles, to show their appreciation of such handsome behavior, resigned their claims in favor of Sarpedon. The shot, we may understand, did not come off.[20]
With regard to all this series of stories, and others which have been advanced as allied, more will be required to make out a substantial relationship than their having in common a shot at some object in contiguity with a living human body, be the object an apple, or whatever else. The idea of thus enhancing the merit or interest of a shot is not so ingenious that one instance must be held to be original, and all others derivative. The archer Alcon, according to Servius,[21] was wont to shoot through rings placed on men’s heads. Sir John Malcolm (Kaye’s Life, II, 400) was told that at Mocha, when the dates were ripe, a stone, standing up some three inches, would be put on the head of a child, at which two or three of the best marksmen would fire, with ball, at thirty-one yards distance. A case was reported, about fifty years ago, of a man in Pennsylvania shooting a very small apple from the head of another man.[22] A linen-weaver was judicially punished at Spires, some thirty years ago, for shooting a sheet of paper from his son’s hand, and afterwards a potato (“also einen Erdapfel,” Rochholz!) from the boy’s head.[23] The keel-boat men of the Mississippi, in their playfulness, would cut the pipe out of a companion’s hat-band at a long distance. “If they quarreled among themselves, and then made friends, their test that they bore no malice was to shoot some small object from each other’s heads,” such as an apple. Such feats have of late been common on the American stage.
Whatever may be thought of the linen-weaver at Spires, it will scarcely be maintained that the Mississippi keel-boat men shot at apples in imitation of William Tell. As to the selection of an apple, it seems enough to say that an apple makes a convenient mark, is familiar to temperate climates, and at hand at almost any part of the year.[24] But the chief point of all to be borne in mind is, that whether the Mississippi boatmen took their cue, directly or indirectly, from William Tell, they do not become mythical personages by virtue of their repeating his shot. None the more does William of Cloudesly. A story long current in Europe, a mythical story if you please, could certainly be taken up by an English ballad-maker without prejudice to the substantial and simply romantic character of his hero.[25]
The late Mr Joseph Hunter unhesitatingly declared Adam Bell “a genuine personage of history,” and considered that he had had “the good fortune to recover from a very authentic source of information some particulars of this hero of our popular minstrelsy which show distinctly the time at which he lived.”
“King Henry the Fourth, by letters enrolled in the Exchequer, in Trinity Term, in the seventh year of his reign [1406], and bearing date the 14th day of April, granted to one Adam Bell an annuity of 4_l._ 10_s._ issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in the forest of Sherwood, together with the profits and advantages of the vesture and herbage of the garden called the Halgarth, in which the manor-house of Clipston is situated.
“Now, as Sherwood is noted for its connection with archery, and may be regarded also as the patria of much of the ballad poetry of England, and the name of Adam Bell is a peculiar one, this might be almost of itself sufficient to show that the ballad had a foundation in veritable history. But we further find that this Adam Bell violated his allegiance by adhering to the Scots, the king’s enemies; whereupon this grant was virtually resumed, and the sheriff of Nottinghamshire accounted for the rents which would have been his. In the third year of King Henry the Fifth [1416], the account was rendered by Thomas Hercy, and in the fourth year by Simon Leak. The mention of his adhesion to the Scots leads us to the Scottish border, and will not leave a doubt in the mind of the most sceptical that we have here one of the persons, some of whose deeds (with some poetical license, perhaps) are come down to us in the words of one of our popular ballads.” (New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare, I, 245 f, 1845.)
Mr Hunter’s points are, that an Adam Bell had a grant from the proceeds of a farm in the forest of Sherwood, that Adam Bell is a peculiar name, and that his Adam Bell adhered to the king’s enemies. To be sure, Adam Bell’s retreat in the ballad is not Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, but Englishwood, or Inglewood, in Cumberland (an old hunting-ground of King Arthur’s, according to several romances), a forest sixteen miles in length, reaching from Carlisle to Penrith.[26] But it would be captious to insist upon this. Robin Hood has no connection in extant ballads with the Cumberland forest, but Wyntoun’s Scottish Chronicle, c. 1420, makes him to have frequented Inglewood as well as Barnsdale.[27] The historical Adam Bell was granted an annuity, and forfeited it for adhering to the king’s enemies, the Scots; the Adam Bell of the ballad was outlawed for breaking the game-laws, and in consequence came into conflict with the king’s officers, but never adhered to the king’s enemies, first or last, received the king’s pardon, was made yeoman of the queen’s chamber, dwelt with the king, and died a good man. Neither is there anything peculiar in the name Adam Bell. Bell was as well known a name on the borders[28] as Armstrong or Graham. There is record of an Adam Armstrong and an Adam Graham; there is a Yorkshire Adam Bell mentioned in the Parliamentary Writs (II, 508, 8 and 17 Edward II,) a hundred years before Hunter’s annuitant; a contemporary Adam Bell, of Dunbar, is named in the Exchequer Rolls of Scotland under the years 1414, 1420 (IV, 198, 325); and the name occurs repeatedly at a later date in the Registers of the Great Seal of Scotland.
The placability of the king in this ballad is repeated in the Gest of Robin Hood, and is also exhibited in the Tale of Gamelyn, where Gamelyn is made justice of all the free forest, as William is here made chief rider over all the North Country. The king, besides, forgives all Gamelyn’s eight young men, and puts them in good office. The king of the outlaws, in the tale, had previously made his peace without any difficulty. Vv 888–94, 687–89.
Translated, after Percy’s Reliques, by Bodmer, II, 78; by Fouqué, Büsching, Erzählungen, u. s. w., des Mittelalters, I, 1; the third Fit, by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Altenglands, No 70.
#c.# 1 Mery it was in grene forest, Amonge the leues grene, Where that men walke both east a_n_d west, Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,
2 To ryse the dere out of theyr denne; Suche sightes as hath ofte bene sene, As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey, By them it is as I meane.
3 The one of them hight Adam Bel, The other Clym of the Clough, The thyrd was William of Cloudesly, An archer good ynough.
4 They were outlawed for venyson, These thre yemen euerechone; They swore them brethen vpon a day, To Englysshe-wood for to gone.
5 Now lith and lysten, gentylmen, And that of myrthes loueth to here: Two of them were single men, The third had a wedded fere.
6 Wyllyam was the wedded man, Muche more then was hys care: He sayde to hys brethen vpon a day, To Carelel he would fare,
7 For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife, And with hys chyldren thre: ‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel, ‘Not by the counsell of me.
8 ‘For if ye go to Caerlel, brother, And from thys wylde wode wende, If the justice mai you take, Your lyfe were at an ende.’
9 ‘If that I come not to morowe, brother, By pryme to you agayne, Truste not els but that I am take, Or else that I am slayne.’
10 He toke hys leaue of hys brethen two, And to Carlel he is gone; There he knocked at hys owne wyndowe, Shortlye and anone.
11 ‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe, And my chyldren three? Lyghtly let in thyne husbande, Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
12 ‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce, And syghed wonderous sore, ‘Thys place hath ben besette for you Thys halfe yere and more.’
13 ‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesle, ‘I woulde that I in were; Now feche vs meate and drynke ynoughe, And let vs make good chere.’
14 She feched him meat and drynke plenty, Lyke a true wedded wyfe, And pleased hym with that she had, Whome she loued as her lyfe.
15 There lay an old wyfe in that place, A lytle besyde the fyre, Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye, More then seuen yere.
16 Up she rose, and walked full styll, Euel mote she spede therefoore! For she had not set no fote on ground In seuen yere before.
17 She went vnto the justice hall, As fast as she could hye: ‘Thys nyght is come vn to thys town Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
18 Thereof the iustice was full fayne, And so was the shirife also: ‘Thou shalt not trauaile hether, da_m_e, for nought; Thy meed thou shalt haue or thou go.’
19 They gaue to her a ryght good goune, Of scarlat it was, as I heard say[n]e; She toke the gyft, and home she wente, And couched her doune agayne.
20 They rysed the towne of mery Carlel, In all the hast that they can, And came thronging to Wyllyames house, As fast [as] they might gone.
21 Theyr they besette that good yeman, Round about on euery syde; Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes, That heytherward they hyed.
22 Alyce opened a shot-wyndow, And loked all about; She was ware of the justice and the shrife bothe, Wyth a full great route.
23 ‘Alas! treason,’ cryed Alyce, ‘Euer wo may thou be! Go into my chambre, my husband,’ she sayd, ‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
24 He toke hys sweard and hys bucler, Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre, And wente into hys strongest chamber, Where he thought surest to be.
25 Fayre Alice folowed hi_m_ as a louer true, With a pollaxe in her hande: ‘He shalbe deade that here co_m_eth in Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’
26 Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe, That was of trusty tre, He smot the justise on the brest, That hys arrowe brest in thre.
27 ‘God’s curse on his hartt,’ saide William, ‘Thys day thy cote dyd on; If it had ben no better then myne, It had gone nere thy bone.’
28 ‘Yelde the, Cloudesle,’ sayd the justise, ‘And thy bowe a_nd_ thy arrowes the fro:’ ‘Gods curse on hys hart,’ sayde fair Al[i]ce, ‘That my husband councelleth so.’
29 ‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the sherife, ‘Syth it wyll no better be, And brenne we therin William,’ he saide, ‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’
30 They fyred the house in many a place, The fyre flew vpon hye; ‘Alas!’ than cryed fayr Alice, ‘I se we shall here dy.’
31 William openyd hys backe wyndow, That was in hys chambre on hye, And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe, And hys chyldren thre.
32 ‘Haue here my treasure,’ sayde William, ‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre; For Christes loue do them no harme, But wreke you all on me.’
33 Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, Tyll hys arrowes were all go, And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell, That hys bo[w]stryng brent in two.
34 The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle; But than was he a wofull man, and sayde, Thys is a cowardes death to me.
35 ‘Leuer I had,’ sayde Wyllyam, ‘With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne ennemyes wode Thus cruelly to bren.’
36 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, And among them all he ran; Where the people were most in prece, He smot downe many a man.
37 There myght no man stand hys stroke, So fersly on them he ran; Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, And so toke that good yeman.
38 There they hym bounde both hand and fote, And in depe dongeon hym cast; ‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayde the hye justice, ‘Thou shalt be hanged in hast.’
39 ‘One vow shal I make,’ sayde the sherife, ‘A payre of new galowes shall I for the make, And al the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte, There shall no man come in therat.
40 ‘Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe, Nor yet Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the deuels in hell.’
41 Early in the mornyng the justice vprose, To the gates fast gan he gon, And commaunded to be shut full cloce Lightile euerychone.
42 Then went he to the market-place, As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set, Besyde the pyllory.
43 A lytle boy stod them amonge, And asked what meaned that gallow-tre; They sayde, To hange a good yeaman, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.
44 That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyce swyne; Full oft he had sene Cloudesle in the wodde, And geuen hym there to dyne.
45 He went out of a creues in the wall, And lightly to the woode dyd gone; There met he with these wyght yonge men, Shortly and anone.
46 ‘Alas!’ then sayde that lytle boye, ‘Ye tary here all to longe; Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death, All readye for to honge.’
47 ‘Alas!’ then sayde good Adam Bell, ‘That euer we see thys daye! He myght her with vs haue dwelled, So ofte as we dyd him praye.
48 ‘He myght haue taryed in grene foreste, Under the shadowes sheene, And haue kepte both hym and vs in reaste, Out of trouble and teene.’
49 Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great hart sone had he slayne; ‘Take that, chylde,’ he sayde, ‘to thy dynner, And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’
50 ‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yong me_n_, Tary we no lenger here; We shall hym borowe, by Gods grace, Though we bye it full dere.’
51 To Caerlel went these good yemen, In a mery mornyng of Maye: Her is a fyt of Cloudesli, And another is for to saye.
52 And when they came to mery Caerlell, In a fayre mornyng-tyde, They founde the gates shut them vntyll, Round about on euery syde.
53 ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Adam Bell, ‘That euer we were made men! #b.# These gates be shyt so wonderly well, That we may not come here in.’
54 Than spake Clymme of the Cloughe: With a wyle we wyll vs in brynge; Let vs say we be messengers, Streyght comen from oure kynge.
55 Adam sayd, I haue a lettre wryten wele, Now let vs wysely werke; We wyll say we haue the kynges seale, I holde the porter no clerke.
56 Than Adam Bell bete on the gate, With strökes greate and stronge; The porter herde suche a noyse therate, And to the gate faste he thronge.
57 ‘Who is there nowe,’ sayd the porter, ‘That maketh all this knockynge? ‘We be two messengers,’ sayd Clymme of the Clo[ughe], ‘Be comen streyght frome oure kynge.’
58 ‘We haue a lettre,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘To the justyce we must it brynge; Let vs in, oure message to do, That we were agayne to our kynge.’
59 ‘Here cometh no man in,’ sayd the porter, ‘By hym that dyed on a tre, Tyll a false thefe be hanged, Called Wyllyam of Clowdysle.’
60 Than spake that good [yeman Clym of the Cloughe, And swore by Mary fre, If that we stande long wythout, Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.]
61 [Lo here] we haue got the kynges seale; [What! l]ordane, arte thou wode? [The p]orter had wende it had been so, [And l]yghtly dyd of his hode.
62 ‘[Welco]me be my lordes seale,’ sayd he, ‘[For] that shall ye come in:’ [He] opened the gate ryght shortly, [An] euyll openynge for hym!
63 ‘[N]owe we are in,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘[T]herof we are full fayne; [But] Cryst knoweth that herowed hell, [H]ow we shall come oute agayne.’
64 ‘[Had] we the keys,’ sayd Clym of the Clowgh, ‘Ryght well than sholde we spede; [Than] myght we come out well ynough, [Whan] we se tyme and nede.’
65 [They] called the porter to a councell, [And] wronge hys necke in two, [And] kest hym in a depe dongeon, [And] toke the keys hym fro.
66 ‘[N]ow am I porter,’ sayd Adam Bell; ‘[Se], broder, the keys haue we here; [The] worste porter to mery Carlell, [That ye] had this hondreth yere.
67 ‘[Now] wyll we oure bowës bende, [Into the t]owne wyll we go, [For to delyuer our dere] broder, [Where he lyeth in care and wo.’
68 Then they bent theyr good yew bowes, And loked theyr stri_n_ges were round;] The market-place of mery Carlyll, They beset in that stounde.
69 And as they loked them besyde, A payre of newe galowes there they se, And the iustyce, with a quest of swerers, That had iuged Clowdysle there hanged to be.
70 And Clowdysle hymselfe lay redy in a carte, Fast bounde bothe fote and hande, And a strong rope aboute his necke, All redy for to be hangde.
71 The iustyce called to hym a ladde; Clowdysles clothes sholde he haue, To take the mesure of that good yoman, And therafter to make his graue.
72 ‘I haue sene as greate a merueyll,’ sayd Clowd[esle], ‘As bytwene this and pryme, He that maketh thys graue for me, Hymselfe may lye therin.’
73 ‘Thou spekest proudely,’ sayd the iustyce; ‘I shall hange the with my hande:’ Full well that herde his bretheren two, There styll as they dyd stande.
74 Than Clowdysle cast hys eyen asyde, And sawe hys bretheren stande, At a corner of the market-place, With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand, Redy the iustyce for to chase.
75 ‘I se good comforte,’ sayd Clowdysle, ‘Yet hope I well to fare; If I myght haue my handes at wyll, [Ryght l]ytell wolde I care.’
76 [Than b]espake good Adam Bell, [To Clym]me of the Clowgh so fre; [Broder], se ye marke the iustyce well; [Lo yon]der ye may him se.
77 [And at] the sheryf shote I wyll, [Stron]gly with an arowe kene; [A better] shotte in mery Carlyll, [Thys se]uen yere was not sene.
78 [They lo]used theyr arowes bothe at ones, [Of no] man had they drede; [The one] hyt the iustyce, the other the sheryf, [That b]othe theyr sydes gan blede.
79 [All men] voyded, that them stode nye, [Whan] the iustyce fell to the grounde, [And the] sheryf fell nyghe hym by; [Eyther] had his dethës wounde.
80 [All the c]ytezeyns fast gan fle, [They du]rste no lenger abyde; [There ly]ghtly they loused Clowdysle, [Where he] with ropes lay tyde.
81 [Wyllyam] sterte to an offycer of the towne, [Hys axe] out his hande he wronge; [On eche] syde he smote them downe, [Hym tho]ught he had taryed to longe.
82 [Wyllyam] sayd to his bretheren two, [Thys daye] let vs togyder lyue and deye; [If euer you] haue nede as I haue nowe, [The same] shall ye fynde by me.
83 [They] shyt so well in that tyde, For theyr strynges were of sylke full sure, That they kepte the stretes on euery syde; That batayll dyd longe endure.
84 They fought togyder as bretheren true, Lyke hardy men and bolde; Many a man to the grounde they threwe, And made many an hertë colde.
85 But whan theyr arowes were all gone, Men presyd on them full fast; They drewe theyr swerdës than anone, And theyr bowës from them caste.
86 They wente lyghtly on theyr waye, With swerdes and buckelers rounde; By that it was the myddes of the daye, They had made many a wounde.
87 There was many a noute-horne in Carlyll blowen, And the belles backwarde dyd they rynge; Many a woman sayd alas, And many theyr handes dyd wrynge.
88 The mayre of Carlyll forth come was, And with hym a full grete route; These thre yomen dredde hym full sore, For theyr lyuës stode in doubte.
89 The mayre came armed, a full greate pace, With a polaxe in his hande; Many a stronge man with hym was, There in that stoure to stande.
90 The mayre smote at Clowdysle with his byll, His buckeler he brast in two; Full many a yoman with grete yll, ‘[Al]as, treason!’ they cryed for wo. ‘[Ke]pe we the gates fast,’ they bad, ‘[T]hat these traytours theroute not go.’
91 But all for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought, Were goten without at a brayde.
92 ‘Haue here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘Myne offyce I here forsake; Yf ye do by my councell, A newë porter ye make.’
93 He threwe the keys there at theyr hedes, And bad them evyll to thryue, And all that letteth ony good yoman To come and comforte his wyue.
94 Thus be these good yomen gone to the wode, As lyght as lefe on lynde; They laughe and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr enemyes were farre behynde.
95 Whan they came to Inglyswode, Under theyr trysty-tre, There they founde bowës full gode, And arowës greate plentë.
96 ‘So helpe me God,’ sayd Adam Bell, And Clymme of the Clowgh so fre, ‘I wolde we were nowe in mery Carlell, [Be]fore that fayre meynë.’
97 They set them downe and made good chere, And eate an[d dr]anke full well: Here is a fytte [of] these wyght yongemen, And another I shall you tell.
98 As they sat in Inglyswode, Under theyr trysty-tre, Them thought they herde a woman [wepe], But her they myght not se.
99 Sore syghed there fayre Alyce, and sayd, Alas that euer I se this daye! For now is my dere husbonde slayne, Alas and welawaye!
100 Myght I haue spoken wyth hys dere breth[eren], With eyther of them twayne, [To shew to them what him befell] My herte were out of payne.
101 Clowdysle walked a lytell besyde, And loked vnder the grene wodde lynde; He was ware of his wyfe and his chyldre[n thre], Full wo in herte and mynde.
102 ‘Welcome, wyfe,’ than sayd Wyllyam, ‘Unto this trysty-tre; I had wende yesterdaye, by swete Sai[nt John], Thou sholde me neuer haue se.’
103 ‘Now wele is me,’ she sayd, ‘that [ye be here], My herte is out of wo:’ ‘Dame,’ he sayd, ‘be mery and glad, And thanke my bretheren two.’
104 ‘Here of to speke,’ sayd Ad[am] Bell, ‘I-wys it [is no bote]; The me[at that we must supp withall, It runneth yet fast on fote.’
105 Then went they down into a lau_n_de, These noble archares all thre, Eche of the]m slewe a harte of grece, [The best t]hey coude there se.
106 ‘[Haue here the] best, Alyce my wyfe,’ [Sayde Wyllya]m of Clowdysle, ‘[By cause ye so] boldely stode me by, [Whan I w]as slayne full nye.’
107 [Than they] wente to theyr souper, [Wyth suc]he mete as they had, [And than]ked God of theyr fortune; [They we]re bothe mery and glad.
108 [And whan] they had souped well, [Certayne] withouten leace, [Clowdysle] sayde, We wyll to oure kynge, [To get v]s a chartre of peace.
109 [Alyce shal] be at soiournynge, [In a nunry] here besyde; [My tow sonn]es shall with her go, [And ther the]y shall abyde.
110 [Myne eldest so]ne shall go with me, [For hym haue I] no care, [And he shall breng] you worde agayne [How that we do fare.
111 Thus be these wig]ht men to London gone, [As fast as they ma]ye hye, [Tyll they came to the kynges] palays, #c.# There they woulde nedës be.
112 And whan they came to the kyngës courte, Unto the pallace gate, Of no man wold they aske leue, But boldly went in therat.
113 They preced prestly into the hall, Of no man had they dreade; The porter came after and dyd them call, #a.# And with them began to [chyde.]
114 The vssher sayd, Yemen, what wolde ye haue? I praye you tell me; Ye myght thus make offycers shent: Good syrs, of whens be ye?
115 ‘Syr, we be outlawes of the forest, Certayne withouten leace, And hyther we be come to our kynge, To get vs a charter of peace.’
116 And whan they came before our kynge, As it was the lawe of the lande, They kneled downe without lettynge, And eche helde vp his hande.
117 They sayd, Lorde, we beseche you here, That ye wyll graunte vs grace. For we haue slayne your fatte falowe dere, In many a sondry place.
118 ‘What is your names?’ than sayd our kynge, ‘Anone that you tell me:’ They sayd, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, And Wylliam of Clowdesle.
119 ‘Be ye those theues,’ than sayd our kynge, ‘That men haue tolde of to me? Here to God I make a vowe, Ye shall be hanged all thre.
120 ‘Ye shall be dead without mercy, As I am kynge of this lande:’ #c.# He commanded his officers euerichone Fast on them to lay hand.
121 There they toke these good yemen, And arested them all thre: ‘So may I thryue,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘Thys game lyketh not me.
#a.# 122 ‘But, good lorde, we beseche you nowe, That ye wyll graunte vs grace, In so moche as we be to you commen; Or elles that we may fro you passe,
123 ‘With suche weapons as we haue here, Tyll we be out of your place; And yf we lyue this hondred yere, We wyll aske you no grace.’
124 ‘Ye speke proudly,’ sayd the kynge, ‘Ye shall be hanged all thre:’ ‘That were great pity,’ sayd the quene, ‘If any grace myght be.
125 ‘My lorde, whan I came fyrst in to this lande, To be your wedded wyfe, The fyrst bone that I wolde aske, Ye wolde graunte me belyfe.
126 ‘And I asked you neuer none tyll nowe, Therfore, good lorde, graunte it me:’ ‘Nowe aske it, madame,’ sayd the kynge, ‘And graunted shall it be.’
127 ‘Than, good lorde, I you beseche, The yemen graunte you me:’ ‘Madame, ye myght haue asked a bone That sholde haue ben worthe them thre.
128 ‘Ye myght haue asked towres and towne[s], Parkes and forestes plentie:’ #c.# ‘None so pleasaunt to mi pay,’ she said, ‘Nor none so lefe to me.’
129 ‘Madame, sith it is your desyre, Your askyng graunted shalbe; But I had leuer haue geuen you Good market-townës thre.’
130 The quene was a glad woman, And sayd, Lord, gramarcy; I dare vndertake for them That true men shall they be.
131 But, good lord, speke som mery word, That comfort they may se: ‘I graunt you grace,’ then said our ki_n_g, ‘Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye.’
132 They had not setten but a whyle, Certayne without lesynge, There came messe_n_gers out of the north, With letters to our kyng.
133 And whan the came before the kynge, The kneled downe vpon theyr kne, And sayd, Lord, your offycers grete you wel, Of Caerlel in the north cuntre.
134 ‘How fare[th] my justice,’ sayd the kyng, ‘And my sherife also?’ ‘Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge, And many an officer mo.’
135 ‘Who hath them slayne?’ sayd the kyng, ‘Anone thou tell me:’ ‘Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
136 ‘Alas for rewth!’ then sayd our kynge, ‘My hart is wonderous sore; I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde I had knowne of thys before.
137 ‘For I haue y-graunted them grace, And that forthynketh me; But had I knowne all thys before, They had ben hanged all thre.’
138 The kyng opened the letter anone, Hym selfe he red it tho, A_nd_ founde how these thre outlawes had slai_n_e Thre hundred men and mo.
139 Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, And the mayre of Caerlel towne; Of all the co_n_stables a_nd_ catchipolles Alyue were left not one.
140 The baylyes and the bedyls both, And the sergeauntes of the law, And forty fosters of the fe These outlawes had y-slaw;
141 And broke_n_ his parks, and slaine his dere; Ouer all they chose the best; So perelous outlawes as they were Walked not by easte nor west.
142 When the kynge this letter had red, In hys harte he syghed sore; ‘Take vp the table,’ anone he bad, ‘For I may eate no more.’
143 The kyng called hys best archars, To the buttes with hym to go; ‘I wyll se these felowes shote,’ he sayd, ‘That in the north haue wrought this wo.’
144 The kynges bowmen buske them blyue, And the quenes archers also, So dyd these thre wyght yemen, Wyth them they thought to go.
145 There twyse or thryse they shote about, For to assay theyr hande; There was no shote these thre yemen shot That any prycke might them stand.
146 Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle; By God that for me dyed, I hold hym neuer no good archar That shuteth at buttes so wyde.
147 ‘Wherat?’ then sayd our kyng, ‘I pray thee tell me:’ ‘At suche a but, syr,’ he sayd, ‘As men vse in my countree.’
148 Wyllyam wente into a fyeld, And his to brothren with him; There they set vp to hasell roddes, Twenty score paces betwene.
149 ‘I hold him an archar,’ said Cloudesle, ‘That yonder wande cleueth in two:’ ‘Here is none suche,’ sayd the kyng, ‘Nor none that can so do.’
150 ‘I shall assaye, syr,’ sayd Cloudesle, ‘Or that I farther go:’ Cloudesle, with a bearyng arow, Claue the wand in to.
151 ‘Thou art the best archer,’ the_n_ said the ki_n_g, ‘Forsothe that euer I se:’ ‘And yet for your loue,’ sayd Wylliam, ‘I wyll do more maystry.
152 ‘I haue a sonne is seuen yere olde; He is to me full deare; I wyll hym tye to a stake, All shall se that be here;
153 ‘And lay an apple vpon hys head, And go syxe score paces hym fro, And I my selfe, with a brode arow, Shall cleue the apple in two.’
154 ‘Now hast the,’ then sayd the kyng; ‘By him that dyed on a tre, But yf thou do not as th_o_u hest sayde, Hanged shalt thou be.
155 ‘And thou touche his head or gowne, In syght that men may se, By all the sayntes that be in heave_n_, I shall hange you all thre.’
156 ‘That I haue promised,’ said William, ‘I wyl it neuer forsake;’ And there euen before the kynge, In the earth he droue a stake;
157 And bound therto his eldest sonne, And bad hym stande styll therat, And turned the childes face fro him, Because he shuld not sterte.
158 An apple vpon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent; Syxe score paces they were outmet, And thether Cloudesle went.
159 There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe; Hys bowe was great and longe; He set that arrowe in his bowe, That was both styffe and stronge.
160 He prayed the people that was there That they would styll stande; ‘For he that shooteth for such a wager, Behoueth a stedfast hand.’
161 Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, #a.# That hys lyfe saued myght be, And whan he made hym redy to shote, There was many a wepynge eye.
162 Thus Clowdesle clefte the apple in two, That many a man it se; ‘Ouer goddes forbode,’ sayd the kynge, ‘That thou sholdest shote at me!
163 ‘I gyue the .xviii. pens a daye, And my bowe shalte thou bere, And ouer all the north countree I make the chefe rydere.’
164 ‘And I gyue the .xii. pens a day,’ sayd the que[ne], ‘By God and by my faye; Come fetche thy payment whan thou wylt, No man shall say the naye.
165 ‘Wyllyam, I make the gentylman Of clothynge and of fee, And thy two brethren yemen of my chambr[e], For they are so semely to se.
166 ‘Your sone, for he is tendre of age, Of my wyne-seller shall he be, And whan he commeth to mannës state, Better auaunced shall he be.
167 ‘And, Wylliam, brynge me your wyfe,’ sayd th[e quene]; Me longeth sore here to se; She shall be my chefe gentylwoman, And gouerne my nursery.’
168 The yemen thanked them full courteysly, And sayd, To Rome streyght wyll we wende, [Of all the synnes that we haue done To be assoyled of his hand.
169 So forth]e be gone these good yemen, [As fast a]s they myght hye, [And aft]er came and dwelled with the kynge, [And dye]d good men all thre.
170 [Thus e]ndeth the lyues of these good yemen, [God sen]de them eternall blysse, [And all] that with hande-bowe shoteth, [That of] heuen they may neuer mysse!
* * * * *
Deficiencies in #a#, #b# are supplied from #c# unless it is otherwise noted.
#a.#
120^1. deed.
#b.#
87^1. an oute horne. The emendation is Prof. Skeat’s.
99^{1,2}. and sayd begins the second line.
100^3. supplied from #d#, #e#.
#c.#
5^3. singele.
11^1. be your.
13^2. In woulde.
16^2. spende.
17^1, 107^1. whent.
18^3. fore.
22^1. shop-wyndow.
22^4. great full great.
23^3. Gy.
26^1. welgood.
30^3. Alece.
33^2. all gon.
34^{3,4}. and sayde begins the fourth line.
44^2. there Alyce.
44^4. geuend.
46^4. Allreadye.
48^4. in reaffte [?].
51^1. Cyerlel.
52^1. Carelell.
Variations from #b#.
53^3. shut: wonderous.
54^1, 56^1, 64^3, 76^1, 85^3, 102^1, 107^1. Then.
54^3. Lee.
54^4. come nowe.
55^3. seales.
56^3. a wanting.
56^4. faste wanting.
57^4. come ryght.
58^2. me for we.
59^1. commeth none.
59^2. Be: vpon.
61^3. went.
62^1. he saide.
62^3. full shortlye.
63^1. are we.
63^3. know.
64^4, 79^2, 106^4, 108^1. When.
65^1. a wanting.
65^4. hys keys.
66^2, 67^3, 76^3. brother.
66^4. hundred.
68^1. They bent theyr bowes. Then, good yew from #e#, #f#.
68^3. in mery.
68^4. in wanting.
69^3. And they: squyers.
70^2. bounde wanting.
71^2. Cloudesle.
71^3. good wanting: yeman, and ye always, as, 88^3, 90^3, 93^3, 94^1.
72^1. Cloudesli.
73^2. the hange.
73^3. that wanting: brtehren, or, breehren.
74^2, 82^1, 84^1, 100^1, 103^4. brethen.
74^2. stande wanting.
74^3. marked.
74^5. to chaunce.
75^1. good wanting.
75^2. will.
76^1. Then spake.
76^3. Brother.
77^1. shyrfe.
77^2. an wanting.
78^1. thre arrowes.
78^4. there sedes.
79^2. fell downe.
81^2. out of.
81^4. he taryed all to.
82^2. togyder wanting.
82^4. shall you.
83^1. shot.
83^3. sede.
84^1. The: together.
85^2. preced to.
86^3. mas myd.
87^2. they wanting.
88^4. For of theyr lyues they stode in great.
90^2. brust.
90^3. euyll.
90^6. That.
91^1. y^t y^e.
91^2. to fast.
91^4. at wanting.
92^{2,3}. Transposed: Yf you do, etc., Myne offce.
92^4. do we.
93^1. theyr keys.
94^2. lyghtly as left.
94^3. The lough an.
94^4. fere.
95^1, 98^1. Englyshe.
95^2. Under the: trusty, and 98^2.
95^3. There wanting.
95^4. full great.
96^1. God me help.
96^3. nowe wanting.
97^2. drynke.
97^3. fet of.
97^4. And wanting: I wyll.
98^3. They thaught: woman wepe.
98^4. mought.
99^1. the fayre; and sayde begins the next line.
99^2. I sawe.
100^2. Or with.
100^3. wanting.
100^4. put out.
102^2. Under thus trusti.
102^4. had se.
106^1, 109^1. Alce.
106^3. by me.
107^1. theyr wanting.
107^{2,3}. Transposed: And thanked, etc., Wyth such.
108^2. without any.
109^1. Alce shalbe at our.
110^3. you breng.
111^1. these good yemen.
111^2. myght hye.
111^3. pallace.
Variations from #a#.
114^3. you.
115^2. without any.
115^3. become.
116^1. the kyng.
116^3, 117^1. The.
117^1. beseche the.
118^1. be your nams: then, and 119^1.
122^2. you graunt.
123^3. hundreth.
124^3. then sayd.
126^1. you wanting.
127^2. These: ye.
127^4. all thre.
128^1. town.
137^1. hauy graunted.
153^1. apele.
Variations from #a#.
162^2. myght se.
162^4. sholdest wanting.
164^1. .xvii.
164^3. when.
165^1. the a.
166^3. estate.
167^2. her sore.
167^4. To gouerne.
168^1. thanketh.
168^2. To some bysshop wyl we wend.
169^1. begone: there good.
170^4. they wanting.
a bout, a gayne, a monge, a none, a byde, a lyue, ther at, etc., are joined.
#d#, #e#, #f#. The readings of all three are the same unless divergence is noted.
1^1. #f.# in the.
1^3. whereas men hunt east.
2^1. raise.
2^2. #d.# sights haue oft. #e.# sights haue not oft. #f.# has oft.
2^3. three yeomen.
2^4. as wanting.
3^2. Another.
4^2. thre wanting. #d#, #e#. euery chone. #f.# eueryeche one.
4^3. brethren on a.
4^4. English wood.
5^2. And wanting: mirth.
5^3. #e.# were wanting.
6^3. brethren, and generally. #e.# on a.
7^1. There to: Alice.
7^2. #f.# with wanting.
8^1. #e#, #f#. we go. #d.# Carlell, and generally. #e#, #f#. Carlile, and generally.
8^3. If that: doe you.
8^4. life is.
9^3. Trust you then that. #d#, #f#. tane. #e.# taken.
11^1. Alice he said.
11^2. My wife and children three.
11^3. owne husband. #f.# thy.
12^2. #e#, #f#. very sore.
12^4. #d#, #f#. halfe a. #e.# Full halfe a.
13^1. #e.# I am.
13^2. #d#, #f#. in I. #e.# in we.
14^1. #d.# fet.
14^2. #d.# true and.
14^3. #e.# what she.
15^1. #d.# in the.
15^2. little before.
16^1. rose and forth she goes.
16^2. #e.# might.
16^3. not wanting.
16^4. #e.# yeeres. #f.# not 7 yeere.
17^1. into.
17^3. night she said is come to towne.
18^1. #e.# Thereat.
18^2. #e.# was wanting. #f.# And wanting.
18^3. #e.# dame wanting.
18^4. ere.
19^2. #d#, #e#. as wanting. #d#, #e#, #f#. saine.
20^1. raised.
20^2. that wanting.
20^3. #e.# And thronging fast vnto the house.
20^4. As fast as. #e.# gan.
21^1. the good yeoman.
21^2. Round wanting.
21^3. #d.# of the folke. #e.# of folke. #f.# of the folkes.
21^4. thetherward: fast for they.
22^1. back for shot.
22^3. #e.# bothe wanting. #e#, #f#. second the wanting.
22^4. #e#, #f#. And with them. #e.# a great rout. #f.# a full great.
23^1. then cryed.
23^3. #e#, #f#. second my wanting. #f.# sweet husband.
24^2. #e.# second hys wanting.
24^3. the for hys. #f.# He went.
24^4. #f.# the surest.
25^1. Alice like a louer true.
25^2. #f.# Tooke a.
25^3. #d#, #f#. Said he shall die that commeth. #e.# Said he shall dye.
26^1. right good.
26^2. of a.
26^4. burst.
27^4. had beene neere the.
28^2. #d.# second thy wanting. #e.# thine arrowes. #f.# the bow and arrowes.
29^2. #d#, #e#. Sith no better it will be.
29^3. burne: saith. #f.# burne there.
29^4. and his.
30^1. #f.# The for they: and often.
30^2. #d#, #e#. vp wanting. #f.# fledd on.
30^3. then, and generally. #e#, #f#. said faire.
30^4. #e.# we here shall. #f.# here wee shall.
31^1. a for hys.
31^2. second on wanting. #d.# was on.
31^3. And there: he did let downe.
31^4. His wife and children.
32^1. #f.# Haue you here.
32^2. #d#, #f#. second my wanting.
32^{1,2}. #e.# wanting.
32^3. #f.# Gods loue.
33^2. #d#, #f#. agoe. #e.# go.
33^3. the wanting. about for vpon.
33^4. #f.# burnt.
34^1. fell vppon.
34^{3,4}. and sayde begins the fourth line.
35^1. #e#, #f#. had I.
35^2. runne.
35^3. #e.# amongst. #d#, #f#. my.
35^4. So: burne.
36^1. buckler then.
36^2. #f.# amongst.
36^3. people thickest were.
37^1. man abide. #e#, #f#. strokes.
37^2. #e.# run.
37^3. #f.# Then the: att him. #e.# doore.
37^4. that yeoman. #f.# And then the.
38^1. both wanting.
38^2. in a.
38^3. #d#, #e#. then said. #d#, #f#. hye wanting.
39^2. #e.# gallowes thou shalt haue.
39^3. #d.# al wanting.
40^1. There. #f.# helpe yett.
40^3. #f#. a 100^d men.
41^1. arose.
41^2. #f.# can he.
41^3. #d.# them to: full wanting. #e#, #f#. to shut close.
42^3. #d#, #e#. he set vp. #f.# There he new a paire of gallowes he sett vpp.
42^4. #f.# Hard by the.
43^2. meant.
44^1. the wanting. #f.# The litle.
44^3. #f.# seene William.
44^4. #e.# gaue.
45^1. at a creuice of.
45^2. wood he ran (ron, runn). #f.# And wanting.
45^3. #e.# he met. #e#, #f#. wighty yeomen.
46^1. #e#, #f#. said the.
46^2. #e#, #f#. You.
46^3. #e#, #f#. tane. #e.# doomd.
46^4. #d.# Already. #e#, #f#. And ready to be hangd.
47^2. saw.
47^3. #d#, #e#. might haue tarried heere with vs. #f.# He had better haue tarryed with vs.
47^4. #e.# as wanting.
48^1. haue dwelled.
48^2. these for the. #f.# shaddoowes greene.
48^3. haue wanting: at rest.
48^4. #d#, #f#. of all.
49^2. he had.
50^1. #e.# we go. #d.# wighty yeomen. #e#, #f#. iolly yeomen.
50^2. longer.
51^1. #f.# bold yeomen.
51^2. #f.# All in a mor[n]inge of May.
51^4. #f.# And wanting.
52^1. #f.# to wanting.
52^2. #f.# All in a morning.
52^3. vnto.
53^3. wonderous. #d#, #f#. be shut. #e.# are shut. #f.# ffast for well.
53^4. therein.
54^4. come. #e.# the king.
55^1. wryten wanting.
55^2. #e.# Now wanting. #f.# wiselye marke.
56^1. #d#, #f#. at the. #f.# gates.
56^2. #f.# hard and.
56^3. #d#, #e#. a wanting. #f.# marueiled who was theratt.
56^4. faste wanting. #e#, #f.# gates.
57^1. nowe wanting. #f.# Who be.
57^2. #f.# makes.
57^3. #e.# said they then. #f.# quoth Clim.
57^4. come right.
58^4. the for our.
59^1. none in.
59^2. #e.# of a.
59^3. Till that. #f.# a wanting.
60^1. #d.# the for that. #e.# that good yeman wanting. #f.# spake good Clim.
60^4. #d#, #f#. thou shalt.
61^1. got wanting.
61^3. #d#, #e#. porter wend (weend). #f.# had went wanting.
62^1. is my: he said.
62^2. #d.# ye shall. #e#, #f#. you shall.
62^3. #e#, #f#. gates. #d#, #e#. full shortly. #f.# ryght wanting.
63^1. are we.
63^2. Whereof: are right.
63^3. #d.# knowes. #e#, #f#. Christ he knowes assuredly.
63^4. #e.# come wanting. #f.# gett out.
64^{2,3,4}. then, When, and nearly always.
65^1. a wanting.
65^3. cast.
65^4. #d#, #f#. his keyes.
66^2. #e.# we haue.
66^3. in for to.
66^4. #d.# hundred. #e#, #f#. That came this hundred.
67^1. we will.
67^3. brother.
67^4. That for Where he.
68^1. #d.# Then: their good. #e#, #f#. Then: their good yew.
68^3. in for of.
69^3. #d#, #f#. of squiers. #e.# squirers.
69^4. #e#, #f#. That iudged William hanged.
70^1. #e#, #f#. hymselfe wanting. #f.# ready there in.
70^4. #d#, #e#. Already. #f.# to hange.
71^2. he should. #e.# Cloudesle.
71^3. good wanting.
71^4. #e.# thereby make him a. #f.# And wanting.
72^1. a wanting.
72^3. a graue.
73^2. I will thee hang.
73^3. heard this.
74^1. eye. #e.# William.
74^2. two (tow) brethren: stande wanting.
74^3. #e.# the corner: place wel prepard.
74^4. #d.# good wanting: bent wanting. #e#, #f#. wanting.
74^5. #d#, #e#. the justice to chase. #f.# the iustice to slaine.
75^1. good wanting.
75^3. #e.# hands let free.
75^4. #d#, #e#. might I.
76^1. Then spake.
76^3. Brother: you.
76^4. you.
77^1. And wanting.
78^2. #d#, #e#. they had.
78^3. #f.# the shirrfe, the other the iustice.
78^4. #d#, #f#. can.
79^1. #e.# stood them.
79^3. fell wanting.
79^4. #d#, #e#. deaths.
80^1. #f.# flye.
80^2. #d#, #f#. longer.
80^3. #e.# Then.
81^1. #d#, #f#. start. #e.# stept.
81^2. out of.
81^4. had wanting: all too. #f.# Hee thought.
82^1. #e.# brethren.
82^2. togyder wanting.
83^1. shot. #e#, #f#. in wanting.
83^2. full wanting.
83^4. #e.# The. #d#, #f#. long did.
84^1. like for as.
85^2. #d#, #f#. pressed to.
85^3. #e.# swords out anon.
86^3. #d#, #f#. was mid. #f.# were mid.
86^4. had wanting.
87^1. #e.# There was wanting. #e#, #f#. Carlile was.
87^2. they wanting. #d.# backwards.
88^1, 89^1, 90^1. mayor, maior.
88^3. thre wanting.
88^4. For of. #d#, #f#. they stood in great. #e.# they were in great.
89^4. #e.# Within that stoure.
90^2. brast. #d#, #f#. he wanting.
90^3. euill.
90^4. #f.# ffull woe.
90^5. #f.# Keepe well.
90^6. That.
91^2. #d#, #e#. downe they. #f.# were downe.
91^4. gotten out. #e.# of a.
92^2. heere I. #e.# My.
92^3. #d#, #f#. you.
92^4. doe you.
93^1. #d#, #f#. their keyes at. #d.# head.
93^3. any.
94^1. #e#, #f#. be the.
#d.# word.
94^2. lightly.
94^3. #f.# wood.
95^1. #d#, #e#. English wood. #f.# merry greenwood.
95^2. the trustie.
95^4. #d.# full great.
96^1. God me helpe.
96^3. nowe wanting.
96^4. #d.# manie. #e.# many. #f.# meanye.
97^1. #d#, #f#. sate. #e.# Then sat they.
97^2. #d#, #e#. drunke.
97^3. fit of: yeomen for yonge men. #f.# A 2^d ffitt of the wightye.
97^4. And wanting: I will.
98^1. English wood. #d#, #f#. sate.
98^2. #d#, #e#. trustie. #f.# the greenwoode.
98^3. woman wepe. #e#, #f#. They.
98^4. #e#, #f#. could act.
99^1. Sore then: there wanting. #d#, #f#. and sayd begins the next line.
99^{1,2}. #e#. And sayd Alas wanting.
99^2. saw.
99^3. #f.# nowe wanting.
100^1. #e.# spoke.
100^2. Or with.
100^3. #d#, #e#. To shew to them what him befell. #f.# To show them, etc.
101^1. aside.
101^2. #f.# He looked.
101^3. second his wanting. #e.# He saw his.
102^2. Under. #d.# this trustie. #e.# a trusty. #f.# the trustye.
102^4. #d#, #f#. shouldest had. #e.# shouldst had.
103^4. #d#, #e#. brethren.
104^4. #e.# It resteth.
105^1. the lawnd.
105^2. noble men all.
105^4. #f.# that they cold see.
106^2. #f.# saith.
106^3. Because: by me.
107^1. they went: theyr wanting.
107^3. for their.
108^2, 115^2. without any leace (lease).
109^1. at our.
109^2. #f.# Att a.
110^1. My.
110^2. I haue.
111^1. good yeomen.
111^2. #d#, #f#. might hye. #e#. can hye.
111^3. pallace.
111^4. #e#, #f#. Where. #d.# neede. #e#, #f#. needs.
112^1. kings. #f.# But when.
112^2. #f.# & to.
113^1. proceeded presently.
113^2. they had.
113^4. #e#, #f#. gan.
114^1. #e#, #f#. you.
114^2. #e#, #f#. to me.
114^3. You: thus wanting.
114^4. from for of.
115^2. #f.# Certes.
115^3. the for our.
116^1. the for our. #d#, #f#. when. #e.# whan.
117^1. #d#, #e#. beseech thee. #f.# beseeche yee sure.
118^1. What be. #e#, #f#. the for our.
118^3. #e.# They sayd wanting.
119^1. #d#, #e#. than wanting. #f.# then. #e.# the for our.
119^2. of wanting.
119^3. #f.# Here I make a vow to God.
119^4. You.
120^3. #f.# officer[s] euery one.
121^1. #e.# Therefore.
122^3. doo for be: come.
122^4. from.
123^2. #d.# your wanting.
123^3. #d#, #e#. hundreth: #f.# 100^d.
123^4. #d#, #e#. of you. #f.# Of you wee will aske noe.
125^4. You.
126^1. ye.
126^4. #f.# itt shalbe.
127^1. #f.# good my.
127^2. These: ye.
127^4. them all.
128^1. #f.# You: townes.
130^2. #e.# garmarcie. #f.# god a mercye.
130^4. they shall.
131^2. #d.# they may comfort see. #e.# they might comfort see. #f.# some comfort they might see.
131^3. #e#, #f#. the for our.
132^1. #e.# sittin. #f.# sitten.
132^3. came two.
133^3. #e.# our for your.
134^1. fareth.
135^1. #e.# slaine them. #f.# then said.
135^2. Anone that you.
135^3. and wanting.
136^1. #f.# ffor wrath.
136^3. then. #f.# rather then.
136^4. of wanting.
137^1. #f.# y- wanting.
137^2. #d.# forethinketh.
138^1. #d#, #f#. king he.
138^3. And there: thre wanting.
139^2. mayor.
139^3. catchpoles.
139^4. #f.# but one.
140^1. bayliffes.
140^3. forresters.
140^4. haue. #f.# haue the slawe.
141^2. #e#, #f#. Of all. #f.# coice the.
141^3. #d.# Such.
142^2. hys wanting.
142^3. #d.# table he said. #e.# table then said he. #f.# tables then sayd hee.
142^4. #e#, #f#. I can.
143^1. then called.
143^3. #e#, #f#. said he. #f.# To see.
143^4. #e.# hath.
144^1. #d#, #e#. buskt: blithe. #f.# archers busket: blythe.
144^2. #f.# Soe did the queenes alsoe.
144^3. #d#, #e#. thre wanting. #f.# weightye.
144^4. #f.# They thought with them.
145^2. thre wanting.
145^4. them wanting.
146^2. #e#, #f#. By him.
146^3. #d#, #e#. a good. #f.# him not a good.
147^1. #e.# the for our. #f.# then wanting.
147^2. to me.
148^1. into the.
148^2. brethren.
148^4. #f.# 400 paces.
149^4. For no man can so doo.
150^1. #f.# syr wanting.
150^2. further.
151. #d#, #f#. our king. #e#, #f#. then wanting.
152^3. tie him.
152^4. #e#, #f#. see him.
154^1. hast thee. #f.# then wanting.
154^3. #f.# dost: has.
155^4. you hang.
156^2. #d#, #e#. I neuer will forsake. #f.# That I will neuer.
157^3. him fro.
158^3. out wanting. #f.# meaten.
159^2. #e.# were.
160^1. were there.
160^4. had neede of a. #e#, #f#. steddy.
162^1. claue.
162^2. myght see. #d#, #f#. As.
162^3. Now God forbid then said.
162^4. #d#, #e#. shouldst.
163^1. #f.# gaue: 8 pence.
163^4. #e.# chiefe ranger.
164^1. xiii. #e#, #f#. Ile.
165^1. thee a.
165^3. #f.# bretheren.
165^4. are louely to.
166^2. #e#, #f#. he shall be.
166^3. mans estate. #e#, #f#. coms, comes.
166^4. #d.# aduanced I will him see. #e#, #f#. Better preferred.
167^2. #d.# sore for to. #e.# I long full sore to see. #f.# I long her sore.
167^4. To.
168^2. #d.# To some bishop will we wend. #e#, #f#. To some bishop we will wend.
168^4. at his.
169^1. #e.# the good.
169^2. they can. #d.# So fast.
169^3. and liued.
169^4. good yeomen.
170^1. #f.# liffe.
170^3. #f.# with a.
170^4. #d#, #e#. they wanting.
Insignificant variations of spelling are not noticed.