Appendix
ROBIN HOOD AND THE SHERIFF
Kinloch MSS, V, 288, in Kinloch’s handwriting.
1 Robin Hood’s to Nottinghame gane, Wi a linkie down and a day, And there he met wi an auld woman, Coming weeping alang the highway.
2 ‘Weep ye for any of my gold, auld woman? Or weep ye for my fee? Or weep ye for any warld’s gear This day I can grant to thee?’
3 ‘I weep not for your gold, kind sir, I weep not for your fee; But I weep for my three braw sons, This day condemned to die.’
4 ‘O have they parishes burned?’ he said, ‘Or have they ministers slain? Or have they forced maidens against their will? Or wi other men’s wives hae they lain?’
5 ‘They have not parishes burned, kind sir, They have not ministers slain; They neer forced a maid against her will, Nor wi no man’s wife hae they lain.’
6 ‘O what hae they done then?’ quo Robin Hood, ‘I pray thee tell unto me:’ ‘O they killed the king’s fallow deer, And this day are condemned to die.’
7 ‘O have you mind, old mother,’ he said, ‘Since you made my merry men to dine? And for to repay it back unto thee Is come in a very good time.’
8 Sae Robin Hood’s to Nottinghame gane, With a linkie down and a day, And there he met an old beggar man, Coming creeping along the high way.
9 ‘What news, what news, old father?’ he said, ‘What news hast thou for me?’ ‘There’s three merry men,’ quo the poor auld man, ‘This day condemned to die.’
10 ‘Will you change your apparel wi me, old father? Will you change your apparel for mine? And twenty broad shillings I’ll gie ye to the boot, To drink gude beer or wine.’
11 ‘Thine is of the scarlet fine, And mine is baith ragged and torn; Sae never let a young supple youth Laugh a gude auld man to scorn.’
12 ‘Change your apparel wi me, old churl, And quickly change it for mine, And thirty broad shillings I’ll gie to the boot, To drink gude beer or wine.’
13 When Robin put on the auld man’s hat, It was weary high in the crown; ‘By the hand of my body,’ quo Robin Hood, ‘I am lang whan I loot down.’
14 Whan Robin put on the auld man’s cloak, There was mony a pock therein; A pock for meal, and a pock for maut, And a pock for groats and corn, And a little wee pockie that hung by his side That he put in his bugle-horn.
15 Sae Robin Hood’s [to] Nottinghame gane, Wi a linkie down and a day, And there he met wi the high sheriff, Coming riding alang the high way.
16 ‘O save you, O save you, high sheriff,’ he said, ‘And weel saved mote you be! And what will you gie to the silly auld man Your hangman for to be?’
17 ‘Thirteen pence,’ the sheriff replied, ‘That is the hangman’s fee, But an the claiths of the three young men This day condemned to die.’
18 ‘I never hanged a man in a’ my life, And intend not to begin; But ever I hang a man in my life, High sheriff, thou’s be the ane.
19 ‘But I have a horn in my pocket, I gat it frae Robin Hood, And gif I tak out my little horn, For thee it will no blaw gude.’
20 ‘Blaw, blaw, bauld beggar,’ he said, ‘Blaw, and fear nae doubt; I wish you may gie sic a blast Till your eyne loup out.’
21 Then Robin he gave a skip, And he skipped frae a stick till a stane; ‘By the hand of my body,’ quo the high sheriff, ‘You are a supple auld man.’
22 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, And he blew baith loud and shrill, Till sixty-four of bold Robin’s men Cam marching down the green hill.
23 ‘What men are these,’ quo the high sheriff, ‘That comes sae merrily?’ ‘They are my men,’ quo Robin Hood, ‘And they’ll pay a visit to thee.’
24 They tack the gallows out of the glen, And they set it in a slap; They hanged the sheriff upon it, And his best men at his back.
25 They took the gallows out o the slap, And they set [it] back in the glen, And they hanged the sheriff upon it, Let the three young men gae hame.
141
ROBIN HOOD RESCUING WILL STUTLY
#a.# Wood, 401, leaf 35 b.
#b.# Garland of 1663, No 7.
#c.# Garland of 1670, No 6.
#d.# Pepys, II, 106, No 93.
This ballad probably occurs in all the larger collections of broadsides. It was given in Old Ballads, 1723, I, 90. #a# is printed by Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 102. Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 164, follows an Aldermary copy.
Robin Hood learns that Will Stutly has been captured and is to be hanged the next day. Robin and his men go to the rescue, and ask information of a palmer who is standing under the wall of the castle in which Stutly is confined; the palmer confirms the news. Stutly is brought out by the sheriff, of whom he asks to have a sword and die in fight, not on the tree. This refused, he asks only to have his hands loosed. The sheriff again refuses; he shall die on the gallows. Little John comes out from behind a bush, cuts Stutly’s bonds, and gives him a sword twitched by John from one of the sheriff’s men. An arrow shot by Robin Hood puts the sheriff to flight, and his men follow. Stutly rejoices that he may go back to the woods.
This is a ballad made for print, with little of the traditional in the matter and nothing in the style. It may be considered as an imitation of The Rescue of the Three Squires, whence the ambush in st. 9 and the palmer ‘fair’ in 10.
1 When Robin Hood in the green-wood livd, Derry derry down Vnder the green-wood tree, Tidings there came to him with speed, Tidings for certainty, Hey down derry derry down
2 That Will Stutly surprized was, And eke in prison lay; Three varlets that the sheriff had hired Did likely him betray.
3 I, and to-morrow hanged must be, To-morrow as soon as it is day; But before they could this victory get, Two of them did Stutly slay.
4 When Robin Hood he heard this news, Lord! he was grieved sore, I, and unto his merry men [said], Who altogether swore,
5 That Will Stutly should rescued be, And be brought safe again; Or else should many a gallant wight For his sake there be slain.
6 He cloathed himself in scarlet then, His men were all in green; A finer show, throughout the world, In no place could be seen.
7 Good lord! it was a gallant sight To see them all on a row; With every man a good broad sword, And eke a good yew bow.
8 Forth of the green wood are they gone, Yea, all couragiously, Resolving to bring Stutly home, Or every man to die.
9 And when they came the castle neer Whereas Will Stutly lay, ‘I hold it good,’ saith Robin Hood, ‘Wee here in ambush stay,
10 ‘And send one forth some news to hear, To yonder palmer fair, That stands under the castle-wall; Some news he may declare.’
11 With that steps forth a brave young man, Which was of courage bold; Thus hee did say to the old man: I pray thee, palmer old,
12 Tell me, if that thou rightly ken, When must Will Stutly die, Who is one of bold Robins men, And here doth prisoner lie?
13 ‘Alack, alass,’ the palmer said, ‘And for ever wo is me! Will Stutly hanged must be this day, On yonder gallows-tree.
14 ‘O had his noble master known, Hee would some succour send; A few of his bold yeomandree Full soon would fetch him hence.’
15 ‘I, that is true,’ the young man said; ‘I, that is true,’ said hee; ‘Or, if they were neer to this place, They soon would set him free.
16 ‘But fare thou well, thou good old man, Farewell, and thanks to thee; If Stutly hanged be this day, Revengd his death will be.’
17 He was no sooner from the palmer gone, But the gates was opened wide, And out of the castle Will Stutly came, Guarded on every side.
18 When hee was forth from the castle come, And saw no help was nigh, Thus he did say unto the sheriff, Thus he said gallantly:
19 Now seeing that I needs must die, Grant me one boon, says he; For my noble master nere had man That yet was hangd on the tree.
20 Give me a sword all in my hand, And let mee be unbound, And with thee and thy men I’le fight, Vntill I lie dead on the ground.
21 But his desire he would not grant, His wishes were in vain; For the sheriff had sworn he hanged should be, And not by the sword be slain.
22 ‘Do but unbind my hands,’ he saies, ‘I will no weapons crave, And if I hanged be this day, Damnation let me have.’
23 ‘O no, O no,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Thou shalt on the gallows die, I, and so shall thy master too, If ever in me it lie.’
24 ‘O dastard coward!’ Stutly cries, ‘Thou faint-heart pesant slave! If ever my master do thee meet, Thou shalt thy paiment have.
25 ‘My noble master thee doth scorn, And all thy cowardly crew; Such silly imps unable are Bold Robin to subdue.’
26 But when he was to the gallows come, And ready to bid adiew, Out of a bush leaps Little John, And steps Will Stutly to.
27 ‘I pray thee, Will, before thou die, Of thy dear friends take leave; I needs must borrow him a while, How say you, master sheriff?’
28 ‘Now, as I live,’ the sheriff he said, ‘That varlet will I know; Some sturdy rebell is that same, Therefore let him not go.’
29 With that Little John so hastily Away cut Stutly’s bands, And from one of the sheriff his men, A sword twicht from his hands.
30 ‘Here, Will, here, take thou this same, Thou canst it better sway; And here defend thy self a while, For aid will come straight way.’
31 And there they turnd them back to back, In the middle of them that day, Till Robin Hood approached neer, With many an archer gay.
32 With that an arrow by them flew, I wist from Robin Hood; ‘Make haste, make haste,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Make haste, for it is good.’
33 The sheriff is gone; his doughty men Thought it no boot to stay, But, as their master had them taught They run full fast away.
34 ‘O stay, O stay,’ Will Stutly said, ‘Take leave ere you depart; You nere will catch bold Robin Hood Vnless you dare him meet.’
35 ‘O ill betide you,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘That you so soon are gone; My sword may in the scabbord rest, For here our work is done.’
36 ‘I little thought when I came here, When I came to this place, For to have met with Little John, Or seen my masters face.’
37 Thus Stutly was at liberty set, And safe brought from his foe; ‘O thanks, O thanks to my master, Since here it was not so.’
38 ‘And once again, my fellows, We shall in the green woods meet, Where we will make our bow-strings twang, Musick for us most sweet.’
* * * * *
#a.#
Robin Hood his rescuing Will Stutly from the sheriff and his men, who had taken him prisoner, and was going to hang him.
To the tune of Robin Hood and Queen Katherine.
London, Printed for F. Grove, on Snow-hill. Entred according to order. (1620–55: Chappell.)
25^1. thou dost.
26^4. too.
29^2. Stutli’s.
33^1. doubtless.
#b.#
Title as in #a#, except rescuing of: were going.
4^3. said wanting.
6^3. in all the.
11^1. steps out.
13^1. Alas, alas.
13^4. yonders gallow.
14^2. would soon.
16^4. shall be.
19^4. the wanting.
25^1. thou dost.
26^4. too.
28^1. he wanting.
33^1. doubtless.
#c.#
Title as in #a#, except were going.
1^4. Tiding for certainly.
3^4. stay.
4^3. men said.
13^1. Alass, alass.
17^2. was wanting.
24^2. hearted.
25^1. thee dost.
26^4. too.
29^2. Stutli’s.
33^1. doubtless.
36^2. came hereto,
#d.#
Title as in #a#.
Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger. (1670–86?)
1^1. livd wanting.
3^2. as ’tis.
4^3. and to: men said.
5^2. brought back.
8^1. they are.
9^3. said.
13^1. Alas, alas.
13^3. to day.
14^3. yeomanry.
17^2. gates were.
19^2. said.
19^4. the wanting.
21^1. But this.
21^3. swore.
24^2. hearted.
25^1. thee doth.
26^1. gone for come.
28^1. he wanting.
29^1. And Little.
29^3. sheriffs.
33^1. doubtless.
35^1. said for quoth.
36^2. came here.
142
LITTLE JOHN A BEGGING
#A.# Percy MS., p. 20; Hales and Furnivall, I, 47.
#B.# ‘Little John and the Four Beggers.’ #a.# Wood, 401, leaf 33 b. #b.# Garland of 1663, No 16. #c.# Garland of 1670, No 15. #d.# Pepys, II, 119, No 105.
#B# is also in the Roxburghe collection, III, 10.
#B a# is printed in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 128. Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 196 follows the Aldermary garland.
#A.# Little John, meaning to go a begging, induces an old mendicant to change clothes with him and to give him some hints how to conduct himself. Thus prepared he attempts to attach himself to three palmers, who, however, do not covet his company. One of the palmers gives John a whack on the head. We may conjecture, from the course of the story in #B#, that John serves them all accordingly, and takes from them so much money that, if he had kept on in this way, he might, as he says, have bought churches.
The beginning of #A# is very like that of Robin Hood rescuing Three Squires, #A#; but the disguise is for a different object. We are reminded again of Hind Horn, and particularly of versions #C#, #G#, #H#, in which the beggar, after change of clothes, is asked for instructions.
#B.# John is deputed by Robin to go a begging, and asks to be provided with staff, coat, and bags. He joins four sham beggars, one of whom takes him a knock on the crown. John makes the dumb to speak and the halt to run, and bangs them against the wall, then gets from one’s cloak three hundred pound, and from another’s bag three hundred and three, which he thinks is doing well enough to warrant his return to Sherwood.
#B# is translated by Anastasius Grün, p. 155.
A
Percy MS., p. 20; Hales and Furnivall, I, 47.
* * * * *
1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . beggar,’ he sayes, ‘W_i_th none such fellows as thee.’
2 ‘I am not in iest,’ said Litle Iohn, ‘I sweare all by the roode; Change w_i_th mee,’ said Little Iohn, ‘And I will giue thee some boote.’
3 But he has gotten on this old mans gowne, It reacht not to his wrist; ‘Christ’s curse on’s hart,’ said Litle Iohn, ‘That thinkes my gowne amisse.’
4 But he has gotten on this old mans shoes, Are clouted nine fold about; ‘Beshrew his hart,’ says Litle Iohn, ‘That bryer or thorne does doubt.
5 ‘Wilt teach me some phrase of thy begging?’ says Iohn; ‘I pray thee, tell it mee, How I may be as beggar-like As any in my companie.’
6 ‘Thou must goe two foote on a staffe, The third vpon a tree; Full loud that thou must cry and fare, When nothing ayleth thee.’
7 But Iohn he walket the hills soe high, Soe did [he] the hills soe browne; The ready way that he cold take Was towards Nottingham towne.
8 But as he was on the hills soe high, He mett w_i_th palmers three; Sayes, God you saue, my brethren all, Now God you saue and see!
9 This seuen yeere I haue you sought; Before I cold neuer you see! Said they, Wee had leuer such a cankred carle Were neuer in our companie.
10 But one of them tooke Litle Iohn on his head, The blood ran over his eye; Little Iohn turned him twise about . . . . . . .
* * * * *
11 ‘If I . . . . . . . As I haue beene but one day, I shold haue purcchased three of the best churches That stands by any highway.’
B
#a.# Wood, 401, leaf 33 b. #b.# Garland of 1663, No 16. #c.# Garland of 1670, No 15. #d.# Pepys, II, 119, No 105.
1 All you that delight to spend some time With a hey down down a down down A merry song for to sing, Vnto me draw neer, and you shall hear How Little John went a begging.
2 As Robin Hood walked the forrest along, And all his yeomandree, Sayes Robin, Some of you must a begging go, And, Little John, it must be thee.
3 Sayes John, If I must a begging go, I will have a palmers weed, With a staff and a coat, and bags of all sort, The better then I shall speed.
4 Come, give me now a bag for my bread, And another for my cheese, And one for a peny, when as I get any, That nothing I may leese.
5 Now Little John he is a begging gone, Seeking for some relief; But of all the beggers he met on the way, Little John he was the chief.
6 But as he was walking himself alone, Four beggers he chanced to spy, Some deaf, and some blind, and some came behind; Says John, Here’s brave company!
7 ‘Good-morrow,’ said John, ‘my brethren dear, Good fortune I had you to see; Which way do you go? pray let me know, For I want some company.
8 ‘O what is here to do?’ then said Little John, ‘Why rings all these bells?’ said he; ‘What dog is a hanging? come, let us be ganging, That we the truth may see.’
9 ‘Here is no dog a hanging,’ then one of them said, ‘Good fellow, we tell unto thee; But here is one dead wil give us cheese and bred, And it may be one single peny.’
10 ‘We have brethren in London,’ another he said, ‘So have we in Coventry, In Barwick and Dover, and all the world over, But nere a crookt carril like thee.
11 ‘Therefore stand thee back, thou crooked carel, And take that knock on the crown;’ ‘Nay,’ said Little John, ‘I’le not yet be gone, For a bout will I have with you round.
12 ‘Now have at you all,’ then said Little John, ‘If you be so full of your blows; Fight on, all four, and nere give ore, Whether you be friends or foes.’
13 John nipped the dumb, and made him to rore, And the blind that could not see, And he that a cripple had been seven years, He made him run faster then he.
14 And flinging them all against the wall, With many a sturdie bang, It made John sing, to hear the gold ring, Which against the walls cryed twang.
15 Then he got out of the beggers cloak Three hundred pound in gold; ‘Good fortune had I,’ then said Little John, ‘Such a good sight to behold.’
16 But what found he in a beggers bag, But three hundred pound and three? ‘If I drink water while this doth last, Then an ill death may I dye!
17 ‘And my begging-trade I will now give ore, My fortune hath bin so good; Therefore I’le not stay, but I will away To the forrest of merry Sherwood.’
18 And when to the forrest of Sherwood he came, He quickly there did see His master good, bold Robin Hood, And all his company.
19 ‘What news? What news?’ then said Robin Hood, ‘Come, Little John, tell unto me; How hast thou sped with thy beggers trade? For that I fain would see.’
20 ‘No news but good,’ then said Little John, ‘With begging ful wel I have sped; Six hundred and three I have here for thee, In silver and gold so red.’
21 Then Robin took Little John by the hand, And danced about the oak-tree: ‘If we drink water while this doth last, Then an il death may we die!’
22 So to conclude my merry new song, All you that delight it to sing, ’Tis of Robin Hood, that archer good, And how Little John went a begging.
* * * * *
#A.#
Half a page wanting at the beginning, and after 10^3.
3^2. his crest.
4^2. 9.
6^1. 2.
6^2. 3^d.
8^2, 11^3. 3.
9^1. 7.
9^3. had neuer.
10^2. him 2[s :].
#B. a.#
Little John and the Four Beggers: A new merry song of Robin Hood and Little John, shewing how Little John went a begging, and how he fought with Four Beggers, and what a prize he got of the Four Beggers.
The tune is, Robin Hood and the Begger.
Printed for William Gilber[t]son. (1640–63.)
13^4. them for him.
14^4. Whih again.
22^4. beggiug.
#b.#
Title as in #a#.
11^2. on thy.
11^4. I will.
12^3. never.
13^4. made him.
14^4. again.
20^3. Three hundred.
#c.#
Title as in #a#, except: from these four Beggers. To the tune of Robin Hood and the Begger.
Burden: last down wanting.
8^3. a wanting: let’s.
9^2. I for we.
10^1. he wanting.
12^3. never.
13^4. made him: than.
14^4. against.
19^4. I fain would fain.
20^1. then wanting.
20^3. Three hundred.
22^2. it wanting.
#d.#
Title as in #a#, except: Or, a new. To the tune of Robin Hood, &c.
Printed for J. Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger. (1670–86?)
1^2. for wanting.
3^3. sorts.
3^4. then shall I.
4^3. as wanting.
5^{1,4}. he wanting.
7^1. my children.
10^2. in the Country.
13^4. made run then.
14^4. against.
16^1. in the.
17^2. it hath.
18^1. But when.
19^3. with the.
22^2. And you.
143
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP
‘Robin Hood and the Bishop.’ #a.# Wood, 401, leaf 11 b.
#b.# Garland of 1663, No 5.
#c.# Garland of 1670, No 4.
#d.# Pepys, II, 109, No 96.
#e.# Roxburghe, I, 362, in the Ballad Societys reprint, II, 448.
Also Pepys, II, 122, No 107, by Alexander Milbourne (1670–97): Old Ballads, 1723, II, 39.
#a# is printed in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 19. Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 102, apparently follows the Aldermary Churchyard garland.
Robin Hood, while ranging the forest, sees a bishop and all his men coming, and, knowing that if he is taken no mercy will be given him, asks the help of an old woman, to whom he makes himself known. The old woman has had a kindness from him, and wishes to return it. She consents to exchange her gray coat and spindle for his green mantle and arrows, and Robin makes for his band in this disguise. The bishop carries off the old woman on a horse, making no doubt that he has Robin in custody, but, as he proceeds through the wood, sees a hundred bowmen, and asks his prisoner what this may be. I think it be Robin Hood, says the supposed outlaw. “And who are you?” “Why, I am an old woman.” The bishop turns about, but Robin stays him, ties him to a tree, takes five hundred pound from his portmantle, and then is willing he should go. But Little John will not let him off till he has sung a mass; after which the bishop is mounted on his dapple-gray, with his face to the tail, and told to pray for Robin Hood.
This ballad and the following are variations upon the theme of Robin Hood and the Monk, in the Gest. The disguise as a woman occurs in other outlaw stories; as in Eustace the Monk, Michel, p. 43. Also in Blind Harry’s Wallace, ed. Moir, Book I, 239, and Book IV, 764, pp 9, 72: in the first case Wallace has a rock and sits spinning. See also the ballad of Gude Wallace, further on.
We hear again of the forced mass, st. 23, in Robin Hood and Queen Katherine, #A# 31, #B# 40; and of money borrowed against the bishop’s will, in #A# 32 of the same. It is the Bishop of Hereford who suffers: see the ballad which follows.
Translated by Doenniges, p. 203; Anastasius Grün, p. 113.
1 Come, gentlemen all, and listen a while, Hey down down an a down And a story I’le to you unfold; I’le tell you how Robin Hood served the Bishop, When he robbed him of his gold.
2 As it fell out on a sun-shining day, When Phebus was in his prime, Then Robin Hood, that archer good, In mirth would spend some time.
3 And as he walkd the forrest along, Some pastime for to spy, There was he aware of a proud bishop, And all his company.
4 ‘O what shall I do?’ said Robin Hood then, ‘If the Bishop he doth take me, No mercy he’l show unto me, I know, But hanged I shall be.’
5 Then Robin was stout, and turnd him about, And a little house there he did spy; And to an old wife, for to save his life, He loud began for to cry.
6 ‘Why, who art thou?’ said the old woman, ‘Come tell it to me for good:’ ‘I am an out-law, as many do know, My name it is Robin Hood.
7 ‘And yonder’s the Bishop and all his men, And if that I taken be, Then day and night he’l work me spight, And hanged I shall be.’
8 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ said the old wife, ‘As thou dost seem to be, I’le for thee provide, and thee I will hide From the Bishop and his company.
9 ‘For I well remember, one Saturday night Thou bought me both shoos and hose; Therefore I’le provide thy person to hide, And keep thee from thy foes.’
10 ‘Then give me soon thy coat of gray, And take thou my mantle of green; Thy spindle and twine unto me resign, And take thou my arrows so keen.’
11 And when that Robin Hood was so araid, He went straight to his company; With his spindle and twine, he oft lookt behind For the Bishop and his company.
12 ‘O who is yonder,’ quoth Little John, ‘That now comes over the lee? An arrow I will at her let flie, So like an old witch looks she.’
13 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin then, ‘And shoot not thy arrows so keen; I am Robin Hood, thy master good, And quickly it shall be seen.’
14 The Bishop he came to the old womans house, And he called with furious mood, ‘Come let me soon see, and bring unto me, That traitor Robin Hood.’
15 The old woman he set on a milk-white steed, Himselfe on a dapple-gray, And for joy he had got Robin Hood, He went laughing all the way.
16 But as they were riding the forrest along, The Bishop he chanc’d for to see A hundred brave bow-men bold Stand under the green-wood tree.
17 ‘O who is yonder,’ the Bishop then said, ‘That’s ranging within yonder wood?’ ‘Marry,’ says the old woman, ‘I think it to be A man calld Robin Hood.’
18 ‘Why, who art thou,’ the Bishop he said, ‘Which I have here with me?’ ‘Why, I am an old woman, thou cuckoldly bishop; Lift up my leg and see.’
19 ‘Then woe is me,’ the Bishop he said, ‘That ever I saw this day!’ He turnd him about, but Robin so stout Calld him, and bid him stay.
20 Then Robin took hold of the Bishops horse, And ty’d him fast to a tree; Then Little John smil’d his master upon, For joy of that company.
21 Robin Hood took his mantle from’s back, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the Bishops portmantle he Soon told five hundred pound.
22 ‘So now let him go,’ said Robin Hood; Said Little John, That may not be; For I vow and protest he shall sing us a mass Before that he goe from me.
23 Then Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand, And bound him fast to a tree, And made him sing a mass, God wot, To him and his yeomandree.
24 And then they brought him through the wood, And set him on his dapple-gray, And gave the tail within his hand, And bade him for Robin Hood pray.
* * * * *
#a.#
Robin Hood and the Bishop: Shewing how Robin Hood went to an old womans house and changed cloaths with her, to scape from the Bishop; and how he robbed the Bishop of all his gold, and made him sing a mass. To the tune of Robin Hood and the Stranger.
London, Printed for F. Grove on Snow-Hill. (1620–55.)
Burden: sometimes With a hey, etc.; With hey, etc.
2^2. her for his: cf. #b#, #c#.
8^2. doth: cf. #b#, #c#, #d#, #e#.
9^1. on for one: cf. #e#.
16^2. chance.
#b.#
Title as in #a#. Burden: with the same variations as in #a#.
2^2. in his.
5^4. for wanting.
8^1. then said.
8^2. dost.
9^1. on.
14^3. soon wanting.
16^2. chanc’d.
17^1. then wanting.
17^2. yonders.
18^3. cuckoldy.
19^1. to me.
19^3. Robin Hood.
#c.#
Title as in #a#. Burden: always With a hey, etc.
2^2. in his.
4^4. wanting.
5^{3,4}. for wanting.
8^2. dost.
9^1. on.
16^1. long.
16^2. chanced.
17^1. he said.
18^3. cuckoldy.
19^1. to me.
19^3. Robin Hood.
24^4. bid.
#d.#
Title as in #a#, except, escape: robbed him: sing mass.
Burden: With a hey down down and a down.
2^1. of a.
2^2. in her.
2^3. That for Then.
4^4. shall I.
5^4. for wanting.
7^3. my for me.
8^1. old woman.
8^2. dost.
9^1. well wanting: on.
11^1. that wanting: thus for so.
13^1. Robin Hood.
16^2. chanc’d.
18^3. am a woman: cuckoldy.
19^3. Robin Hood.
20^4. of his.
22^1. So wanting.
23^1. by’th.
24^1. And when.
#e.#
Title as in #a#, except, escape: robbed him: sing mass.
London, Printed by and for W. O[nley], etc. (1650–1702.)
Burden: With a hey down down an a down.
1^2. to you I’ll.
1^3. to you.
2^1. of a.
2^2. in her.
2^3. Bold Robin Hood.
3^3. he wanting. (?)
4^1. saith.
4^4. shall I.
5^2. did he.
5^3. for wanting.
5^4. aloud began to.
7^3. my for me.
7^4. shall I.
8^1. then said the old woman.
8^2. dost.
9^1. well wanting: one.
9^2. brought.
10^2. the for my.
11^1. thus for so.
11^3. and wanting.
12^3. at her I will.
13^1. saith.
16^2. chanc’d.
17^4. A wanting.
18^3. am a woman.
19^3. Robin Hood.
19^4. to him.
20^4. of this.
22^1. So wanting.
23^1. by th’.
144
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD
#A. a.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, J. Marshall & Co., Aldermary Churchyard, No 23. #b.# ‘Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford,’ Douce Ballads, III, 123 b, London, C. Sheppard, 1791. #c.# Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 395, from a broadside printed for Daniel Wright, next the Sun Tavern in Holborn. #d.# Robin Hood’s Garland, 1749, No 23.
#B.# E. Cochrane’s Song-Book, p. 149, No 113.
#A a# in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 146, “compared with the York copy,” that is, with two or three slight changes: Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 211. #B#, the Scottish copy, is very likely only an imperfect remembrance of a broadside, but the date of the MS., though this is perhaps not determinable, has been put as early as 1730.
Robin Hood, expecting the Bishop of Hereford to pass near Barnsdale, has a deer killed for his dinner. He dresses himself and six of his men in shepherd’s attire, and when the Bishop approaches they make an ado to attract his attention. The Bishop interrogates them. Robin owns that they mean to make merry with the king’s venison. The Bishop will show them no mercy; they must go before the king with him. Robin summons his band with his horn and it is the Bishop’s turn to cry mercy. Robin will not let him off, but takes him to Barnsdale, and makes him great cheer. The Bishop foresees that there will be a heavy reckoning. Little John searches the Bishop’s portmanteau, and takes out three hundred pound; enough, he says, to make him in charity with the churchman. They make the Bishop dance in his boots, #A#, or sing a mass, #B#, and he is glad to get off so lightly.
The Bishop of Hereford appears in the next ballad, Robin Hood and Queen Katherine. He there tells us that Robin had made him sing a mass out of hours, and had borrowed money of him against his will.
The conclusion of this ballad is to the same effect as that of the preceding, and was probably suggested by the Gest. No copy has been found, in print or writing, earlier than the last century; a fact of no special importance. Whenever written, if written it was, it is far superior to most of the seventeenth century broadsides. Mr Chappell speaks of it as being now (thirty years ago) the most popular of the Robin Hood set.
Translated by Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 493; Anastasius Grün, p. 151; Loève-Veimars, p. 204.
A
#a.# Robin Hood’s Garland, Aldermary Churchyard, No 23. #b.# Douce Ballads, III, 123 b, 1791. #c.# Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 395, from a broadside printed for Daniel Wright, #d.# Robin Hood’s Garland, without place, 1749, No 23, p. 98.
1 Some they will talk of bold Robin Hood, And some of barons bold, But I’ll tell you how he servd the Bishop of Hereford, When he robbd him of his gold.
2 As it befel in merry Barnsdale, And under the green-wood tree, The Bishop of Hereford was to come by, With all his company.
3 ‘Come, kill a venson,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘Come, kill me a good fat deer; The Bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day, And he shall pay well for his cheer.
4 ‘We’ll kill a fat venson,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And dress it by the highway-side; And we will watch the Bishop narrowly, Lest some other way he should ride.’
5 Robin Hood dressd himself in shepherd’s attire, With six of his men also; And, when the Bishop of Hereford came by, They about the fire did go.
6 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said the Bishop, ‘Or for whom do you make this a-do? Or why do you kill the king’s venson, When your company is so few?’
7 ‘We are shepherds,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And we keep sheep all the year, And we are disposed to be merry this day, And to kill of the king’s fat deer.’
8 ‘You are brave fellows!’ said the Bishop, ‘And the king of your doings shall know; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.’
9 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘O pardon, I thee pray! For it becomes not your lordship’s coat To take so many lives away.’
10 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ says the Bishop, ‘No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste, and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.’
11 Then Robin set his back against a tree, And his foot against a thorn, And from underneath his shepherd’s coat He pulld out a bugle-horn.
12 He put the little end to his mouth, And a loud blast did he blow, Till threescore and ten of bold Robin’s men Came running all on a row;
13 All making obeysance to bold Robin Hood; ’Twas a comely sight for to see: ‘What is the matter, master,’ said Little John, ‘That you blow so hastily?’
14 ‘O here is the Bishop of Hereford, And no pardon we shall have:’ ‘Cut off his head, master,’ said Little John, ‘And throw him into his grave.’
15 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said the Bishop, ‘O pardon, I thee pray! For if I had known it had been you, I’d have gone some other way.’
16 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ said Robin Hood, ‘No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For to merry Barnsdale you shall go.’
17 Then Robin he took the Bishop by the hand, And led him to merry Barnsdale; He made him to stay and sup with him that night, And to drink wine, beer, and ale.
18 ‘Call in the reckoning,’ said the Bishop, ‘For methinks it grows wondrous high:’ ‘Lend me your purse, Bishop,’ said Little John, ‘And I’ll tell you bye and bye.’
19 Then Little John took the bishop’s cloak, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the bishop’s portmantua He told three hundred pound.
20 ‘Here’s money enough, master,’ said Little John, ‘And a comely sight ’tis to see; It makes me in charity with the Bishop, Tho he heartily loveth not me.’
21 Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand, And he caused the music to play, And he made the Bishop to dance in his boots, And glad he could so get away.
B
E. Cochrane’s Song-Book, p. 149, No 113.
1 Some talk of lords, and some talk of lairds, And some talk of barrons bold, But I’ll tell you a story of bold Robin Hood, How he robbed the Bishop of his gold.
2 ‘Cause kill us a venison,’ sayes Robin Hood, ‘And we’ll dress it by the high-way side, And we will watch narrowly for the Bishop, Lest some other way he do ride.’
3 ‘Now who is this,’ sayes the Bishop, ‘That makes so boldly here To kill the king’s poor small venison, And so few of his company here?’
4 ‘We are shepherds,’ says Robin Hood, ‘And do keep sheep all the year; And we thought it fit to be merry on a day, And kill one of the king’s fallow deer.’
5 ‘Thou art a bold fellow,’ the Bishop replyes, ‘And your boldness you do show; Make hast, make hast, and go along with me, For the king of your doings shall know.’
6 He leand his back unto a brae, His foot against a thorn, And out from beneath his long shepherds coat He pulled a blowing-horn.
7 He put his horn in to his mouth, And a snell blast he did blow, Till four and twenty of bold Robins men Came riding up all in a row.
8 ‘Come, give us a reckoning,’ says the Bishop, ‘For I think you drink wondrous large:’ ‘Come, give me your purse,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And I will pay all your charge.’
9 He pulled off his long shepherds coat, And he spread it on the ground, And out of the Bishops long trunk-hose, He pulled a hundred pound.
10 ‘O master,’ quoth Litle John, ‘It’s a very bony sight for to see; It makes me to favour the Bishop, Tho in heart he loves not me.’
11 ‘Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood, ‘Come, sing us a mass all anon; Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood, ‘Take a kick in the a—se, and be gone.’
* * * * *
#A. a.#
The Bishop of Hereford’s Entertainment by Robin Hood and Little John, &c., in merry Barnsdale.
8^4. Forr.
18^3. master for Bishop: cf. #b#.
#b.#
London, Published April 7th, 1791, by C. Sheppard, No 19, Lambert Hill, Doctors Commons.
3^3. ’s to.
7^4. to taste.
10^1. said.
11^4. out his.
12^2. he did.
12^3. Robin Hood’s.
13^2. for wanting.
13^3. What’s.
14^2. Says no.
17^1. he wanting.
17^3. him stay and dine with him that day.
18^2. For I think.
18^3. bishop for master.
20^3. me have charity for.
21^3. And wanting: the old.
#c.#
Title as in #a#.
1^1. O some: of brave.
1^3. ye.
1^4. And robbd.
2^1. All under.
3^1. kill me.
3^3. ’s to.
10^1. said.
16^1. said bold.
18^1. in a.
18^3. purse, master.
21^3. the old.
#d.#
Title as in #a#: &c wanting.
1^1. they wanting.
1^3. of Hereford wanting.
1^4. his wanting.
3^1. Hood wanting.
3^3. to-day wanting.
3^4. well wanting.
4^1. kill the vension.
5^1. Hood he.
5^2. And six: men likewise.
5^4. Then for They.
6^1. then wanting.
6^3. of the.
6^4. And your: so small.
7^1. Hood wanting.
9^1. bold wanting.
10^1. said.
10^4. you must.
11^4. out his fine.
12^2. he did.
12^4. marching down in a.
13^3. master wanting.
14^4. into the.
15^4. I would: gone another.
16^1. bold Robin: Hood wanting.
17^1. he wanting.
17^2. And he.
17^3. to wanting.
18^1. in a.
18^2. Methinks it runs.
18^3. master wanting.
19^3. portmantle.
19^4. He took.
20^1. master wanting.
20^2. And it is: ’tis wanting.
21^1. Robin he took.
21^2. he wanting.
21^3. And wanting.
21^4. so wanting.
145
ROBIN HOOD AND QUEEN KATHERINE
#A.# ‘Robin Hoode and Quene Kath[erine],’ Percy MS., p. 15; Hales and Furnivall, I, 37.
#B.# ‘Renowned Robin Hood,’ etc. #a.# Wood, 502, leaf 10. #b.# Roxburghe, I, 356, in the Ballad Society’s reprint, II, 419. #c.# Garland of 1663, No 9. #d.# Garland of 1670, No 8. #e.# Wood, 401, leaf 31 b. #f.# Pepys, II, 103, No 90.
#C.# ‘Robin Hood, Scarlet and John,’ etc., Garland of 1663, No 1.
A copy in Roxburghe, III, 450, printed by L. How, in Petticoat Lane, is of the eighteenth century. In Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 82, “from an old black-letter copy in a private collection, compared with another in that of Anthony a Wood.” In Evans’s Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 149, from an Aldermary garland.
Robin Hood has made Queen Katherine his friend by presenting her with a sum of gold which he had taken from the king’s harbingers. The king has offered a heavy wager that his archers cannot be excelled, and the queen may have her choice of all other bowmen in England. Availing herself of these terms, the queen summons Robin Hood and his men, who are to come to London on St George’s day, under changed names. She hopes to have Robin relieved of his outlawry. The king’s archers lead off, and make three. The ladies think the queen has no chance. She asks Sir Richard Lee, known to us already from the Gest, to be on her side. Sir Richard Lee, we are told, is sprung from Gawain’s blood (#A#, Gower’s, Gowrie’s in other texts), and naturally would deny nothing to a lady. The Bishop of Hereford declines to be of the queen’s party, but stakes a large sum on the king’s men. The queen’s archers shoot, and the game stands three and three; the queen bids the king beware. The third three shall pay for all, says the king. It is now time for the outlaws to do their best. Loxly, as Robin Hood is called, leads off. The particulars of the outlaws’ exploits are wanting in #A#.
In #B#, #C#, Robin’s feat is obscurely described. Clifton, who represents Scarlet (for in #B#, #C#, contrary to older tradition, Scarlet seems to be put before John), cleaves the willow wand, and Midge (Mutch), the Miller’s Son, who, according to #A# 10, is John, is but little behind him.[117] The queen, to assure the safety of her men, begs the boon that the king will not be angry with any of her party, and the king replies, Welcome, friend or foe.
After this there is no occasion for concealment. The Bishop of Hereford, learning who Loxly is, says that Robin is only too old an acquaintance; Robin had once made him say a mass at two in the afternoon, and borrowed money of him which had never been repaid. Robin offers to pay him for the mass by giving half of the gold back. Small thanks, says the bishop, for paying me with my own money. King Henry, quite outstripping even the easiness of Edward in the Gest, says he loves Robin never the worse, and invites him to leave his outlaws and come live at the court, a proposal which is peremptorily rejected. This is a very pleasant ballad, with all the exaggeration, and it is much to be regretted that one half of #A# is lost.
#C# is a piece of regular hack-work, and could not maintain itself in competition with #B#, upon which, perhaps, it was formed. It will be observed that Sir Richard Lee is changed into Sir Robert Lee in #C#, and that the thirty-fourth stanza represents the king as subsequently making Robin Hood Earl of Huntington.
The adventure of the Bishop of Hereford with Robin Hood is the subject of a separate ballad, now found only in a late form: see No 144.
Loxly, the name given to Robin in the present ballad, is, according to the Life in the Sloane MS., a town in Yorkshire, “or after others in Nottinghamshire,” where Robin was born. The ballad of Robin Hood’s Birth, Breeding, etc., following the same tradition, or invention, says “Locksly town in Nottinghamshire.” It appears from Spencer Hall’s Forester’s Offering, London, 1841, that there is a Loxley Chase near Sheffield, in Yorkshire, and a Loxley River too: Gutch, I, 75.
Finsbury field was long a noted place for the practice of archery. In the year 1498, says Stow, all the gardens which had continued time out of mind without Moorgate, to wit, about and beyond the lordship of Fensberry, were destroyed. And of them was made a plain field for archers to shoot in. Survey of London, 1598, p. 351, cited, with other things pertinent, by Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 86 f.
R. H. and the Shepherd, R. H. rescuing Will Stutly, and R. H.’s Delight, are directed to be sung to the tune of R. H. and Queen Katherine, #B#, and may therefore be inferred to be of later date. R. H.’s Progress to Nottingham is to be sung to “Bold Robin Hood,” and as this conjunction of words occurs several times in R. H. and Queen Katherine, and the burden and its disposition, in the Progress to Nottingham, are the same as in R. H. and Queen Katherine, “Bold Robin Hood” may indicate this present ballad. R. H. and Queen Katherine, #C#, is directed to be sung to the tune of The Pinder of Wakefield.
R. H.’s Chase is a sequel to R. H. and Queen Katherine.
Translated by Anastasius Grün, p. 172.
A
Percy MS., p. 15; Hales and Furnivall, I, 37.
1 Now list you, lithe you, gentlemen, A while for a litle space, And I shall tell you how Queene Katterine Gott Robin Hood his grace.
2 Gold taken from the kings harbengers Seldome times hath beene seene, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * *
3 . . . . . . . ‘Queene Katherine, I say to thee;’ ‘That’s a princly wager,’ q_uo_th Queene Katherine, ‘Betweene yo_u_r grace and me.
4 ‘Where must I haue mine archers?’ says Queene Katherine; ‘You haue the flower of archery:’ ‘Now take yo_u_r choice, dame,’ he sayes, ‘Thorow out all England free.
5 ‘Yea from North Wales to Westchester, And also to Couentry; And when you haue chosen the best you can, The wager must goe w_i_th mee.’
6 ‘If that prooue,’ says Queene Katherine, ‘Soone that wilbe tride and knowne; Many a man counts of another mans pursse, And after looseth his owne.’
7 The queene is to her palace gone, To her page thus shee can say: Come hither to me, Dicke Patrinton, Trusty and trew this day.
8 Thou must bring me the names of my archers all, All strangers must they bee, Yea from North Wales to West Chester, And alsoe to Couentrie.
9 Com_m_end me to Robin Hood, says Queene Katherine, And alsoe to Litle John, And specially to Will Scarlett, Ffryar Tucke and Maid Marryan.
10 Robin Hood we must call Loxly, And Little John the Millers sonne; Thus wee then must change their names, They must be strangers euery one.
11 Com_m_end mee to Robin Hood, sayes Queene Katherine, And marke, page, what I say; In London they must be w_i_th me [Vpon S^t Georges day.]
* * * * *
12 . . . . . . . ‘These words hath sent by me; Att London you must be w_i_th her Vpon S^t Georg[e]s day.
13 ‘Vpon S^t Georg[e]s day att noone Att London needs must you bee; Shee wold not misse yo_u_r companie For all the gold in Cristinty.
14 ‘Shee hath tane a shooting for yo_u_r sake, The greatest in Christentie, And her part you must needs take Against her prince, Henery.
15 ‘Shee sends you heere her gay gold ring A trew token for to bee; And, as you are [a] banisht man, Shee trusts to sett you free.’
16 ‘And I loose that wager,’ says bold Robin Hoode, ‘I’le bring mony to pay for me; And wether that I win or loose, On my queenes part I will be.’
17 In som_m_er time when leaues grow greene, And flowers are fresh and gay, Then Ro_bin_ Hood he deckt his men Eche one in braue array.
18 He deckt his men in Lincolne greene, Himselfe in scarlett red; Fayre of theire brest then was it seene When his siluer armes were spread.
19 With hatt_i_s white and fethers blacke, And bowes and arrowes keene, And thus he ietted towards louly London, To p_re_sent Queene Katherine.
20 But when they cam to louly London, They kneeled vpon their knee; Sayes, God you saue, Queene Katherine, And all yo_u_r dignitie!
* * * * *
21 . . . . . . . of my guard,’ Thus can King Henry say, ‘And those that wilbe of Queene Katerines side, They are welcome to me this day.’
22 ‘Then come hither to me, S_i_r Richard Lee, Thou art a knight full good; Well it is knowen ffrom thy pedygree Thou came from Gawiins blood.
23 ‘Come hither, Bishopp of Hereford,’ q_uo_th Queene Katherine— A good preacher I watt was hee— ‘And stand thou heere vpon a odd side, On my side for to bee.’
24 ‘I like not that,’ sayes the bishopp then, ‘By faikine of my body, For if I might haue my owne will, On the kings I wold bee.’
25 ‘What will thou be[t] against vs,’ says Loxly then, ‘And stake it on the ground?’ ‘That will I doe, fine fellow,’ he says, ‘And it drawes to fiue hundreth pound.’
26 ‘There is a bett,’ says Loxly then; ‘Wee’le stake it merrily;’ But Loxly knew full well in his mind And whose that gold shold bee.
27 Then the queenes archers they shot about Till it was three and three; Then the lady’s gaue a merry shout, Sayes, Woodcocke, beware thine eye!
28 ‘Well, gam and gam,’ then q_uo_th our king, ‘The third three payes for all;’ Then Robine rounded w_i_th our queene, Says, The kings p_ar_t shall be small.
29 Loxly puld forth a broad arrowe, He shott it vnder hand, . . . . s vnto . . . . . . . . .
* * * * *
30 . . . . . . . ‘For once he vndidd mee; If I had thought it had beene bold Ro_bin_ Hoode, I wold not haue betted one peny.
31 ‘Is this Ro_bin_ Hood?’ says the bishopp againe; ‘Once I knew him to soone; He made me say a masse against my will, Att two a clocke in the afternoone.
32 ‘He bound me fast vnto a tree, Soe did he my merry men; He borrowed ten pound against my will, But he neuer paid me againe.’
33 ‘What and if I did?’ says bold Ro_bin_ Hood, ‘Of that masse I was full faine; In recompence, befor king and queene Take halfe of thy gold againe.’
34 ‘I thanke thee for nothing,’ says the bishopp, ‘Thy large gift to well is knowne, _Tha_t will borrow a mans mony against his will, And pay him againe w_i_th his owne.’
35 ‘What if he did soe?’ says King Henery, ‘For that I loue him neuer the worsse; Take vp thy gold againe, bold Robin Hood, And put [it] in thy pursse.
36 ‘If thou woldest leaue thy bold outlawes, And come and dwell w_i_th me, Then I wold say thou art welcome, bold Ro_bin_ Hood, The flower of archery.’
37 ‘I will not leaue my bold outlawes For all the gold in Christentie; In merry Sherwood I’le take my end, Vnder my trusty tree.
38 ‘And gett yo_u_r shooters, my leeig[e], where you will, For in faith you shall haue none of me; And when Queene Katherine puts up her f[inger] Att her Graces com_m_andement I’le bee.’
* * * * *
B
#a.# Wood, 402, leaf 10. #b.# Roxburghe, I, 356, in the Ballad Society’s reprint, II, 419. #c.# Garland of 1663, No 9. #d.# Garland of 1670, No 8. #e.# Wood, 401, leaf 31 b. #f.# Pepys, II, 103, No 90.
1 Gold tane from the kings harbengers, Down a down a down As seldome hath been seen, Down a down a down And carried by bold Robin Hood For a present to the queen. Down a down a down
2 ‘If that I live a year to an end,’ Thus gan Queen Katherin say, ‘Bold Robin Hood, I will be thy friend, And all thy yeomen gay.’
3 The queen is to her chamber gone, As fast as she can wen; She cals unto her her lovely page, His name was Richard Patringten.
4 ‘Come hither to mee, thou lovely page, Come thou hither to mee; For thou must post to Notingham, As fast as thou canst dree.
5 ‘And as thou goest to Notingham, Search all those English wood; Enquire of one good yeoman or another That can tell thee of Robin Hood.’
6 Sometimes he went, sometimes hee ran, As fast as he could win; And when hee came to Notingham, There he took up his inne.
7 And when he came to Notingham, And had took up his inne, He calls for a pottle of Renish wine, And drank a health to his queen.
8 There sat a yeoman by his side; ‘Tell mee, sweet page,’ said hee, ‘What is thy business or the cause, So far in the North Country?’
9 ‘This is my business and the cause, Sir, I’le tell it you for good, To inquire of one good yeoman or another To tell mee of Robin Hood.’
10 ‘I’le get my horse betime in the morn, By it be break of day, And I will shew thee bold Robin Hood, And all his yeomen gay.’
11 When that he came at Robin Hoods place, Hee fell down on his knee: ‘Queen Katherine she doth greet you well, She greets you well by mee.
12 ‘She bids you post to fair London court, Not fearing any thing; For there shall be a little sport, And she hath sent you her ring.’
13 Robin took his mantle from his back— It was of the Lincoln green— And sent it by this lovely page, For a present unto the queen.
14 In summer time, when leaves grow green, It is a seemly sight to see How Robin Hood himself had drest, And all his yeomandry.
15 He cloathed his men in Lincoln green, And himself in scarlet red, Black hats, white feathers, all alike; Now bold Robin Hood is rid.
16 And when he came at Londons court, Hee fell downe on his knee: ‘Thou art welcome, Locksly,’ said the queen, ‘And all thy good yeomendree.’
17 The king is into Finsbury field, Marching in battel ray, And after follows bold Robin Hood, And all his yeomen gay.
18 ‘Come hither, Tepus,’ said the king, ‘Bow-bearer after mee, Come measure mee out with this line How long our mark shall be.’
19 ‘What is the wager?’ said the queen, ‘That must I now know here:’ ‘Three hundred tun of Renish wine, Three hundred tun of beer.
20 ‘Three hundred of the fattest harts That run on Dallom lee; That’s a princely wager,’ said the king, ‘That needs must I tell thee.’
21 With that bespake one Clifton then, Full quickly and full soon; ‘Measure no mark for us, most soveraign leige, Wee’l shoot at sun and moon.’
22 ‘Ful fifteen score your mark shall be, Ful fifteen score shall stand;’ ‘I’le lay my bow,’ said Clifton then, ‘I’le cleave the willow wand.’
23 With that the kings archers led about, While it was three and none; With that the ladies began to shout, Madam, your game is gone!
24 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries, ‘I crave on my bare knee; Is there any knight of your privy counsel Of Queen Katherines part will be?
25 ‘Come hither to mee, Sir Richard Lee, Thou art a knight full good; For I do know by thy pedigree Thou springst from Goweres blood.
26 ‘Come hither to me, thou Bishop of Herefordshire’— For a noble priest was he— ‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then, ‘I’le not bet one peny.
27 ‘The king hath archers of his own, Full ready and full light, And these be strangers every one, No man knows what they height.’
28 ‘What wilt thou bet,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thou seest our game the worse?’ ‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then, ‘All the mony within my purse.’
29 ‘What is in thy purse?’ said Robin Hood, ‘Throw it down on the ground;’ ‘Fifteen score nobles,’ said the bishop then, ‘It’s neer an hundred pound.’
30 Robin Hood took his bagge from his side, And threw it down on the green; William Scadlocke went smiling away, ‘I know who this mony must win.’
31 With that the queens archers led about, While it was three and three; With that the ladies gave a shout, ‘Woodcock, beware thyn ee!’
32 ‘It is three and three, now,’ said the king, ‘The next three pays for all;’ Robin Hood went and whispered to the queen, ‘The kings part shall be but small.’
33 Robin Hood he led about, He shot it under hand, And Clifton, with a bearing arrow, He clave the willow wand.
34 And little Midge, the Miller’s son, Hee shot not much the worse; He shot within a finger of the prick; ‘Now, bishop, beware thy purse!’
35 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries, ‘I crave on my bare knee,— That you will angry be with none That is of my party.’
36 ‘They shall have forty days to come, And forty days to go, And three times forty to sport and play; Then welcome friend or fo.’
37 ‘Then thou art welcome, Robin Hood,’ said the queen, ‘And so is Little John, So is Midge, the Miller’s son; Thrice welcome every one.’
38 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the king now said; ‘For it was told to mee That he was slain in the pallace-gate, So far in the North Country.’
39 ‘Is this Robin Hood,’ said the bishop then, ‘As I see well to be? Had I knowne that had been that bold outlaw, I would not have bet one peny.
40 ‘Hee took me late one Saturday at night, And bound mee fast to a tree, And made mee sing a mass, God wot, To him and his yeomendree.’
41 ‘What and if I did?’ says Robin Hood, ‘Of that mass I was full fain; For recompense to thee,’ he says, ‘Here’s half thy gold again.’
42 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ saies Little John, ‘Master, that shall not be; We must give gifts to the kings officers; That gold will serve thee and mee.’
C
The Garland of 1663, No 1.
1 Stout Robin Hood, a most lusty out-law, As ever yet lived in this land, As ever yet lived in this land. His equal I’m sure you never yet saw, So valiant was he of his hand, So valiant was he of his hand.
2 No archers could ever compare with these three, Although from us they are gone; The like was never, nor never will be, To Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.
3 Many stout robberies by these men were done, Within this our kingdom so wide; Vpon the highway much treasure they have won, No one that his purse ere deny’d.
4 Great store of money they from the kings men Couragiously did take away; Vnto fair Queen Katherine they gave it again, Who to them these words did say.
5 If that I live but another fair year, Kind Robin Hood, said the fair queen, The love for this courtesie that I thee bear, Assure thy self it shall be seen.
6 Brave Robin Hood courteously thanked her Grace, And so took his leave of the queen; He with his bold archers then hied him apace, In summer time, to the woods green.
7 ‘Now wend we together, my merry men all, To the green wood to take up our stand:’ These archers were ready at Robin Hoods call, With their bent bows all in their hand.
8 ‘Come, merrily let us now valiantly go With speed unto the green wood, And there let us kill a stout buck or a do, For our master, Robin Hood.’
9 At London must now be a game of shooting, Where archers should try their best skill; It was so commanded by their gracious king; The queen then thought to have her will.
10 Her little foot-page she sent with all speed, To find out stout Robin Hood, Who in the North bravely did live, as we read, With his bow-men in the green wood.
11 When as this young page unto the North came, He staid under a hill at his inn; Within the fair town of sweet Nottingham, He there to enquire did begin.
12 The page then having enquired aright The way unto Robin Hoods place, As soon as the page had obtained of him sight, He told him strange news from her Grace.
13 ‘Her Majestie praies you to haste to the court,’ And therewithall shewd him her ring; We must not delay his swift haste to this sport, Which then was proclaimd by the king.
14 Then Robin Hood hies him with all speed he may, With his fair men attired in green, And towards fair London he then takes his way; His safety lay all on the queen.
15 Now Robin Hood welcome was then to the court, Queen Katharine so did allow; Now listen, my friends, and my song shal report How the queen performed her vow.
16 The king then went marching in state with his peers To Finsbury field most gay, Where Robin Hood follows him, void of all fears, With his lusty brave shooters that day.
17 The king did command that the way should be Straight mete with a line that was good; The answer was made to him presently, By lusty bold Robin Hood.
18 ‘Let there be no mark measured,’ then said he soon; ‘I,’ so said Scarlet and John, ‘For we will shoot to the sun or the moon; We scorn to be outreacht with none.’
19 ‘What shall the wager be?’ then said the queen, ‘Pray tell me before you begin:’ ‘Three hundred tuns of good wine shall be seen, And as much of strong bear for to win.
20 ‘Three hundred of lusty fat bucks, sweet, beside, Shall now be our royal lay:’ Quoth Robin Hood, What ere does betide, I’le bear this brave purchase away.
21 ‘Full fifteenscore,’ saith the king, ‘it shall be;’ Then straight did the bow-men begin, And Robin Hoods side gave them leave certainly A while some credit to win.
22 The royal queen Katharine aloud cried she, Is here no lord, nor yet knight, That will take my part in this bold enmity? Sir Robert Lee, pray do me right.
23 Then to the bold Bishop of Herefordshire Most mildly spoke our good queen; But he straight refused to lay any more, Such ods on their parties were seen.
24 ‘What wilt thou bet, seeing our game is the worse?’ Unto him then said Robin Hood: ‘Why then,’ quoth the bishop, ‘all that’s in my purse;’ Quoth Scarlet, That bargain is good.
25 ‘A hundred good pounds there is in the same,’ The bishop unto him did say; Then said Robin Hood, Now here’s for the game, And to bear this your money away.
26 Then did the kings archer his arrows command Most bravely and with great might, But brave jolly Robin shot under his hand, And then did hit the mark right.
27 And Clifton he then, with his arrow so good, The willow-wood cleaved in two; The Miller’s young son came not short, by the rood, His skill he most bravely did show.
28 Thus Robin Hood and his crew won the rich prize, From all archers that there could be; Then loudly unto the king Queen Katherine cries, Forgive all my company!
29 The king then did say, that for forty daies, Free leave then to come or go, For any man there, though he got the praise, ‘Be he friend,’ quoth he, ‘or be he foe.’
30 Then quoth the queen, Welcome thou art, Robin Hood, And welcome, brave bow-men all three; Then straight quoth the king, I did hear, by the rood, That slain he was in the countrey.
31 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the bishop did say, ‘Is this Robin Hood certainly? He made me to say him mass last Saturday, To him and his bold yeomendry.’
32 ‘Well,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘in requital thereof, Half thy gold I give unto thee;’ ‘Nay, nay,’ then said Little John in a scoff, ‘‘Twill serue us ith’ North Countrey.’
33 Then Robin Hood pardon had straight of the king, And so had they every one; The fame of these days most loudly does ring, Of Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.
34 Great honours to Robin Hood after were done, As stories for certain do say; The king made him Earl of fair Huntington, Whose fame will never decay.
35 Thus have you heard the fame of these men, Good archers they were every one; We never shal see the like shooters again As Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.
* * * * *
#A.#
After 2^2, 11^3, 20^4, 29^3, 38^4, half a page is gone.
2^1. Perhaps harvengers.
5^2. cauentry.
9^3. Perhaps Will_iam_.
After 16: The 2d part.
18^2. hinselfe.
25^4. 500[th :].
27^2, 28^2. 3.
31^4. 2.
32^3. 10[li :].
#B.#
Renowned Robin Hood: or, his famous archery truly related; with the worthy exploits hee acted before Queen Katherine, hee being an outlaw-man; and how shee for the same obtained of the king his own and his fellows pardon. To a new tune.
#a.#
London, Printed for F. Grove, on Snow-hill. Entred according to order. (1620–55.)
16^4. yeomen three: so #b-e#, but yeomendree, the reading of #f#, must be right, since the whole band is present, and only two yeomen besides Robin are distinguished.
23^2, 31^2. While, if preserved, must be taken in the sense of till, which occurs in #f#, 23^2, as in #A#, 27^2.
31^1. the kings: so all. #A#, 27 has queenes, rightly.
31^4. thy knee: so all except #b#, which has thy nee.
35^2. crave that on.
39^4. have wanting: cf. #A# 30, #c#, #f#.
40^4. yeomen three: so all. See 16^4.
#b.#
Printed at London for Francis Grove.
2^2. can.
3^3. unto her lovely.
3^4. Parringten.
4^4. can.
6^3, 7^1. came at.
8^1. sate.
8^4. in this.
10^2. Be it the.
11^1. Hood.
13^3. sent that.
14^2. It’s.
21^3. markes.
23^1. archer.
25^4. sprungst.
31^1. the kings.
31^4. thy nee.
33^3. baring.
33^4. clove.
35^1. cryed.
35^2. crave that on.
38^1. now said the king.
38^2. so told.
38^3. in Pallace gates.
39^4. not bet.
40^4. yeomen three.
41^1. an if.
41^2. full wanting.
#c.#
3^3. unto her lovelie.
5^3, 9^3. or other.
8^1. sate.
9^1. is the.
10^4. yeoman.
16^4. yeomen three.
17^1. gone for field.
20^4. must I needs.
23^3. shoot.
24^4. On for Of.
25^4. sprangst from Gowries.
30^3. Sadlock.
30^4. whose this money must be. 31^1. the kings.
31^4. thy knee.
32^3. to wanting.
35^2. crave that on.
39^4. have bet.
40^1. on for one.
40^4. yeomen three.
#d.#
3^3. unto her lovely.
3^4. Patrington.
13^4. to for unto.
14^4. his wanting.
16^4. yeomen three.
24^4. On for Of.
25^4. sprangst.
31^1. the kings.
31^4. thy knee.
35^2. crave that on.
36^4. welcome every one.
39^1. quoth for said.
39^4. not bet.
40^1. on for one.
40^4. yeomen three.
#e.#
London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere & J. Wright. (1655–80.)
3^4. Patrington.
7^3. calld.
8^1. sate.
8^3. thy cause.
10^1. betimes.
16^4. good wanting: yeomen three.
17^2. gallant ray.
19^2. needs for now.
20^2. runs.
22^3. quoth for said.
31^1. the kings.
31^3. shoot.
31^4. thy knee.
35^2. that wanting.
38^3. the wanting.
39^3. I thought it had.
39^4. not bet.
40^4. yeomen three.
42^2. may not.
#f.#
In the title: being an outlaw man (hee wanting): how he for how shee.
Printed for J. W[right], J. C[larke], W. T[hackeray], and T. Passenger. (1670–86?)
3^3. unto her lovely.
3^4. Parington.
4^1. Come thou: my for thou.
4^3. now for post.
5^2. woods.
6^2. wen.
7^3. bottle.
7^4. drinks.
8^1. sate.
8^3. or thy.
10^1. betimes.
11^1. to for at.
13^2. the wanting.
13^4. to for unto.
14^2. It was.
16^4. thy yeomandree.
17^1. is gone to.
17^2. array.
18^4. must be.
20^4. to the.
23^1. lead.
23^2. Till it.
24^2. crave it.
24^3. ever a for any.
24^4. side for part.
25^4. sprangest.
28^3. then said the bishop.
29^1. in it said.
30^3. Will.
31^1. the kings.
31^4. thy knee.
32^4. part wanting.
35^2. crave it.
35^3. would for will.
36^4. welcome every one.
37^3. And so.
38^1. said now.
39^1. quoth for said.
39^3. it had.
39^4. not a bet.
40^1. on Saturday night.
40^4. yeomen three.
41^1. then says.
42^2. may not.
#C.#
Robin Hood, Scarlet and John: Wherein you may see how Robin Hood, having lived an out-law many years, the Queen sent for him, and shooting a match before the King and Queen at London, and winning the rich prize, the Queen gained his pardon, and he was afterwards Earl of Huntington.
To the tune of The Pinder of Wakefield.
20^3. what or.
26^1. archers.
27^3. yonng.
28^3. Katheline.
30^{1,3}. qd.
146
ROBIN HOOD’S CHASE
#a.# Garland of 1663, No 15.
#b.# Garland of 1670, No 14.
#c.# Wood, 401, leaf 29 b.
#d.# Pepys, II, 104, No 91.
Roxburghe, III, 14, 418; Douce, III, 121 b, London, by L. How, an eighteenth-century copy. #c# is signed T. R., and has no printer’s name.
Reprinted in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 92, from #c#. Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 156, agrees nearly with the Aldermary garland.
Robin Hood’s Chase is a sequel to Robin Hood and Queen Katherine, and begins with a summary of that ballad. King Henry, who has been gracious, and over-gracious, to the outlaw, has a revulsion of feeling after Robin has left his presence, and sets out in pursuit of him. When the king reaches Nottingham, Robin leaves Sherwood for Yorkshire, whence he speeds successively to Newcastle, Berwick, Carlisle, Lancaster, Chester, the king always following him close. At Chester the happy idea occurs to him of going back to London, as if to inquire whether he were wanted. Queen Katherine informs Robin that the king has gone to Sherwood to seek him, and Robin says he will return to the forest immediately to learn the king’s will. King Henry, coming home weary and vexed, is told by his queen that Robin has been there to seek him. A cunning knave, quoth the king. The queen intercedes for Robin.
This is a well-conceived ballad, and only needs to be older.
Translated by A. Grün, p. 169, with omission of stanzas 1–7, 24.
1 Come you gallants all, to you I do call, With a hey down down a down down That now is within this place, For a song I will sing of Henry the king, How he did Robin Hood chase.
2 Queen Katherine she a match then did make, As plainly doth appear, For three hundred tun of good red wine, And three hundred tun of beer.
3 But yet her archers she had to seek, With their bows and arrows so good; But her mind it was bent, with a good intent, To send for bold Robin Hood.
4 But when bold Robin Hood he came there, Queen Katherine she did say, Thou art welcome, Locksley, said the queen, And all thy yeomen gay.
5 For a match at shooting I have made, And thou my part must be: ‘If I miss the mark, be it light or dark, Then hanged I will be.’
6 But when the game came to be playd, Bold Robin he then drew nigh; With his mantle of green, most brave to be seen, He let his arrows fly.
7 And when the game it ended was, Bold Robin wan it with a grace, But after, the king was angry with him, And vowed he would him chase.
8 What though his pardon granted was While he with them did stay, But yet the king was vexed at him When as he was gone his way.
9 Soon after the king from the court did hie, In a furious angry mood, And often enquire, both far and near, After bold Robin Hood.
10 But when the king to Nottingham came, Bold Robin was then in the wood; ‘O come now,’ said he, ‘and let me see Who can find me bold Robin Hood.’
11 But when that Robin Hood he did hear The king had him in chase, Then said Little John, Tis time to be gone, And go to some other place.
12 Then away they went from merry Sherwood, And into Yorkshire he did hie, And the king did follow, with a hoop and a hallow, But could not come him nigh.
13 Yet jolly Robin he passed along, He [went] straight to Newcastle town, And there stayed he hours two or three, And then he for Berwick was gone.
14 When the king he did see how Robin did flee, He was vexed wondrous sore; With a hoop and a hallow he vowed to follow, And take him, or never give ore.
15 ‘Come now, let’s away,’ then cries Little John, ‘Let any man follow that dare; To Carlile wee’l hie with our company, And so then to Lancaster.’
16 From Lancaster then to Chester they went, And so did king Henery; But Robin away, for he durst not stay, For fear of some treachery.
17 Saies Robin, Come, let us to London go, To see our noble queens face; It may be she wants our company, Which makes the king so us chase.
18 When Robin he came Queen Katherine before, He fell upon his knee: ‘If it please your Grace, I am come to this place, To speak with king Henery.’
19 Queen Katherine she answered bold Robin again, The king is gone to merry Sherwood; And when he went he to me did say He would go seek Robin Hood.
20 ‘Then fare you well, my gracious queen, For to Sherwood I will hie apace; For fain would I see what he would with me, If I could but meet with his Grace.’
21 But when King Henery he came home, Full weary, and vexed in mind, When he did hear Robin had been there, He blamed Dame Fortune unkind.
22 ‘You are welcome home,’ Queen Katherine cried, ‘Henry, my soveraign liege; Bold Robin Hood, that archer good, Your person hath been to seek.’
23 But when King Henry he did hear That Robin had been there him to seek, This answer he gave, He’s a cunning knave, For I have sought him this whole three weeks.
24 ‘A boon! a boon!’ Queen Katherine cried, ‘I beg it here on your Grace, To pardon his life, and seek no more strife:’ And so endeth Robin Hoods chase.
* * * * *
#a#, #b#, #c#.
Robin Hood’s Chase: or, A merry progress between Robin Hood and King Henry, shewing how Robin Hood led the King his chase from London to London, and when he had taken his leave of the Queen he returned to merry Sherwood.
To the tune of Robin Hood and the Begger.
#a.#
Burden: variously printed With a hey, etc., With hey, etc.; twice Down a down a down.
5^{2,3}. Robin between the lines, to show that what follows is his speech. So #b#, #c#. In #d# Robin stands at the head of the third line.
21^3. But when: so #b#, #c#.
23^4, 3 weeks.
#b.#
Burden: With hey, etc., or, With a hey, etc.
2^1. she then a match.
3^1. she had her archers.
6^1. game it.
7^2. a wanting.
10^2. then wanting.
11^1. that bold.
13^2. went wanting.
14^4. and for or.
15^1. cry’d.
16^2. good King Henry.
18^4. Henry.
21^3. But when.
23^2. there wanting.
23^4. 3 weeks.
24^2. here on my knee.
#c.#
Signed T. R. No printer.
Burden: With hey down down an a down.
2^4. hundred wanting.
3^3. it wanting.
5^1. of for at.
6^1. it came.
8^3. after for yet.
10^2. then wanting.
13^2. went wanting.
16^2, 18^4, 21^1. Henry.
16^3. to stay.
18^2. fell low.
18^4. For to.
21^3. But when.
22^2. leech.
23^4. 3 weeks.
#d.#
Title as in #a#, #b#, #c#, except: The tune is.
Printed for William Thackeray at the Angel in Duck-Lane. (1689.)
Burden: With hey down down a down.
2^1. then a match did.
3^1. yet she had her archers.
5^1. of for at.
5^2. on my.
5^4. will I.
6^2. he wanting.
7^2. a wanting.
8^4. had for was.
10^2. O bold: then wanting.
10^3. Come said he.
11^1. that bold Robin he.
13^2. And went strait.
13^3. he stayed.
13^4, 14^1. he wanting.
14^4. gave.
15^1. than said Little.
16^2, 18^4, 21^1. Henry.
17^1. for London.
18^2. fell low.
18^4. For to.
19^3. he wanting.
19^4. go to.
20^3. what he’d have.
21^3. And that he.
22^1. You’re.
23^2. there wanting.
23^3. He is a.
23^4. 3 week.
24^2. of your.
147
ROBIN HOOD’S GOLDEN PRIZE
#a.# Wood, 401, leaf 39 b.
#b.# Garland of 1663, No 14.
#c.# Garland of 1670, No 13.
#d.# Pepys, II, 114, No 101.
Also Roxburghe, III, 12, 486; Old Ballads, 1723, II, 121; Douce, III, 121, London, by L. How, of the last century.
Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 97, from #a#, with changes. Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 160, agrees nearly with the Aldermary garland.
Entered, says Ritson, in the Stationers’ book, by Francis Grove, 2d June, 1656.[118] Being directed to be sung to the tune “R. H. was a tall young man,” that is, R. H.’s Progress to Nottingham, this ballad is the later of the two.
Robin Hood, disguised as a friar, asks charity of two priests. They pretend to have been robbed, and not to have a penny. Robin pulls them from their horses, saying, Since you have no money, we will pray for some, and keeps them at their prayers for an hour. Now, he says, we will see what heaven has sent us; but the monks can find nothing in their pockets. We must search one another, Robin says, and beginning the operation finds five hundred pounds on the monks. Of this he gives fifty pounds to each of the priests to pay for their prayers, keeping the remainder. The priests would now move on, but Robin requires three oaths of them, of truth, chastity and charity, before he lets them go.
The kernel of the story is an old tale which we find represented in Pauli’s Schimpf und Ernst, 1533, Österley, p. 397, Anhang, No 14, ‘Wie drey lantzknecht vmb ein zerung batten.’ Three soldiers, out of service, meet the cellarer of a rich Benedictine cloister, who has a bag hanging at his saddle-bow, with four hundred ducats in it. They ask for some money, for God’s sake and good fellowship’s. The cellarer answers that he has no money: there is nothing but letters in his bag. Then, since we all four are without money, they say, we will kneel down and pray for some. After a brief orison, the three jump up, search the bag, and find four hundred ducats. The cellarer offers them a handsome douceur, and says he had the money in the bag before; but to this they will give no credence. They give the monk his share of one hundred, and thank God devoutly for his grace. Retold by Waldis, with a supplement, Esopus, IV, 21, ed. Kurz, II, 64; and by others, see Oesterley’s notes, p. 552, Kurz’s, p. 156.
#a# seems to be signed L. P., and these would most naturally be the initials of the versifier.
Translated by Doenniges, p. 198, by Anastasius Grün, p. 131.
1 I have heard talk of bold Robin Hood, Derry derry down And of brave Little John, Of Fryer Tuck, and Will Scarlet, Loxley, and Maid Marion. Hey down derry derry down
2 But such a tale as this before I think there was never none; For Robin Hood disguised himself, And to the wood is gone.
3 Like to a fryer, bold Robin Hood Was accoutered in his array; With hood, gown, beads and crucifix, He past upon the way.
4 He had not gone [past] miles two or three, But it was his chance to spy Two lusty priests, clad all in black, Come riding gallantly.
5 ‘Benedicete,’ then said Robin Hood, ‘Some pitty on me take; Cross you my hand with a silver groat, For Our dear Ladies sake.
6 ‘For I have been wandring all this day, And nothing could I get; Not so much as one poor cup of drink, Nor bit of bread to eat.’
7 ‘Now, by my holydame,’ the priests repli’d, ‘We never a peny have; For we this morning have been robd, And could no mony save.’
8 ‘I am much afraid,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘That you both do tell a lye; And now before that you go hence, I am resolvd to try.’
9 When as the priests heard him say so, Then they rode away amain; But Robin Hood betook him to his heels, And soon overtook them again.
10 Then Robin Hood laid hold of them both, And pulld them down from their horse: ‘O spare us, fryer!’ the priests cry’d out, ‘On us have some remorse!’
11 ‘You said you had no mony,’ quoth he, ‘Wherefore, without delay, We three will fall down on our knees, And for mony we will pray.’
12 The priests they could not him gainsay, But down they kneeled with speed; ‘Send us, O send us,’ then quoth they, ‘Some mony to serve our need.’
13 The priests did pray with mournful chear, Sometimes their hands did wring, Sometimes they wept and cried aloud, Whilst Robin did merrily sing.
14 When they had been praying an hours space, The priests did still lament; Then quoth bold Robin, Now let’s see What mony heaven hath us sent.
15 We will be sharers now all alike Of the mony that we have; And there is never a one of us That his fellows shall deceive.
16 The priests their hands in their pockets put, But mony would find none: ‘We’l search our selves,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Each other, one by one.’
17 Then Robin Hood took pains to search them both, And he found good store of gold; Five hundred peeces presently Vpon the grass was told.
18 ‘Here is a brave show,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Such store of gold to see, And you shall each one have a part, Cause you prayed so heartily.’
19 He gave them fifty pound a-peece, And the rest for himself did keep; The priests durst not speak one word, But they sighed wondrous deep.
20 With that the priests rose up from their knees, Thinking to have parted so; ‘Nay, stay,’ said Robin Hood, ‘one thing more I have to say ere you go.
21 ‘You shall be sworn,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘Vpon this holy grass, That you will never tell lies again, Which way soever you pass.
22 ‘The second oath that you here must take, All the days of your lives You never shall tempt maids to sin, Nor lye with other mens wives.
23 ‘The last oath you shall take, it is this, Be charitable to the poor; Say you have met with a holy fryer, And I desire no more.’
24 He set them upon their horses again, And away then they did ride; And hee returnd to the merry green-wood, With great joy, mirth and pride.
* * * * *
#a.#
Robin Hoods Golden Prize.
He met two priests upon the way, And forced them with him to pray. For gold they prayed, and gold they had, Enough to make bold Robin glad. His share came to four hundred pound, That then was told upon the ground; Now mark, and you shall hear the jest; You never heard the like exprest.
Tune is, Robin Hood was a tall young man.
London, Printed for F. Grove on Snow-hill. Entred according to order. Finis, L. P. F. Grove’s date, according to Mr Chappell, is 1620–55. Ritson says that the ballad was entered in the Stationers’ book by Francis Grove, 2d June, 1656.
#b.#
Robin Hoods Golden Prize: Shewing how he robbed two priests of five hundred pound. The tune is, Robin Hood was a tall young man.
4^1. gone past.
6^1. all the.
7^1. holy dame: priest.
9^2. Then wanting.
10^1. hold on.
13^1. with a.
15^4. fellow.
17^4. he for was.
18^4. For praying so.
19^1. pounds.
19^3. not to.
23^1. it wanting.
#c.#
Title the same: except, Tune is.
2^4. he is.
4^1. gone past.
7^1. holy dame.
9^2. Then wanting.
10^1. holt of.
13^1. with a.
15^1. now wanting.
15^4. fellow.
17^1. pain: both wanting.
18^3. each one shall.
19^1. pounds.
24^1. upon wanting.
#d.#
Title as in #c#. Printed for William Thackeray at the Angel in Duck-lane. (1689.)
1^1. bold wanting.
2^2. think was never known.
4^1. gone past.
7^1. holy dame.
8^3. before you do go.
9^1. so say.
10^1. hold on.
11^1. you’d: quoth Robin Hood.
12^2. kneel.
13^1. with a.
14^3. let us.
15^1. now wanting.
15^2. the wanting.
15^4. fellow.
16^2. could.
17^1. pain: both wanting.
17^4. he for was.
18^3. each one shall.
19^1. pounds.
19^2. doth for did.
20^1. up wanting.
22^3. unto sin.
23^3. with wanting.
24^1. on for upon.
148
THE NOBLE FISHERMAN, OR, ROBIN HOOD’S PREFERMENT
#a.# Wood, 402, p. 18. #b.# Wood, 401, leaf 25 b. #c.# Garland of 1663, No 12. #d.# Garland of 1670, No 11. #e.# Rawlinson, 566. #f.# Pepys, II, 108, No 95. #g.# Pepys, II, 123, No 108.
Also Roxburghe, II, 370, III, 524; The Noble Fisherman’s Garland, 1686; Bagford, 643. m. 10, 22.
‘The Noble Ffisherman, or, Robin Hoods great Prize’ is receipted for to Francis Coules in the Stationers’ Registers, June 13, 1631: Arber, IV, 254.
Ritson, Robin Hood, II, 110, 1795, “from three old black-letter copies, one in the collection of Anthony a Wood, another in the British Museum, and the third in a private collection.” Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 171, from an Aldermary garland.
Robin Hood is here made to try his fortunes on the sea, like Eustace the Monk and Wallace. He goes to Scarborough and gives himself out as a fisherman, and is engaged as such by a widow with whom he lodges, who is the owner of a ship. Out of his wantonness, rather than his ignorance, we must suppose, Simon, as he calls himself, when others cast baited hooks into the water, casts in bare lines; for which he is laughed to scorn. A French cruiser bears down on the fishermen, and the master gives up all for lost. Simon asks for his bow; not a Frenchman will he spare. The master, not strangely, takes such talk for brag. Simon requests to be tied to a mast, ‘that at his mark he may stand fair,’ and to have his bow in his hand, when never a Frenchman will he spare. He shoots one of the enemy through the heart, and then asks to be loosed and to have his bow in his hand, when, again, never a Frenchman will he spare. The Englishmen board, and find a booty of twelve thousand pound. Simon announces that he shall give half the ship to the dame who employed him, and the other half to his comrades. The master objects; Simon has won the vessel with his own hand (a point which might have been made more distinctly to appear in the narrative), and he shall have her. But the outlaw afloat has still his munificent old ways; so it shall be as to the ship, and the twelve thousand pound shall build an asylum ‘for the opprest’! All this may strike us as infantile, but the ballad was evidently in great favor two hundred years ago.
Translated (not entirely) by A. Grün, p. 295.
1 In summer time, when leaves grow green, When they doe grow both green and long, Of a bould outlaw, calld Robin Hood, It is of him I sing this song.
2 When the lilly leafe and the elephant Doth bud and spring with a merry good cheere, This outlaw was weary of the wood-side, And chasing of the fallow deere.
3 ‘The fishermen brave more mony have Then any merchant, two or three; Therefore I will to Scarborough goe, That I a fisherman brave may be.’
4 This outlaw calld his merry men all, As they sate under the green-wood tree: ‘If any of you have gold to spend, I pray you heartily spend it with me.
5 ‘Now,’ quoth Robin, ‘I’le to Scarborough goe, It seemes to be a very faire day;’ Who tooke up his inne at a widdow-womans house, Hard by upon the water gray.
6 Who asked of him, Where wert thou borne? Or tell to me, where dost thou fare? ‘I am a poore fisherman,’ saith he then, ‘This day intrapped all in care.’
7 ‘What is thy name, thou fine fellow? I pray thee heartily tell to me;’ ‘In mine own country where I was borne, Men called me Simon over the Lee.’
8 ‘Simon, Simon,’ said the good wife, ‘I wish thou maist well brook thy name;’ The outlaw was ware of her courtesie, And rejoycd he had got such a dame.
9 ‘Simon, wilt thou be my man? And good round wages I’le give thee; I have as good a ship of mine owne As any sayle upon the sea.
10 ‘Anchors and planks thou shalt want none, Masts and ropes that are so long;’ ‘And if that you thus furnish me,’ Said Simon, ‘nothing shall goe wrong.’
11 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle, More of a day then two or three; When others cast in their baited hooks, The bare lines into the sea cast he.
12 ‘It will be long,’ said the master then, ‘Ere this great lubber do thrive on the sea; I’le assure you he shall have no part of our fish, For in truth he is of no part worthy.’
13 ‘O woe is me,’ said Simon then, ‘This day that ever I came here! I wish I were in Plomton Parke, In chasing of the fallow deere.
14 ‘For every clowne laughs me to scorne, And they by me set nought at all; If I had them in Plomton Park, I would set as little by them all.’
15 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle, More of a day then two or three; But Simon spied a ship of warre, That sayld towards them most valourously.
16 ‘O woe is me,’ said the master then, ‘This day that ever I was borne! For all our fish we have got to-day Is every bit lost and forlorne.
17 ‘For your French robbers on the sea, They will not spare of us one man, But carry us to the coast of France, And ligge us in the prison strong.’
18 But Simon said, Doe not feare them, Neither, master, take you no care; Give me my bent bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare.
19 ‘Hold thy peace, thou long lubber, For thou art nought but braggs and boast; If I should cast the over-board, There were nothing but a lubber lost.’
20 Simon grew angry at these words, And so angry then was he That he tooke his bent bow in his hand, And to the ship-hatch goe doth he.
21 ‘Master, tye me to the mast,’ saith he, ‘That at my mark I may stand fair, And give me my bended bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare.’
22 He drew his arrow to the very head, And drew it with all might and maine, And straightway, in the twinkling of an eye, Doth the Frenchmans heart the arow gain.
23 The Frenchman fell downe on the ship-hatch, And under the hatches down below; Another Frenchman that him espy’d The dead corps into the sea doth throw.
24 ‘O master, loose me from the mast,’ he said, ‘And for them all take you no care, And give me my bent bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare.’
25 Then streight [they] did board the Frenchmans ship, They lying all dead in their sight; They found within the ship of warre Twelve thousand pound of money bright.
26 ‘The one halfe of the ship,’ said Simon then, ‘I’le give to my dame and children small; The other halfe of the ship I’le bestow On you that are my fellowes all.’
27 But now bespake the master then, For so, Simon, it shall not be; For you have won her with your own hand, And the owner of it you shall bee.
28 ‘It shall be so, as I have said; And, with this gold, for the opprest An habitation I will build, Where they shall live in peace and rest.’
* * * * *
#a.#
The Noble Fisher-man, or, Robin Hoods Preferment: shewing how he won a great prize on the sea, and how he gave the one halfe to his dame and the other to the building of almes-houses.
The tune is, In summer time.
London, Printed for F. Coles, in the Old Baily. (1631?)
3^1. fisher-man, which perhaps should stand.
5^1. with for quoth.
20^4. hatchs.
21^2. fare.
22^4. Frenchman.
23^1. fell owne.
25^2. lyin.
28^2. for thee.
#b.#
Title as in #a#, except: won a prize, gave one half.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson. (1648–63?)
2^1. Clephant.
2^2. good wanting.
3^1. fisherman.
3^3. will I.
5^1. with for quoth.
12^4. of wanting.
14^2. set nothing.
16^3. fish that we have got: to-day wanting.
17^1. For yon.
19^4. There’s but a simple.
20^4. ship-hatch.
21^1. mast he said.
21^2. fare.
21^3. bent.
22^4. Frenchmans.
23^1. downe.
25^1. streight they boarded the French ship.
25^2. lying.
25^4. in mony.
26^3. of my ship I’le give.
26^4. To you.
27^3. hands.
27^4. must be.
28^2. for thee.
#c#, #d#.
Title as in #a#, except: won a prize, gave one.
The tune is, Summer time.
2^2. good wanting.
3^1. fisher men.
3^2. Than.
5^1. Now quoth.
6^2. #c#, thou dost.
6^3. said.
6^4. #d#, cares.
7^4. call.
9^4. sails.
11^2. #d#, than.
12^3. you wanting.
12^4. of wanting.
14^2. set nothing.
15^2. than.
15^4. most wanting.
16^3. fish that we have got: to-day wanting.
17^1. yon: robber.
18^2. you any.
19^4. There’s but a simple.
20^4. shiphatch.
21^1. mast he said.
21^2. fair.
21^3. bent.
21^4. #d#, a wanting.
22^4. Frenchmans.
23^1. down.
24^1. #c#, mast side.
25^1. they boarded the French ship.
25^2. lying.
25^4. in for of.
26^3. of my ship I’le give.
26^4. To you.
27^1. #c#, But wanting.
27^3. hands.
27^4. you must: #d#, of you it.
28^2. for the.
#e.#
Title as in #b#. Variations found also in #b# are not given.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke. (1650–80?)
5^1. Now quoth.
5^4. waters.
6^1. of wanting.
9^4. sails.
15^3. espy’d.
17^4. And lay.
18^2. any for no.
23^3. that him did espy.
#f.#
Title as in #b.#
Printed for Alex. Milbourn, Will. Ownley, Tho. Thackeray at the Angel in Duck-lane. (Date indeterminable: after 1670.)
1^2. doe wanting.
1^4. my song.
2^2. good wanting.
3^1. fishermen.
3^2. merchants.
3^4. fisherman might be.
4^3. If you have any.
5^1. Now quoth Robin Hood.
5^4. waters.
6^1. of wanting.
6^3. said.
7^2. tell it.
7^4. call.
9^2. I will.
9^3. of my.
9^4. sails.
10^1. shalt not want.
10^3. that wanting.
12^3. you wanting.
12^4. of wanting.
14^2. set nothing.
15^3. espyed.
15^4. most wanting.
16^3. fish that we have got.
17^1. robber.
17^4. And lay.
18^2. you any.
19^4. There’s but a simple lubber lost.
20^4. And in.
21^1. saith he wanting.
21^2. fair.
21^3. bent.
22^4. Frenchmans.
23^1. ship-catch: so #g#.
23^2. there below.
25^1. Then they boarded the French: so #g#.
25^4. in for of.
26^3. other part: I’le give.
26^4. To you.
27^3. hands.
27^4. owner thereof you must.
28^2. for the.
#g.#
Title as in #b#.
Printed for I. Wright, I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger. (1670–86?)
Agrees generally with #f#.
17^1. For yon.
149
ROBIN HOOD’S BIRTH, BREEDING, VALOR AND MARRIAGE
#a.# Roxburghe, I, 360, in The Ballad Society’s reprint, II, 440.
#b.# Pepys, II, 116, No 103. #c.# Pepys, II, 118, No 104.
Printed in Dryden’s Miscellany, VI, 346, ed. 1716; A Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, I, 64; Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 1 (#a#); Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 86.
The jocular author of this ballad, who would certainly have been diverted by any one’s supposing him to write under the restraints of tradition, brings Adam Bell, Clim, and Cloudesly into company with Robin Hood’s father. So again the silly Second Part of Adam Bell in one of the copies, that of 1616. Robin Hood’s father’s bow, st. 3, carried two north-country miles and an inch. The son, then, was only half his father, though, in Ritson’s words, “Robin Hood and Little John have frequently shot an arrow a measured mile.”
Robin Hood’s mother was niece to Guy of Warwick, and sister to Gamwel of Gamwel Hall. In Robin Hood newly Revived, Young Gamwel is Robin Hood’s sister’s son. According to this ballad, Robin Hood goes with his mother to keep Christmas with old Gamwell, his uncle, whose seat is forty miles from Locksly town. Little John is a member of the household, a fine lad at gambols and juggling, and twenty such tricks. Robin Hood, however, puts Little John down in this way, and everybody else. His uncle is so much pleased that he tells Robin he shall be his heir, and no more go home. Robin asks the boon that Little John may be his page. All the while, for how long we know not, Robin Hood has had his band of yeomen in Sherwood. Thither he goes (the time is not specified, but birds are singing in st. 50), and while he is collecting his men, Clorinda, queen of the shepherds and archeress, passes, and arrests his attention. The favorable impression which she makes at first sight is confirmed by her presently shooting a deer through side and side. Robin takes her to his bower for a refection, which is served by four-and-twenty yeomen. She inquires his name; he gives it, and asks her to be his bride. After a blush and a pause, Clorinda says, With all my heart, and it is no wonder that Robin proposes to send for a priest immediately. Clorinda is, however, engaged to go to Titbury feast, whither she invites Robin to keep her company. On the way he has an affray with eight yeomen, who bid him hand over the buck which Clorinda had killed, and which he is somehow taking along with him. With Little John’s help, five of the eight are killed; the rest are spared. A bull-baiting is going on at Titbury, which one wonders that a person of Clorinda’s imputed “wisdom and modesty” should care for; but somehow Clorinda throws off her dignity in the 45th stanza. After dinner the parson is sent for, the marriage ceremony is performed, and Robin and Clorinda return to Sherwood.
The author of this ballad (“the most beautiful and one of the oldest extant” of the series, says the editor of the collection of 1723) knew nothing of the Earl of Huntington and Matilda Fitzwater, but represents Robin Hood as the son of a forester. In everything except keeping Robin a yeoman, he writes “as the world were now but to begin, antiquity forgot, custom not known;” but poets in his day, to quote the critic of 1723, “were looked upon like other Englishmen, born to live and write with freedom.”
Concerning the bull-running at Tutbury, or Stutesbury, Staffordshire (a hideously brutal custom, of long standing), a compendium of antiquarian information is given by Gutch, II, 118. Arthur a Bradley, a rollicking ballad of a Merry Wedding, mentioned in stanza 46, is printed by Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 210.
1 Kind gentlemen, will you be patient awhile? Ay, and then you shall hear anon A very good ballad of bold Robin Hood, And of his man, brave Little John.
2 In Locksly town, in Nottinghamshire, In merry sweet Locksly town, There bold Robin Hood he was born and was bred, Bold Robin of famous renown.
3 The father of Robin a forrester was, And he shot in a lusty long bow, Two north country miles and an inch at a shot, As the Pinder of Wakefield does know.
4 For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh, And William a Clowdesle To shoot with our forrester for forty mark, And the forrester beat them all three.
5 His mother was neece to the Coventry knight, Which Warwickshire men call Sir Guy; For he slew the blue bore that hangs up at the gate, Or mine host of The Bull tells a lye.
6 Her brother was Gamwel, of Great Gamwel Hall, And a noble house-keeper was he, Ay, as ever broke bread in sweet Nottinghamshire, And a squire of famous degree.
7 The mother of Robin said to her husband, My honey, my love, and my dear, Let Robin and I ride this morning to Gamwel, To taste of my brothers good cheer.
8 And he said, I grant thee thy boon, gentle Joan, Take one of my horses, I pray; The sun is a rising, and therefore make haste, For to-morrow is Christmas-day.
9 Then Robin Hoods fathers grey gelding was brought, And sadled and bridled was he; God wot, a blew bonnet, his new suit of cloaths, And a cloak that did reach to his knee.
10 She got on her holiday kirtle and gown, They were of a light Lincoln green; The cloath was homespun, but for colour and make It might a beseemed our queen.
11 And then Robin got on his basket-hilt sword, And his dagger on his tother side, And said, My dear mother, let’s haste to be gone, We have forty long miles to ride.
12 When Robin had mounted his gelding so grey, His father, without any trouble, Set her up behind him, and bad her not fear, For his gelding had oft carried double.
13 And when she was settled, they rode to their neighbours, And drank and shook hands with them all; And then Robin gallopt, and never gave ore, Till they lighted at Gamwel Hall.
14 And now you may think the right worshipful squire Was joyful his sister to see; For he kist her and kist her, and swore a great oath, Thou art welcome, kind sister, to me.
15 To-morrow, when mass had been said in the chappel, Six tables were coverd in the hall, And in comes the squire, and makes a short speech, It was, Neighbours, you’re welcome all.
16 But not a man here shall taste my March beer, Till a Christmas carrol he sing: Then all clapt their hands, and they shouted and sung, Till the hall and the parlour did ring.
17 Now mustard and braun, roast beef and plumb pies, Were set upon every table: And noble George Gamwel said, Eat and be merry, And drink too, as long as you’re able.
18 When dinner was ended, his chaplain said grace, And, ‘Be merry, my friends,’ said the squire; ‘It rains, and it blows, but call for more ale, And lay some more wood on the fire.
19 ‘And now call ye Little John hither to me, For Little John is a fine lad At gambols and juggling, and twenty such tricks As shall make you merry and glad.’
20 When Little John came, to gambols they went, Both gentleman, yeoman and clown; And what do you think? Why, as true as I live, Bold Robin Hood put them all down.
21 And now you may think the right worshipful squire Was joyful this sight for to see; For he said, Cousin Robin, thou’st go no more home, But tarry and dwell here with me.
22 Thou shalt have my land when I dye, and till then Thou shalt be the staff of my age; ‘Then grant me my boon, dear uncle,’ said Robin, ‘That Little John may be my page.’
23 And he said, Kind cousin, I grant thee thy boon; With all my heart, so let it be; ‘Then come hither, Little John,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Come hither, my page, unto me.
24 ‘Go fetch me my bow, my longest long bow, And broad arrows, one, two, or three; For when it is fair weather we’ll into Sherwood, Some merry pastime to see.’
25 When Robin Hood came into merry Sherwood, He winded his bugle so clear, And twice five and twenty good yeomen and bold Before Robin Hood did appear.
26 ‘Where are your companions all?’ said Robin Hood, ‘For still I want forty and three;’ Then said a bold yeoman, Lo, yonder they stand, All under a green-wood tree.
27 As that word was spoke, Clorinda came by; The queen of the shepherds was she; And her gown was of velvet as green as the grass, And her buskin did reach to her knee.
28 Her gait it was graceful, her body was straight, And her countenance free from pride; A bow in her hand, and quiver and arrows Hung dangling by her sweet side.
29 Her eye-brows were black, ay, and so was her hair, And her skin was as smooth as glass; Her visage spoke wisdom, and modesty too; Sets with Robin Hood such a lass!
30 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, whither away? O whither, fair lady, away? And she made him answer, To kill a fat buck; For to-morrow is Titbury day.
31 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, wander with me A little to yonder green bower; There sit down to rest you, and you shall be sure Of a brace or a lease in an hour.
32 And as we were going towards the green bower, Two hundred good bucks we espy’d; She chose out the fattest that was in the herd, And she shot him through side and side.
33 ‘By the faith of my body,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘I never saw woman like thee; And comst thou from east, ay, or comst thou from west, Thou needst not beg venison of me.
34 ‘However, along to my bower you shall go, And taste of a forresters meat:’ And when we come thither, we found as good cheer As any man needs for to eat.
35 For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold, Cream clouted, with honey-combs plenty; And the sarvitors they were, beside Little John, Good yeomen at least four and twenty.
36 Clorinda said, Tell me your name, gentle sir; And he said, ’Tis bold Robin Hood: Squire Gamwel’s my uncle, but all my delight Is to dwell in the merry Sherwood.
37 For ’tis a fine life, and ’tis void of all strife. ‘So ’tis, sir,’ Clorinda reply’d; ‘But oh,’ said bold Robin, ‘how sweet would it be, If Clorinda would be my bride!’
38 She blusht at the motion; yet, after a pause Said, Yes, sir, and with all my heart; ‘Then let’s send for a priest,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And be married before we do part.’
39 But she said, It may not be so, gentle sir, For I must be at Titbury feast; And if Robin Hood will go thither with me, I’ll make him the most welcome guest.
40 Said Robin Hood, Reach me that buck, Little John, For I’ll go along with my dear; Go bid my yeomen kill six brace of bucks, And meet me to-morrow just here.
41 Before we had ridden five Staffordshire miles, Eight yeomen, that were too bold, Bid Robin Hood stand, and deliver his buck; A truer tale never was told.
42 ‘I will not, faith!’ said bold Robin: ‘come, John, Stand to me, and we’ll beat em all:’ Then both drew their swords, an so cut em and slasht em That five of them did fall.
43 The three that remaind calld to Robin for quarter, And pitiful John beggd their lives; When John’s boon was granted, he gave them good counsel, And so sent them home to their wives.
44 This battle was fought near to Titbury town, When the bagpipes bated the bull; I am king of the fidlers, and sware ’tis a truth, And I call him that doubts it a gull.
45 For I saw them fighting, and fidld the while, And Clorinda sung, Hey derry down! The bumpkins are beaten, put up thy sword, Bob, And now let’s dance into the town.
46 Before we came to it, we heard a strange shouting, And all that were in it lookd madly; For some were a bull-back, some dancing a morris, And some singing Arthur-a-Bradly.
47 And there we see Thomas, our justices clerk, And Mary, to whom he was kind; For Tom rode before her, and calld Mary, Madam, And kist her full sweetly behind.
48 And so may your worships. But we went to dinner, With Thomas and Mary and Nan; They all drank a health to Clorinda, and told her Bold Robin Hood was a fine man.
49 When dinner was ended, Sir Roger, the parson Of Dubbridge, was sent for in haste; He brought his mass-book, and he bade them take hands, And he joynd them in marriage full fast.
50 And then, as bold Robin Hood and his sweet bride Went hand in hand to the green bower, The birds sung with pleasure in merry Sherwood, And ’twas a most joyful hour.
51 And when Robin came in the sight of the bower, ‘Where are my yeomen?’ said he; And Little John answered, Lo, yonder they stand, All under the green-wood tree.
52 Then a garland they brought her, by two and by two, And plac’d them upon the bride’s head; The music struck up, and we all fell to dance, Till the bride and the groom were a-bed.
53 And what they did there must be counsel to me, Because they lay long the next day, And I had haste home, but I got a good piece Of the bride-cake, and so came away.
54 Now out, alas! I had forgotten to tell ye That marryd they were with a ring; And, so will Nan Knight, or be buried a maiden, And now let us pray for the king:
55 That he may get children, and they may get more, To govern and do us some good; And then I’ll make ballads in Robin Hood’s bower, And sing em in merry Sherwood.
* * * * *
#a.#
A new ballad of bold Robin Hood, shewing his Birth, Breeding, Valour and Marriage, at Titbury Bull-running: calculated for the meridian of Staffordshire, but may serve for Derbyshire or Kent.
London, Printed by and for W. O[nley], and are to be sold by the booksellers. (1650–1702.)
15^1. Morrow.
16^2. be sung.
17^1. mustards, braun: cf. #b#.
20^2. gentlemen, yeomen: cf. #b#.
30^2. Oh.
38^4. be merry: cf. #b#.
40^3. Go wanting: cf. #b#.
43^3. good wanting: cf. #b#.
52^1. the brought.
52^2. them at the bride’s bed: cf. #b#.
#b.#
A proper new ballad of bold Robin Hood, shewing his Birth, his Breeding, his Valour, etc., as above.
To a pleasant new northern tune.
Printed for I. Wright, I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger. (1670–86?)
1^2, 6^3, 29^1, 33^3. I for Ay.
2^1. And, by mistake, for In: in merry Nottinghamshire.
3^3. shoot.
4^4. beat um.
5^3. at that.
9^3. Got on his.
13^1. And wanting.
13^2. drunk.
13^4. at great.
15^1. To-morrow.
15^2. ith hall.
15^4. y’are.
16^2. be sung.
17^1. mustard and braun.
17^4. y’are.
18^1. this for his.
19^4. you both.
20^2. gentleman, yeoman.
21^4. here wanting.
24^1. Go and fetch my bow.
24^2. and for or.
24^3. ’tis.
26^4. the for a.
27^4. buskins.
28^3. quiver of.
30^2. O.
30^3. him an.
30^4. Tilbery.
34^3. came.
38^3. let us.
38^4. be married.
40^3. Go bid.
41^2. Six for Eight: too too.
42^2. beat um.
42^3. slasht um.
42^4. of the six.
43^3. good counsel.
45^3. Rob.
46^1. came in we.
51^1. in sight.
51^4. a for the.
52^1. they.
52^2. upon the bride’s head.
55^4. sing um.
#c.#
Printed by and for Alex. Milbourn, at the Stationers-Arms, in Green-Arbor-Court, in the Little-Old-Baily. (1670–97.) Compared only here and there.
9^1. God wot his.
30^4. Tilbury.
41^2. Eight: too too.
42^4. of the eight.
45^3. Bob.
150
ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN
Wood, 401, leaf 21 b.
Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 157, from Wood’s copy. In none of the garlands.
The Earl of Huntington, alias Robin Hood, is forced by fortune’s spite to part from his love Marian, and take to the green wood. Marian dresses herself “like a page,” and, armed with bow, sword, and buckler, goes in quest of Robin. Both being disguised, neither recognizes the other until they have had an hour at swords, when Robin Hood, who has lost some blood, calls to his antagonist to give over and join his band. Marian knows his voice, and discovers herself. A banquet follows, and Marian remains in the wood.
Though Maid Marian and Robin Hood had perhaps been paired in popular sports, no one thought of putting more of her than her name into a ballad, until one S. S. (so the broadside is signed) composed this foolish ditty. The bare name of Maid Marian occurs in No 145 #A#, 9^4 and in No 147, 1^4.
Even in Barclay’s fourth eclogue, written not long after 1500, where, according to Ritson,[119] the earliest notice of Maid Marian occurs, and where, he says, “she is evidently connected with Robin Hood,” the two are really kept distinct; for the lusty Codrus in that eclogue wishes to hear “some mery fit of Maide Marion, or els of Robin Hood.”
In Munday’s play of The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, Matilda, otherwise Marian, daughter to Lord Lacy, accompanies Earl Robert to Sherwood, upon his being outlawed for debt the very day of their troth-plight. There she lives a spotless maiden, awaiting the time when the outlawry shall be repealed and Robin may legally take her to wife. Neither the author of the play nor that of the ballad was, so far as is known, repeating any popular tradition.
The ordinary partner of Maid Marian is Friar Tuck, not Robin Hood. There is no ground for supposing that there ever were songs or tales about the Maid and Friar, notwithstanding what is cursorily said by one of the characters in Peele’s Edward I:
Why so, I see, my mates, of old All were not lies that beldames told Of Robin Hood and Little John, Friar Tuck and Maid Marian.
ed. Dyce, I, 133.
Translated by Anastasius Grün, p. 72, Loève-Veimars, p. 208.
1 A Bonny fine maid of a noble degree, With a hey down down a down down Maid Marian calld by name, Did live in the North, of excellent worth, For she was a gallant dame.
2 For favour and face, and beauty most rare, Queen Hellen shee did excell; For Marian then was praisd of all men That did in the country dwell.
3 ’Twas neither Rosamond nor Jane Shore, Whose beauty was clear and bright, That could surpass this country lass, Beloved of lord and knight.
4 The Earl of Huntington, nobly born, That came of noble blood, To Marian went, with a good intent, By the name of Robin Hood.
5 With kisses sweet their red lips meet, For shee and the earl did agree; In every place, they kindly imbrace, With love and sweet unity.
6 But fortune bearing these lovers a spight, That soon they were forced to part, To the merry green wood then went Robin Hood, With a sad and sorrowfull heart.
7 And Marian, poor soul, was troubled in mind, For the absence of her friend; With finger in eye, shee often did cry, And his person did much comend.
8 Perplexed and vexed, and troubled in mind, Shee drest her self like a page, And ranged the wood to find Robin Hood, The bravest of men in that age.
9 With quiver and bow, sword, buckler, and all, Thus armed was Marian most bold, Still wandering about to find Robin out, Whose person was better then gold.
10 But Robin Hood, hee himself had disguisd, And Marian was strangly attir’d, That they provd foes, and so fell to blowes, Whose vallour bold Robin admir’d.
11 They drew out their swords, and to cutting they went, At least an hour or more, That the blood ran apace from bold Robins face, And Marian was wounded sore.
12 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And thou shalt be one of my string, To range in the wood with bold Robin Hood, To hear the sweet nightingall sing.’
13 When Marian did hear the voice of her love, Her self shee did quickly discover, And with kisses sweet she did him greet, Like to a most loyall lover.
14 When bold Robin Hood his Marian did see, Good lord, what clipping was there! With kind imbraces, and jobbing of faces, Providing of gallant cheer.
15 For Little John took his bow in his hand, And wandring in the wood, To kill the deer, and make good chear, For Marian and Robin Hood.
16 A stately banquet the[y] had full soon, All in a shaded bower, Where venison sweet they had to eat, And were merry that present hour.
17 Great flaggons of wine were set on the board, And merrily they drunk round Their boules of sack, to strengthen the back, Whilst their knees did touch the ground.
18 First Robin Hood began a health To Marian his onely dear, And his yeomen all, both comly and tall, Did quickly bring up the rear.
19 For in a brave veine they tost off the[ir] bouls, Whilst thus they did remain, And every cup, as they drunk up, They filled with speed again.
20 At last they ended their merryment, And went to walk in the wood, Where Little John and Maid Marian Attended on bold Robin Hood.
21 In sollid content together they livd, With all their yeomen gay; They livd by their hands, without any lands, And so they did many a day.
22 But now to conclude, an end I will make In time, as I think it good, For the people that dwell in the North can tell Of Marian and bold Robin Hood.
* * * * *
A Famous Battle between Robin Hood and Maid Marian, declaring their Love, Life, and Liberty. Tune, Robin Hood Reviv’d.
No printer: black-letter. S. S. at the end.
11^1. out rheir.
19^1. vente.
21^3. there: wirhout.
A MS. copy in Percy’s papers has in 16^1 he had, and in 19^1, in a brave venie they tost off their bowles. It is barely possible that venie, which Ritson prints, may be right.
151
THE KING’S DISGUISE, AND FRIENDSHIP WITH ROBIN HOOD
#a.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, W. & C. Dicey, in St Mary Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane, Cheapside, n. d. (but not older than 1753), p. 76, No 25. #b.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, Printed by L. How, in Peticoat Lane, n. d. #c.# ‘The King’s Disguise and True Friendship with Robin Hood,’ London, Printed by L. How, in Petticoat Lane, Douce Ballads, III, 113 b (not black letter). #d.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, R. Marshall, in Aldermary Church-Yard, Bow-Lane, n. d., p. 80, No 25.
Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 162, “from the common collection of Aldermary Church Yard;” Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 218; Gutch, Robin Hood, II, 281, Ritson’s copy “compared with one in the York edition.”
The ballad is not found in a garland of 1749; but this garland has only twenty-four pieces.
The story, as far as st. 38, is a loose paraphrase, with omissions, of the seventh and eighth fits of the Gest, and seems, like the two which here follow it, “to have been written by some miserable retainer to the press, merely to eke out the book; being, in fact, a most contemptible performance:” Ritson.
12^1 may have been borrowed from Martin Parker’s True Tale, No 154, 15^1. By the clergyman who was first Robin Hood’s bane, 29^1, is meant the prior of York, who in Munday’s play, The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, procures his outlawry. The forcing of the sheriff to give the king a supper may be the beggarly author’s own invention. The last two lines are intended to serve as a link with Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight, which, however, does not immediately succeed in the garlands, Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow being interposed.
Translated by Doenniges, p. 185; A. Grün, p. 159; Loève-Veimars, p. 212.
1 King Richard hearing of the pranks Of Robin Hood and his men, He much admir’d, and more desir’d, To see both him and them.
2 Then with a dozen of his lords To Nottingham he rode; When he came there, he made good cheer, And took up his abode.
3 He having staid there some time, But had no hopes to speed, He and his lords, with [free] accord, All put on monk’s weeds.
4 From Fountain-abby they did ride, Down to Barnsdale; Where Robin Hood preparëd stood All company to assail.
5 The king was higher then the rest, And Robin thought he had An abbot been whom he did spleen; To rob him he was glad.
6 He took the king’s horse by the head, ‘Abbot,’ says he, ‘abide; I am bound to rue such knaves as you, That live in pomp and pride.’
7 ‘But we are messengers from the king,’ The king himself did say; ‘Near to this place his royal Grace To speak with thee does stay.’
8 ‘God save the king,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And all that wish him well; He that does deny his sovereignty, I wish he was in hell.’
9 ‘O thyself thou curses,’ says the king, ‘For thou a traitor art:’ ‘Nay, but that you are his messenger, I swear you lie in heart.
10 ‘For I never yet hurt any man That honest is and true; But those that give their minds to live Upon other men’s due.
11 ‘I never hurt the husbandman, That use to till the ground; Nor spill their blood that range the wood To follow hawk or hound.
12 ‘My chiefest spite to clergy is, Who in these days bear a great sway; With fryars and monks, with their fine sprunks, I make my chiefest prey.
13 ‘But I am very glad,’ says Robin Hood, ‘That I have met you here; Come, before we end, you shall, my friend, Taste of our green-wood cheer.’
14 The king did then marvel much, And so did all his men; They thought with fear, what kind of cheer Robin would provide for them.
15 Robin took the king’s horse by the head, And led him to the tent; ‘Thou would not be so usd,’ quoth he, ‘But that my king thee sent.
16 ‘Nay, more than that,’ said Robin Hood, ‘For good king Richard’s sake, If you had as much gold as ever I told, I would not one penny take.’
17 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, And a loud blast he did blow, Till a hundred and ten of Robin Hood’s men Came marching all of a row.
18 And when they came bold Robin before, Each man did bend his knee; ‘O,’ thought the king, ‘’tis a gallant thing, And a seemly sight to see.’
19 Within himself the king did say, These men of Robin Hood’s More humble be than mine to me; So the court may learn of the woods.
20 So then they all to dinner went, Upon a carpet green; Black, yellow, red, finely minglëd, Most curious to be seen.
21 Venison and fowls were plenty there, With fish out of the river: King Richard swore, on sea or shore, He neer was feasted better.
22 Then Robin takes a can of ale: ‘Come, let us now begin; Come, every man shall have his can; Here’s a health unto the king.’
23 The king himself drank to the king, So round about it went; Two barrels of ale, both stout and stale, To pledge that health were spent.
24 And after that, a bowl of wine In his hand took Robin Hood; ‘Until I die, I’ll drink wine,’ said he, ‘While I live in the green-wood.
25 ‘Bend all your bows,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And with the grey goose wing Such sport now shew as you would do In the presence of the king.’
26 They shewd such brave archery, By cleaving sticks and wands, That the king did say, Such men as they Live not in many lands.
27 ‘Well, Robin Hood,’ then says the king, ‘If I could thy pardon get, To serve the king in every thing Wouldst thou thy mind firm set?’
28 ‘Yes, with all my heart,’ bold Robin said, So they flung off their hoods; To serve the king in every thing, They swore they would spend their bloods.
29 ‘For a clergyman was first my bane, Which makes me hate them all; But if you’ll be so kind to me, Love them again I shall.’
30 The king no longer could forbear, For he was movd with ruth; [‘Robin,’ said he, ‘I now tell thee The very naked truth.]
31 ‘I am the king, thy sovereign king, That appears before you all;’ When Robin see that it was he, Strait then he down did fall.
32 ‘Stand up again,’ then said the king, ‘I’ll thee thy pardon give; Stand up, my friend; who can contend, When I give leave to live?’
33 So they are all gone to Nottingham, All shouting as they came; But when the people them did see, They thought the king was slain,
34 And for that cause the outlaws were come, To rule all as they list; And for to shun, which way to run The people did not wist.
35 The plowman left the plow in the fields, The smith ran from his shop; Old folks also, that scarce could go, Over their sticks did hop.
36 The king soon let them understand He had been in the green wood, And from that day, for evermore, He’d forgiven Robin Hood.
37 When the people they did hear, And the truth was known, They all did sing, ‘God save the king! Hang care, the town’s our own!’
38 ‘What’s that Robin Hood?’ then said the sheriff; ‘That varlet I do hate; Both me and mine he causd to dine, And servd us all with one plate.’
39 ‘Ho, ho,’ said Robin, ‘I know what you mean; Come, take your gold again; Be friends with me, and I with thee, And so with every man.
40 ‘Now, master sheriff, you are paid, And since you are beginner, As well as you give me my due; For you neer paid for that dinner.
41 ‘But if that it should please the king So much your house to grace To sup with you, for to speak true, [I] know you neer was base.’
42 The sheriff could not [that] gain say, For a trick was put upon him; A supper was drest, the king was guest, But he thought ’twould have undone him.
43 They are all gone to London court, Robin Hood, with all his train; He once was there a noble peer, And now he’s there again.
44 Many such pranks brave Robin playd While he lived in the green wood: Now, my friends, attend, and hear an end Of honest Robin Hood.
* * * * *
The King’s Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood.
To a Northern Tune.
#a.#
9^1. thyself, thyself.
9^3. yon.
28^4. spent.
29^1. ban.
30^2. with truth.
30^{3,4}. Supplied from R. H.’s Garland, York, Thomas Wilson & Son, 1811.
#b#, #c#.
3^3. with free.
6^1. #c#, livd.
9^1. O thyself thou.
13^1. said.
14^3. that kind.
18^1. bold wanting.
21^1. was.
23^4. was.
26^4. #c#, Lived.
27^2. I [s]hould.
27^4. would.
28^2. they wanting.
28^4. they’d.
29^1. ban.
30^2. with truth.
30^{3,4}. wanting.
33^1. #c#, they’re.
34^1. was.
35^1. his plow: field.
36^4. #b#, Ha’d: #c#, Had.
37^2. And that.
38^4. #b#, with plate: #c#, in plate.
40^2. are the.
41^1. #c#, it wanting.
41^4. #b#, I wanting: #c#, I know.
42^1. that gain say.
42^4. it would undone.
43^1. They’re.
#d.#
3^3. with one.
5^3. he had seen.
6^4. lives.
9^1. Thyself thou cursest said.
10^3. who give.
14^1. king he then did.
16^1. quoth for said.
21^4. never.
22^3. And every.
23^4. was spent.
28^4. blood.
29^1. bane.
30^2. with truth.
30^{3,4}. wanting.
31^3. saw for see.
36^1. did let.
37^1. Then.
41^4. I wanting.
42^1. that wanting.
42^4. a guest.
152
ROBIN HOOD AND THE GOLDEN ARROW
#a.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, W. and C. Dicey, St Mary Aldermary Church-yard, Bow-Lane, n. d., p. 80, No 26. #b.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, R. Marshall, in Aldermary Church-yard, Bow-Lane, n. d., p. 84, No 26. #c.# Robin Hood’s Garland, Preston, Printed and sold by W. Sergent, n. d.
Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 226, and Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 171, from an Aldermary garland. Gutch, II, 289, from Ritson, “compared with the York edition.”
The ballad is not found in a garland of 1749.
The first twenty-three stanzas are based upon The Gest, sts 282–95. The remainder is mostly taken up with John’s astute device for sending information to the sheriff. The two concluding lines are for connection with R. H. and the Valiant Knight, which follows in some garlands, as here.
According to Martin Parker’s True Tale, Robin Hood shot a letter addressed to the king into Nottingham, on an arrow-head, offering to submit upon terms: sts 78–81. Two cases of a message shot on an arrow are cited by Rochholz, Tell u. Gessler in Sage u. Geschichte, p. 28 and note.
Translated by A. Grün, p. 140.
1 When as the sheriff of Nottingham Was come, with mickle grief, He talkd no good of Robin Hood, That strong and sturdy thief. Fal lal dal de
2 So unto London-road he past, His losses to unfold To King Richard, who did regard The tale that he had told.
3 ‘Why,’ quoth the king, ‘what shall I do? Art thou not sheriff for me? The law is in force, go take thy course Of them that injure thee.
4 ‘Go get thee gone, and by thyself Devise some tricking game For to enthral yon rebels all; Go take thy course with them.’
5 So away the sheriff he returnd, And by the way he thought Of the words of the king, and how the thing To pass might well be brought.
6 For within his mind he imagined That when such matches were, Those outlaws stout, without [all] doubt, Would be the bowmen there.
7 So an arrow with a golden head And shaft of silver white, Who won the day should bear away For his own proper right.
8 Tidings came to brave Robin Hood, Under the green-wood tree: ‘Come prepare you then, my merry men, We’ll go yon sport to see.’
9 With that stept forth a brave young man, David of Doncaster: ‘Master,’ said he, ‘be ruld by me, From the green-wood we’ll not stir.
10 ‘To tell the truth, I’m well informed Yon match is a wile; The sheriff, I wiss, devises this Us archers to beguile.’
11 ‘O thou smells of a coward,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thy words does not please me; Come on’t what will, I’ll try my skill At yon brave archery.’
12 O then bespoke brave Little John: Come, let us thither gang; Come listen to me, how it shall be That we need not be kend.
13 Our mantles, all of Lincoln green, Behind us we will leave; We’ll dress us all so several They shall not us perceive.
14 One shall wear white, another red, One yellow, another blue; Thus in disguise, to the exercise We’ll gang, whateer ensue.
15 Forth from the green-wood they are gone, With hearts all firm and stout, Resolving [then] with the sheriff’s men To have a hearty bout.
16 So themselves they mixed with the rest, To prevent all suspicion; For if they should together hold They thought [it] no discretion.
17 So the sheriff looking round about, Amongst eight hundred men, But could not see the sight that he Had long expected then.
18 Some said, If Robin Hood was here, And all his men to boot, Sure none of them could pass these men, So bravely they do shoot.
19 ‘Ay,’ quoth the sheriff, and scratchd his head, ‘I thought he would have been here; I thought he would, but, tho he’s bold, He durst not now appear.’
20 O that word grieved Robin Hood to the heart; He vexëd in his blood; Eer long, thought he, thou shalt well see That here was Robin Hood.
21 Some cried, Blue jacket! another cried, Brown! And the third cried, Brave Yellow! But the fourth man said, Yon man in red In this place has no fellow.
22 For that was Robin Hood himself, For he was cloathd in red; At every shot the prize he got, For he was both sure and dead.
23 So the arrow with the golden head And shaft of silver white Brave Robin Hood won, and bore with him For his own proper right.
24 These outlaws there, that very day, To shun all kind of doubt, By three or four, no less no more, As they went in came out.
25 Until they all assembled were Under the green-wood shade, Where they report, in pleasant sport, What brave pastime they made.
26 Says Robin Hood, All my care is, How that yon sheriff may Know certainly that it was I That bore his arrow away.
27 Says Little John, My counsel good Did take effect before, So therefore now, if you’ll allow, I will advise once more.
28 ‘Speak on, speak on,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thy wit’s both quick and sound; [I know no man amongst us can For wit like thee be found.’]
29 ‘This I advise,’ said Little John; ‘That a letter shall be pend, And when it is done, to Nottingham You to the sheriff shall send.’
30 ‘That is well advised,’ said Robin Hood, ‘But how must it be sent?’ ‘Pugh! when you please, it’s done with ease, Master, be you content.
31 ‘I’ll stick it on my arrow’s head, And shoot it into the town; The mark shall show where it must go, When ever it lights down.’
32 The project it was full performd; The sheriff that letter had; Which when he read, he scratchd his head, And rav’d like one that’s mad.
33 So we’ll leave him chafing in his grease, Which will do him no good; Now, my friends, attend, and hear the end Of honest Robin Hood.
* * * * *
#a.#
12^2. hither.
25^3. relate for report.
28^{3,4}. supplied from R. H.’s Garland, York, Thomas Wilson & Son, 1811.
#b#, #c#.
3^3. to take.
6^3. without all.
10^1. the wanting.
10^2. it is.
11^1. O wanting.
11^2. do not.
12^2. thither.
14^3. in the.
15^3. then wanting.
16^4. thought it.
17^4. suspected.
19^3. #c#, but wanting.
21^2. a third.
22^1. #c#, bold Robin.
24^2. kinds.
24^3. nor more.
25^3. relate.
28^{3,4}. wanting.
31^3. must show.
32^1. well for full.
33^1. in the.
153
ROBIN HOOD AND THE VALIANT KNIGHT
#a.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, C. Dicey, Bow Church Yard, n. d., but before 1741, p. 88, Bodleian Library, Douce H H, 88. #b.# Robin Hood’s Garland, 1749, without place or printer, p. 101, No 24. #c.# Robin Hood’s Garland, London, R. Marshall, in Aldermary Church-Yard, Bow-Lane, n. d., p. 87, No 27.
Evans, Old Ballads, 1777, 1784, I, 232, from an Aldermary garland; Ritson, Robin Hood, 1795, II, 178, from an Aldermary garland, corrected by a York copy.
Written, perhaps, because it was thought that authority should in the end be vindicated against outlaws, which may explain why this piece surpasses in platitude everything that goes before.
Translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 219.
1 When Robin Hood, and his merry men all, Derry, etc. Had reigned many years, The king was then told they had been too bold To his bishops and noble peers. Hey, etc.
2 Therefore they called a council of state, To know what was best to be done For to quell their pride, or else, they reply’d, The land would be over-run.
3 Having consulted a whole summers day, At length it was agreed That one should be sent to try the event, And fetch him away with speed.
4 Therefore a trusty and worthy knight The king was pleasd to call, Sir William by name; when to him he came, He told him his pleasure all.
5 ‘Go you from hence to bold Robin Hood, And bid him, without more a-do, Surrender himself, or else the proud elf Shall suffer with all his crew.
6 ‘Take here a hundred bowmen brave, All chosen men of might, Of excellent art for to take thy part, In glittering armour bright.’
7 Then said the knight, My sovereign liege, By me they shall be led; I’ll venture my blood against bold Robin Hood, And bring him alive or dead.
8 One hundred men were chosen straight, As proper as eer men saw; On Midsummer-day they marched away, To conquer that brave outlaw.
9 With long yew bows and shining spears, They marchd in mickle pride, And never delayd, or halted, or stayd, Till they came to the greenwood-side.
10 Said he to his archers, Tarry here; Your bows make ready all, That, if need should be, you may follow me; And see you observe my call.
11 ‘I’ll go in person first,’ he cry’d, ‘With the letters of my good king, Both signd and seald, and if he will yield, We need not draw one string,’
12 He wanderd about till at length he came To the tent of Robin Hood; The letter he shews; bold Robin arose, And there on his guard he stood.
13 ‘They’d have me surrender,’ quoth bold Robin Hood, ‘And lie at their mercy then; But tell them from me, that never shall be, While I have full seven-score men.’
14 Sir William the knight, both hardy and bold, Did offer to seize him there, Which William Locksly by fortune did see, And bid him that trick forbear.
15 Then Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth, And blew a blast or twain, And so did the knight, at which there in sight The archers came all amain.
16 Sir William with care he drew up his men, And plac’d them in battle array; Bold Robin, we find, he was not behind; Now this was a bloody fray.
17 The archers on both sides bent their bows, And the clouds of arrows flew; The very first flight, that honoured knight Did there bid the world adieu.
18 Yet nevertheless their fight did last From morning till almost noon; Both parties were stout, and loath to give out; This was on the last [day] of June.
19 At length they went off; one part they went To London with right good-will; And Robin Hood he to the green-wood tree, And there he was taken ill.
20 He sent for a monk, who let him blood, And took his life away; Now this being done, his archers they run, It was not a time to stay.
21 Some got on board and crossd the seas, To Flanders, France, and Spain, And others to Rome, for fear of their doom, But soon returnd again.
22 Thus he that never feard bow nor spear Was murderd by letting of blood; And so, loving friends, the story doth end Of valiant bold Robin Hood.
23 There’s nothing remains but his epitaph now, Which, reader, here you have; To this very day, and read it you may, As it was upon his grave.
Robin Hood’s Epitaph, Set on his tomb By the Prioress of Birkslay Monastery, in Yorkshire.
Robin, Earl of Huntington, Lies under this little stone. No archer was like him so good; His wildness nam’d him Robin Hood. Full thirteen years, and something more, These northern parts he vexed sore. Such outlaws as he and his men May England never know again!
* * * * *
Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight; together with an account of his Death and Burial, &c. Tune of Robin Hood and the Fifteen Foresters.
#a.#
Inside the cover is written, William Stukely, 1741.
18^4. day found in #b.#
#b.#
A carelessly printed book, with only twenty-four ballads. It belonged to Bishop Percy. Burden omitted.
1^1. When bold Robin and.
1^3. had been told he.
1^4. With his.
2^1. the best.
2^4. will be.
3. wanting.
6^1. Take an.
6^3. art to.
7^3. again Robin.
12^1. till at last.
12^2. of bold.
13^1. would have: bold, Hood, wanting.
13^3. that it.
13^4. Whilst.
15^1. Robin he set.
17^4. there wanting.
18^1. the fight.
18^4. last day.
19^2. For London.
19^3. he wanting.
20^1. to let.
20^2. done away they ran.
21. wanting.
22^1. that neither.
24^3. it wanting.
24^4. it were.
The epitaph is not given.
#c.#
Burden: Derry down down: Hey down derry derry down.
1^3. that they had been bold.
2^2. best wanting.
5^1. Go you.
6^1. an.
7^3. bold wanting.
10^4. see that.
11^3. Well signd.
14^4. bid them: to forbear.
18^4. day wanting.
19^1. party.
19^2. For London.
20^1. to let.
20^2. Who took.
20^4. a wanting.
21^1. Some went.
23^3. and wanting.
154
A TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD
Martin Parker’s True Tale of Robin Hood was entered to Francis Grove the 29th of February, 1632: Stationers’ Registers, Arber, IV, 273. A copy in the British Museum (press-mark C. 39. a. 52), which is here reprinted, is assumed by Mr W. C. Hazlitt, Handbook, p. 439, and Mr George Bullen, Brit. Mus. Catalogue, to be of this first edition. The title of this copy is: A True Tale of Robbin [Hood], or, A briefe touch of the life and death o[f that] Renowned Outlaw, Robert Earle of Huntin[gton] vulgarly called Robbin Hood, who lived and died in [A. D.] 1198, being the 9. yeare of the reigne of King Ric[hard] the first, commonly called Richard Cuer de Lyon. Carefully collected out of the truest Writers of our English C[hroni]cles. And published for the satisfaction of those who desire to s[ee] Truth purged from falsehood. By Martin Parker. Printed at London for T. Cotes, and are to be sold by F. Grove dwellin[g] upon Snow-hill, neare the Saracen[s head].[120]
Martin Parker professes in st. 117 to follow chronicles, not “fained tales.” Perhaps he regards broadside-ballads with historical names in them as chronicles: at any rate, though he reports some things which are found in Grafton, and in Major as cited by Grafton, much the larger part of his True Tale is now to be found only in ballads. When he does not agree with ballads which have come down to us, he may have used earlier copies, or he may have invented. The story of the abbot in 23–26 is at least from the same source as Robin Hood and the Bishop; the plundering of King Richard’s receivers in 33 is evidently the same event as that referred to in the first stanza of Robin Hood and Queen Katherine; Robin Hood is said to have built eight almshouses in 71, and one in the last stanza of The Noble Fisherman. The Gest could hardly have been unknown to Parker. Stanzas 3–9, concerning Robin’s rank, prodigality, and outlawry, may have been based upon Munday’s play; but nothing is said of Maid Marian. 44–50 and 56–65 may report the substance of some lost broadside.
Perhaps Parker calls his compilation a True Tale because a tale of Robin Hood was a proverb for an incredible story: “Tales of Robin Hood are good for fools.”
1 Both gentlemen, or yeomen bould, Or whatsoever you are, To have a stately story tould, Attention now prepare.
2 It is a tale of Robin Hood, Which I to you will tell, Which being rightly understood, I know will please you well.
3 This Robbin, so much talked on, Was once a man of fame, Instiled Earle of Huntington, Lord Robert Hood by name.
4 In courtship and magnificence, His carriage won him prayse, And greater favour with his prince Than any in his dayes.
5 In bounteous liberality He too much did excell, And loved men of quality More than exceeding well.
6 His great revennues all he sould For wine and costly cheere; He kept three hundred bowmen bold, He shooting lovd so deare.
7 No archer living in his time With him might well compare; He practisd all his youthfull prime That exercise most rare.
8 At last, by his profuse expence, He had consumd his wealth, And being outlawed by his prince, In woods he livd by stealth.
9 The abbot of S_aint_ Maries rich, To whom he mony ought, His hatred to this earle was such That he his downefall wrought.
10 So being outlawed, as ’tis told, He with a crew went forth Of lusty cutters, stout and bold, And robbed in the North.
11 Among the rest, one Little John, A yeoman bold and free, Who could, if it stood him upon, With ease encounter three.
12 One hundred men in all he got, With whom, the story sayes, Three hundred common men durst not Hold combate any wayes.
13 They Yorkshire woods frequented much, And Lancashire also, Wherein their practises were such That they wrought mickle woe.
14 None rich durst travell to and fro, Though nere so strongly armd, But by these theeves, so strong in show, They still were robd and harmd.
15 His chiefest spight to the clergie was, That lived in monstrous pride; No one of them he would let passe Along the high-way side,
16 But first they must to dinner goe, And afterwards to shrift: Full many a one he served so, Thus while he livd by theft.
17 No monkes nor fryers he would let goe, Without paying their fees: If they thought much to be usd so, Their stones he made them leese.
18 For such as they the country filld With bastards in those dayes; Which to prevent, these sparkes did geld All that came by their wayes.
19 But Robbin Hood so gentle was, And bore so brave a minde, If any in distresse did passe, To them he was so kinde
20 That he would give and lend to them, To helpe them at their neede: This made all poore men pray for him, And wish he well might speede.
21 The widdow and the fatherlesse He would send meanes unto, And those whom famine did oppresse Found him a friendly foe.
22 Nor would he doe a woman wrong, But see her safe conveid; He would protect with power strong All those who crav’d his ayde.
23 The abbot of Saint Maries then, Who him undid before, Was riding with two hundred men, And gold and silver store.
24 But Robbin Hood upon him set With his couragious sparkes, And all the coyne perforce did get, Which was twelve thousand markes.
25 He bound the abbot to a tree, And would not let him passe Before that to his men and he His lordship had sayd masse.
26 Which being done, upon his horse He set him fast astride, And with his face towards his ar— He forced him to ride.
27 His men were faine to be his guide, For he rode backward home; The abbot, being thus villifide, Did sorely chafe and fume.
28 Thus Robbin Hood did vindicate His former wrongs receivd; For ’twas this covetous prelate That him of land bereavd.
29 The abbot he rode to the king With all the haste he could, And to his Grace he every thing Exactly did unfold.
30 And sayd if that no course were tane, By force or stratagem, To take this rebell and his traine, No man should passe for them.
31 The king protested by and by Unto the abbot then That Robbin Hood with speed should dye, With all his merry men.
32 But ere the king did any send, He did another feate, Which did his Grace much more offend; The fact indeed was great.
33 For in a short time after that, The kings receivers went Towards London with the coyne they got, For’s Highnesse northerne rent.
34 Bold Robbin Hood and Little John, With the rest of their traine, Not dreading law, set them upon, And did their gold obtaine.
35 The king much moved at the same, And the abbots talke also, In this his anger did proclaime, And sent word to and fro,
36 That whosoere, alive or dead, Could bring him Robbin Hood, Should have one thousand markes, well payd In gold and silver good.
37 This promise of the king did make Full many yeomen bold Attempt stout Robbin Hood to take, With all the force they could.
38 But still when any came to him, Within the gay greene wood, He entertainement gave to them, With venison fat and good.
39 And shewd to them such martiall sport, With his long bow and arrow, That they of him did give report, How that it was great sorow,
40 That such a worthy man as he Should thus be put to shift, Being late a lord of high degree, Of living quite bereft.
41 The king, to take him, more and more Sent men of mickle might, But he and his still beate them sore, And conquered them in fight.
42 Or else, with love and courtesie, To him he won their hearts: Thus still he lived by robbery, Throughout the northerne parts.
43 And all the country stood in dread Of Robbin Hood and’s men; For stouter lads nere livd by bread, In those dayes nor since then.
44 The abbot which before I nam’d Sought all the meanes he could To have by force this rebell tane, And his adherents bold.
45 Therefore he armd five hundred men, With furniture compleate, But the outlawes slew halfe of them, And made the rest retreate.
46 The long bow and the arrow keene They were so usd unto That still they kept the forest greene, In spight o th’ proudest foe.
47 Twelve of the abbots men he tooke, Who came him to have tane, When all the rest the field forsooke; These he did entertaine
48 With banquetting and merriment, And, having usd them well, He to their lord them safely sent, And willd them him to tell
49 That if he would be pleasd at last To beg of our good king That he might pardon what was past, And him to favour bring,
50 He would surrender backe agen The money which before Was taken by him and his men, From him and many more.
51 Poore men might safely passe by him, And some that way would chuse, For well they knew that to helpe them He evermore did use.
52 But where he knew a miser rich, That did the poore oppresse, To feele his coyne his hand did itch; Hee’de have it, more or lesse.
53 And sometimes, when the high-way fayld, Then he his courage rouses; He and his men have oft assayld Such rich men in their houses.
54 So that, through dread of Robbin then And his adventurous crew, The mizers kept great store of men, Which else maintaynd but few.
55 King Richard, of that name the first, Sirnamed Cuer de Lyon, Went to defeate the Pagans curst, Who kept the coasts of Syon.
56 The Bishop of Ely, chancelor, Was left as vice-roy here, Who like a potent emperor Did proudly domminere.
57 Our chronicles of him report That commonly he rode With a thousand horse from court to court, Where he would make abode.
58 He, riding downe towards the north, With his aforesayd traine, Robbin and his did issue forth, Them all to entertaine.
59 And, with the gallant gray-goose wing, They shewed to them such play, That made their horses kicke and fling, And downe their riders lay.
60 Full glad and faine the bishop was, For all his thousand men, To seeke what meanes he could to passe From out of Robbins ken.
61 Two hundred of his men were kil’d, And fourescore horses good; Thirty, who did as captives yeeld, Were carryed to the greene wood.
62 Which afterwards were ransomed, For twenty markes a man; The rest set spurres to horse, and fled To th’ town of Warrington.
63 The bishop, sore enraged then, Did, in King Richards name, Muster a power of northerne men, These outlawes bold to tame.
64 But Robbin, with his courtesie, So wonne the meaner sort, That they were loath on him to try What rigor did import.
65 So that bold Robbin and his traine Did live unhurt of them, Vntill King Richard came againe From faire Jerusalem.
66 And then the talke of Robbin Hood His royall eares did fill; His Grace admir’d that ith’ greene wood He thus continued still.
67 So that the country farre and neare Did give him great applause; For none of them neede stand in feare, But such as broke the lawes.
68 He wished well unto the king, And prayed still for his health, And never practised any thing Against the common wealth.
69 Onely, because he was undone By th’ crewell clergie then, All meanes that he could thinke upon To vexe such kinde of men
70 He enterprized, with hatefull spleene; In which he was to blame, For fault of some, to wreeke his teene On all that by him came.
71 With wealth which he by robbery got Eight almes-houses he built, Thinking thereby to purge the blot Of blood which he had spilt.
72 Such was their blinde devotion then, Depending on their workes; Which, if ’twere true, we Christian men Inferiour were to Turkes.
73 But, to speake true of Robbin Hood, And wrong him not a iot, He never would shed any mans blood That him invaded not.
74 Nor would he iniure husbandmen, That toyld at cart and plough; For well he knew, were’t not for them, To live no man knew how.
75 The king in person, with some lords, To Notingham did ride, To try what strength and skill affords To crush these outlawes pride.
76 And, as he once before had done, He did againe proclaime, That whosoere would take upon To bring to Notingham,
77 Or any place within the land, Rebellious Robbin Hood, Should be preferd in place to stand With those of noble blood.
78 When Robbin Hood heard of the same, Within a little space, Into the towne of Notingham A letter to his Grace
79 He shot upon an arrow-head, One evening cunningly; Which was brought to the king, and read Before his Maiestie.
80 The tennour of this letter was That Robbin would submit, And be true leigeman to his Grace, In any thing that’s fit,
81 So that his Highnesse would forgive Him and his merry men all; If not, he must i th’ greene wood live, And take what chance did fall.
82 The king would faine have pardoned him, But that some lords did say, This president will much condemne Your Grace another day.
83 While that the king and lords did stay Debating on this thing, Some of these outlawes fled away Unto the Scottish king.
84 For they supposd, if he were tane, Or to the king did yeeld, By th’ commons all the rest on ’s traine Full quickely would be quelld.
85 Of more than full a hundred men But forty tarryed still, Who were resolvd to sticke to him, Let fortune worke her will.
86 If none had fled, all for his sake Had got their pardon free; The king to favour meant to take His merry men and he.
87 But ere the pardon to him came, This famous archer dy’d: His death, and manner of the same, I’le presently describe.
88 For, being vext to thinke upon His followers revolt, In melancholly passion He did recount their fault.
89 ‘Perfideous traytors!’ sayd he then, ‘In all your dangers past Have I you guarded as my men To leave me thus at last?’
90 This sad perplexity did cause A fever, as some say, Which him unto confusion drawes, Though by a stranger way.
91 This deadly danger to prevent, He hide him with all speede Vnto a nunnery, with intent For his healths sake to bleede.
92 A faithlesse fryer did pretend In love to let him blood; But he by falshood wrought the end Of famous Robbin Hood.
93 The fryer, as some say, did this To vindicate the wrong Which to the clergie he and his Had done by power strong.
94 Thus dyed he by trechery, That could not dye by force; Had he livd longer, certainely, King Richard, in remorse,
95 Had unto favour him receavd; He brave men elevated; ’Tis pitty he was of life bereavd By one which he so hated.
96 A treacherous leech this fryer was, To let him bleed to death; And Robbin was, me thinkes, an asse, To trust him with his breath.
97 His corpes the priores of the place, The next day that he dy’d, Caused to be buried, in mean case, Close by the high-way side.
98 And over him she caused a stone To be fixed on the ground; An epitaph was set thereon, Wherein his name was found.
99 The date o th’ yeare, and day also, Shee made to be set there, That all who by the way did goe Might see it plaine appeare
100 That such a man as Robbin Hood Was buried in that place; And how he lived in the greene wood, And robd there for a space.
101 It seemes that though the clergie he Had put to mickle woe, He should not quite forgotten be, Although he was their foe.
102 This woman, though she did him hate, Yet loved his memory; And thought it wondrous pitty that His fame should with him dye.
103 This epitaph, as records tell, Within this hundred yeares By many was discerned well, But time all things outweares.
104 His followers, when he was dead, Were some received to grace; The rest to forraigne countries fled, And left their native place.
105 Although his funerall was but meane, This woman had in minde Least his fame should be buried cleane From those that came behind.
106 For certainely, before nor since, No man ere understood, Vnder the reigne of any prince, Of one like Robbin Hood.
107 Full thirteene yeares, and something more, These outlawes lived thus, Feared of the rich, loved of the poore, A thing most marvelous.
108 A thing impossible to us This story seemes to be; None dares be now so venturous; But times are chang’d, we see.
109 We that live in these latter dayes Of civill government, If neede be, have a hundred wayes Such outlawes to prevent.
110 In those dayes men more barbarous were, And lived lesse in awe; Now, God be thanked! people feare More to offend the law.
111 No roaring guns were then in use, They dreampt of no such thing; Our English men in fight did chuse The gallant gray-goose wing.
112 In which activity these men, Through practise, were so good, That in those dayes non equald them, Specially Robbin Hood.
113 So that, it seemes, keeping in caves, In woods and forrests thicke, Thei’d beate a multitude with staves, Their arrowes did so pricke.
114 And none durst neare unto them come, Unlesse in courtesie; All such he bravely would send home, With mirth and iollity.
115 Which courtesie won him such love, As I before have told; ’Twas the cheefe cause that he did prove More prosperous than he could.
116 Let us be thankefull for these times Of plenty, truth and peace, And leave our great and horrid crimes, Least they cause this to cease.
117 I know there’s many fained tales Of Robbin Hood and’s crew; But chronicles, which seldome fayles, Reports this to be true.
118 Let none then thinke this a lye, For, if ’twere put to th’ worst, They may the truth of all discry I th’ raigne of Richard the first.
119 If any reader please to try, As I direction show, The truth of this brave history, Hee’l finde it true I know.
120 And I shall thinke my labour well Bestowed, to purpose good, When’t shall be sayd that I did tell True tales of Robbin Hood.
* * * * *
At the end of the Tale:
The Epitaph which the Prioresse of the Monastery of Kirkes Lay in Yorke-shire set over Robbin Hood, which, as is before mentioned, was to bee reade within these hundreth yeares, though in old broken English, much to the same sence and meaning.
Decembris quarto die, 1198: anno regni Richardii Primi 9.
Robert Earle of Huntington Lies under this little stone. No archer was like him so good: His wildnesse named him Robbin Hood. Full thirteene yeares, and something more, These northerne parts he vexed sore. Such out-lawes as he and his men May England never know agen.
Some other superstitious words were in it, which I thought fit to leave out.[121]
Bodl. L. 78.
2^2. That for which.
20^4. wisht.
59^3. kicke for kickle.
70^2. In for For.
94^2. Who for That.
108^1. impossible for unpossible.
116^3. our for out.
155
SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW’S DAUGHTER
#A.# ‘Hugh of Lincoln,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 151.
#B.# ‘The Jew’s Daughter,’ Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 32.
#C.# ‘The Jewis Daughter,’ Bishop Percy’s Papers.
#D.# ‘Sir Hugh,’ Herd’s MSS, I, 213; stanzas 7–10, II, 219. Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 96.
#E.# ‘Sir Hugh, or, The Jew’s Daughter,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 51.
#F.# A. Hume, Sir Hugh of Lincoln, p. 35.
#G.# From the recitation of an American lady.
#H.# ‘The Jew’s Daughter,’ from the recitation of an American lady.
#I.# Sir Egerton Brydges, Restituta, I, 381.
#J.# ‘Sir Hugh.’ #a.# Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 496. #b.# The same, VIII, 614.
#K.# Notes and Queries, First Series, IX, 320; Salopian Shreds and Patches, in Miss C. S. Burne’s Shropshire Folk-Lore, p. 539.
#L. a.# Communicated by the Rev. E. Venables. #b.# A Walk through Lincoln Cathedral, by the same, p. 41.
#M.# F. H. Groome, In Gipsy Tents, Edinburgh, 1880, p. 145.
#N.# ‘Little Harry Hughes and the Duke’s Daughter,’ Newell, Games and Songs of American Children, p. 75.
#O.# G. A. Sala, Illustrated London News, LXXXI, 415, October 21, 1882, and Living London, 1883, p. 465.
#P.# Halliwell, Ballads and Poems respecting Hugh of Lincoln, p. 37, Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 192: two stanzas.
#Q.# ‘The Jew’s Daughter,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 54: two stanzas.
#R.# ‘Sir Hew, or, The Jew’s Daughter,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, VII: one stanza.
The copy in Pinkerton’s Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 50, is made up of eight stanzas of #D# and six of #B#, slightly retouched by the editor; that in Gilchrist’s collection, 1815, I, 210, is eight stanzas of #D# and nine of #A#; that in Stenhouse’s edition of Johnson’s Museum, IV, 500, “communicated by an intelligent antiquarian correspondent,” is compounded from #A#, #B#, #D#, #E# and Pinkerton, with a little chaff of its own; that printed by W. C. Atkinson, of Brigg, Lincolnshire, in the London Athenæum, 1867, p. 96, is Pinkerton’s, with two trifling changes. Allen, History of the County of Lincoln, 1834, p. 171 (repeating Wilde, Lincoln Cathedral, 1819, p. 27, as appears from Notes and Queries, 4th Series, II, 60), says that a complete manuscript of the ballad was once in the library of the cathedral, and cites the first stanza, which differs from Pinkerton’s only in having “Mary Lincoln” for “merry Lincoln.”
The several versions agree in the outline of the story, and in many of the details. According to #A#, boys who are playing football are joined by Sir Hugh, who kicks the ball through the Jew’s window. Sir Hugh sees the Jew’s daughter looking out of the window, and asks her to throw down the ball. She tells him to come and get it; this he is afraid to do, for fear she may do to him “as she did to his father.” The Jew’s daughter entices him in with an apple, leads him through nine dark doors, lays him on a table, and sticks him like a swine; then rolls him in a cake of lead, and throws him into a draw-well fifty fathoms deep, Our Lady’s draw-well. The boy not returning at eve, his mother sets forth to seek him; goes to the Jew’s castle, the Jew’s garden, and to the draw-well, entreating in each case Sir Hugh to speak. He answers from the well, bidding his mother go make his winding-sheet, and he will meet her at the back of merry Lincoln the next morning. His mother makes his winding-sheet, and the dead corpse meets her at the back of merry Lincoln: all the bells of Lincoln are rung without men’s hands, and all the books of Lincoln are read without man’s tongue.
The boy’s name is Sir Hugh in #A-F#, etc.; in #K# the name is corrupted to Saluter, and in the singular and interesting copy obtained in New York, #N#, to Harry Hughes, the Jew’s Daughter in this becoming the Duke’s Daughter. The place is Merry Lincoln in #A#, #D#, #L# (Lincoln, #J#; Lincolnshire, #Q#); corrupted in #B#, #C#, to Mirryland town,[122] in #E# to Maitland town; changed to Merry Scotland, #I#, #J#, #O#, which is corrupted to Merrycock land, #K#; in #G#, #H#, old Scotland, fair Scotland. The ball is tossed [patted] into the Jew’s garden, #G#, #H#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #O#, #P#, where the Jews are sitting a-row, #I#, #O#. The boy will not come in without his play-feres, #B#, #C#, #D#, #F#, #G#, #I#, #J#, #K#; if he should go in, his mother would cause his heart’s blood to fall, etc., #G#, #I#, #K#.[123] The boy is rolled in a cake [case] of lead, #A-E# (L, #b#?); in a quire of tin, #N#. The draw-well is Our Lady’s only in #A# (L, #b#?); it is the Jew’s in #C#, #D#; it is a [the] deep draw-well, simply, in #B#, #E#, #F#, #G#; a little draw-well, #N#, a well, #O#; fifty fathoms deep, #A-F#, #N#; #G#, eighteen fathoms, #O#, five and fifty feet. In #G#, the Jew’s daughter lays the Bible at the boy’s head, and the Prayer-Book at his feet (how came these in the Jew’s house?) before she sticks him; in #I#, #K#, the Bible and Testament after; in #I#, the Catechism in his heart’s blood. In #H#, the boy, at the moment of his death, asks that the Bible may be put at his head, and the Testament at his feet, and in #M#, wants “a seven-foot Bible” at his head and feet. In #E#, #F#, the boy makes this request from the draw-well (“and pen and ink at every side,” #E#), and in #N# with the variation that his Bible is to be put at his head, his “busker” at his feet, and his Prayer-Book at his right side. In #O# there is a jumble:
‘Oh lay a Bible at my head, And a Prayer-Book at my feet, In the well that they did throw me in,’ etc.
The boy asks his mother to go and make ready his winding-sheet in #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#; and appoints to meet her at the back of the town, #A#, #B#, #E#; at the birks of Mirryland town, #C#.
The fine trait of the ringing of the bells without men’s hands, and the reading of the books without man’s tongue, occurs only in #A#. When Florence of Rome approached a church, “the bellys range thorow Godys grace, withowtyn helpe of hande:” Le Bone Florence of Rome, Ritson, Met. Rom., III, 80, v. 1894 f. Bells which ring without men’s hands are very common in popular tradition. See Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 140; Wunderhorn, II, 272, ed. 1808; Luzel, C. P. de la Basse-Bretagne, I, 446 f., 496 f., II, 44 f., 66 f., 308 f., 542 f.; Maurer, Isländische Volkssagen, p. 215; Weckenstedt, Wendische Sagen, p. 379, No 5; Temme, Volkssagen der Altmark, p. 29, No 31; Münsterische Geschichten, u. s. w., p. 186; Bartsch, Sagen aus Meklenburg, I, 390, No 539; Mone’s Anzeiger, VIII, 303 f., No 41 and note, and VII, 32; Birlinger, Aus Schwaben, Neue Sammlung, I, 72; Birlinger u. Buck, I, 144, No 223, 145, No 225, a, b, c; Schöppner, Sagenbuch der bayerischen Lande, I, 294, No 301, etc.[124]
The story of Hugh of Lincoln is told in the Annals of Waverley, under the year 1255, by a contemporary writer, to this effect.[125] A boy in Lincoln, named Hugh, was crucified by the Jews in contempt of Christ, with various preliminary tortures. To conceal the act from Christians, the body, when taken from the cross, was thrown into a running stream; but the water would not endure the wrong done its maker, and immediately ejected it upon dry land. The body was then buried in the earth, but was found above ground the next day. The guilty parties were now very much frightened and quite at their wit’s end; as a last resort they threw the corpse into a drinking-well. Thereupon the whole place was filled with so brilliant a light and so sweet an odor that it was clear to everybody that there must be something holy and prodigious in the well. The body was seen floating on the water, and, upon its being drawn up, the hands and feet were found to be pierced, the head had, as it were, a crown of bloody points, and there were various other wounds: from all which it was plain that this was the work of the abominable Jews. A blind woman, touching the bier on which the blessed martyr’s corpse was carrying to the church, received her sight, and many other miracles followed. Eighteen Jews, convicted of the crime, and confessing it with their own mouth, were hanged.
Matthew Paris, also writing contemporaneously, supplies additional circumstances, one of which, the mother’s finding of the child, is prominent in the ballad.[126] The Jews of Lincoln stole the boy Hugh, who was some eight years old, near Peter and Paul’s day, June 29, and fed him properly for ten days, while they were sending to all parts of England to convoke their co-believers to a crucifixion of him in contempt of Jesus. When they were assembled, one of the Lincoln Jews was appointed judge, a Pilate, as it were, and the boy was sentenced to various torments; he was scourged till the blood ran, crowned with thorns, spit upon, pricked with knives, made to drink gall, mocked and scoffed at, hailed as false prophet; finally he was crucified, and a lance thrust into his heart. He was then taken down and disembowelled; for what reason is not known, but, as it was said, for magical purposes. The mother (whose name, not given by this chronicler, is known to have been Beatrice) made diligent search for her lost child for several days, and was told by her neighbors that they had seen the boy playing with Jewish children, and going into a Jew’s house. This house the mother entered, and saw the boy’s body, which had been thrown into a well. The town officers were sent for, and drew up the corpse. The mother’s shrieks drew a great concourse to the place, among whom was Sir John of Lexington, a long-headed and scholarly man (a priest of the cathedral), who declared that he had heard of the Jews doing such things before. Laying hands on the Jew into whose house the boy had been known to go, John of Lexington told him that all the gold in England would not buy him off; nevertheless, life and limb should be safe if he would tell everything. The Jew, Copin by name, encouraged and urged by Sir John, made a full confession: all that the Christians had said was true; the Jews crucified a boy every year, if they could get hold of one, and had crucified this Hugh; they had wished to bury the body, after they had come to the conclusion that an innocent’s bowels were of no use for divination, but the earth would not hold it; so they had thrown it into a well, but with no better success, for the mother had found it, and reported the fact to the officers. The canons of Lincoln Cathedral begged the child’s body, and buried it in their church with the honors due to so precious a martyr. The king, who had been absent in the North, being made acquainted with these circumstances, blamed Sir John for the promise which he had so improperly made the wretch Copin. But Copin was still in custody, and, seeing he had no chance for life, he volunteered to complete his testimony! almost all the Jews in England had been accessory to the child’s death, and almost every city of England where Jews lived had sent delegates to the ceremony of his immolation, as to a Paschal sacrifice. Copin was then tied to a horse, and dragged to the gallows, and ninety-one other Jews carried to London and imprisoned. The inquisition made by the king’s justices showed that the crime had been virtually the common act of the Jews of England, and the mother’s appeal to the king, which was pressed unremittingly, had such effect that on St Clement’s day eighteen of the richer and more considerable Jews of Lincoln were hanged on gallows specially constructed for the purpose, more than sixty being reserved for a like sentence in the tower of London.[127]
The Annals of Burton give a long report of this case, which is perhaps contemporary, though the MS. is mostly of the next century. On the last day of July, at a time when all the principal Jews of England were collected at Lincoln, Hugh, a school-boy (scholaris) of nine, the only son of a poor woman, was kidnapped towards sunset, while playing with his comrades, by Jopin, a Jew of that place. He was concealed in Jopin’s house six and twenty days, getting so little to eat and drink that he had hardly the strength to speak. Then, at a council of all the Jews, resident and other, it was determined that he should be put to death. They stripped him, flogged him, spat in his face, cut off the cartilage of the nose and the upper lip, and broke the main upper teeth; then crucified him. The boy, fortified by divine grace, maintained himself with cheerfulness, and uttered neither complaint nor groan. They ran sharp points into him from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head, till the body was covered with the blood from these wounds, then pierced his side with a lance, and he gave up the ghost. The boy not coming home as usual, his mother made search for him. As he was not found, the information given by his playmates as to when and where they had last seen him roused a strong suspicion among the Christians that he had been carried off and killed by the Jews; all the more because there were so many of them present in the town at that time, and from all parts of the kingdom, though the Jews pretended that the occasion for this unusual congregation was a grand wedding. The truth becoming every day clearer, the mother set off for Scotland, where the king then chanced to be, and laid the complaint at his feet. The Jews, meanwhile, knowing that the business would be looked into, were in great consternation; they took away the body in the night, and threw it into a well. In the well it was found in the course of an inquisition ordered by the king, and, when it was drawn out, a woman, blind for fifteen years, who had been very fond of the boy, laid her hand on the body in faith, exclaiming, Alas, sweet little Hugh, that it so happened! and then rubbed her eyes with the moisture of the body, and at once recovered her sight. The miracle drew crowds of people to the spot, and every sick or infirm person that could get near the body went home well and happy: hearing whereof, the dean and canons of the cathedral went out in procession to the body of the holy martyr, and carried it to the minster with all possible ceremony, where they buried it very honorably (disregarding the passionate protests of a brother canon, of the parish to which the boy belonged, who would fain have retained so precious, and also valuable, an object within his own bounds). The king stopped at Lincoln, on his way down from Scotland, looked into the matter, found the charges against the Jews to be substantiated, and ordered an arrest of the whole pack. They shut themselves up in their houses, but their houses were stormed. In the course of the examination which followed, John of Lessington promised Jopin, the head of the Jews, and their priest (who was believed to be at the bottom of the whole transaction), that he would do all he could to save his life, if Jopin would give up the facts. Jopin, delighted at this assurance, and expecting to be able to save the other Jews by the use of money, confessed everything. But considering what a disgrace it would be to the king’s majesty if the deviser and perpetrator of such a felony escaped scot-free, Jopin was, by sentence of court, tied to the tail of a horse, dragged a long way through the streets, over sticks and stones, and hanged. Such other Jews as had been taken into custody were sent to London, and a good many more, who were implicated but had escaped, were arrested in the provinces. Eighteen suffered the same fate as Jopin. The Dominicans exerted themselves to save the lives of the others,—bribed so to do, as some thought; but they lost favor by it, and their efforts availed nothing. It was ordered by the government that all the Jews in the land who had consented to the murder, and especially those who had been present, namely, seventy-one who were in prison in London, should die the death of Jopin. But Richard of Cornwall, the king’s brother, to whom the king had pledged all the Jews in England as security for a loan, stimulated also by a huge bribe, withstood this violation of vested rights, and further execution was stayed.[128]
An Anglo-French ballad of ninety-two stanzas, which also appears to be contemporary with the event, agrees in many particulars with the account given in the Annals of Burton, adding several which are found in none of the foregoing narratives.[129] Hugh of Lincoln was kidnapped one evening towards the beginning of August, by Peitevin, the Jew.[130] His mother at once missed him, and searched for him, crying, I have lost my child! till curfew. She slept little and prayed much, and immediately after her prayer the suspicion arose in her mind that her child had been abducted by the Jews. So, with the break of day, the woman went weeping through the Jewry, calling at the Jews’ doors, Where is my child? Impelled by the suspicion which, as it pleased God, she had of the Jews, she kept on till she came to the court. When she came before King Henry (whom God preserve!), she fell at his feet and begged his grace: “Sire, my son was carried off by the Lincoln Jews one evening; see to it, for charity!” The king swore by God’s pity, If it be so as thou hast told, the Jews shall die; if thou hast lied on the Jews, by St Edward, doubt not thou shalt have the same judgment. Soon after the child was carried off, the Jews of Lincoln made a great gathering of all the richest of their sect in England. The child was brought before them, tied with a cord, by the Jew Jopin. They stripped him, as erst they did Jesus. Then said Jopin, thinking he spoke to much profit, The child must be sold for thirty pence, as Jesus was. Agim, the Jew, answered, Give me the child for thirty pence; but I wish that he should be sentenced to death, since I have bought him. The Jews said, Let Agim have him, but let him be put to death forthwith: worse than this, they all cried with one voice, Let him be put on the cross! The child was unbound and hanged on the cross, vilely, as Jesus was. His arms were stretched to the cross, and his feet and hands pierced with sharp nails, and he was crucified alive. Agim took his knife and pierced the innocent’s side, and split his heart in two. As the ghost left the body, the child called to his mother, Pray Jesus Christ for me! The Jews buried the body, so that no one might know of their privity, but some of them, passing the place the next morning, found it lying above ground. When they heard of this marvel, they determined in council that the corpse should be thrown into a jakes; but the morning after it was again above ground. While they were in agonies of terror, one of their number came and told them that a woman, who had been his nurse, had agreed for money to take the body out of the city; but he recommended that all the wounds should first be filled with boiling wax. The body was taken off by this nurse and thrown into a well behind the castle.[131] A woman coming for water the next day discovered it lying on the ground, so filthy that she scarce durst touch it. This woman bethought herself of the child which had been stolen. She went back to Lincoln, and gave information to Hugh’s stepfather, who found her tale probable by reason of the suspicion which he already had of the Jews. The woman went through the city proclaiming that she had found the child, and everybody flocked to the well. The coroners were sent for, and came with good will to make their inspection. The body was taken back to Lincoln. A woman came up, who had long before lost her sight, and calling out, Alas, pretty Hugh, why are you lying here! applied her hands to the corpse and then to her eyes, and regained her sight. All who were present were witnesses of the miracle, and gave thanks to God. A converted[132] Jew presented himself, and suggested that if they wished to know how the child came by its death they should wash the body in warm water; and this being done, the examination which he made enabled him to show that this treason had been done by the Jews, for the very wounds of Jesus were found upon the child. They of the cathedral, hearing of the miracle, came out and carried the body to the church, and buried it among other saints with great joy: mult ben firent, cum m’ est avis. Soon after, the mother arrived from the court, very unhappy because she had not been able to find her child. The Lincoln Jews were apprehended and thrown into prison; they said, We have been betrayed by Falsim. The next day King Henry came to Lincoln, and ordered the Jews before him for an inquest. A wise man who was there took it upon him to say that the Jew who would tell the truth to the king should fare the better for it. Jopin, in whose house the treason had been done, told the whole story as already related. King Henry, when all had been told, cried, Right ill did he that killed him! The justices[133] went to council, and condemned Jopin to death: his body was to be drawn through the city “de chivals forts et ben ferré[s]” till life was extinct, and then to be hanged. And this was done. I know well where, says the singer: by Canewic, on the high hill.[134] Of the other Jews it is only said that they had much shame.
The English ballads, the oldest of which were recovered about the middle of the last century, must, in the course of five hundred years of tradition, have departed considerably from the early form; in all of them the boy comes to his death for breaking a Jew’s window, and at the hands of the Jew’s daughter. The occurrence of Our Lady’s draw-well, in #A#, is due to a mixing, to this extent, of the story of Hugh with that of the young devotee of the Virgin who is celebrated in Chaucer’s Prioresses Tale. In Chaucer’s legend, which somewhat strangely removes the scene to a city in Asia, a little “clergeon” (cf. the scholaris of the Annals of Burton) excites, not very unnaturally, the wrath of the Jews by singing the hymn “Alma redemptoris mater” twice a day, as he passes, schoolward and homeward, through the Jewry. For this they cut his throat and throw him into a privy. The Virgin comes to him, and bids him sing the anthem still, till a grain which she lays upon his tongue shall be removed. The mother, in the course of her search for her boy, goes to the pit, under divine direction, and hears him singing.
Another version of this legend occurs in a collection of the Miracles of Our Lady in the Vernon MS., c. 1375, leaf cxxiii, back; printed by Dr. Horstmann in Herrig’s Archiv, 1876, LVI, 224, and again in the Chaucer Society’s Originals and Analogues, p. 281. The boy, in this, contributes to the support of his family by singing and begging in the streets of Paris. His song is again Alma redemptoris mater, and he sings it one Saturday as he goes through the Jewry. He is killed, disposed of, and discovered as in Chaucer’s tale, and the bishop, who “was come to see that wonder,” finds in the child’s throat a lily, inscribed all over with Alma redemptoris mater, which being taken out the song ceases. But when the child’s body is carried to the minster, and a requiem mass is begun, the corpse rises up, and sings Salve, sancta parens.
Another variety of the legend is furnished by the Spanish Franciscan Espina, Fortalicium Fidei, 1459, in the edition of Lyons, 1500, fol. ccviii, reprinted by the Chaucer Society, Originals and Analogues, p. 108.[135] The boy is here called Alfonsus of Lincoln. The Jews, having got him into their possession, deliberate what shall be done to him, and decide that the tongue with which he had sung Alma redemptoris shall be torn out, likewise the heart in which he had meditated the song, and the body be thrown into a jakes. The Virgin comes to him, and puts a precious stone in his mouth, to supply the place of his tongue, and the boy at once begins to sing the anthem, and keeps on incessantly for four days; at the end of which time the discovery is made by the mother, as before. The body is taken to the cathedral, where the bishop delivers a sermon, concluding with an injunction upon all present to pour out their supplications to heaven that this mystery may be cleared up. The boy rises to his feet, takes the jewel from his mouth, explains everything that has passed, hands the jewel to the bishop, to be preserved with other reliques, and expires.
A miracle versified from an earlier source by Gautier de Coincy, some thirty or forty years before the affair of Hugh of Lincoln, is obviously of the same ultimate origin as the Prioresses Tale. A poor woman in England had an only son with a beautiful voice, who did a good deal for the support of his mother by his singing. The Virgin took a particular interest in this clerçoncel, among whose songs was Gaude Maria, which he used to give in a style that moved many to tears. One day, when he was playing in the streets with his comrades, they came to the Jews’ street, where some entertainment was going on which had collected a great many people, who recognized the boy, and asked him to give them a song about Our Lady. He sang with his usual pathos and applause. Jews were listening with the rest, and one of them was so exasperated by a passage in the hymn that he would have knocked the singer on the head then and there, had he dared. When the crowd was dispersed, this Jew enticed the child into his house by flattery and promises, struck him dead with an axe, and buried him. His mother went in search of him, and learned the second day that the boy had been singing in the Jewry the day before, and it was intimated that the Jews might have laid hands on him and killed him. The woman gave the Virgin to understand that if she lost her child she should never more have confidence in her power; nevertheless, more than twenty days passed before any light was thrown on his disappearance. At the end of that time, being one day in the Jews’ street, and her wild exclamations having collected a couple of thousand people, she gave vent to her conviction that the Jews had killed her son. Then the Virgin made the child, dead and buried as he was, sing out Gaude Maria in a loud and clear voice. An assault was made on the Jews and the Jews’ houses, including that of the murderer; and here, after much searching, guided by the singing, they found the boy buried under the door, perfectly well, and his face as red as a fresh cherry. The boy related how he had been decoyed into the house and struck with an axe; the Virgin had come to him in what seemed a sleep, and told him that he was remiss in not singing her response as he had been wont, upon which he began to sing. Bells were rung, the Virgin was glorified, some Jews were converted, the rest massacred. (G. de Coincy, ed. Poquet, col. 557 ff; Chaucer Society, Originals and Analogues, p. 253 ff.) The same miracle, with considerable variations, occurs in Mariu Saga, ed. Unger, p. 203, No 62, ‘Af klerk ok gyðingum;’ also in Collin de Plancy, Légendes des Saintes Images, p. 218, ‘L’Enfant de Chœur de Notre-Dame du Puy,’ under the date 1325.
Murders like that of Hugh of Lincoln have been imputed to the Jews for at least seven hundred and fifty years,[136] and the charge, which there is reason to suppose may still from time to time be renewed, has brought upon the accused every calamity that the hand of man can inflict, pillage, confiscation, banishment, torture, and death, and this in huge proportions. The process of these murders has often been described as a parody of the crucifixion of Jesus. The motive most commonly alleged, in addition to the expression of contempt for Christianity, has been the obtaining of blood for use in the Paschal rites,—a most unhappily devised slander, in stark contradiction with Jewish precept and practice. That no Christian child was ever killed by a Jew, that there never even was so much truth as that (setting aside the object) in a single case of these particular criminations, is what no Christian or Jew would undertake to assert; but of these charges in the mass it may safely be said, as it has been said, that they are as credible as the miracles which, in a great number of cases, are asserted to have been worked by the reliques of the young saints, and as well substantiated as the absurd sacrilege of stabbing, baking, or boiling the Host,[137] or the enormity of poisoning springs, with which the Jews have equally been taxed.[138] And these pretended child-murders, with their horrible consequences, are only a part of a persecution which, with all moderation, may be rubricated as the most disgraceful chapter in the history of the human race.[139]
Cases in England, besides that of Hugh of Lincoln, are William of Norwich, 1137, the Saxon Chronicle, Earle, p. 263, Acta Sanctorum, March (25), III, 588; a boy at Gloucester, 1160, Brompton, in Twysden, col. 1050, Knyghton, col. 2394; Robert of St Edmondsbury, 1181, Gervasius Dorobornensis, Twysden, col. 1458; a boy at Norwich, stolen, circumcised, and kept for crucifixion, 1235, Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, Luard, III, 305 (see also III, 543, 1239, IV, 30, 1240); a boy at London, 1244, Matthew Paris, IV, 377 (doubtful, but solemnly buried in St. Paul’s); a boy at Northampton, 1279, crucified, but not quite killed, the continuator of Florence of Worcester, Thorpe, II, 222.
It would be tedious and useless to attempt to make a collection of the great number of similar instances which have been mentioned by chroniclers and ecclesiastical writers; enough come readily to hand without much research.
A boy was crucified and thrown into the Loire by the Jews of Blois in 1171: Sigiberti Gemblacensis Chronica, auctarium Roberti de Monte, in Pertz, Mon. Germ. Hist. Script., VI, 520, Grätz, Geschichte der Juden, VI, 217–19. Philip Augustus had heard in his early years from playmates that the Jews sacrificed a Christian annually (and, according to some, partook of his heart), and this is represented as having been his reason for expelling the Jews from France. Richard of Pontoise was one of these victims, in 1179: Rigordus, Gesta Philippi Augusti, p. 14 f., § 6, and Guillelmus Armoricus, p. 179, § 17, in the edition of 1882; Acta Sanctorum, March (25), III, 591. France had such a martyr as late as 1670: see the case of Raphaël Lévy in Eisenmenger, Entdecktes Judenthum, 2^r Theil, 224; Drumont, La France Juive, II, 402–09.
Alfonso the Wise has recorded in the Siete Partidas, 1255, that he had heard that the Jews were wont to crucify on Good Friday children that they had stolen (or waxen images, when children were not to be had), Partida VII, Tit. XXIV, Ley ii^a, III, 670, ed. 1807, and this was one of the most effective grounds offered in justification of the expulsion of the Jews under Ferdinand and Isabella: Amador de los Rios, Historia de los Judíos de España, I, 483 f. San Dominguito de Val, a choir-boy of seven, Chaucer’s clergeon over again, was said to have been stolen and crucified at Saragossa in 1250: Basnage, Histoire des Juifs, 1726, vol. ix, 2d part, pp. 484–86; Acta SS., Aug. (31), VI, 777. Several children were crucified at Valladolid in 1452, and like outrages occurred near Zamora in 1454, and at Sepulveda in 1468: Grätz, VIII, 238. Juan Passamonte, “el niño de Guardia,” was kidnapped in 1489, and crucified in 1490: Llorente (Pellier), Histoire de l’Inquisition, ed. 1818, I, 258 f.
Switzerland affords several stories of the sort: a boy at Frisingen in 1287, Ulrich, Sammlung jüdischer Geschichten, p. 149; Rudolf of Bern, 1288 or 1294, Ulrich, pp. 143–49, Acta Sanctorum, April (17), II, 504, Stobbe, Die Juden in Deutschland, p. 283; a boy at Zürich, 1349, another at Diessenhofen, 1401, Ulrich, pp. 82, 248 f.
Examples are particularly numerous in Germany. 1181, Vienna, Zunz, p. 25; 1198, Nuremberg, Stobbe, p. 281; about 1200, Erfurt, Zunz, p. 26; 1220, St Henry, Weissenburg, Acta SS., April, II, 505 (but 1260, Schœpflin, Alsatia Illustrata, II, 394 f.); 1235–6, Fulda, Grätz, Geschichte der Juden, VII, 109, 460; 1261, Magdeburg, Stobbe, p. 282; 1283, Mayence, Grätz, VII, 199; 1285, Munich, Grätz, VII, 200, Aretin, Geschichte der Juden in Baiern, p. 18; 1286, Oberwesel, near Bacharach, Werner (boy or man), Grätz, VII, 201, 479, Stobbe, p. 282, Acta Sanctorum, April (19), II, 697; 1292, Colmar, Stobbe, p. 283; 1293, Krems, ib.; 1302, Remken, ib.; 1303, Conrad, at Weissensee, ib.; 1345, Henry, at Munich, Acta SS., May (27), VI, 657; 1422, Augsburg, or 1429, Ravensburg, Ulrich, p. 88 ff; 1454, Breslau, Grätz, VIII, 205; 1462, Andrew, in Tyrol, Acta SS., July (12), III, 462; 1474 and 1476, Ratisbon, Zeitschrift für die historische Theologie (Train, Geschichte der Juden in Regensburg), 1837, Heft 3, p. 98 ff., 104 ff., and (Saalschütz), 1841, Heft 4, p. 140 ff., Grätz, VIII, 279 ff.; 1475, Simon of Trent, Muratori, Rer. Ital. Script., XX, 945–49 (Annals of Placentia), Liliencron, Historische V. l. der Deutschen, II, 13, No 128, Grätz, VIII, 269 ff., Acta SS., March (24), III, 494, La Civiltà Cattolica, 1881 and 1882;[140] a little before 1478, Baden, Train, as above, p. 117; 1540, Zappenfeld, near Neuburg (nothing “proved”), Aretin, p. 44 f.; 1562, Andrew, Tyrol, Acta SS., July (12), III, 462, with a picture,[141] p. 464; 1650, Caden (and others in Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola), Eisenmenger, Entdecktes Judenthum, 1711, 2^r Theil, p. 223; near Sigeberg, in the diocese of Cologne, Joanettus, Acta SS., March, III, 502, with no year.
Italy appears to be somewhat behind the rest of Europe. The Fortalicium Fidei reports a case at Pavia some time before 1456, and another at Savona of about 1452: Basel ed. (c. 1475), fol. 116 f. 1480, Venice, Beato Sebastiano da Porto Buffolè del Bergamasco, Civiltà Cattolica, X, 737. Israel, one of the culprits of Trent, revealed his knowledge of similar transactions at Padova, Mestre, Serravalle and Bormio, in the course of his own life, besides several in Germany: Civ. Catt., X, 737.
Further, 1305, Prague, Eisenmenger, p. 221; 1407, Cracow, “Dlugosz, Hist. Polonicæ, l. x, p. 187;” 1494, Tyrnau, Ungerische Chronica, 1581, p. 375; 1505, Budweis, Stobbe, p. 292; 1509, Bösing, Hungary, Eisenmenger, p. 222; 1569, Constantinople, Fickler, Theologia Juridica, 1575, p. 505 (cited by Michel); 1598, Albertus, in Polonia, Acta SS., April (circa 20), II, 835.
Train, as above, p. 98, note, adds, with authorities, Pforzheim, Ueberlingen, Swäbisch-Hall, Friuli, Halle, Eichstädt, Berlin. See also Acta SS., April, III, 838 (De pluribus innocentibus per Judæos excruciatis), March, III, 589, and April, II, 505; and Drumont, La France Juive, II, 392 f.
The charge against the Jews of murdering children for their blood is by no means as yet a thing of the past. The accusation has been not infrequently made in Russia during the present century. Although the entertaining of such an inculpation was forbidden by an imperial ukase in 1817, a criminal process on this ground, involving forty-three persons, was instituted in 1823, and was brought to a close only in 1835, when the defendants were acquitted on account of the entire failure of proof: Stobbe, p. 186. The murder of a child of six in Neuhoven, in the district of Düsseldorf, in 1834, occasioned the demolition of two Jewish houses and a synagogue: Illgen, in Zeitschrift für die historische Theologie, 1837, Heft 3, 40, note. In February, 1840, a Greek boy of ten disappeared in Rhodes. The Jews were believed to have killed him for his blood. Torture was freely used to extort confessions. The case was removed to Constantinople, and in July, upon the report of the supreme court, the Divan pronounced the innocence of the defendants: Illgen, Z. f. d. Hist. Theol., 1841, Heft 4, p. 172, note, Hume, Sir Hugh of Lincoln, p. 30.[142] In 1881, the Jews were in suspicion on account of a boy at Alexandria, and of a girl at Calarasi, Wallachia: Civiltà Cattolica, VIII, 225, 737. The Moniteur de Rome, June 15, 1883, affords several more of these too familiar tales. A Greek child was stolen at Smyrna, a few years before the date last mentioned, towards the time of the Passover, and its body found four days after, punctured with pins in a thousand places. The mother, like Beatrice in 1255, denounced the Jews as the culprits; the Christian population rose in a mass, rushed to the Jews’ quarter, and massacred more than six hundred. An affair of the same nature took place at Balata, the Ghetto of Constantinople, in 1842, of which the consequences to the Jews are not mentioned; and again at Galata, “where the Jews escaped by bribing the Turkish police to suppress testimony” (Drumont, II, 412). A young girl disappeared at Tisza-Eszlár, in Hungary, in April, 1882, and the Jews were suspected of having made away with her. The preliminary judicial inquiry was marked by the intimidation and torture of several persons examined for evidence. Fifteen who were held for trial were absolutely acquitted in August, 1883, after more than a year of imprisonment. The shops of Jews in Budapest were plundered by Christians disappointed in the verdict! (Der Blut-Prozess von Tisza-Eszlár, New York, 1883.)
#B# is translated by Herder, I, 120; by Bodmer, I, 59; in Seckendorf’s Musenalmanach für das Jahr 1808, p. 5; by Doering, p. 163; by Von Marées, p. 48. Allingham’s ballad by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 118.
A
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 151, as taken down by the editor from Mrs Brown’s recitation.
1 Four and twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh, And he playd oer them a’.
2 He kickd the ba with his right foot, And catchd it wi his knee, And throuch-and-thro the Jew’s window He gard the bonny ba flee.
3 He’s doen him to the Jew’s castell, And walkd it round about; And there he saw the Jew’s daughter, At the window looking out.
4 ‘Throw down the ba, ye Jew’s daughter, Throw down the ba to me!’ ‘Never a bit,’ says the Jew’s daughter, ‘Till up to me come ye.’
5 ‘How will I come up? How can I come up? How can I come to thee? For as ye did to my auld father, The same ye’ll do to me.’
6 She’s gane till her father’s garden, And pu’d an apple red and green; ’Twas a’to wyle him sweet Sir Hugh, And to entice him in.
7 She’s led him in through ae dark door, And sae has she thro nine; She’s laid him on a dressing-table, And stickit him like a swine.
8 And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonny heart’s blood; There was nae mair within.
9 She’s rowd him in a cake o lead, Bade him lie still and sleep; She’s thrown him in Our Lady’s draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep.
10 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’the bairns came hame, When every lady gat hame her son, The Lady Maisry gat nane.
11 She’s taen her mantle her about, Her coffer by the hand, And she’s gane out to seek her son, And wanderd oer the land.
12 She’s doen her to the Jew’s castell, Where a’were fast asleep: ‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’
13 She’s doen her to the Jew’s garden, Thought he had been gathering fruit: ‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’
14 She neard Our Lady’s deep draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep: ‘Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’
15 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, Prepare my winding sheet, And at the back o merry Lincoln The morn I will you meet.’
16 Now Lady Maisry is gane hame, Made him a winding sheet, And at the back o merry Lincoln The dead corpse did her meet.
17 And a’the bells o merry Lincoln Without men’s hands were rung, And a’the books o merry Lincoln Were read without man’s tongue, And neer was such a burial Sin Adam’s days begun.
B
Percy’s Reliques, I, 32, 1765; from a manuscript copy sent from Scotland.
1 The rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune, Sae dois it doune the Pa; Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune, Whan they play at the ba.
2 Than out and cam the Jewis dochter, Said, Will ye cum in and dine? ‘I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in, Without my play-feres nine.’
3 Scho powd an apple reid and white, To intice the yong thing in: Scho powd an apple white and reid, And that the sweit bairne did win.
4 And scho has taine out a little pen-knife, And low down by her gair; Scho has twin’d the yong thing and his life, A word he nevir spak mair.
5 And out and cam the thick, thick bluid, And out and cam the thin, And out and cam the bonny herts bluid; Thair was nae life left in.
6 Scho laid him on a dressing-borde, And drest him like a swine, And laughing said, Gae nou and pley With your sweit play-feres nine.
7 Scho rowd him in a cake of lead, Bade him lie stil and sleip; Scho cast him in a deip draw-well, Was fifty fadom deip.
8 Whan bells wer rung, and mass was sung, And every lady went hame, Than ilka lady had her yong sonne, Bot Lady Helen had nane.
9 Scho rowd hir mantil hir about, And sair, sair gan she weip, And she ran into the Jewis castel, Whan they wer all asleip.
10 ‘My bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew, I pray thee to me speik:’ ‘O lady, rinn to the deip draw-well, Gin ye your sonne wad seik.’
11 Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well, And knelt upon her kne: ‘My bonny Sir Hew, an ye be here, I pray thee speik to me.’
12 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, The well is wondrous deip; A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert, A word I dounae speik.
13 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, Fetch me my windling sheet, And at the back o Mirry-land toun, It’s thair we twa sall meet.’
C
Percy papers; communicated to Percy by Paton, in 1768 or 69, and derived from a friend of Paton’s.
1 Four and twenty bonny boys War playing at the ba; Then up and started sweet Sir Hew, The flower amang them a’.
2 He hit the ba a kick wi’s fit, And kept it wi his knee, That up into the Jew’s window He gart the bonny ba flee.
3 ‘Cast doun the ba to me, fair maid, Cast doun the ba to me;’ ‘O neer a bit o the ba ye get Till ye cum up to me.
4 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew, Cum up and get the ba;’ ‘I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my play-feres twa.’
5 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew, Cum up and play wi me;’ ‘I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my play-feres three.’
6 She’s gane into the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew lang and green; She powd an apple red and white, To wyle the young thing in.
7 She wyl’d him into ae chamber, She wyl’d him into twa, She wyl’d him to her ain chamber, The fairest o them a’.
8 She laid him on a dressing-board, Where she did sometimes dine; She put a penknife in his heart, And dressed him like a swine.
9 Then out and cam the thick, thick blude, Then out and cam the thin; Then out and cam the bonny heart’s blude, Where a’the life lay in.
10 She rowd him in a cake of lead, Bad him lie still and sleep; She cast him in the Jew’s draw-well, Was fifty fadom deep.
11 She’s tane her mantle about her head, Her pike-staff in her hand, And prayed Heaven to be her guide Unto some uncouth land.
12 His mither she cam to the Jew’s castle, And there ran thryse about: ‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’
13 She cam into the Jew’s garden, And there ran thryse about: ‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’
14 She cam unto the Jew’s draw-well, And there ran thryse about: ‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’
15 ‘How can I speak, how dare I speak, How can I speak to thee? The Jew’s penknife sticks in my heart, I canna speak to thee.
16 ‘Gang hame, gang hame, O mither dear, And shape my winding sheet, And at the birks of Mirryland town There you and I shall meet.’
17 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, And a’men bound for bed, Every mither had her son, But sweet Sir Hew was dead.
D
Herd’s MS., I, 213; stanzas 7–10, II, 219.
1 A’the boys of merry Linkim War playing at the ba, An up it stands him sweet Sir Hugh, The flower amang them a’.
2 He keppit the ba than wi his foot, And catchd it wi his knee, And even in at the Jew’s window He gart the bonny ba flee.
3 ‘Cast out the ba to me, fair maid, Cast out the ba to me!’ ‘Ah never a bit of it,’ she says, ‘Till ye come up to me.
4 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, Come up and get the ba’!’ ‘I winna come up, I mayna come [up], Without my bonny boys a’.’
5 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, Come up and speak to me!’ ‘I mayna come up, I winna come up, Without my bonny boys three.’
6 She’s taen her to the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew lang and green, She’s pu’d an apple reid and white, To wyle the bonny boy in.
7 She’s wyl’d him in thro ae chamber, She’s wyl’d him in thro twa, She’s wyl’d him till her ain chamber, The flower out owr them a’.
8 She’s laid him on a dressin-board, Whare she did often dine; She stack a penknife to his heart, And dressd him like a swine.
9 She rowd him in a cake of lead, Bade him lie still and sleep; She threw him i the Jew’s draw-well, ’Twas fifty fathom deep.
10 Whan bells was rung, and mass was sung, An a’ man bound to bed, Every lady got hame her son, But sweet Sir Hugh was dead.
E
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 51, as taken down from the recitation of a lady.
1 Yesterday was brave Hallowday, And, above all days of the year, The schoolboys all got leave to play, And little Sir Hugh was there.
2 He kicked the ball with his foot, And kepped it with his knee, And even in at the Jew’s window He gart the bonnie ba flee.
3 Out then came the Jew’s daughter: ‘Will ye come in and dine?’ ‘I winna come in, and I canna come in, Till I get that ball of mine.
4 ‘Throw down that ball to me, maiden, Throw down the ball to me!’ ‘I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh, Till ye come up to me.’
5 She pu’d the apple frae the tree, It was baith red and green; She gave it unto little Sir Hugh, With that his heart did win.
6 She wiled him into ae chamber, She wiled him into twa, She wiled him into the third chamber, And that was warst o’t a’.
7 She took out a little penknife, Hung low down by her spare, She twined this young thing o his life, And a word he neer spak mair.
8 And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonnie heart’s blood, There was nae mair within.
9 She laid him on a dressing-table, She dressd him like a swine; Says, Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh, Wi yere apples red and green!
10 She put him in a case of lead, Says, Lie ye there and sleep! She threw him into the deep draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep.
11 A schoolboy walking in the garden Did grievously hear him moan; He ran away to the deep draw-well, And fell down on his knee.
12 Says, Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh, I pray you speak to me! If you speak to any body in this world, I pray you speak to me.
13 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And every body went hame, Then every lady had her son, But Lady Helen had nane.
14 She rolled her mantle her about, And sore, sore did she weep; She ran away to the Jew’s castle, When all were fast asleep.
15 She cries, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, I pray you speak to me! If you speak to any body in this world, I pray you speak to me.
16 ‘Lady Helen, if ye want your son, I’ll tell ye where to seek; Lady Helen, if ye want your son, He’s in the well sae deep.’
17 She ran away to the deep draw-well, And she fell down on her knee, Saying, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, I pray ye speak to me! If ye speak to any body in the world, I pray ye speak to me.
18 ‘Oh the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother, The well it is wondrous deep; The little penknife sticks in my throat, And I downa to ye speak.
19 ‘But lift me out o this deep draw-well, And bury me in yon churchyard; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
20 ‘Put a Bible at my head,’ he says, ‘And a Testament at my feet, And pen and ink at every side, And I’ll lie still and sleep.
21 ‘And go to the back of Maitland town, Bring me my winding sheet; For it’s at the back of Maitland town That you and I shall meet.’
22 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom that makes full sore, A woman’s mercy is very little, But a man’s mercy is more.
F
Hume’s Sir Hugh of Lincoln, p. 35, obtained from recitation in Ireland.
1 ’Twas on a summer’s morning Some scholars were playing at ball, When out came the Jew’s daughter And leand her back against the wall.
2 She said unto the fairest boy, Come here to me, Sir Hugh; ‘No! I will not,’ said he, ‘Without my playfellows too.’
3 She took an apple out of her pocket, And trundled it along the plain, And who was readiest to lift it Was little Sir Hugh again.
4 She took him by the milk-white han, An led him through many a hall, Until they came to one stone chamber, Where no man might hear his call.
5 She set him in a goolden chair, And jaggd him with a pin, And called for a goolden cup To houl his heart’s blood in.
6 She tuk him by the yellow hair, An also by the feet, An she threw him in the deep draw-well; It was fifty fadom deep.
7 Day bein over, the night came on, And the scholars all went home; Then every mother had her son, But little Sir Hugh’s had none.
8 She put her mantle about her head, Tuk a little rod in her han, An she says, Sir Hugh, if I fin you here, I will bate you for stayin so long.
9 First she went to the Jew’s door, But they were fast asleep; An then she went to the deep draw-well, That was fifty fadom deep.
10 She says, Sir Hugh, if you be here, As I suppose you be, If ever the dead or quick arose, Arise and spake to me.
11 ‘Yes, mother dear, I am here, I know I have staid very long; But a little penknife was stuck in my heart, Till the stream ran down full strong.
12 ‘And mother dear, when you go home, Tell my playfellows all That I lost my life by leaving them, When playing that game of ball.
13 ‘And ere another day is gone, My winding-sheet prepare, And bury me in the green churchyard, Where the flowers are bloomin fair.
14 ‘Lay my Bible at my head, My Testament at my feet; The earth and worms shall be my bed, Till Christ and I shall meet.’
G
#a.# Written down by Mrs Dulany, January 14, 1885, from the recitation of her mother, Mrs Nourse, aged above ninety, as learned when a child, in Philadelphia. #b.# From the same source, furnished several years earlier by Miss Perine, of Baltimore.
1 It rains, it rains in old Scotland, And down the rain does fa, And all the boys in our town Are out a playing at ba.
2 ‘You toss your balls too high, my boys, You toss your balls too low; You’ll toss them into the Jew’s garden, Wherein you darst not go.’
3 Then out came one of the Jew’s daughters, All dressed in red and green: ‘Come in, come in, my pretty little boy, And get your ball again.’
4 ‘I winna come in, and I canna come in, Without my playmates all, And without the will of my mother dear, Which would cause my heart’s blood to fall.’
5 She shewed him an apple as green as grass, She shewed him a gay gold ring, She shewed him a cherry as red as blood, Which enticed the little boy in.
6 She took him by the lily-white hand, And led him into the hall, And laid him on a dresser-board, And that was the worst of all.
7 She laid the Bible at his head, The Prayer-Book at his feet, And with a penknife small She stuck him like a sheep.
8 Six pretty maids took him by the head, And six took him by the feet, And threw him into a deep draw-well, That was eighteen fathoms deep.
* * * * *
9 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mother, The well is wondrous deep, A keen pen-knife sticks in my heart, And nae word more can I speak.’
H
Communicated by Miss Perine, of Baltimore, Maryland, as sung by her mother about 1825.
1 It rains, it rains in fair Scotland, It rains both great and small . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2 He tossed the hall so high, so low, He tossed the ball so low, He tossed it over the Jew’s garden-wall, Where no one dared to go.
3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters, All dressed in apple-green; Said she, My dear little boy, come in, And pick up your ball again.
4 ‘I dare not come, I will not come, I dare not come at all; For if I should, I know you would Cause my blood to fall.’
5 She took him by the lily-white hand, And led him thro the kitchen; And there he saw his own dear maid A roasting of a chicken.
6 She put him in a little chair, And pinned him with a pin, And then she called for a wash-basin, To spill his life blood in.
7 ‘O put the Bible at my head, And the Testament at my feet, And when my mother calls for me, You may tell her I’m gone to sleep.’
I
Sir E. Brydges, Restituta, I, 381, “obtained some years since” (1814) from the recitation of an aged lady.
1 It rains, it rains in merry Scotland, It rains both great and small, And all the children in merry Scotland Are playing at the ball.
2 They toss the ball so high, so high, They toss the ball so low, They toss the ball in the Jew’s garden, Where the Jews are sitting a row.
3 Then up came one of the Jew’s daughters, Cloathed all in green: ‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty Sir Hugh, And fetch thy ball again.’
4 ‘I durst not come, I durst not go, Without my play-fellowes all; For if my mother should chance to know, She’d cause my blood to fall.’
* * * * *
5 She laid him upon the dresser-board, And stuck him like a sheep; She laid the Bible at his head, The Testament at his feet, The Catechise-Book in his own heart’s blood, With a penknife stuck so deep.
* * * * *
J
#a.# Notes and Queries, First Series, XII, 496, B. H. C., from the manuscript of an old lacemaker in Northamptonshire. #b.# N. and Q., First Series, VIII, 614, B. H. C., from memory, stanzas 1–6.
1 It rains, it rains in merry Scotland, Both little, great and small, And all the schoolfellows in merry Scotland Must needs go play at ball.
2 They tossd the ball so high, so high, With that it came down so low; They tossd it over the old Jew’s gates, And broke the old Jew’s window.
3 The old Jew’s daughter she came out, Was clothed all in green: ‘Come hither, come hither, you young Sir Hugh, And fetch your ball again.’
4 ‘I dare not come, nor I will not come, Without my schoolfellows come all; For I shall be beaten when I go home For losing of my ball.’
5 She ‘ticed him with an apple so red, And likewise with a fig; She threw him over the dresser-board, And sticked him like a pig.
6 The first came out the thickest of blood, The second came out so thin, The third came out the child’s heart-blood, Where all his life lay in.
7 ‘O spare my life! O spare my life! O spare my life!’ said he; ‘If ever I live to be a young man, I’ll do as good chare for thee.’
8 ‘I’ll do as good chare for thy true love As ever I did for the king; I will scour a basin as bright as silver To let your heart-blood run in.’
9 When eleven o’clock was past and gone, And all the school-fellows came home, Every mother had her own child But young Sir Hugh’s mother had none.
10 She went up Lincoln and down Lincoln, And all about Lincoln street, With her small wand in her right hand, Thinking of her child to meet.
11 She went till she came to the old Jew’s gate, She knocked with the ring; Who should be so ready as the old Jew herself To rise and let her in!
12 ‘What news, fair maid? what news, fair maid? What news have you brought to me? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
13 ‘Have you seen any of my child today, Or any of the rest of my kin?’ ‘No, I’ve seen none of your child today, Nor none of the rest of your kin.’
K
Notes and Queries, First Series, IX, 320; taken down by S. P. Q. from the recitation of a nurse-maid in Shropshire about 1810. Salopian Shreds and Patches, July 21, 1875, in Miss Burne’s Shropshire Folk-Lore, p. 539.
1 It hails, it rains, in Merry-Cock land, It hails, it rains, both great and small, And all the little children in Merry-Cock land They have need to play at ball.
2 They tossd the ball so high, They tossd the ball so low, Amongst all the Jews’ cattle, And amongst the Jews below.
3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters, Dressed all in green: ‘Come, my sweet Saluter, And fetch the ball again.’
4 ‘I durst not come, I must not come, Unless all my little playfellows come along; For if my mother sees me at the gate, She’ll cause my blood to fall.
5 ‘She showd me an apple as green as grass, She showd me a gay gold ring; She showd me a cherry as red as blood, And so she entic’d me in.
6 ‘She took me in the parlor, She took me in the kitchen, And there I saw my own dear nurse, A picking of a chicken.
7 ‘She laid me down to sleep, With a Bible at my head and a Testament at my feet; And if my playfellows come to quere for me, Tell them I am asleep.’
L
#a.# Communicated in a letter from the Rev. E. Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, as sung to him by a nurse-maid nearly sixty years ago, January 24, 1885. A Buckinghamshire version. #b.# A Walk through Lincoln Minster, by the Rev. E. Venables, p. 41, 1884.
1 It rains, it hails in merry Lincoln, It rains both great and small, And all the boys and girls today Do play at pat the ball.
2 They patted the ball so high, so high, They patted the ball so low, They patted it into the Jew’s garden, Where all the Jews do go.
3 Then out it spake the Jew’s daughter, As she leant over the wall; ‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty play-fellow, And I’ll give you your ball.’
4 She tempted him [in] with apple so red, But that wouldnt tempt him in; She tempted him in with sugar so sweet, And so she got him in.
5 Then she put forth her lilly-white hand, And led him through the hall: ‘This way, this way, my pretty play-fellow, And you shall have your ball.’
6 She led him on through one chamber, And so she did through nine, Until she came to her own chamber, Where she was wont to dine, And she laid him on a dressing-board, And sticket him like a swine.
7 Then out it came the thick, thick blood, And out it came the thin, And out it came the bonnie heart’s blood, There was no more within.
M
F. H. Groome, In Gipsy Tents, 1880, p. 145: “first heard at Shepherd’s Bush, in 1872, from little Amy North.”
1 Down in merry, merry Scotland It rained both hard and small; Two little boys went out one day, All for to play with a ball.
2 They tossed it up so very, very high, They tossed it down so low; They tossed it into the Jew’s garden, Where the flowers all do blow.
3 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters, Dressëd in green all: ‘If you come here, my fair pretty lad, You shall have your ball.’
4 She showed him an apple as green as grass; The next thing was a fig; The next thing a cherry as red as blood, And that would ‘tice him in.
5 She set him on a golden chair, And gave him sugar sweet; Laid him on some golden chest of drawers, Stabbed him like a sheep.
6 ‘Seven foot Bible At my head and my feet; If my mother pass by me, Pray tell her I’m asleep.’
N
Newell’s Games and Songs of American Children, p. 75, as sung by a little girl in New York: derived, through her mother, from a grandmother born in Ireland.
1 It was on a May, on a midsummer’s day, When it rained, it did rain small; And little Harry Hughes and his playfellows all Went out to play the ball.
2 He knocked it up, and he knocked it down, He knocked it oer and oer; The very first kick little Harry gave the ball, He broke the duke’s windows all.
3 She came down, the youngest duke’s daughter, She was dressed in green: ‘Come back, come back, my pretty little boy, And play the ball again.’
4 ‘I wont come back, and I daren’t come back, Without my playfellows all; And if my mother she should come in, She’d make it the bloody ball.’
5 She took an apple out of her pocket, And rolled it along the plain; Little Harry Hughes picked up the apple, And sorely rued the day.
6 She takes him by the lily-white hand, And leads him from hall to hall, Until she came to a little dark room, That no one could hear him call.
7 She sat herself on a golden chair, Him on another close by, And there’s where she pulled out her little penknife, That was both sharp and fine.
8 Little Harry Hughes had to pray for his soul, For his days were at an end; She stuck her penknife in little Harry’s heart, And first the blood came very thick, and then came very thin.
9 She rolled him in a quire of tin, That was in so many a fold; She rolled him from that to a little draw-well, That was fifty fathoms deep.
10 ‘Lie there, lie there, little Harry,’ she cried, ‘And God forbid you to swim, If you be a disgrace to me, Or to any of my friends.’
11 The day passed by, and the night came on, And every scholar was home, And every mother had her own child, But poor Harry’s mother had none.
12 She walked up and down the street, With a little sally rod in her hand, And God directed her to the little draw-well, That was fifty fathoms deep.
13 ‘If you be there, little Harry,’ she said, ‘And God forbid you to be, Speak one word to your own dear mother, That is looking all over for thee.’
14 ‘This I am, dear mother,’ he cried, ‘And lying in great pain, With a little penknife lying close to my heart, And the duke’s daughter she has me slain.
15 ‘Give my blessing to my schoolfellows all, And tell them to be at the church, And make my grave both large and deep, And my coffin of hazel and green birch.
16 ‘Put my Bible at my head, My busker (?) at my feet, My little prayer-book at my right side, And sound will be my sleep.’
O
G. A. Sala, Illustrated London News, October 21, 1882, LXXXI, 415, repeated in Living London, 1883, p. 465: heard from a nurse in childhood.
1 It rains, it rains, in merry Scotland, It rains both great and small, And all the children in merry Scotland Must needs play at ball.
2 They toss the ball so high, And they toss the ball so low; They toss it into the Jew’s garden, Where the Jews sate all of a row.
3 . . . . . . . A-dressëd all in green: ‘Come in, come in, my pretty lad, And you shall have your ball again.’
4 ‘They set me in a chair of state, And gave me sugar sweet; They laid me on a dresser-board, And stuck me like a sheep.
5 ‘Oh lay a Bible at my head, And a Prayer-Book at my feet! In the well that they did throw me in, Full five-and-fifty feet deep.’
P
Halliwell, Ballads and Poems respecting Hugh of Lincoln, p. 37, Halliwell’s Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 192, ed. 1849: communicated by Miss Agnes Strickland, from oral tradition at Godalming, Surrey.
1 He tossed the ball so high, so high, He tossed the ball so low, He tossed the ball in the Jew’s garden, And the Jews were all below.
2 Oh then out came the Jew’s daughter, She was dressed all in green: ‘Come hither, come hither, my sweet pretty fellow, And fetch your ball again.’
Q
Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 54, as sung by Widow Michael, an old woman in Barhead.
1 A’ the bairns o Lincolnshire Were learning at the school, And every Saturday at een They learnt their lessons weel.
2 The Jew’s dochter sat in her bower-door, Sewing at her seam; She spied a’the bonnie bairns, As they cam out and hame.
R
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, VII.
It was in the middle o the midsimmer tyme, When the scule weans playd at the ba, ba, Out and cam the Jew’s tochter, And on little Sir Hew did ca, ca, And on little Sir Hew did ca.
* * * * *
#B.#
Initial quh is changed to wh: z, for ȝ, to y.
#C.#
“‘The Jew’s Daughter,’ which you say was transmitted to Mr Dodsley by a friend of yours, never reached me, and Mr Dodsley says he knows nothing of it. I wish you would prevail on your friend to try to recollect or recover it, and send me another copy by you.” Percy to Paton, Jan. 12, 1769. The copy in the Percy papers is in Paton’s hand.
1^4. First written: The fairest o them a’.
7^4. First written: The flower amang them a’.
#D.#
10^4. bells were, in the second copy.
#E.#
9^2. a swan.
#F.#
Hume says, p. 5, that he first heard the ballad in early boyhood; “it was afterwards readily identified with Sir Hugh of Lincoln, though the rustic minstrel from whom I received it made no allusion to locality.” One cannot tell whether this copy is the ballad heard in early boyhood.
14^1. “This and the next verse are transposed.” Hume.
#G. a.#
2^4. darest.
#b.#
1^2. doth fall.
1^3. When all.
1^4. Were out a playing ball.
2^1. We toss the balls so.
2^2. We toss the balls so.
2^3. We’ve tossed it.
2^4. Where no one dares to.
3^1. out and came the Jew’s daughter.
3^3. Said, Come.
4^1. will not come in, I cannot.
4^2. playfellows.
4^3. Nor for And.
4^4. Which will. After 4: I must not come, I dare not come, I cannot come at all, For if my mother should call for me, I cannot hear her call.
5^4. To entice this.
After 5 (compare Miss Perine’s own version, #H# 6): She put him in a little chair, She pinned him with a pin, And then she called for a wash-basin, To spill his heart’s blood in.
6^3. dressing.
7^2. And the.
8 comes before 6.
8^3. they threw: deep dark well.
8^4. Was fifty fathoms.
9 wanting.
#J.# #a.#
6^4. Whereer.
#b.#
1^2. It rains both great.
2^2. And yet it.
3^3. thou young.
4^1. I dare not come, I dare not come.
4^2. Unless my.
4^3. And I shall be flogged when I get.
5^3. She laid him on the.
6^1. The thickest of blood did first come out.
6^3. The third that came was his dear heart’s blood.
6^4. Where all his.
7–13 wanting.
#K.#
There are slight changes in the second copy.
4^2. all wanting.
5^{1,3}. The first as wanting.
#L. a.#
“After nearly sixty years my memory is not altogether trustworthy, and I am not altogether sure how far I have mixed up my childish recollections with later forms of the ballad which I have read.”
The singer tagged on to this fragment version #c# of The Maid freed from the Gallows, given at II, 352.
#b.#
1^3. For all.
3^1. it wanting.
4^1. him in.
4^4. And wiled the young thing in.
5. wanting.
6^1. him in through one dark door.
6^2. she has.
6^{3,4}. wanting.
6^5. She’s laid him.
After 7: She’s rolled him in a cake of lead, Bade him lie still and sleep, And thrown him in St Mary’s well, ’Twas fifty fathoms deep.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And all the boys came home, Then every mother had her own son, But Lady Maisy had none.
#N.#
“The writer was not a little surprised to hear from a group of colored children, in the streets of New York city (though in a more incoherent form), the following ballad. He traced the song to a little girl living in one of the cabins near Central Park, from whom he obtained this version.... The mother of the family had herself been born in New York, of Irish parentage, but had learned from her own mother, and handed down to her children, such legends of the past as the ballad we cite.” Communicated to me by Mr. Newell some considerable time before publication.
#O.#
3. “One of the Jew’s daughters, ‘a-dressed all in green,’ issues from the garden and says, Come in, etc.”
THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH POPULAR BALLADS
EDITED BY FRANCIS JAMES CHILD