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160 EOBIN HOOD AND GOT OF GISBOENE.
When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,
And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walkyng in the fayre forrest,
To heare the small birdes songe.
The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, s
Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he wakened Robm "Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.
" Now, by my faye," sayd jollye Robin,
" A sweaven I had this night; 10
I dreamt me of tow wight yemen, That fast with me can fight.
" Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bowe mee froe; Iff I be Robin alive in this lande, is
He be wroken on them towe."
" Sweavens are swift, master," quoth John, " As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For iff itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still." sn
" Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
And John shall goe with mee, For He goe seeke yond wight yeomen,
In greenwood where they bee."
MS. 1, shales, for shaws. 11, wighty. 24, the.