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ROBIN HOOD AND THE PEDDLERS. 247
At last Kits oke caught Eobin a stroke, &
That made his head to sound ; He staggerd, and reelde, till he fell on the fielde,
And the trees with him went round.
" Now holde your handes," cried Little John, And soe said Scarlett eke ; »
" Our maister is slaine, I tell you plaine, He never more will speake."
" Now, heaven forefend he come to that end,"
Said Kit, " I love him well; But let him leame to be wise in turne, a>
And not with poore peddlers mell.
" In my packe, God wot, I a balsame have got,
That soone his hurts will heale ; " And into Robin Hoods gaping mouth
He presentlie powrde some deale. "»
" Now fare ye well, tis best not to tell,
How ye three peddlers met; Or if that ye doe, prithee tell alsoe,
How they made ye swinke and swett."
Poor Eobin in sound they left on the ground, uw
And hied them to Nottingham, Whilst Scarlett and John, Eobin tended on,
Till at length his senses came.