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66 A LTTELL GESTE OF ROBYN HODE.
He sterte hym to a borde anone,
Tyll a table rounde, And there he shoke out of a bagge 155
Even foure hondred pounde.
"Have here thy golde, syr abbot," sayd the knyght,
" Which that thou lentest me ; Haddest thou ben curteys at my comynge,
Eewarde sholdest thou have be." i«
The abbot sat styll, and ete no more,
For all his ryall chere ; He caste his hede on his sholder,
And fast began to stare.
" Take me my golde agayne," sayd the abbot, i«s
" Syr justyce, that I toke the; " " Not a peny," sayd the justyce,
" By god, that dyed on a tree."
" Syr abbot, and ye men "of lawe,
Now have I holde my daye, iro
Now shall I have my londe agayne,
For ought that you can saye."
The knyght stert out of the dore,
Awaye was all his care, And on he put his good clothynge, ire
The other he lefte there. |
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