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ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MEINY
CCCIV
c And for the meeds of my service,
That I have served thee, Let never the proud Sheriff
Alive now finde me ;
CCCV
' But take out thy brown sword,
And smite all off my head And give me wounds dead and wide,
No life on me be left.'
cccvi ' I would not that,' said Robin,
' John, that thou were slawe, For all the gold in merry England,
Though it lay now on a rawe.'
cccvn ' God forbid,' said little Much,
' That died on a tree, That thou shouldest, Little John,
Part our company.'
CCCVIII
Up Robin took him on his back,
And bare him well a mile ; Many a time he laid him down,
And shot another while.
CCC1X
Then was there a fair castell,
A little within the wood ; Double-ditch'd it was about,
And walled, by the rood.
meeds] wages. dead] certain, sure. ravve] row.
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