X.

ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTALL FRYER.

From an old black letter copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood; corrected by a much earlier one in the Pepysian Library, printed by H. Gosson, about the year 1610; compared with a later one in the same collection. The full title is: “The famous battell betweene Robin Hood and the curtall fryer. To a New Northerne tune.”

“The curtail fryer,” Dr. Stukeley says, “is a cordelier, from the cord or rope which they wore round their wast, to whip themselves with. They were,” adds he, “of the Franciscan order.” Our fryer, however, is undoubtedly so called from his “curtall dogs,” or curs, as we now say (Courtalt, F.) In fact, he is no fryer at all, but a monk of Fountains Abbey, which was of the Cistercian order. {210}

In summer time, when leaves grow green, And flowers are fresh and gay, Robin Hood and his merry men [They] were disposed to play.

Then some would leape, and some would runne, And some would use artillery : “Which of you can a good bow draw, A good archèr for to be ?

Which of you can kill a bucke, Or who can kill a doe ; Or who can kill a hart of Greece Five hundreth foot him fro ?”

Will Scadlòcke he kild a bucke And Midge he kild a doe ; And Little John kild a hart of Greece, Five hundreth foot him fro.

Gods blessing on thy heart, said Robin Hood, That hath such a shot for me ; I would ride my horse a hundred miles, To find one could match thee.

That caused Will Scadlòcke to laugh, He laught full heartily : “There lives a curtall fryer in Fountaines-Abbey Will beate both him and thee. {211}

The curtall fryer in Fountaines-Abbey Well can a strong bow draw, He will beat you and your yeomèn, Set them all on a row.”

Robin Hood he tooke a solemne oath, It was by Mary free, That he would neither eate nor drinke, Till the fryer he did see.

Robin Hood put on his harnesse good, On his head a cap of steel, Broad sword and buckler by his side, And they became him weele.

He tooke his bow into his hand, It was made of a trusty tree, With a sheafe of arrowes at his belt, And to Fountaine-Dale went he.

And comming unto Fountaine-Dale, No farther he would ride ; There he was aware of the curtall fryer, Walking by the water side.

The fryer had on a harnesse good, On his head a cap of steel, Broad sword and buckler by his side, And they became him weele. {212}

Robin Hood lighted off his horse, And tyed him to a thorne : “Carry me over the water, thou curtall fryer, Or else thy life’s forlorne.”

The fryer tooke Robin Hood on his backe, Deepe water he did bestride, And spake neither good word nor bad, Till he came at the other side.

Lightly leapt Robin offe the fryers backe ; The fryer said to him againe, Carry me over this water, [thou] fine fellòw, Or it shall breed thy paine.

Robin Hood took the fryer on his backe, Deepe water he did bestride, And spake neither good word nor bad, Till he came at the other side.

Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods backe, Robin Hood said to him againe, Carry me over this water, thou curtall fryer, Or it shall breede thy pain.

The fryer tooke Robin on’s backe againe, And stept in to the knee. Till he came at the middle streame, Neither good nor bad spake he, {213}

And comming to the middle streame, There he threw Robin in : “And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellòw, Whether thou wilt sink or swim.”

Robin Hood swam to a bush of broome, The fryer to a wigger-wand ; Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore, And took his bow in his hand.

One of his best arrowes under his belt To the fryer he let fly ; The curtall fryer, with his steele bucklèr, Did put that arrow by.

“Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellòw, Shoot as thou hast begun, If thou shoot here a summers day, Thy marke I will not shun.”

Robin Hood shot passing well, Till his arrows all were gane ; They tooke their swords and steele bucklèrs, They fought with might and maine,

From ten o’th’ clock that [very] day, Till four i’ th’ afternoon ; Then Robin Hood came to his knees, Of the fryer to beg a boone. {214}

“A boone, a boone, thou curtall fryer, I beg it on my knee ; Give me leave to set my horne to my mouth, And to blow blasts three.”

That I will do, said the curtall fryer, Of my blasts I have no doubt ; I hope thoult blow so passing well, Till both thy eyes fall out.

Robin Hood set his horne to his mouth, He blew out blasts three ; Halfe a hundreth yeomen, with bowes bent, Came raking over the lee.

Whose men are these, said the fryèr, That come so hastily ? These men are mine, said Robin Hood ; Fryer, what is that to thee ?

A boone, a boone, said the curtall fryer, The like I gave to thee ; Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth, And to whute whues three.

That will I doe, said Robin Hood, Or else I were to blame ; Three whues in a fryers fist Would make me glad and faine. {215}

The fryer set his fist to his mouth, And whuted whues three : Half a hundred good band-dogs Came running over the lee.

“Here’s for every man a dog, And I myselfe for thee.” Nay, by my faith, said Robin Hood, Fryer, that may not be.

Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did goe, The one behind, the other before, Robin Hoods mantle of Lincolne greene Off from his backe they tore.

And whether his men shot east or west, Or they shot north or south, The curtall dogs, so taught they were, They kept ‘the’ arrows in their mouth.

Take up thy dogs, said Little John, Fryer, at my bidding be. Whose man art thou, said the curtall fryer, Comes here to prate with me ?

“I am Little John, Robin Hoods man, Fryer, I will not lie ; If thou take not up thy dogs soone, I’le take up them and thee.” {216}

Little John had a bow in his hand, He shot with might and main ; Soon halfe a score of the fryers dogs Lay dead upon the plain.

Hold thy hand, good fellow, said the curtall fryer, Thy master and I will agree ; And we will have new orders taken, With all the hast may be.

“If thou wilt forsake fair Fountaines-dale, And Fountaines-Abbey free, Every Sunday throwout the yeere, A noble shall be thy fee :

And every holliday through the yeere, Changed shall thy garment be, If thou wilt goe to faire Nottinghàm, And there remaine with me.”

This curtall fryer had kept Fountaines-dale Seven long yeeres and more, There was neither knight, lord, nor earle, Could make him yeeld before.

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