A True Tale of Robin Hood

Gutch's Robin Hood, ii. 88.

This doggerel is by Martin Parker, a well-known author of ballads in the reign of Charles I. and during the Protectorate. The titles of several of his works are given by Ritson, (Robin Hood, i. 127,) and those of others may be seen in Collier's Roxburghe Ballads, 237, 243, and Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 257, 263; among these last is the celebrated song, When the king enjoys his own again.

Ritson printed this piece from a black-letter edition dated 1686. Gutch obtained a somewhat better copy from Mr. Collier, which we have here followed. "The date of Mr. Collier's copy is cut off, but enough remains to shew that it was printed at London, 'for T. Cotes, and are to be sold by F. Grove, dwelling upon Snow-hill near the Saracens * * *.' The first edition was entered at Stationers' Hall, 20th February, 1631."

The title in full is: "A True Tale of Robbin Hood, Or, a brief touch of the life and death of that renowned outlaw, Robert, Earle of Huntington, vulgarly called Robbin Hood, who lived and died in 1198, being the 9th yeare of king Richard the first, commonly called Richard Cuer de Lyon; carefully collected out of the truest writers of our English Chronicles and published for the satisfaction of those who desire to see truth purged from falsehood. By Martin Parker."

At the end of the tale is the following epitaph, "which the prioresse of the monastery of Kirkes Lay in Yorkshire set over Robbin Hood, which was to bee reade within these hundreth yeares (though in old broken English), much to the same sence and meaning."

Decembris quarto die 1198. anno regni Richardii primi 9.

Robert earle of Huntington
Lies under this little stone.
No archer was like him so good;
His wildnesse named him Robbin Hood.
Full thirteene yeares and something more,
These northern parts he vexed sore;
Such outlawes as hee and his men,
May England never know agen.

"Some other superstitious words were in it, which I thought fit to leave out." M. P.

Both gentlemen, or yeomen bould,
Or whatsoever you are,
To have a stately story tould
Attention now prepare.

It is a tale of Robin Hood,
Which I to you will tell,
Which being rightly understood,
I know will please you well.

This Robbin (so much talked on)
Was once a man of fame,
Instiled earle of Huntington,
Lord Robert Hood by name.

In courtship and magnificence
His carriage won him prayse,
And greater favour with his prince
Than any in his dayes.

In bounteous liberality
He too much did excell,
And loved men of quality
More than exceeding well.

His great revennues all he sould
For wine and costly cheere;
He kept three hundred bowmen bold,
He shooting loved so deare.

No archer living in his time
With him might well compare:
He practis'd all his youthfull prime
That exercise most rare.

At last, by his profuse expence,
He had consum'd his wealth;
And being outlawed by his prince,
In woods he liv'd by stealth.

The abbot of Saint Maries rich,
To whom he mony ought,
His hatred to the earle was such
That he his downefall wrought.

So being outlaw'd (as 'tis told)
He with a crew went forth
Of lusty cutters stout and bold,
And robbed in the North.

Among the rest one Little John,
A yeoman bold and free,
Who could (if it stood him upon)
With ease encounter three.

One hundred men in all he got,
With whom (the story sayes)
Three hundred commen men durst not
Hold combat any wayes.

They Yorkshire woods frequented much,
And Lancashire also,
Wherein their practises were such
That they wrought mickle woe.

None rich durst travell to and fro,
Though nere so strongly arm'd,
But by these theeves (so strong in show)
They still were rob'd and harm'd.

His chiefest spight to th' clergie was,
That liv'd in monstrous pride:
No one of them he would let passe
Along the highway side,

But first they must to dinner go,
And afterwards to shrift:
Full many a one he served so,
Thus while he liv'd by theft.

No monks nor fryers would he let goe,
Without paying their fees:
If they thought much to be us'd so,
Their stones he made them leese.

For such as they the country fill'd
With bastards in those dayes;
Which to prevent, these sparkes did geld
All that came by their ways.

But Robbin Hood so gentle was,
And bore so brave a minde,
If any in distresse did passe,
To them he was so kinde,

That he would give and lend to them,
To helpe them in their neede;
This made all poore men pray for him,
And wish he well might speede.

The widdow and the fatherlesse
He would send meanes unto;
And those whom famine did oppresse
Found him a friendly foe.

Nor would he doe a woman wrong,
But see her safe conveid:
He would protect with power strong
All those who crav'd his ayde.

The abbot of Saint Maries then,
Who him undid before,
Was riding with two hundred men,
And gold and silver store.

But Robbin Hood upon him set,
With his couragious sparkes,
And all the coyne perforce did get,
Which was twelve thousand markes.

He bound the abbot to a tree,
And would not let him passe,
Before that to his men and he
His lordship had said masse.

Which being done, upon his horse
He set him fast astride,
And with his face towards his——
He forced him to ride.

His men were faine to be his guide,
For he rode backward home:
The abbot, being thus villified,
Did sorely chafe and fume.

Thus Robbin Hood did vindicate
His former wrongs receiv'd;
For 'twas this covetous prelàte
That him of land bereav'd.

The abbot he rode to the king,
With all the haste he could,
And to his grace he every thing
Exactly did unfold:

And sayd if that no course were ta'en,
By force or stratagem,
To take this rebel and his traine,
No man should passe for them.

The king protested by and by
Unto the abbot then,
That Robbin Hood with speed should dye,
With all his merry men.

But e're the king did any send,
He did another feate,
Which did his grace much more offend,
The fact indeed was great.

For in a short time after that
The kings receivers went
Towards London with the coyne they got,
For 's highness northerne rent.

Bold Robbin Hood and Little John,
With the rest of their traine,
Not dreading law, set them upon,
And did their gold obtaine.

The king much moved at the same,
And the abbots talke also,
In this his anger did proclaime,
And sent word to and fro,

That whosoe'er alive or dead
Could bring bold Robbin Hood,
Should have one thousand markes well paid
In gold and silver good.

This promise of the king did make
Full many yeomen bold
Attempt stout Robbin Hood to take,
With all the force they could.

But still when any came to him
Within the gay greene wood,
He entertainement gave to them
With venison fat and good;

And shew'd to them such martiale sport
With his long bow and arrow,
That they of him did give report,
How that it was great sorow,

That such a worthy man as he
Should thus be put to shift,
Being late a lord of high degree,
Of living quite bereft.

The king to take him, more and more
Sent men of mickle might;
But he and his still beate them sore,
And conquered them in fight:

Or else with love and courtesie,
To him he won their hearts.
Thus still he lived by robbery
Throughout the northerne parts;

And all the country stood in dread
Of Robbin Hood and 's men:
For stouter lads ne're liv'd by bread
In those days, nor since then.

The abbot which before I nam'd
Sought all the meanes he could
To have by force this rebele ta'ne,
And his adherents bold.

Therefore he arm'd five hundred men,
With furniture compleate;
But the outlawes slewe halfe of them,
And made the rest retreate.

The long bow and the arrow keene
They were so us'd unto,
That still he kept the forrest greene
In spite o' th' proudest foe.

Twelve of the abbots men he tooke,
Who came him to have ta'ne,
When all the rest the field forsooke;
These he did entertaine

With banquetting and merriment,
And, having us'd them well,
He to their lord them safely sent,
And will'd them him to tell,

That if he would be pleas'd at last
To beg of our good king
That he might pardon what was past,
And him to favour bring,

He would surrender backe again
The money which before
Was taken by him and his men
From him and many more.

Poore men might safely passe by him,
And some that way would chuse,
For well they knew that to helpe them
He evermore did use.

But where he knew a miser rich
That did the poore oppresse,
To feel his coyne his hands did itch;
He'd have it, more or lesse.

And sometimes, when the high-way fayl'd,
Then he his courage rouses,
He and his men have oft assayld
Such rich men in their houses.

So that, through dread of Robbin then,
And his adventurous crew,
The mizers kept great store of men,
Which else maintayn'd but few.

King Richard of that name the first,
Sirnamed Cuer de Lyon,
Went to defeate the Pagans curst,
Who kept the coasts of Syon.

The bishop of Ely, chancelor,
Was left a vice-roy here,
Who like a potent emperor
Did proudly domminere.

Our chronicles of him report,
That commonly he rode
With a thousand horse from court to court,
Where he would make abode.

He, riding down towards the north,
With his aforesayd train,
Robbin and his men did issue forth,
Them all to entertaine;

And with the gallant gray-goose wing
They shewd to them such playe,
That made their horses kicke and fling,
And downe their riders lay.

Full glad and faine the bishop was,
For all his thousand men,
To seek what meanes he could to passe
From out of Robbins ken.

Two hundred of his men were kil'd,
And fourescore horses good;
Thirty, who did as captives yeeld,
Were carryed to the greene wood;

Which afterwards were ransomed,
For twenty markes a man;
The rest set spurres to horse, and fled
To th' town of Warrington.

The bishop sore enraged then,
Did, in king Richards name,
Muster a power of northerne men,
These outlawes bold to tame.

But Robbin with his courtesie
So wonne the meaner sort,
That they were loath on him to try
What rigor did import.

So that bold Robbin and his traine
Did live unhurt of them,
Untill king Richard came againe
From faire Jerusalem.

And then the talke of Robbin Hood
His royal eares did fill;
His grace admir'd that i' th' greene wood
He thus continued still.

So that the country farre and neare
Did give him great applause;
For none of them neede stand in feare,
But such as broke the lawes.

He wished well unto the king,
And prayed still for his health,
And never practis'd any thing
Against the common-wealth.

Onely, because he was undone
By th' crewele clergie then,
All meanes that he could thinke upon
To vexe such kinde of men,

He enterpriz'd with hateful spleene;
For which he was to blame,
For fault of some to wreake his teene
On all that by him came.

With wealth which he by robbery got
Eight almes-houses he built,
Thinking thereby to purge the blot
Of blood which he had spilt.

Such was their blinde devotion then,
Depending on their workes;
Which, if 'twere true, we Christian men
Inferiour were to Turkes.

But, to speak true of Robbin Hood,
And wrong him not a jot,
He never would shed any mans blood
That him invaded not.

Nor would he injure husbandmen,
That toyld at cart and plough;
For well he knew, were't not for them
To live no man knew how.

The king in person, with some lords,
To Nottingham did ride,
To try what strength and skill affords
To crush these outlaws pride.

And, as he once before had done,
He did againe proclaime,
That whosoe'er would take upon
To bring to Nottingham,

Or any place within the land,
Rebellious Robbin Hood,
Should be prefer'd in place to stand
With those of noble blood.

When Robbin Hood heard of the same,
Within a little space,
Into the towne of Nottingham
A letter to his grace

He shot upon an arrow head,
One evening cunningly;
Which was brought to the king, and read
Before his majestie.

The tennure of this letter was
That Robbin would submit,
And be true liegeman to his grace
In any thing that's fit,

So that his highnesse would forgive
Him and his merry men all;
If not, he must i' th' green wood live,
And take what chance did fall.

The king would faine have pardoned him,
But that some lords did say
"This president will much condemn
Your grace another day."

While that the king and lords did stay
Debating on this thing,
Some of these outlawes fled away
Unto the Scottish king.

For they suppos'd, if he were tane,
Or to the king did yeeld,
By th' commons all the rest of 's train
Full quickely would be quell'd.

Of more than full an hundred men,
But forty tarryed still,
Who were resolv'd to sticke to him
Let fortune worke her will.

If none had fled, all for his sake
Had got their pardon free;
The king to favour meant to take
His merry men and he.

But e're the pardon to him came
This famous archer dy'd:
His death and manner of the same
I'le presently describe.

For, being vext to think upon
His followers revolt,
In melancholly passiòn
He did recount his fault.

"Perfideous traytors!" sayd he then,
"In all your dangers past
Have I you guarded as my men,
To leave me thus at last!"

This sad perplexity did cause
A feaver, as some say,
Which him unto confusion drawes,
Though by a stranger way.

This deadly danger to prevent,
He hie'd him with all speede
Unto a nunnery, with intent
For his healths-sake to bleede.

A faithlesse fryer did pretend
In love to let him blood,
But he by falshood wrought the end
Of famous Robbin Hood.

The fryer, as some say, did this
To vindicate the wrong
Which to the clergy he and his
Had done by power strong.

Thus dyed he by trechery,
That could not dye by force:
Had he liv'd longer, certainely
King Richard, in remorse,

Had unto favour him receiv'd,
His brave men elevated:
'Tis pitty he was of life bereav'd
By one which he so hated.

A treacherous leach this fryer was,
To let him bleed to death;
And Robbin was, methinks, an asse
To trust him with his breath.

His corpse the prioress of the place,
The next day that he dy'd,
Caused to be buried, in mean case,
Close by the high-way side.

And over him she caused a stone
To be fixed on the ground;
An epitaph was set thereon,
Wherein his name was found.

The date o' th' yeare, and day also,
Shee made to be set there,
That all who by the way did goe
Might see it plain appeare,

That such a man as Robbin Hood
Was buried in that place;
And how he lived in the greene wood
And robb'd there for a space.

It seemes that though the clergie he
Had put to mickle woe,
He should not quite forgotten be,
Although he was their foe.

This woman, though she did him hate,
Yet loved his memory;
And thought it wondrous pitty that
His fame should with him dye.

This epitaph, as records tell,
Within this hundred yeares,
By many was discerned well,
But time all things out-weares.

His followers, when he was dead,
Were some receiv'd to grace;
The rest to forraign countries fled,
And left their native place.

Although his funerall was but mean,
This woman had in minde,
Least his fame should be buried clean
From those that came behind.

For certainly, before nor since,
No man e're understood,
Under the reign of any prince,
Of one like Robbin Hood.

Full thirteene years, and something more,
These outlawes lived thus,
Feared of the rich, loved of the poor,
A thing most marvelous.

A thing unpossible to us
This story seems to be;
None dares be now so venturous,
But times are chang'd we see.

We that live in these later dayes
Of civile government,
If need be, have an hundred wayes
Such outlawes to prevent.

In those days men more barbarous were,
And lived less in awe;
Now (God be thanked) people feare
More to offend the law.

No roaring guns were then in use,
They dreampt of no such thing;
Our Englishmen in fight did chuse
The gallant gray-goose wing:

In which activity these men,
Through practice, were so good,
That in those days none equal'd them,
Specially Robbin Hood.

So that, it seemes, keeping in caves,
In woods and forests thicke,
They'd beate a multitude with staves,
Their arrowes did so pricke.

And none durst neare unto them come,
Unlesse in courtesie;
All such he bravely would send home,
With mirth and jollity.

Which courtesie won him such love,
As I before have told,
'Twas the cheef cause that he did prove
More prosperous than he could.

Let us be thankefull for these times
Of plenty, truth, and peace;
And leave out great and horrid crimes,
Least they cause this to cease.

I know there's many fained tales
Of Robbin Hood and 's crew;
But chronicles, which seldom fayles,
Reports this to be true.

Let none then thinke this is a lye,
For, if 'twere put to th' worst,
They may the truth of all discry
I' th' raigne of Richard the first.

If any reader please to try,
As I direction show,
The truth of this brave history,
Hee'll find it true I know.

And I shall think my labour well
Bestowed to purpose good,
When't shall be said that I did tell
True tales of Robbin Hood.

, times.