Robin Hood and þe Potter

This is an Anglish translation of Robin Hood and the Potter, a tale written down around 1500 in the manuscript Cambridge E.e.4.35. I've taken liberties to make it more comprehensible and to keep some of the lines rhyming.

A few words are loanwords: fay is from French; cheap is from Old English from Latin; gramercy and trinity seem to be intentionally French to be fancy, so I did not translate them.

Beware: this article uses spellings which have had foreign influence reverted.

The Writ
 FIT I 

In summer, when þe leafes spring, Þe blossoms on efery , So merry do þe birds sing In woods merry

Harken, good yeomen, Comely, kind, and good, One of þe best þat efer bore a bow His name was Robin Hood.

Robin Hood was þe yeoman's name, Þat was boþ kind and free, For þe lof of ure lady, All women he.

But as þe good yeoman stood one day, Among his merry men free, He was aware of a prude potter, Who came drifing ofer þe lea.

"Yonder comes a prude potter," said Robin, "Who long has fared by ure feelds, He was nefer so kind a man One penny for toll to yeeld."

"I met him at Wentbridge," said Littel John, "May efil haf wiþ him its way! Þree strokes he me gafe, Still to my sides þey.

I stake forty shillings," said Littel John, "I will gif it in whole, To any man among us all Who can make him yeeld þe toll."

"Here is forty shillings," said Robin, "And more if dare say, I shall work þat prude potter, A toll to me shall he lay."

Þe shillings were set aside, Under of yeomen þey were laid, Robin bade þe potter stand still, When before him Robin.

Hands upon his horse he laid, And bade þe potter stand full still, Þe potter shortly to him said, "Fellow, what is þy will?"

"For þree years and more, potter," Robin said, "Þu hast fared by þis way, Yet þu were nefer so kind a man, One penny of toll to lay."

"What is þy name," asked þe potter, "For toll þu ask of me?" "Robin Hood is my name, A shall þu leafe me."

"A wed I will not leafe," said þe potter, "Nor toll will I lay, Away þy hand from my horse! Or I will do þee efil, ."

Þe potter to his he went, To þe back did he creep, A good twohanded staff þere ute he , Before Robin did he leap.

Robin ute wiþ a sword bent, A in tow, Þe potter to Robin went, And said, "Fellow, let my horse go."

Togeþer þen went þese two yeomen, It was a good site to see, Þereof laffed Robin's men, Þere þey stood under a tree.

Littel John to his fellow he said, "Yond potter will stiffly stand" Þe potter, wiþ an awkward stroke, Smote þe sheeldock ute of his hand.

And Robin mite get it again, His sheeldock at his feet, Þe potter in þe neck him took, To þe grund soon he.

Þat Robin's men did see, As þey stood under a bue, "Let us help ure lord," said Littel John, "Else his life he may ."

Þese bold yeomen wiþ a , To þeir lord did þey run. Littel John to his lord said, "Who has þe staking won?"

"Shall I haf þy forty shillings," asked Littel John, "Or ye, lord, shall haf mine?" "If þey were a hundred," said Robin "I say, þey are all þine."

"It is full littel kindness," said þe potter, "As I haf heard wise men say, If an yeoman comes drifing ofer þe land And   him of his way."

By my, þu says , said Robin, "Þy words are good yeomanhood, And þu drife forþ efery day, Be by me þu nefer should."

"I will ask þee, good potter, A fellowship will þu hafe? Gif me þy cloþing, and þu shalt haf mine, I will go to Nottingham."

"I þereto," said þe potter, "Þu shalt find me a fellow good, But þu can sell my pots well, Come as þu yeed."

"Nay, by my troþ," said Robin, "And þen I my head, If I bring any pots ayen, "And any  will  buy."

Þen spake Littel John, And all his fellows , "Lord, be well aware of þe sheriff of Nottingham, For he is littel ure frend."

"Þro þe help of ure lady, Fellows, let me alone. " said Robin "To Nottingham will I go.

Robin went to Nottingham, Þese pots for to sell, Þe potter abode wiþ Robin's men, Þere he feared no efil.

Þo Robin drofe on his way, So merry ofer þe land, Here is more, and after is to say, Þe best is behind.

 FIT II 

When Robin came to Nottingham, Þe sooþ if I should say, He set up his horse anon, And gafe him oats and hay.

In þe midst of þe tune, Þere he showed his ware; "Pots! Pots!" he shuted full soon, "Haf for þe !"

Rite against þe sheriff's gate, To sell goods did he dare, Wifes and widows abute him drew, And many bot fast his ware.

Still "Pots, great ceap!" shuted Robin, "I would hate to leafe þese to stand". And all who saw him sell, Said he had been no potter long.

Þe pots þat were worþ pense fife, He sold þem for pense þree, said man and wife, "Yonder potter shall nefer ."

Þose Robin sold full fast, Until he had pots but fife, Up he took þem onto his crat And sent þem to the sheriff's wife.

Þereof she was full , "Gramercy," said she, ", þen, When ye come to þis land ayen, I shall buy þe pots, so mot I þee.

Ye shall haf of þe best," said Robin, And sware be þe Trinity". Full kindly she began to speak to him, "Come eat wiþ þe sheriff and me."

"God, mercy" said Robin, "Yewer bidding shall be done." A maiden bore þe pots in, Robin and þe sheriff's wife follow anon.

When Robin into þe hall came, Þe sheriff soon he met. Þe potter knew of , And soon þe sheriff he gret.

"Lo, wie, what þis potter haþ gifen yew and me, Fife pots small and great!" "He is full welcome," said þe sheriff, "Let us wash, and to meat."

As þey sat at þeir meat, In an aþel and glad mood, Two of þe sheriff's men began to speak Of a great stake.

Of a shooting mace, good and fair, Þat was laid ute þe oþer day, Of forty shillings, þe sooþ to say, Who should þis stake gain.