"
Than spake Leytell John,
And all hes felowhes heynd,
"Master, be well war of the screffe of Notynggam,
For he ys leytell howr frende."
"Heyt war howte," seyde Roben,
"Felowhes, let me alone;
Thorow the helpe of howr ladey,
To Notynggam well y gon."
Robyn went to Notynggam,
Thes pottes for to sell;
The potter abode with Robens men,
Ther he fered not eylle.
Tho Roben droffe on hes wey,
So merey ower the londe:
Heres mor and affter ys to saye,
The best ys beheynde.
[THE SECOND FIT.]
When Roben cam to Netynggam,
The soyt yef y scholde saye,
He set op hes horse anon,
And gaffe hem hotys and haye.
Yn the medys of the towne,
Ther he schowed hes war;
"Pottys! pottys!" he gan crey foll sone,
"Haffe hansell for the mar."
Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate
Schowed he hes chaffar;
Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow,
And chepyd fast of hes war.
Yet, "Pottys, gret chepe!" creyed Robyn,
"Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;"
And all that saw hem sell,
Seyde he had be no potter long.
The pottys that wer werthe pens feyffe,
He sold tham for pens thre;
Preveley seyde man and weyffe,
"Ywnder potter schall never the."
Thos Roben solde foll fast,
Tell he had pottys bot feyffe;
On he hem toke of his car,
And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe.
Therof sche was foll fayne,
"Gramarsey, sir," than seyde sche;
"When ye com to thes contre ayen,
Y schall bey of they pottys, so mot y the."
"Ye schall haffe of the best," seyde Roben,
And swar be the treneyte;
Foll corteysley she gan hem call,
"Com deyne with the screfe and me.
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