“this Sumner, this false thief, Had scouts in plenty ready to his hand, Like any hawks, the sharpest in the land, Watching their birds to pluck, each in his mew, Who told him all the secrets that they knew, And lured him game, and gat him wondrous profit; Exceeding little knew his master of it. Sirs, he would go, without a writ, and take Poor wretches up, feigning it for Christ’s sake, And threatening the poor people with his curse, And all the while would let them fill his purse, And to the alehouse bring him by degrees, And then he’d drink with them, and slap his knees For very mirth, and say ’twas some mistake. Judas carried the bag, sirs, for Christ’s sake, And was a thief; and such a thief was he; His master got but sorry share, pardie. To give due laud unto this Satan’s imp, He was a thief, a Sumner, and a pimp.

Wenches themselves were in his retinue; So whether ’twas Sir Robert, or Sir Hugh, Or Jack, or Ralph, that held the damsel dear, Come would she then, and tell it in his ear: Thus were the wench and he of one accord; And he would feign a mandate from his lord, And summon them before the court, those two, And pluck the man, and let the mawkin go. Then would he say, “Friend, for thine honest look, I save thy name, this once, from the black book; Thou hear’st no further of this case.”—But, Lord! I might not in two years his bribes record. There’s not a dog alive, so speed my soul, Knoweth a hurt deer better from a whole Than this false Sumner knew a tainted sheep, Or where this wretch would skulk, or that would sleep, Or to fleece both was more devoutly bent; And reason good; his faith was in his rent.

And so befell, that once upon a day, This Sumner, prowling ever for his prey, Rode forth to cheat a poor old widowed soul, Feigning a cause for lack of protocol, And as he went, he saw before him ride A yeoman gay under the forest side. A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen; And he was clad in a short cloak of green, And wore a hat that had a fringe of black.

“Sir,” quoth this Sumner, shouting at his back, “Hail, and well met.”—“Well met,” like shouteth he; “Where ridest thou under the greenwood tree? Goest thou far, thou jolly boy, to-day?”  This bully Sumner answered, and said, “Nay, Only hard-by, to strain a rent.”—“Hoh! hoh! Art thou a bailiff then?”—“Yea, even so.” For he durst not, for very filth and shame, Say that he was a Sumner, for the name.  “Well met, in God’s name,” quoth black fringe; “why, brother, Thou art a bailiff then, and I’m another; But I’m a stranger in these parts; so, prythee, Lend me thine aid, and let me journey with thee. I’ve gold and silver, plenty, where I dwell; And 

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