Therefore to you I answer now,

All women to excuse

Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?
I pray you, tell anone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. It standeth so: a deed is do
Whereof great harm shall grow:
My destiny is for to die

A shameful death, I trow;

Or else to flee. The t' one must be.
None other way I know
But to withdraw as an outlaw,

And take me to my bow.

Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true!

None other rede I can:

For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. O Lord, what is this worldis bliss,
That changeth as the moon!
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.

Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?

All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change, if ye were gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but

rede I can] counsel I know.

you

alone.

He. I can believe it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain;
But afterward, your paines hard
Within a day or twain

Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take

Comfort to you again.

Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,

Your labour were in vain.

And thus I do; and pray you to,

As hartely as I can:

For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Now, sith that ye have showed to me
The secret of your mind,

I shall be plain to you again,
Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so that ye will go,

I will not live behind.

Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid

Was to her love unkind.

Make you ready, for so am I,

Although it were anone:

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Yet I you rede to take good heed
What men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told

That ye be gone away

Your wanton will for to fulfil,
In green-wood you to play;

And that ye might for your delight
No longer make delay.

Rather than ye should thus for me
Be called an ill womàn

Yet would I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Though it be sung of old and young
That I should be to blame,

Theirs be the charge that speak so large
In hurting of my name:
For I will prove that faithful love
It is devoid of shame;
In your distress and heaviness

To part with you the same:
And sure all tho that do not so
True lovers are they none:
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. I counsel you, Remember how
It is no maiden's law

Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlaw.

For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow ready to draw;

And as a thief thus must you live

Ever in dread and awe;

Whereby to you great harm might grow:

Yet had I liever than

That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. I think not nay but as ye say;
It is no maiden's lore;

But love may make me for your sake,
As I have said before,

To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,
To get us meat and store;
For so that I your company

May have, I ask no more.

From which to part it maketh my heart

As cold as any stone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. For an outlaw this is the law,
That men him take and bind:

Without pitie, hanged to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbede!)
What socours could ye find?
Forsooth I trow, you and your

For fear would draw behind.
And no mervail; for little avail

bow

Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Right well know ye that women be
But feeble for to fight;

No womanhede it is, indeed,

To be bold as a knight:

Yet in such fear if that ye were
With enemies day and night,

I would withstand, with bow in hand,
To grieve them as I might,
And you to save; as women have
From death men many one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye could not sustain

The thorny ways, the deep valleys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,

We must lodge on the plain;

And, us above, no other roof

But a brake bush or twain:

Which soon should grieve you, I believe;

And ye would gladly than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Sith I have here been partynere
With you of joy and bliss,

I must alsò part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:

Yet I am sure of one pleasure,

And shortly it is this

That where ye be, me seemeth, parde,

I could not fare amiss.

Without more speech I

you

beseech

That we were shortly gone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.