He. Be it right or wrong, these men among
On women do complain;
Affirming this, how that it is
A labour spent in vain,
To love them well; for never a deal
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can,
Their favour to attain,
Yet, if a new do them pursue,
Their first true lover then
Laboureth for nought; for from their thought
He is a banished man.
She. I say not nay, but that all day
It is both written and said,
That woman's faith is, as who saith,
All utterly decayed;
But, nevertheless, right good witnèss
In this case might be laid,
That they love true, and continùe:
Record the Nut-brown Maid:
Which, when her love came, her to prove,
To her to make his moan,
Would not depart; for in her heart
She loved but him alone.
He. Then between us let us discuss
What was all the manner
Between them two: we will also
Tell all the pain, and fear,
That she was in. Now I begin,
So that ye me answèr;
Wherefore, all ye, that present be,
I pray you give an ear.
'I am the knight; I come by night,
As secret as I can;
Saying, alas! thus standeth the case,
I am a banished man.'
She. And I your will for to fulfil
In this will not refuse;
Trustying to show, in words few,
That men have an ill use
(To their own shame) women to blame,
And causeless them accuse;
Therefore to you I answer now,
All women to excuse,—
Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer
I pray you, tell anon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
He. It standeth so; a deed is done
Whereof great harm shall grow:
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow;
Or else to flee. The one must be;
None other way I know,
But to withdraw as an outlàw,
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my 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 derked before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We dèpart not so soon,
Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have you done?
All my welfàre to sorrow and care
Should change, if you were gone;
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but 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 readỳ, 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 and 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 those, that do not so,
True lovers are they none;
For, in my mind, of all mankind,
I love but you alone.