Man: 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 dele
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can
Their favour to attain,
Yet if a new to them pursue,
Their first true lover than
Labors for naught; for from her thought
He is a banished man.
Woman: I say not nay, but that all day
It is both written and said
That woman's faith is, as who said,
All utterly decayed:
But nevertheless, right good witness
In this case might be laid
That they love true and continue:
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.
Man: 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 answer:
Wherefore all you 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 stands the case,
I am a banished man.
Woman: And I your will for to fulfill
In this will not refuse;
Trusting 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 anyone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: It stands 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 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.
Woman: O Lord, what is this world is bliss,
That changes as the moon!
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darkened before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.
Why say you so? Where will you go?
Alas! what have you done?
All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change, if you were gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: I can believe it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain;
But afterward, your pain's hard
Within a day or two
Shall soon aslake; and you 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 heartily as I can:
For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Now, if that you have showed to me
The secret of your mind, I shall be plain to you again,
Like as you shall me find.
If it is so that you 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 anyone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Yet I you ready to take good heed
What men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told
That you be gone away
Your wanton will for to fulfill,
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 woman
Yet would I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: 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.
Man: I counsel you,
Remember how
It is no maiden's law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlaw.
For you 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.
Woman: I think it is not but as you 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 makes my heart
As cold as any stone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Woman: For an outlaw this is the law,
That men him take and bind:
Without pity, hanged to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbade!)
What socours could you find?
Forsooth I trow, you and your bow
For fear would draw behind.
And no mervail; for little avail
Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Right well know you that women be
But feeble for to fight;
No woman had it is, indeed,
To be bold as a knight:
Yet in such fear if that you 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.
Man: Yet take good heed; for ever I dread
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep valleys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wet,
We must lodge on the plain;
And, us above, no other roof
But a brake bush or two:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe;
And you would gladly than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: If I have here been partner
With you of joy and bliss, I must also part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet I am sure of one pleasure,
And shortly it is this—
That where you be, me seem, pardon,
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.
Man: If you go thither, you must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for to get,
Neither beer, ale, no wine,
No sheets clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;
None other house, but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine.
Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diet
Should make you pale and wan:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Among the wild deer such an archer,
As men say that you be,
No may not fail of good vitals
Where is so great plenty:
And water clear of the river
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele I shall right wele
Endure, as you shall see;
And, or we go, a bed or two
I can provide anyone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Lo yet, before, you must do more,
If you will go with me: As, cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee;
With bow in hand for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night, before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
If that you will all this fulfill,
Do it shortly as you can:
Else will I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: I shall as now do more for you
Than 'longeth to womanhood
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother! before all other
For you I have most dread!
But now, adieu! I must ensue
Where fortune does me lead.
All this make you: Now let us flee;
The day cometh fast upon:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Nay, nay, not so; you shall not go,
And I shall tell you why—
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, right as you have said to me,
In likewise hardily
You would answer whosoever it were,
In way of company: It is said of old,
Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a woman:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: If you take heed, it is no need
Such words to say to me;
For often you prayed, and long assayed,
Or I loved you, pardè:
And though that I of ancestry
A baron's daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall
To die therefore anon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
love but you alone.
Man: A baron's child to be beguiled,
It were a cursed deed! To be fellow with an outlaw—
Almighty God forbade!
Yet better were the poor squire
Alone to forest yede
Than you shall say another day
That by my cursed ready
You were betrayed.
Wherefore, good maid,
The best ready that I can,
Is, that I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thing be upbraid:
But if you go, and leave me so,
Then have you me betrayed.
Remember you well, how that you dele;
For if you, as you said,
Be so unkind to leave behind
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me truly that I shall die
Soon after you be gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: If that you went, you should repent;
For in the forest now
I have purveyed me of a maid
Whom I love more than you:
Another more fair than ever you were
I dare it well avow;
And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow: It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Though in the wood I understood
You had a paramour,
All this may naught remove my thought,
But that I will be yours:
And she shall find me soft and kind
And courtesy every hour;
Glad to fulfill all that she will
Command me, to my power:
For had you, lo, one hundred more,
Yet would I be that one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Mine own dear love, I see the prove
That you be kind and true;
Of maid, of wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad; be no more sad;
The case is changed now;
For it were ruth that for your truth
You should have cause to rue.
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said
To you when I began:
I will not to the green-wood go;
I am no banished man.
Woman: These tidings be more glad to me
Than to be made a queen,
If I were sure they should endure;
But it is often seen
When men will break promise they speak
The word is on the spleen.
You shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: You shall not need further to dread:
I will not disparage You (God defend), if you descend
Of so great a lineage.
Now understand: to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage, I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriage I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus have you won an Earl's son,
And not a banished man.
Here may you see that women be
In love meek, kind, and stable;
Let never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;
But rather pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometime proves such as He loves,
If they be charitable.
For if men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone.
On women do complain;
A labour spent in vain
To love them well; for never a dele
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can
Their favour to attain,
Yet if a new to them pursue,
Their first true lover than
Labors for naught; for from her thought
He is a banished man.
Woman: I say not nay, but that all day
It is both written and said
That woman's faith is, as who said,
All utterly decayed:
But nevertheless, right good witness
In this case might be laid
That they love true and continue:
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.
Man: 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 answer:
Wherefore all you 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 stands the case,
I am a banished man.
Woman: And I your will for to fulfill
In this will not refuse;
Trusting 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 anyone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: It stands 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 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.
Woman: O Lord, what is this world is bliss,
That changes as the moon!
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darkened before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.
Why say you so? Where will you go?
Alas! what have you done?
All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change, if you were gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: I can believe it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain;
But afterward, your pain's hard
Within a day or two
Shall soon aslake; and you 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 heartily as I can:
For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Now, if that you have showed to me
The secret of your mind, I shall be plain to you again,
Like as you shall me find.
If it is so that you 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 anyone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Yet I you ready to take good heed
What men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told
That you be gone away
Your wanton will for to fulfill,
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 woman
Yet would I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: 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.
Man: I counsel you,
Remember how
It is no maiden's law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlaw.
For you 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.
Woman: I think it is not but as you 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 makes my heart
As cold as any stone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Woman: For an outlaw this is the law,
That men him take and bind:
Without pity, hanged to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbade!)
What socours could you find?
Forsooth I trow, you and your bow
For fear would draw behind.
And no mervail; for little avail
Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Right well know you that women be
But feeble for to fight;
No woman had it is, indeed,
To be bold as a knight:
Yet in such fear if that you 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.
Man: Yet take good heed; for ever I dread
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep valleys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wet,
We must lodge on the plain;
And, us above, no other roof
But a brake bush or two:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe;
And you would gladly than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: If I have here been partner
With you of joy and bliss, I must also part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet I am sure of one pleasure,
And shortly it is this—
That where you be, me seem, pardon,
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.
Man: If you go thither, you must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for to get,
Neither beer, ale, no wine,
No sheets clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;
None other house, but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine.
Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diet
Should make you pale and wan:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Among the wild deer such an archer,
As men say that you be,
No may not fail of good vitals
Where is so great plenty:
And water clear of the river
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele I shall right wele
Endure, as you shall see;
And, or we go, a bed or two
I can provide anyone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Lo yet, before, you must do more,
If you will go with me: As, cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee;
With bow in hand for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night, before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
If that you will all this fulfill,
Do it shortly as you can:
Else will I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: I shall as now do more for you
Than 'longeth to womanhood
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother! before all other
For you I have most dread!
But now, adieu! I must ensue
Where fortune does me lead.
All this make you: Now let us flee;
The day cometh fast upon:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Nay, nay, not so; you shall not go,
And I shall tell you why—
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, right as you have said to me,
In likewise hardily
You would answer whosoever it were,
In way of company: It is said of old,
Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a woman:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: If you take heed, it is no need
Such words to say to me;
For often you prayed, and long assayed,
Or I loved you, pardè:
And though that I of ancestry
A baron's daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall
To die therefore anon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
love but you alone.
Man: A baron's child to be beguiled,
It were a cursed deed! To be fellow with an outlaw—
Almighty God forbade!
Yet better were the poor squire
Alone to forest yede
Than you shall say another day
That by my cursed ready
You were betrayed.
Wherefore, good maid,
The best ready that I can,
Is, that I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thing be upbraid:
But if you go, and leave me so,
Then have you me betrayed.
Remember you well, how that you dele;
For if you, as you said,
Be so unkind to leave behind
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me truly that I shall die
Soon after you be gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: If that you went, you should repent;
For in the forest now
I have purveyed me of a maid
Whom I love more than you:
Another more fair than ever you were
I dare it well avow;
And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow: It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
Woman: Though in the wood I understood
You had a paramour,
All this may naught remove my thought,
But that I will be yours:
And she shall find me soft and kind
And courtesy every hour;
Glad to fulfill all that she will
Command me, to my power:
For had you, lo, one hundred more,
Yet would I be that one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: Mine own dear love, I see the prove
That you be kind and true;
Of maid, of wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad; be no more sad;
The case is changed now;
For it were ruth that for your truth
You should have cause to rue.
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said
To you when I began:
I will not to the green-wood go;
I am no banished man.
Woman: These tidings be more glad to me
Than to be made a queen,
If I were sure they should endure;
But it is often seen
When men will break promise they speak
The word is on the spleen.
You shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Man: You shall not need further to dread:
I will not disparage You (God defend), if you descend
Of so great a lineage.
Now understand: to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage, I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriage I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus have you won an Earl's son,
And not a banished man.
Here may you see that women be
In love meek, kind, and stable;
Let never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;
But rather pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometime proves such as He loves,
If they be charitable.
For if men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone.
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