.

To love them wele; for never a dele they love a man agayne:

For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to

attayne,

Yet, yf a newe do them pursue, theyr fyrst true lover than

Laboureth for nought; for from her thought he is a banyshed man.

I

B.

say nat, nay, but that all day it is bothe writ and

sayd,

That womens fayth is, as who sayth, all utterly

decayed:

But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnèsse in this case might be layed,

That they love true, and continùe; recorde the notbrowne mayde;

Which, when her love came, her to prove, to her to make his mone,

Wolde nat depart; for in her hart she loved but hym alone.

A.

Than betwayne us late us dyscus what was all the

manère

Betwayne them two: we wyll also tell all the payne, and fere,

That she was in: nowe I begyn, so that ye me an

swère ;

Wherefore, all ye, that present be, I pray you give

an ere:

I am the knyght; I come by nýght, as secret as I

can;

Sayinge, Alas, thus standeth the case, I am a ba nyshed man.

B.

And I your wyll for to fulfyll in this wyll nat re

fuse;

Trustynge to shewe in wordes fewe, that men have na yll use

(To theyr own shame) women to blame, and causelesse them accuse:

Therfore to you I answere nowe, all women to ex

cuse,

Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere? I pray you, tell anone;

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.

A.

It standeth so; a dede is do, whereof grete harme shall growe:

My destiny is for to dy a shamefull deth, I trowe; Or elles to fle: the one must be; none other way

I knowe,

But to withdrawe as an outlawe, and take me to my bowe.

Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true! none other rede I can;

For I must to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed

man.

B.

O Lorde, what is this worldys blysse, that chaungeth as the mone!

The somers day in lusty May is derked before the

none.

I here you say, farewell; nay, nay, we départ nat

so sone:

Why say ye so? wheder wyll ye go? alas, what have ye done?

All my welfare to sorrowe and care sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone;

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.

A.

I can beleve, it shall you greve, and somwhat you dystrayne:

But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde within a day or twayne

Shall sone aslake; and ye shall take comfort to you

agayne.

Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought, your labour were in vayne.

And thus I do; and pray you to, as hartely as I can; For I must to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed

man.

B.

Now, syth that ye have shewed to me the secret of your mynde,

I shall be playne to you agayne, lyke as ye shall me fynde :

Syth it is so that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve be

hynde;

Shall it never be sayd, the Notbrowne mayd was to her love unkynde:

[anone; Make you redy; for so am I, although it were For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.

Yet I

A.

you rede to take good hede what men wyll thynke and say:

Of younge and olde it shall be tolde, that

gone away;

ye be

Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, in grene wode you

to play;

And that ye myght from your delyght no lenger make delay:

Rather than ye sholde thus for me be called an yll woman,

Yet wolde I to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed

man.

B.

Though it be songe of olde and yonge, that I sholde be to blame,

Theyrs be the charge that speke so large in hurtynge of my name:

For I wyll prove, that faythful love it is devoyd of shame;

In your dystresse, and hevynesse, to part wyth you,

the same;

To shewe all tho that do nat so, true lovers are they

none:

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you

alone.

A.

I counceyle you, remember howe it is no mayden's

lawe,

Nothynge to dout, but to renne out to wode with an outlawe:

For ye must there in your hand bere a bowe, redy

to drawe;

And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, ever in drede and awe;

Whereby to you grete harme myght growe: yet had I lever than,

That I had to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed

man.

B.

I say nat, nay, but as ye say, it is no mayden's lore: But love may make me, for your sake, as I have sayd before,

To come on fote, to hunt, and shote, to get us mete in store;

For so that I your company may have, I aske no

more:

From which to part, it maketh my hart as colde as

ony stone;

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.

A.

For an outlawe, this is the lawe,—that men hym