Or elles to fle: the one muft 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 blyffe, that chaungeth as the mone! The fomers day in lufty May is derked before the none. I here you fay, farewell; Nay, nay, we départ not fo fone: Why fay ye fo? wheder wyll ye go? alas, what have ye done? All my welfàre to forowe and care fholde chaunge, yf ye were gone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. I can beleve, it fhall you greve, and fomwhat you dyftrayne: But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde within a day or twayne Shall sone aslake; and ye fhall take comfort to you agayne. Why fholde 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 muft to the grene wode go, alone, a banyfhed man. B. Now, B. Now, fyth that ye have shewed to me the fecret of your mynde, I fhall be playne to you agayne, lyke as ye fhall me fynde: Syth it is so that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve behynde; Shall it never be fayd, the notbrowne mayd was to her love unkynde : Make you redy'; for fo am I, although it were anone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. Yet I you rede to take good hede what men wyll thynke and fay: Of yonge and olde it fhall be tolde, that ye away: be gone 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 fholde thus for me be called an yll woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wode go, alone, a banyfhed man. B. Though it be fonge of olde and yonge, that I fholde be to blame, Theyrs be the charge that fpeke fo large in hurtynge of my name : For For I wyll prove, that faythfull love it is devoyd of fhame; In your dyftreffe, and hevyneffe, to part wyth you, the fame; To shewe all tho that do nat fo, 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 maydens 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 muft you lyve, ever in drede and awe; Wherby to you grete harme myght growe: yet had I lever than, That I had to the grene wode go, alone, a banyfhed I fay nat, nay, but as ye fay, it is no maydens lore: But love may make me, for your fake, as I have fayd before, To come on fote, to hunt, and shote, to get us mete in ftore; For fo that I your company may have, I aske no more: From From which to part, it maketh my ftone; hart as colde as ony For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. For an outlawe, this is the lawe,-that men hym take and bynde; Without pytè, hanged to be, and waver with the wynde. Yf I had neede, (as God forbede!) what focours coude ye fynde? For fothe I trowe, ye and your bowe for fere wolde drawe behynde: And no mervayle; for lytell avayle were in your counceyle than : Wherfore I'll to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed man. B. Right wele knowe ye, that women be but feble for to fyght; No womanhede it is, indede, to be bolde as a knyght: Yet, in fuch fere yf that ye were with enemyes day and night, I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, to helpe you with my myght, And you to fave; as women have from deth many a one; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. VOL. XXXIII. D A. Yet A. Yet take good hede; for ever I drede that ye coude nat fuftayne The thornie wayes, the depe valèies, the fnowe, the froft, the rayne, The colde, the hete: for, dry, or wete, we must lodge on the playne ; And, us above, none other rofe but a brake, bush, or twayne: Which fone fholde greve you, I beleve; and ye wolde gladly than That I had to the grene wode go, alone, a banyfhed man. B. Syth I have here been partynère with you of joy and blyffe, I must alfo parte of your wo endure, as refon is: Yet am I fare of one plesùre; and, fhortely, it is this,That, where ye be, me femeth, pardè, I coude not fare amyfle. Without more fpeche, I you befeche that we were fhortely gone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. Yf ye goo thyder, ye muft confider,—whan ye have luft- to dyne, There fhall no mete, be for to gete, neyther bere, ale, ne wine; Ne |