The Nut-Brown Maid

He:    Be it right or wrong, these men among

Saying, Alas! thus standeth the case,

I am a banished man.

She:    And I your will for to fulfil

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 outláw,

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 départ not so soon.

Why say ye so? whither will ye go?

Alas! what have ye done?

All my welfáre to sorrow and care

Should change, if ye 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 readý, 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 womán

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 outláw.

For ye must there in your hand bear

A bow readý 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 outláw this is the law,

That men him take and bind:

Without pitie, hangéd 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 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.

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 valléys,

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 alsó part of your woe

Endure, as reason is:

Yet I am sure of one pleasúre

And shortly it is this—

That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé,

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.

He:    If ye go thyder, ye must consider,

When ye have lust to dine,

There shall no meat be for to gete,

Nether bere, ale, ne wine,

Ne shetés 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 diéte

Should make you pale and wan:

Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

She:    Among the wild deer such an archére,

As men say that ye be,

Ne may not fail of good vitayle

Where is so great plenté:

And water clear of the rivere

Shall be full sweet to me;

With which in hele I shall right wele

Endure, as ye shall see;

And, or we go, a bed or two

I can provide anone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

He:    Lo yet, before, ye must do more,

If ye 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 ye will all this fulfil,

Do it shortly as ye can:

Else will I to the green-wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

She:    I shall as now do more for you

Than 'longeth to womanhede;

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 drede!

But now, adieu! I must ensue

Where fortune doth me lead.

All this make ye: Now let us flee;

The day cometh fast upon:

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

He:    Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,

And I shall tell you why—

Your appetite is to be light

Of love, I well espy:

For, right as ye have said to me,

In likewise hardily

Ye would answere whosoever it were,

In way of companý:

It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;

And so is a womán:

Wherefore I to the wood will go,

Alone, a banished man.

She:    If ye take heed, it is no need

Such words to say to me;

For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,

Or I loved you, pardé:

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 anone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

He:    A baron's child to be beguiled,

It were a curséd deed!

To be feláw with an outlaw—

Almighty God forbede!

Yet better were the poor squyere

Alone to forest yede

Than ye shall say another day

That by my curséd rede

Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,

The best rede that I can,

Is, that I to the green-wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

She:    Whatever befall, I never shall

Of this thing be upbraid:

But if ye go, and leave me so,

Then have ye me betrayed.

Remember you wele, how that ye dele;

For if ye, as ye said,

Be so unkind to leave behind

Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,

Trust me trulý that I shall die

Soon after ye be gone:

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

He:    If that ye went, ye 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 ye 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.

She:    Though in the wood I understood

Ye had a paramour,

All this may nought remove my thought,

But that I will be your':

And she shall find me soft and kind

And courteis every hour;

Glad to fulfil all that she will

Command me, to my power:

For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,

Yet would I be that one:

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

He:    Mine own dear love, I see the prove

That ye 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 changéd new;

For it were ruth that for your truth

Ye 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.

She:    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 wordis on the splene.

Ye 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.

He:    Ye shall not nede further to drede:

I will not disparáge

You (God defend), sith you descend

Of so great a lináge.

Now understand: to Westmoreland,

Which is my heritage,

I will you bring; and with a ring,

By way of marriáge

I will you take, and lady make,

As shortly as I can:

Thus have you won an Earles son,

And not a banished man.

Here may ye see that women be

And serve but Him alone.