HE.

For an outlawe this is the lawe,

That men hym take and bynde;
Without pytè, hanged to be,

And waver with the wynde.
If I had nede, (as God forbede!)

What rescous coude ye fynde?
Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe

For fere wolde drawe behynde:
And no mervayle; for lytell avayle

Were in your counceyle than:

Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be

But feble for to fyght;

No womanhede it is indede

To be bolde as a knyght:

Yet, in such fere yf that ye were

145

150

155

160

With enemyes day or nyght,

I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande,

To greve them as I myght,

And you to save; as women have

From deth [men] many one:

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

Yet take good hede; for ever I drede

That ye coude nat sustayne

165

170

Ver. 150, socours. Prol. and Mr. W.-Ver. 162, and night. Camb. copy.

-Ver. 164, to helpe ye with my myght. Prol. and Mr. W.

The thornie wayes, the depe valèies,
The snowe, the frost, 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 sone sholde greve you, I beleve;

And ye wolde gladly than

That I had to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Syth I have here bene partynère
With you of joy and blysse,
I must also parte of your wo

Endure, as reson is:

Yet am I sure of one plesùre;

And, shortely, it is this:

That, where ye be, me semeth, pardè,

I coude nat fare amysse.

175

180

185

Without more speche, I

you beseche

That we were sone agone;

190

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

I love but you alone.

HE.

If ye go thyder, ye must consyder,
Whan ye have lust to dyne,

There shall no mete be for you gete,

Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne.
No shetés clene, to lye betwene,

Made of threde and twyne;

195

Ver. 172, frost and rayne. Mr. W.-Ver. 174, Ye must. Prol.-Ver. 190, shortley gone. Prol. and Mr. W.-Ver. 196, Neyther here. Prol. and Mr. W.

None other house, but leves and bowes,

To cover your hed and myne;
O myne harte swete, this evyll dyéte

Sholde make you pale and wan;
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Amonge the wylde dere, such an archère,

As men say that ye be,

Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle,

Where is so grete plentè:

And water clere of the ryvére

Shall be full swete to me;

With which in hele I shall ryght wele

Endure, as ye shall see;

And, or we go, a bedde or two

I can provyde anone;

200

205

210

Ver. 201, Lo myn. Mr. W.-Ver. 207, May ye nat fayle. Prol.-Ib. May nat fayle. Mr. W.-Ver. 219, above your ere. Prol.-Ver. 220, above the kne. Prol. and Mr. W.-Ver. 223, the same.

Prol. and Mr. W.

Els wyll I to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

I shall as nowe do more for you
Than longeth to womanhede;
To shorte my here, a bowe to bere,

To shote in tyme of nede.

O my swete mother, before all other
For you I have most drede:
But nowe, adue! I must ensue,

Where fortune doth me lede.

All this make ye; Now let us fle;
The day cometh fast upon;

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

I love but you alone.

HE.

Nay, nay, nat so; ye shall nat go,
And I shall tell ye why,

Your appetyght is to be lyght

Of love, I wele espy:

For, lyke as ye have sayed to me,

In lyke wyse hardely

Ye wolde answére whosoever it were,

In way of company.

It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde;
And so is a woman.

Wherfore I to the wode wyll go,

Alone, a banyshed man.

Ver. 251, For I must to the grene wode go. Prol. and Mr. W.

230

235

240

245

250

SHE.

Yf ye take hede, it is no nede
Such wordes to say by me;

For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed,

Or I you loved, pardè:

And though that I of auncestry

A barons daughter be,

Yet have you proved howe I

A squyer of lowe degrè;

And ever shall, whatso befall;
To dy therfore 1anone;

255

you

loved

260

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

I love but you alone.

HE.

A barons chylde to be begylde!
It were a cursed dede;

To be felàwe with an outlawe!

Almighty God forbede!

Yet beter were, the pore squyère

Alone to forest yede,

Than ye sholde say another day,

That, by my cursed dede,

Ye were betray'd: Wherfore, good mayd,

The best rede that I can,

Is, that I to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Whatever befall, I never shall

Of this thyng you upbrayd:

265

270

275

Ver. 253, yet is. Camb. copy. Perhaps for yt is.-Ver. 262, dy with him. Editor's MS.-Ver. 278, outbrayd. Prol. and Mr. W.

1i.e. for this cause; though I were to die for having loved you.