The Nut-Brown Maid
He. 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 deal
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can,
Their favour to attain,
Yet, if a new do them pursue,
Their first true lover then
Laboureth for nought; for from their thought
He is a banished man.
She. I say not nay, but that all day
It is both written and said,
That woman’s faith is, as who saith,
All utterly decayed;
But, nevertheless, right good witnèss
In this case might be laid,
That they love true, and continùe:
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.
He. 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 answèr;
Wherefore, all ye, 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 standeth the case,
I am a banished man.’
She. And I your will for to fulfil
In this will not refuse;
Trustying 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 anon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
He. It standeth so; a deed is done
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 outlàw,
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my 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 derked before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,
We dèpart not so soon,
Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have you done?
All my welfàre to sorrow and care
Should change, if you 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 readỳ, 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 and 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 womàn,
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 those, 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 outlàw:
For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow, readỳ 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 did 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 in 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 outlàw this is the law,
That men him take and bind;
Without pitie, hangèd to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbid!)
What socours could ye find?
Forsooth, I trow, ye and your bow
For fear would draw behind:
And no marvèl; for little avail
Were in your counsel then:
Wherefore I will to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
She. Right well know ye that woman 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 or 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 heed; for ever I dread
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep vallèys,
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 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 partynère
With you of joy and bliss,
I must alsò part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet am I sure of one pleasùre;
And shortly, it is this:
That, where ye be, me seemeth, pardè,
I could not fare amiss.
Without more speech, I you beseech
That we were soon agone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
He. If you go thyder, ye must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for you gete,
Neither beer, ale, nor wine;
No shétes 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 evil diéte
Should make you pale and wan;
Wherefore I will to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.
She. Among the wild deer, such an archère
As men say that ye be,
Ne may not fail of good vitayle,
Where is so great plentè:
And water clear of the rivère
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 shote 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 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, like as ye have said to me,
In likewise hardily
Ye would answere whosoever it were,
In way of company.
It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a womàn.
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.
She. If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say by me;
For oft ye 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 anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
He. A baron’s child to be beguil’d!
It were a cursèd deed;
To be felàwe with an outlàw!
Almighty God forbid!
Yet better were the poor squyère
Alone to forest yede,
Than ye shall say another day,
That, by my cursèd 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 well, how that ye deal;
For, if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind, to leave behind,
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me truly, 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 purvayed 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 yours:
And she shall find me soft and kind,
And courteous 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, and wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad, be no more sad,
The case is changèd 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 spleen.
Ye shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was,
And I more wobegone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.
He. Ye shall not need further to dread;
I will not disparàge
You (God defend), sith ye descend
Of so great lineàge.
Now understand; to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage,
I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriàge
I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can.
Thus have you won an Erle’s son,
And not a banished man.
Here may ye see, that woman 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 sometimes proveth such, as He loveth,
If they be charitable.
For sith men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone.