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 wele; for never a dele 
   They love a man again: 
For let a man do what he can 
   Their favour to attain, 
Yet if a new to them pursue, 
   Their first true lover than 
Laboureth for naught; for from her 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 decayd: 
But nevertheless, right good witness 
   In this case might be laid 
That they love true and continue: 
   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 manere 
Between them two: we will also 
   Tell all the pain in fere 
That she was in. Now I begin, 
   So that ye me answere: 
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; 
Trusting to show, in wordes 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 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 outlaw, 
   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 depart not so soon. 
Why say ye so? whither will ye go? 
   Alas! what have ye done? 
All my welfare 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 ready, 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 woman 
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 d