_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, ready 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.