_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._ in fere] in company together. _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 outlàw, 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 dèpart not so soon. Why say ye so? whither will ye go? Alas! what have ye done? All my welfàre to sorrow and care Should change, if ye were gone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone. rede I can] counsel I know. _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.