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 belève;
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.
Without more speche, I you beseche
That we were sone agone;
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 shetès clene, to lye betwene,
Made of threde and twyne;
None other house, but leves and bowes,
To cover your hed and myne,
O myne harte swete, this evyll dyète
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 archere,
As men say that ye be,
Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle,
Where is so grete plente:
And water clere of the ryvere
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;