ANCIENT POEMS.

BE

E it ryght, or wrong, thefe men among
On women do complayne *;
Affyrmynge this, how that it is

A labour spent in vayne,

To love them wele; for never a dele

They 'love a man agayne:
For late a man do what he can,

Theyr favour to attayne,
Yet, yf a newe do them perfue,
Theyr first true lover than

Laboureth for nought; for from her thought
He is a banyfhed man.

I fay nat nay, but that all day

It is bothe writ and fayd

That womans faith is, as who fayth,
All utterly decayd;

But, nevertheleffe, ryght good wytnèffe
In this cafe might be layd,

That they love true, and continue:

Recorde the dot-browne payde:

Which, when her love came, her to prove,

To her to make his mone,

Wolde nat depart; for in her hart

She loved but hym alone.

*My friend Mr. Farmer proposes to read the firft lines thus as a La*

tinifm:

Be it right or wrong, 'tis men among,

On women to complayne.

Ver. 2. Woman, Prolafons, and Mr. Weft's copy. Ver. 11. her, ise. their.

M

ANCIENT POEMS.

HE.

It ftandeth fo; a dede is do

Wherof grete harme fhall growe:

My destiny is for to dy

A fhamefull deth, I trowe;

Or elles to fle: the one must be

None other way I knowe,

But to withdrawe as an outlawe,

And take me to my bowe. Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true!

None other rede I can #

For I must to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyfhed man.

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70

HE.

Ver, 63. The fomers. Prol.

HE.

I can beleve, it shall you greve,
And fomewhat you dyftrayne;
But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde

Within a day or twayne

Shall fone aflake; and ye shall take

Comfort to you agayne.

Why fholde ye ought? for, to make thought,

Your labour were in vayne.

And thus I do; and pray you to,

As hartely, as I can ;

For I must to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyfhed man.

SHE.

Now, fyth that ye have fhewed to me

The fecret of your mynde,

I fhall be playne to you agayne,
Lyke as ye fhall me fynde

Syth it is fo, that ye wyll go,

I wolle not leve behynde ;

Shall never be fayd, the not-browne mayd

Was to her love unkynde:

Make you redy, for fo am I,

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85

90

Allthough it were anone;

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

95

I love but you alone.

HE

Ver. 91. Shall it never. Prol. and Mr. W、 Mr. W.

Ver. 94. Althought.

ANCIENT POEMS.

HE.

Yet I you rede to take good hede

What men wyll thynke, and fay: Of yonge, and olde it shall be tolde, That ye be gone away

Your wanton wyll for to fulfill,

In grene wode you to play;

And that ye myght from your delight
No lenger make delay

Rather than ye fholde thus for me

Be called an yll woman,

Yet wolde I to the grene wode go,

Alone, a banyfhed man.

SHE.

Though it be fonge of old and yonge,

That I fholde be to blame,

Theyrs be the charge, that fpeke fo large

In hurtynge of my name:

For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love

It is devoyd of fhame;

In your dyftreffe, and hevyneffe,

Το part with you, the fame ; And fure all tho, that do not so,

True lovers are they none:

For, in my mynde, of all mankynde

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