Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 6

To love that loveth is no maistry; Her hate made never my love her foe: Ask me then no question why-- Quia amore langueo.

Look unto mine handes, man!

These gloves were given me when I her sought; They be not white, but red and wan; Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought.

They will not off; I loose hem nought; I woo her with hem wherever she go.

These hands for her so friendly fought Quia amore langueo.

Marvel not, man, though I sit still.

See, love hath shod me wonder strait: Buckled my feet, as was her will, With sharpe nails (well thou may'st wait!) In my love was never desait; All my membres I have opened her to; My body I made her herte's bait Quia amore langueo.

In my side I have made her nest; Look in, how weet a wound is here!

This is her chamber, here shall she rest, That she and I may sleep in fere.

Here may she wash, if any filth were; Here is seat for all her woe; Come when she will, she shall have cheer Quia amore langueo.

I will abide till she be ready, I will her sue if she say nay; If she be retchless I will be greedy, If she be dangerous I will her pray; If she weep, then bide I ne may: Mine arms ben spread to clip her me to.

Cry once, I come: now, soul, a.s.say Quia amore langueo.

Fair love, let us go play: Apples ben ripe in my gardayne.

I shall thee clothe in a new array, Thy meat shall be milk, honey and wine.

Fair love, let us go dine: Thy sustenance is in my crippe, lo!

Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, Quia amore langueo.

If thou be foul, I shall thee make clean; If thou be sick, I shall thee heal; If thou mourn ought, I shall thee mene; Why wilt thou not, fair love, with me deal?

Foundest thou ever love so leal?

What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do?

I may not unkindly thee appeal Quia amore langueo.

What shall I do now with my spouse But abide her of my gentleness, Till that she look out of her house Of fleshly affection? love mine she is; Her bed is made, her bolster is bliss, Her chamber is chosen; is there none mo.

Look out on me at the window of kindeness Quia amore langueo.

My love is in her chamber: hold your peace!

Make ye no noise, but let her sleep.

My babe I would not were in disease, I may not hear my dear child weep.

With my pap I shall her keep; Ne marvel ye not though I tend her to: This wound in my side had ne'er be so deep But Quia amore langueo.

Long thou for love never so high, My love is more than thine may be.

Thou weepest, thou gladdest, I sit thee by: Yet wouldst thou once, love, look unto me!

Should I always feede thee With children meat? Nay, love, not so!

I will prove thy love with adversite Quia amore langueo.

Wax not weary, mine own wife!

What mede is aye to live in comfort?

In tribulation I reign more rife Ofter times than in disport.

In weal and in woe I am aye to support: Mine own wife, go not me fro!

Thy mede is marked, when thou art mort: Quia amore langueo.

yede] went. het] promised. bait] resting-place. weet] wet. in fere] together. crippe] scrip. mene] care for.

Anonymous. 15th Cent.

25. The Nut-Brown Maid

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 l.u.s.ty 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 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 outlaw.

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 had 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 and 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 outlaw this is the law, That men him take and bind: Without pitie, hanged to be, And waver with the wind.

If I had need (as G.o.d forbede!) What socours could ye find?

Forsooth I trow, you and your bow For fear would draw behind.

And no mervail; for little avail Were in your counsel than: Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go, Alone, a banished man.