"It standeth so; a deed is do wherefore much harm shall grow, My destiny is for to die a shameful death I trow,

Or else to flee; the one must be; none other way I know
But to withdraw, as an outlaw, and take me to my bow;
Wherefore adieu, my own heart true, none other rede* I can,
For I must to the green wood go, alone, a banished man.'
"O Lord, what is the worlde's 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 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."

"I can believe it shall you grieve, and somewhat you distrain;
But afterward, your painēs hard within a day or twain

Shail soon aslake, and ye shall take comfort to you again.

Why should ye nought? for to make thought your labour were in vair
And thus I do, and pray you lo‡, as heartily as I can,
For I must to the green wood go, alone, a banished man.'
"Now sith that ye have shewed 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 leave behind,

Shall never be said, the Nut-Brown Maid was to her love unkind;
Make you ready, for so am I, although it were anon,

For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone.”

"Yet I you rede to take good heed what men will think and say,
Of young and old, it shall be told, that ye be gone away,
Your wanton will for to fulfil, in green wood yon to play,
And that ye might, from 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.'
"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;
But, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone."

"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 ye live, ever in dread and awe,
By which to you great harm might grow, yet had I liefer then
That I had to the green wood go, alone, a banished man.'
"I think not nay, but as ye say, it is no maiden's law,
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 mine heart as cold as any stone,
For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone."

* counsel.

+ part.

mark.

those.

"For an outlaw this is the law, that men him take and bind
Without pity, hanged to be, and waver with the wind.

If I had need, as God forbid, what rescues could ye find?
Forsooth I trow, you and your bow for fear would draw behind;
And no marvel, for little avail were in your counsel than*
Wherefore I to the wood will go, alone, a banished man."
"Full well know ye that women be full feeble for to fight,
No womanhedet 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 many one;
For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone."

"Yet take good heed for ever I drede‡ that ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep valleys, the snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wete§ we must lodge on the plain;
And us above none other rofe|| 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."
"Sith I have here been partynere ¶ with you of joy and bliss,
I must also part of your woe endure, as reason is;

Yet am I sure of one pleasure; and, shortly, it is this,
That where ye be me seemeth, perdie, 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."

"If ye go thider**, ye must consider, when ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for you get, nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine,
Nor sheetes clean to lie between, maden of thread and twine;

None other house, but leaves and boughs, to cover your head and mine:

Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diet should make you pale and wan,

Wherefore I to the wood will go, alone, a banished man."

66

Among the wild deer, such an archere, as men say that ye be,

Ne may not fail of good victaile, where is so great plenty,

And water clear, of the rivere, shall be full sweet to me,

With which in helett, I shall righte wele endure, as ye shall see;

And, ere we go, a bed or two I can provide anon,

For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone."
"Lo yet before, ye must do more, if ye will go with me,
As cut your hair up by your ear, your kirtle by your knee;
With bow in hand, for to withstand your enemies, if need be;
And this same night, before daylight, to wood ward will I flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil, do it shortly as ye can,
Else will I to the green wood go, alone, a banished man."
"I shall as now, do more for you than 'longeth to womanhede,
To short my hair, a bow to bear, to shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother, before all other, for you have I most drede;
But now adieu! I must ensue where fortune doth me lead;
All this make ye; now let us flee, the day comes fast upon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind. I love but you alone.”
dread. § wet. || roof.
++ health.

then,

+ womanhood.
** thither.

¶ partner

66

'Nay, nay, not so, ye shall not go, and I shall tell you why
Your appetite is to be light of love, I well espy;

For like as ye have said to me, in like wise hardely,
Ye would answere who so ever it were, in way of company.
It is said of old, soon hot soon cold, and so is a woman;
Wherefore I to the wood will go, alone, a banished man."
If ye
take heed, it is no need such words to say by me,
For oft ye pray'd, and long essay'd, or I you loved, perdie
And though that I of ancestry a baron's daughter be,

Yet have you proved how I you loved, a squire of low degree
And ever shall, whatso befall, to die therefore anon;
For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone.”
"A baron's child to be beguiled, it were a cursed deed;
To be fellow with an outlaw, Almighty God forbid :
Yet better were, the poor squier alone to forest yede*,
Than ye shall say, another day, that by my wicked deed
Ye were betrayed; wherefore, good maid, the best rede that I can
Is that I to the greenwood go, alone, a banished man.'
"Whatever befall, I never shall of this thing you upbraid,
But if ye go, and leave me so, then have ye me betrayed;
Remember you well, how that ye deal, for if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind, to leave behind your love, the Nut-Brown Maid,
Trust me truly that I die soon after ye be gone,

For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone.”

“If that ye went ye should repent, for in the forest now
I have purvey'd me of a maid, whom I love more than you.
Another fairer than ever ye were, I dare it well avow;
And of you both, each should be wroth with other, as I trow
It were mine ease to live in peace; so will I if I can;

Wherefore I to the wood will go, alone, a banished man.”

Though in the wood I understood ye had a paramour,

All this may nought remove my thought, but that I will be your
And she shall find me soft and kind, and courteous every hour,
Glad to fulfil all that she will command me to my power,
For had ye loot an hundred mo, yet would I be that one;
For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone.”

"Mine own dear love, I see the proof that ye be kind and true:
Of maid and wife, in all my life, the best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad, be no more sad, the case is changed new
For it were ruth, that, for your truth, you should have cause to rus
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said to you when I began

I will not to the green wood go, I am no banished man."

"These tidings be more glad to me than to be made a queen,

If I were sure they should endure: but it is often seen,

When men will break promise, they speak the wordes on the spleen:
Ye shape some wile, me to beguile, and steal from me, I ween;
Then were the case worse than it was, and I more woe-begone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind, I love but you alone.

"Ye shall not need further to drede, I will not disparage
You, God defend, sith you descend of so great a lineage:
Now understand; to Westmoreland, which is my heritage,
I will you bring, and with a ring, by way of marriage,
I will ye take, and lady make, as shortly as I can ;

Thus have ye won an earle's son, and not a banished man."

Here may ye see, that women be, in love, meek, kind, and stable,
Let never man reprove them then, or call them variable;
But rather pray God that we may to them be comfortable,
Which sometime proveth such as loveth, if they be charitable:
For sith men would that women should be meek to them each one,
Much more ought they to God obey, and serve but Him alone.

89.-SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.-IV

ADDISON.

WE give the 'Spectator,' No. 335, without abridgment. It is by Addison. "My friend Sir Roger de Coverley, when we last met together at the club, told me that he had a great mind to see the new tragedy ('The Distressed Mother') with me, assuring me at the same time that he had not been at a play these twenty years. 'The last I saw,' said Sir Roger,' was the Committee, which I should not have gone to neither had not I been told beforehand that it was a good Church of England comedy.' He then proceeded to inquire of me who this distressed mother was; and upon hearing that she was Hector's widow, he told me that her husband was a brave man, and that when he was a school-boy he had read his life at the end of the dictionary. My friend asked me in the next place if there would not be some danger in coming home late, in case the Mohocks should be abroad. 'I assure you,' says he, ‘I thought I had fallen into their hands last night; for I observed two or three lusty black men that followed me half way up Fleet Street, and mended their pace behind me in proportion as I put on to get away from them. You must know,' continued the knight with a smile, 'I fancied they had a mind to hunt me; for I remember an honest gentleman in my neighbourhood who was served such a trick in King Charles the Second's time, for which reason he has not ventured himself in town ever since. I might have shown them very good sport had this been their design; for, as I am an old fox-hunter, I should have turned and dodged, and have played them a thousand tricks they had never seen in their lives before.' Sir Roger added, that 'if these gentlemen had any such intention, they did not succeed very well in it; for I threw them out,' says he, 'at the end of Norfolk Street, where I doubled the corner, and got shelter in my lodgings before they could imagine what was become of me. However, says the knight, 'if Captain Sentry will make one with us to-morrow night, and you will both of you call upon me about four o'clock, that we may be at the house before it is full, I will have my own coach in readiness to attend you, for John tells me he has got the fore-wheels mended.'

"The captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the same sword which he made use of at the battle of Steenkirk, Sir Roger's servants, and among the rest my old friend the butler, had, I found, provided themselves with good oaken plants, to attend their master upon this occasion. When we had placed him in his coach, with myself at his left hand, the captain before him, and his butler at the head of his footmen in the rear, we conveyed him in safety to the playhouse, where, after having marched up the entry in good order, the captain and I went in with him, and seated him betwixt us in the pit. As soon as the house was full and the candles lighted, my old friend stood up and looked about him with that pleasure which a mind seasoned

with humanity naturally feels in itself at the sight of a multitude of people who seem pleased with one another, and partake of the same common entertainment. I could not but fancy to myself, as the old man stood up in the middle of the pit, that he made a very proper centre to a tragic audience. Upon the entering of Pyrrhus, the knight told me that he did not believe the king of France himself had a better strut. I was indeed very attentive to my old friend's remarks because I looked upon them as a piece of natural criticism, and was well pleased to hear him, at the conclusion of almost every scene, telling me that he could not imagine how the play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for Andromache; and a little while after as much for Hermione; and was extremely puzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus.

"When Sir Roger saw Andromache's obstinate refusal to her lover's importunities, he whispered me in the ear, that he was sure she would never have him; to which he added, with a more than ordinary vehemence, 'You can't imagine, Sir, what it is to have to do with a widow.' Upon Pyrrhus's threatening to leave her, the knight shook his head, and muttered to himself, 'Ay, do if you can.' This part dwelt so much upon my friend's imagination, that at the close of the third act, as I was thinking on something else, he whispered me in my ear, 'These widows, Sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world. But pray,' says he, 'you that are a critic, is the play according to your dramatic rules, as you call them? Should your people in tragedy always talk to be understood? Why, there is not a single sentence in this play that I do not know the meaning of.'

"The fourth act very luckily began before I had time to give the old gentieman an answer. 'Well,' says the knight, sitting down with great satisfaction, 'I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost.' He then renewed his attention, and, from time to time, fell a praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her pages, whom, at his first entering, he took for Astyanax; but quickly set himself right in that particular, though, at the same time, he owned he should have been glad to have seen the little boy, who, says he, must needs be a very fine child by the account that is given of him. Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loud clap, to which Sir Roger added, 'On my word, a notable young baggage.'

"As there was a very remarkable silence and stillness in the audience during the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunity of the intervals between the acts to express their opinion of the players and of their respective parts. Sir Roger, hearing a cluster of them praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them that he thought his friend Pylades was a very sensible man. As they were afterward applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a second time: 'And let me tell you,' says he, though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers as well as any of them.' Captain Sentry, seeing two or three wags, who sat near us lean with an attentive ear towards Sir Roger, and fearing lest they should smoke the knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whispered something in his ear that lasted till the opening of the fifth act. The knight was wonderfully attentive to the account which Orestes gives of Pyrrhus's death, and, at the conclusion of it, told me it was such a bloody piece of work that he was glad it was not done upon the stage. Seeing afterwards Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more than ordinarily serious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way) upon an evil conscience, adding, that Orestes in his madness looked as if he saw something.

"As we were the first that came into the house, so we were the last that went out of it, being resolved to have a clear passage for our old friend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodging in the same