The Nutbrown Maid Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B C D E FAGADAAAHAIA JJKJHJAJCAJA HCHCACICJAHA DHLHMHLHCAJA JLJLILDLLAJA HAJAJJJJCJJJ CJJJNJJJJJJJ IJJJJJJJOJJJ JHJJJJJJIJJJ PMPMJMHMHJJJ LLJLCLQLHJJJ QCNCJCICJIJI LJIJJJLJJIJI IJJJCJJJRIJI JIHIJICIJIJI CHJHCHJHSIJI CIJIIIHIJIJI CIJJCIJIJIJI CICIJIJIIIJI JJCJCJJJIIJI JJJTIICIJIJI JIJJCIJIIIJI JJJJIJJJJIJI IJJJIJJJJIJI JJJJIJKJHIJI JIJIJIIIJIJI IJUJJJKJJIJI IIIIJIIIHIJI JPJPJPPPJIII IIIIJIKIJIJI

The Text is from Arnold's Chronicle of the edition which from typographical evidence is said to have been printed at Antwerp in by John Doesborowe Each stanza is there printed in six long lines Considerable variations appear in later editions There is also a Balliol MS which contains a contemporary version and the Percy Folio contains a corrupt versionA
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This should not be considered as a ballad proper it is rather a 'dramatic lyric ' Its history however is quite as curious as that of many ballads It occurs as stated above in the farrago known as the Chronicle of Richard Arnold inserted between a list of the 'tolls' due on merchandise entering or leaving the port of Antwerp and a table giving Flemish weights and moneys in terms of the corresponding English measures Why such a poem should be printed in such incongruous surroundings what its date or who its author was are questions impossible to determine Its position here is perhaps almost as incongruous as in its original placeB
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From to the end of the last verse but one it is a dialogue between an earl's son and a baron's daughter in alternate stanzas a prologue and an epilogue are added by the authorC
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Matthew Prior printed the poem in his works in order to contrast it with his own version Henry and Emma which appealed to contemporary taste as more elegant than its rude originalD
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THE NUTBROWN MAIDE
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Be it right or wrong these men amongF
On women do complaineA
Affermyng this how that it isG
A labour spent in vaineA
To loue them wele for neuer a deleD
They loue a man agayneA
For lete a man do what he canA
Ther fouour to attayneA
Yet yf a newe to them pursueH
Ther furst trew louer thanA
Laboureth for nought and from her though tI
He is a bannisshed manA
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I say not nay bat that all dayJ
It is bothe writ and saydeJ
That womans fayth is as who saytheK
All utterly decayedJ
But neutheles right good wytnesH
In this case might be laydeJ
That they loue trewe and contynewA
Recorde the Nutbrowne maideJ
Which from her loue whan her to proueC
He cam to make his moneA
Wolde not departe for in her herteJ
She louyd but hym alloneA
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Than betwene us lete us discusseH
What was all the manerC
Betwene them too we wyll alsoH
Tell all they payne in fereC
That she was in now I begynneA
Soo that ye me answereC
Wherfore ye that present beI
I pray you geue an eareC
I am the knyght I cum be nyghtJ
As secret as I canA
Sayng alas thus stondyth the causeH
I am a bannisshed manA
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And I your wylle for to fulfylleD
In this wyl not refuseH
Trusting to shewe in wordis feweL
That men haue an ille useH
To ther owne shame wymen to blameM
And causeles them accuseH
Therfore to you I answere noweL
All wymen to excuseH
Myn owne hert dere with you what chiereC
I prey you tell anoonA
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you allonA
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It stondith so a dede is doJ
Wherfore moche harme shal groweL
My desteny is for to deyJ
A shamful dethe I troweL
Or ellis to flee the ton must beeI
None other wey I knoweL
But to withdrawe as an outlawD
And take me to my boweL
Wherefore adew my owne hert treweL
None other red I canA
For I muste to the grene wode gooJ
Alone a bannysshed manA
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O Lorde what is this worldis blisseH
That chaungeth as the moneA
My somers day in lusty mayJ
Is derked before the noneA
I here you saye farwel nay nayJ
We depart not soo soneJ
Why say ye so wheder wyll ye gooJ
Alas what haue ye doneJ
Alle my welfare to sorow and careC
Shulde chaunge yf ye were gonJ
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneJ
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I can beleue it shal you greueC
And somwhat you distrayneJ
But aftyrwarde your paynes hardeJ
Within a day or tweyneJ
Shall sone aslake and ye shall takeN
Comfort to you agayneJ
Why shuld ye nought for to make thoughtJ
Your labur were in vayneJ
And thus I do and pray you looJ
As hertely as I canJ
For I must too the grene wode gooJ
Alone a banysshed manJ
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Now syth that ye haue shewed to meI
The secret of your myndeJ
I shalbe playne to you agayneJ
Lyke as ye shal me fyndeJ
Syth it is so that ye wyll gooJ
I wol not leue behyndeJ
Shall neuer be sayd the Nutbrowne maydJ
Was to her loue unkindJ
Make you redy for soo am IO
All though it were anoonJ
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneJ
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Yet I you rede take good hedeJ
Whan men wyl thynke and seyH
Of yonge and olde it shalbe toldeJ
That ye be gone awayJ
Your wanton wylle for to fulfylleJ
In grene wood you to playJ
And that ye myght from your delyteJ
Noo lenger make delayJ
Rather than ye shuld thus for meI
Be called an ylle womanJ
Yet wolde I to the grene wodde gooJ
Alone a banyshed manJ
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Though it be songe of olde and yongeP
That I shuld be to blameM
Theirs be the charge that speke so largeP
In hurting of my nameM
For I wyl proue that feythful loueJ
It is deuoyd of shameM
In your distresse and heuynesseH
To parte wyth you the sameM
And sure all thoo that doo not soH
Trewe louers ar they noonJ
But in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneJ
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I councel yow remembre howeL
It is noo maydens laweL
Nothing to dought but to renne outJ
To wod with an outlaweL
For ye must there in your hande bereC
A bowe to bere and draweL
And as a theef thus must ye lyeueQ
Euer in drede and aweL
By whiche to yow gret harme myght growH
Yet had I leuer thanJ
That I had too the grenewod gooJ
Alone a banysshyd manJ
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I thinke not nay but as ye sayeQ
It is noo maydens loreC
But loue may make me for your sakeN
As ye haue said beforeC
To com on fote to hunte and shoteJ
To gete us mete and storeC
For soo that I your companyI
May haue I aske noo moreC
From whiche to parte it makith myn herteJ
As colde as ony stonI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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For an outlawe this is the laweL
That men hym take and bindeJ
Wythout pytee hanged to beeI
And wauer with the wyndeJ
Yf I had neede as God forbedeJ
What rescous coude ye findeJ
Forsothe I trowe you and your boweL
Shuld drawe for fere behyndeJ
And noo merueyle for lytel auayleJ
Were in your councel thanI
Wherfore I too the woode wyl gooJ
Alone a banysshd manI
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Ful wel knowe ye that wymen beeI
Ful febyl for to fyghtJ
Noo womanhed is it in deedeJ
To bee bolde as a knightJ
Yet in suche fere yf that ye wereC
Amonge enemys day and nyghtJ
I wolde wythstonde with bowe in handeJ
To greue them as I myghtJ
And you to saue as wymen haueR
From deth many oneI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Yet take good hede for euer I dredeJ
That ye coude not susteinI
The thorney wayes the depe valeisH
The snowe the frost the reynI
The colde the hete for drye or weteJ
We must lodge on the playnI
And us abowe noon other roueC
But a brake bussh or twayneI
Which sone shulde greue you I beleueJ
And ye wolde gladly thanI
That I had too the grenewode gooJ
Alone a banysshyd manI
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Syth I haue here ben partynereC
With you of joy and blysseH
I must also parte of your wooJ
Endure as reason isH
Yet am I sure of oon plesureC
And shortly it is thisH
That where ye bee me semeth perdeJ
I coude not fare amysseH
Wythout more speche I you besecheS
That we were soon agoneI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Yef ye goo thedyr ye must considerC
Whan ye haue lust to dyneI
Ther shal no mete before to geteJ
Nor drinke beer ale ne wineI
Ne shetis clene to lye betweneI
Made of thred and twyneI
Noon other house but leuys and bowesH
To keuer your hed and mynI
Loo myn herte swete this ylle dyetJ
Shuld make you pale and wanI
Wherfore I to the wood wyl gooJ
Alone a banysshid manI
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Amonge the wylde dere suche an archierC
As men say that ye beeI
Ne may not fayle of good vitayleJ
Where is so grete plenteJ
And watir cleere of the ryuereC
Shalbe ful swete to meI
Wyth whiche in hele I shal right weleJ
Endure as ye shal seeI
And or we goo a bed or twooJ
I can prouide anoonI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Loo yet before ye must doo moreC
Yf ye wyl goo with meI
As cutte your here up by your ereC
Your kirtel by the kneeI
Wyth bowe in hande for to withstondeJ
Your enmys yf nede beeI
And this same nyght before daylyghtJ
To woodwarde wyl I fleeI
And ye wyl all this fulfylleI
Doo it shortely as ye canI
Ellis wil I to the grenewode gooJ
Alone a banysshyd manI
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I shal as now do more for youJ
That longeth to womanhedJ
To short my here a bowe to bereC
To shote in tyme of nedeJ
O my swete mod er before all otherC
For you haue I most dredeJ
But now adiew I must ensueJ
Wher fortune duth me leedeJ
All this make ye now lete us fleeI
The day cum fast uponI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Nay nay not soo ye shal not gooJ
And I shal telle you whyJ
Your appetyte is to be lyghtJ
Of loue I wele aspieT
For right as ye haue sayd to meI
In lyke wyse hardelyI
Ye wolde answere who so euer it wereC
In way of companyI
It is sayd of olde sone hote sone coldeJ
And so is a womanI
Wherfore I too the woode wly gooJ
Alone a banysshid manI
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Yef ye take hede yet is noo nedeJ
Suche wordis to say by meI
For ofte ye preyd and longe assayedJ
Or I you louid pardeJ
And though that I of auncestryC
A barons doughter beeI
Yet haue you proued how I you louedJ
A squyer of lowe degreeI
And euer shal whatso befalleI
To dey therfore anoonI
For in my mynde of al mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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A barons childe to be begyledJ
It were a curssed dedeJ
To be felow with an outlaweJ
Almyghty God forbedeJ
Yet bettyr were the power squyereI
Alone to forest yedeJ
Than ye shal saye another dayJ
That be my wyked dedeJ
Ye were betrayed wherfore good maideJ
The best red that I canI
Is that I too the grenewode gooJ
Alone a banysshed manI
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Whatso euer befalle I neuer shalI
Of this thing you upbraydJ
But yf ye goo and leue me sooJ
Than haue ye me betraiedJ
Remembre you wele how that ye deleI
For yf ye as the y saydJ
Be so unkynde to leue behyndeJ
Your loue the notbrowne maideJ
Trust me truly that I shall deyJ
Sone after ye be goneI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Yef that ye went ye shulde repentJ
For in the forest noweJ
I haue purueid me of a maideJ
Whom I loue more than youJ
Another fayrer than euer ye wereI
I dare it wel auoweJ
And of you bothe eche shulde be wrotheK
With other as I troweJ
It were myn ease to lyue in peaseH
So wyl I yf I canI
Wherfore I to the wode wyl gooJ
Alone a banysshid manI
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Though in the wood I undirstodeJ
Ye had a paramourI
All this may nought reineue my thoughtJ
But that I wil be yourI
And she shal fynde me soft and kyndeJ
And curteis euery ourI
Glad to fulfylle all that she wylleI
Commaunde me to my powerI
For had ye loo an hundred mooJ
Yet wolde I be that oneI
For in my mynde of all mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Myn owne dere loue I see the proueI
That ye be kynde and treweJ
Of mayde and wyf in al my lyfU
The best that euer I kneweJ
Be mery and glad be no more sadJ
The case is chaunged neweJ
For it were ruthe that for your trouthK
Ye shuld haue cause to reweJ
Be not dismayed whatsoeuer I saydJ
To you whan I beganI
I wyl not too the grene wod gooJ
I am noo banysshyd manI
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This tidingis be more glad to meI
Than to be made a queneI
Yf I were sure they shuld endureI
But it is often seenI
When men wyl breke promyse they spekeJ
The wordis on the spleneI
Ye shape some wyle me to begyleI
And stele fro me I weneI
Than were the case wurs than it wasH
And I more woobegoneI
For in my mynde of al mankyndeJ
I loue but you aloneI
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Ye shal not nede further to dredeJ
I wyl not disparageP
You God defende syth you descendJ
Of so grete a lynageP
Now understonde to WestmerlandeJ
Whiche is my herytageP
I wyl you brynge and wyth a ryngeP
By wey of maryageP
I wyl you take and lady makeJ
As shortly as I canI
Thus haue ye wone an erles sonI
And not a banysshyd manI
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Here may ye see that wymen beI
In loue meke kinde and stableI
Late neuer man repreue them thanI
Or calle them variableI
But rather prey God that we mayJ
To them be comfortableI
Whiche somtyme prouyth suche as louethK
Yf they be charitableI
For sith men wolde that wymen sholdeJ
Be meke to them echeonI
Moche more ought they to God obeyJ
And serue but Hym aloneI

Frank Sidgwick



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