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the duke of York (James II.). He left a " History of
Cie Rcbellhn and Civil Wars" (1702).]

After some days' stay, and communica-
tion between the king and the Lord Wilmot
by letters, the king came to know that Colo-
nel Francis Windham lived within little
more than a day's journey of the place
where he was, of which he was very glad ;
for, besides the inclination he had to his
eldest brother, whose wife had been his
nurse, this gentleman had behaved himself
very well during the war, and had been
governor of Dunster Castle where the king
had lodged when he was in the west. After
the end of the war, and when all other
places were surrendered in the country, he
likewise surrendered that, upon fair condi-
tions, and made his peace, and afterwards
married a wife with a competent fortune,
and lived, quietly, without any suspicion of
having lessened his affection towards the

The king sent Wilmot to him and ac-
quainted him where he was, and " that he
wouli gladly speak with him." It was not


hard for him to choose a good place where
to meet, and thereupon the day was ap-
pointed. After the king had taken his leave
of Mrs. Lane, who remained with her
cousin Norton, the king and the Lord
Wilmot met the colonel ; and in the way he
met in a town through which they passed,
Mr. Kirton, a servant of the king's, who
well know the Lord Wilmot, who had no
other disguise than the hawk, but took no
notice of him, nor suspected the king to be
there ; yet that day made the king more
wary of having him in his company upon
the way. At the place of meeting, they
rested only one night, and then the king
went to the colonel's house where he rested
many days, whilst the colonel projected at
what place the king might embark, and how
they might procure a vessel to be ready
there, which was not easy to find, there be-
ing so great a fear possessing those who
were honest, that it was hard to procure any
vessel that was outward bound to take in
any passengers.

There was a gentleman, one Mr. Ellison,
who lived near Lyme, in Dorsetshire, and
was well known to Colonel Windham, hav-
ing been a captain in the king's army, and
was still looked upon as a very honest man.
With him the colonel consulted how they
might get a vessel to be ready to take in a
couple of gentlemen, friends of his, who
were in danger to be arrested, and transport
them into France. Though no man would
ask who the persons were, yet it could not
but be suspected who they were ; at least
they concluded that it was some of Worces-
ter party. Lyme was generally as malicious
and disaffected a town to the king's interest
as any town in England could be, yet there
was in it a master of a barque, of whose
honesty this captain was very confident.
This man was lately returned from France,
and had unladen his vessel, when Ellison
asked him " when he would make another
voyage?" And he answered. "As soon
as he could get lading for his ship." The
other asked " whether he would undertake
to carry over a couple of gentlemen, and
land them in France, if he might be as well
paid for his voyage as he used to be when
he was freighted by the merchants ? " In
conclusion, he told him " he should receive
fifty pounds for his fare." The large recom-
pense had that effect, that the man under-
took it ; though he said " he must make his
provision very secretly, for that he might be
well suspected for going to sea again with-

out being freighted, after he was so newly
returned." Colonel Windham being adver-
tised of this, came, together with the Lord
Wilmot, to the captain's house, from whence
the lord and the captain rid to a house near
Lyme, where the master of the barque met
them ; and the Lord Wilmot being satisfied
with the discourse of the man, and his wari-
ness in foreseeing suspicions which would
arise, it was resolved that on such a night,
which upon consideration of the tides wa.
agreed upon, the man should draw out his
vessel from the pier, and, being at sea,
should come to such a point nbout a mile
from the town, where his ship should re-
main upon the beach when the water was
gone, which would take it off again about
break of day the next morning. There was
very near that point, even in the view of it, a
small inn, kept by a man who was reputed
honest, to which the cavaliers of the coun-
try often resorted ; and the London road
passed that way, so that it was seldom with-
out company. Into that inn the two gen-
tlemen were to come in the beginning of the
night, that they might put themselves on
board. All things being thus concerted,
and good earnest given to the master, the
Lord Wilmot and the colonel returned to
the colonel's house, above a day's journey
from the place, the captain undertaking
every day to look that the master should
provide, and, if anything fell out contrary
to expectation, to give the colonel notice at
such a place where they intended the king
should be the day before he was to embark.

The king being satisfied with these pre-
parations, came at the time appointed to
that house where he was to hear that all
went as it ought to do ; of which he re-
ceived assurance from the captain, who
found that the man had honestly put his
provisions on board, and had his company
ready, which were but four men, and that
the vessel should be drawn out that night ;
so that it was fit for the two persons to come
to the aforesaid inn : and the captain con-
ducted them within sight of it, and then
went to his own house, not distant a mile
from it ; the colonel remaining still at the
house where they had lodged the night be-
fore, till he might hear the news of their
being embarked.

They found many passengers in the inn,
and so were to be contented with an ordi-
nary chamber, which they did not intend to
sleep long in. But as soon as there ap-
peared any light, Wilmot went out to dis-


cover the barque, of which there was no
appearance. In a word, the sun arose, and
nothing like a ship in view. They sent to
the captain, who was as much amazed ; and
he sent to the town, and his servant could
not find the master of the barque, which
was still in the pier. They suspected the
captain, and the captain suspected the
master. However, it being past ten of the
clock, they concluded it was not fit for them
to stay longer there, and so they mounted
their horses again to return to the house
where they had left the colonel, who, they
knew, resolved to stay there till he was
assured that they were gone.

The truth of the disappointment was this :
the man meant honestly, and made all
things ready for his departure ; and the
night he was to go out with his vessel he
stayed in his own house, and slept two or
three hours ; and the time of the tide being
come that it was necessary to be on board,
he took out of a cupboard some linen and
other things, which he used to carry with
him to sea. His wife had observed that he
had been for some days fuller of thoughts
than he used to be, and that he had been
speaking with seamen who used to go with
him, and that some of them had carried
provisions on board the barque ; of which
she had asked her husband the reason, who
had told her " that he was promised freight
speedily, and therefore he would make all
things ready." She was sure there was yet
no lading in the ship, and therefore, when
she saw her husband take all those ma-
terials with him, which was a sure sign that
he meant to go to sea, and it being late in
the night, she shut the door, and swore he
should not go out of the house. He told
her " he must go, and was engaged to go to
sea that night, for which he should be well
paid." His wife told him " she was sure he
was doing somewhat that would undo him,
and she was resolved he should not go out
of his house ; and if he should persist in it,
she would tell the neighbours, and carry
him before the mayor to be examined, that
the truth might be found out." The poor
man, thus mastered by the passion and vio-
lence of his wife, was forced to yield to her,
that there might be no further noise, and so
went into his bed.

And it was very happy that the king's
jealousy hastened him from that inn. It
was the solemn fast-day, which was ob-
served in those times principally to inflame
the people against the king, and all those

who were loyal to him ; and there was a
chapel in that village over against that inn.
where a weaver, who had been a soldier,
used to preach, and utter all the villany
imaginable against the old order of govern-
ment: and he was then in the chapel
preaching to his congregation when the
king went from thence, and telling the peo-
ple " that Charles Stuart was lurking some-
where in that country, and that they would
merit from God Almighty if they could find
him out." The passengers, who had lodged
in the inn that night, had, as soon as they
were up, sent for a smith to visit their
horses, it being a hard frost. The smith,
when he had done what he was sent for, ac-
cording to the custom of that people, exam-
ined the feet of the other two horses, to find
more work. When he had observed them,
he told the host of the house, " that one of
those horses had travelled far, and that he
was sure that his four shoes had been made
in four several counties ; " which, whether
his skill was able to discover or no, was
very true. The smith, going to the sermon,
told the story to some of his neighbours,
and so it came to the ears of the preacher
when his sermon was done. Immediately
he sent for an officer, and searched the inn,
and inquired for those horses ; and being
informed that they were gone, he caused
horses to be sent to follow them, and to
make inquiry after the two men who rid
those horses, and positively declared " that
one of them was Charles Stuart.''

When they came again to the colonel, they
presently concluded that they were to make
no longer stay in those parts, nor any more
to endeavour to find a ship upon that coast ;
and without any further delay, they rode
back to the colonel's house, where they ar-
rived in the night. Then they resolved to
make their next attempt in Hampshire and
Sussex, where Colonel Windham had no
interest. They must pass through all Wilt-
shire before they came thither, which would
require many days' journey ; and they were
first to consider what honest houses there
were in or near the way, where they might
securely repose ; and it was thought very
dangerous for the king to ride through any
great town, as Salisbury, or Winchester,
which might probably lie in their way.

There was, between that and Salisbury, a
very honest gentleman, Colonel Robert
Philips, a younger brother of a very good
family, which had always been very loyal,
and he had served the king during the war.



The king was resolved to trust him, and so
sent the Lord Wilmot to a place from
whence he might send to Mr. Philips to
come to him ; and when he had spoken with
him, Mr. Philips should come to the king,
and Wilrnot was to stay in such a place as
they two should agree. Mr. Philips ac-
cordingly carne to the colonel's house,
which he could do without suspicion, they
being nearly allied. The ways were very
full of soldiers, which were sent now from
the army to their quarters, and many regi-
ments of horse and foot were assigned for
the west, of which division Desborough was
commander-in-chief. These marches were
like to last for many days, and it would not
be fit for the king to stay so long in that
place. Thereupon he resorted to his old
security of taking a woman behind him, a
kinswoman of Colonel Windham, whom he
carried in that manner to a place not far
from Salisbury, to which Colonel Philips
conducted him. In this journey he passed
through the middle of a regiment of horse,
and, presently after, met Desborough walk-
ing down a hill with three or four men with
him, who had lodged in Salisbury the night
before, all that road being full of soldiers.

The next day, upon the plains. Dr. Hinch-
man, one of the prebends of Salisbury, met
the king, the Lord Wilmot and Philips then
leaving him to go to the sea-coast to find a
vessel, the doctor conducting the king to a
place called Heale, three miles from Salis-
bury, belonging then to Serjeant Hyde, who
was afterwards Chief Justice of the King's
Bench, an r l then in the possession of the
widow of his elder brother a house that
stood alone from neighbours, and from any
highway where, coming in late in the
evening, he supped with some gentlemen
who accidentally were in the house, which
could not well be avoided. But the next
morning he went early from thence, as if he
had continued his journey ; and the widow,
being trusted with the knowledge of her
guest, sent her servants out of the way, and
at an hour appointed received him again,
and accommodated him in a little room,
which had been made since the beginning
of the troubles for the concealment of delin-
quents, the seat always belonging to a
malignant family.

Here he lay concealed, without the know-
ledge of some gentlemen who lived in the
house, and of others who daily resorted
thither, for many days, the widow herself
only attending him with such things as

were necessary, and bringing him such let-
ters as the doctor received from the Lord
Wilmot and Colonel Philips. A vessel
being at last provided upon the coast of
Sussex, and notice thereof sent to Dr.
Hinchman, he sent to the king to meet him
at Stonehenge, upon the plains, three miles
from Heale, whither the widow took care to
direct him; and being there met, he at-
tended him to the place where Colonel
Philips received him. He, the next day,
delivered him to the Lord Wilmot, who
went with him to a house in Sussex recom-
mended by Colonel Gunter, a gentleman of
that country, who had served the king in
the war, who met him there, and had pro-
vided a little barque at Brighthelmstone, a
small fisher town, where he went early on
board, and, by God's blessing, arrived safely
in Normandy.


[The Authorship of this poem, which dates about 1521,
is unknown.]

Be it right or wrong, these men omongr

Of women do complain ;
Affirming this, how that it ia

A labour spent in vain,
To love them well ; for never a ded

They love a man again :
For let a man do what he can

Their favour to attain,
Yet, if a new do them pursue,

Their first true lover then
Laboureth for nought ; for from cheir though t

He is a banish'd man.

I say not nay, but that all day

It is both writ and said,
That woman's faith is, as who saith.

All utterly decny'd;
But, nevertheless, right good witn:'"s3

In this case might b 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 hoart

She loved but him alono.

Then between us let us discuss

What was all the manner
Between them two : we will also

Tell all the pain, and fear,



That she was in. Now I begin,

So tliat ye me answer ;
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 banish'd man."

SHE. And I your will for to fulfil

In this will not refuse ;
Trustying to show, in wordis 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, anon ;
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

I!E. It standetli so ; a deed is do

Whereof gre^t harm shall grow ;
Ky destiny is for to die

A shameful death, I trow ;
Or els 3 to flee : the one must be.

l^one other way I know,
But to withdraw as an outlaw,

And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my own heart tree

None other rede I can :
For I must to the green wood go,

Alone a banished man.

SHE. Lord, what is this worldly bliss,

That changeth as the moon !
My summer's day in lusty May

Is derked J 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 yon done ?
All my welfare to sorrow and care

Should change if you were gone ;
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

IJrv I can believe it shall you grieve,

And somewhat you distrain ;
But afterward, your paynes 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 hart'ly as I can ;
For I must to the green wood go,
Alone a banish'd man.

1 Barkened.

SHE. Now, sith that ye have showed to m*

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 leve 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.

HE. 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,
Tour wanton will for to fulfil,

In green wood you to play ;
And that ye might from your dchghc

No longer make d?lay.
Rather than ye should thus for me

Be call'd an ill woman,
Yet would I to the green wood go,

Alone, a banish'd man.

SHE. Though it be sung of old and younr,

That I should be to blame,
Theirs be the charge, that speak so 'arg

In hurting of my name :
For I will prove that faithful lovn

It is devoid of shame ;
In your distress, and heaviness,

To part with you, the same :
And sure all those, 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 lever 2 than,
That I did to the green wood go,

Alone, a banish'd man.

SHE. I think not nay, but as ye say,

It is no maiden's lore :
But love may make me for your *ik ,

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

1 Advise.

2 Rather.


May hare, 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 pity, hanged to be,

And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbid 1)

What rescue could ye find?
Forsooth, I trow, ye and your bow

For fear would draw behind :
And no marvel; for little avail

Were in your counsel then:
Wherefore I will to the green wood go,

Al.me a banish'd man.

SHE. Itight well know ye that woman be

But feeble for to fight ;
No womanhede it is indeed

To be bold as a knight :
Vet. 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 men many one ;
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

ITe. Yet take good heed ; for ever I dread

That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep valleys,

The snow, the frost, the rain,
Tha cold, tin heat : for dry or wet,

We must lodge on the plain ;
And, us above, none other roof

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 gone,

Alone, a banish'd man.

SHE. Sith I have here been partynere

With you of joy and bliss,
I must also part of your woo

Endure, as reason is :
Yet am I sure of one pleasure ;

And shortly, it is this :
That, whera ye be, me scemeth, parde, 1

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 alon^.

HE. If yn go thither, ye must consider,

Wh n n ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for you goto,

Un trutn.

Nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine.
No shetes clean, to lie between,

Made of thread and twine ;
None other house but leaves and boughs,

To cover your head and mine,
Oh, mine heart sweet, this evil dyete

Should make you pale and wan ;
Wherefore I will to the green wood go,

Alone, a banish'd man.
SHE. Among the wild deer, such an archer

As men say that ye be,
Ye may not fail of good vitayle,

Where there is so great plenty :
And water clear of the river

Shall be full sweet to me ;
With which in hele J I shall right wele

Endure, as ye shall see ;
And, or we go, a bed or two,

I can provide anon ;
For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

lie. Lo, yet, before, ye must do more,

If ye will go with me :
As cut your hair up by the ear,

Your kirtlo by the knee ;
With bow in hand, for to withstand

Your enemies, if need be :
And this same night before daylight

To wood-ward I will flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil,

Do it shortly as you can :
Else will I to tho green wood go,

Alone, a banisli'd man.

SHE. I shall as now do more for you

Than longeth to womanhede ;
To shote 2 my hair, a bow to bear,

To shoot in time of need.
Oh, my sweet mother, before all other

For you I have most dread :
But now, adieu ! I must ensue 3

Whore fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye : now let us flea ;

The day cometh fast upon ;
For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE. Nay, nay, not so; you 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 likewise hardely
You would answer whosoever it wer,

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 banish'd man.

i Health.

2 Cut.

* Follow.



SHE. If you take heed, it is no need

Such words to say to me ;
For oft ye pray'd, and long assay'd,

B'fore I you loved, pardo :
And though that I of ancestry

A baron's daughter be,
Tet have you proved how I you loved,

A squire of low degree ;
And ever shall whatso befall ;

To die thereon anon ;
For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE. A baron's child to be beguiled !

It were a curssd deed ;
To bo felawe 1 with an outlaw !

Almighty God forbid !
Tet better were the poor squyere

Alone to forest yede, 2
Then ye shall say another day,

That by my cursed deed,
Ye were betray'd : Wherefore, good maid,

The best rede 3 that I can,
Is, that I to the green wood go,

Alone, a banish 'd man.

SHE. Whatever befall, I never shall

Of this tiling you upbraid:
But if ye go, and leave me so,

Then have you mo betray'd.
Remember you well, how that ye deal ;

For, if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind, to leave behind,

Tour love the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust mo truly, that I shall dia

Soon after ye be gone ;
For, in my mind, of nil mankind

I love but you alone.

HE. If that ye went ye should repent ;

For in the forest now
I have purvayod 4 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 banish 'd man.

SHE. Though in the wood I understood

Te had a paramour,

All this may nought romive my thought.
But that I will be your :

l Companion. *Went. Advice. * Provided.

And she shall find me soft and Kind,

And courteous every hour ;
Glad to fulfil all that she will

Command me to my dower :
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,

" Of them I would be one,"
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE. 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,

Te should have cause to rue.
Be not dismay'd ; whatsoever I said

To you when I began ;
I will not to the green wood go ;

I am no banished man.

SHE. These tidings be more glad to me,

Than to be made a queen,

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