A Select Collection of Old English Plays - Volume I Part 23
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Volume I Part 23

Yea, by my faith, and never more appear; In this world live no more we shall, But in heaven before the highest Lord of all.

BEAUTY.

I cross out all this: adieu, by Saint John; I take my cap in my lap, and am gone.

EVERYMAN.

What, Beauty? whither will ye?

BEAUTY.

Peace! I am deaf, I look not behind me, Not, and thou wouldst give me--all the gold in thy chest.

EVERYMAN.

Alas! whereto may I now trust?

Beauty doth fast away hie: She promised with me to live and die.

STRENGTH.

Everyman, I will thee also forsake and deny, The game liketh me not at all.

EVERYMAN.

Why then ye will forsake me all: Strength, tarry, I pray you, a little s.p.a.ce.

STRENGTH.

Nay, sir, by the rood of grace, I will hie me from thee fast, Though thou weep till thy heart brast.

EVERYMAN.

Ye would ever bide by me, ye said.

STRENGTH.

Yea, I have you far enough conveyed: Ye be old enough, I understand, Your pilgrimage to take on hand; I repent me, that I hither came.

EVERYMAN.

Strength, you to displease I am to blame; Yet promise is debt;[105] this ye well wot.

STRENGTH.

In faith, as for that I care not: Thou art but a fool to complain; Thou spendest thy speech and wasteth thy brain: Go, thrist[106] thee into the ground.

EVERYMAN.

I had ween'd surer I should you have found: But I see well, he that trusteth in his Strength, Is greatly deceived at the length; Both Strength and Beauty hath forsaken me, Yet they promised me steadfast to be.

DISCRETION.

Everyman, I will after Strength be gone; As for me, I will leave you alone.

EVERYMAN.

Why, Discretion, will ye forsake me?

DISCRETION.

Yea, in faith, I will go fro thee; For when Strength is gone before, Then I follow after evermore.

EVERYMAN.

Yet, I pray thee, for love of the Trinity, Look in my grave once piteously.

DISCRETION.

Nay, so nigh will I not come.

Now farewell, fellows everichone.[107]

EVERYMAN.

Oh, all thing faileth, save G.o.d alone, Beauty, Strength, and Discretion; For, when Death bloweth his blast, They all run fro me full fast.

FIVE WITS.

Everyman, of thee now my leave I take; I will follow the other, for here I thee forsake.