“Nay, never again till the day of doom,” answered Everyman sadly.
At these words Fellowship started back in fear.
“Who hath you these tidings brought?” he asked in a strange voice.
“Indeed, Death was with me here,” Everyman replied.
Then Fellowship, more than ever afraid, absolutely refused to go on a journey commanded by Death. If Everyman had wanted him to eat and drink with him, or to help him in any of his pleasures, he would never have forsaken him, he declared. Even if he had wanted him to commit murder he would have been ready to serve him. But this request was an impossible one, so impossible that he would not even accompany him as far as the town gates.
So, very mournfully, Everyman wished him farewell, gazing after him as he hurried away, a brilliant figure in his scarlet doublet and hose, with his sword clanking at his side.
Good Fellowship had failed him; “but surely,” thought Everyman, “my own relations will be faithful to me in my sorrow?” And when he saw them strolling across the courtyard, hope once more revived in his heart.
Of the little company of young men who now came on to the platform, one was Everyman’s cousin, of whom he was very fond; and this cousin, seeing that something was wrong, begged for an explanation, which, in these words, Everyman gave:
“Gramercy, my friends and kinsmen kind,
Now shall I show you the grief of my mind: