Then, full of fear, Beauty declined to go with Everyman.
“Peace, I am deaf; I look not behind me;
Not and thou would give me all the gold in thy chest,”
she exclaimed; and turning from him in spite of her promise, she hurried away.
Strength followed, crying:
“Thy game liketh me not at all!”
And, after him, fled Discretion, saying:
“When Strength goeth before, I follow after evermore.”
Deserted by these three friends, Everyman, who had descended the steps of the stage, was now quite close to the grave, and the scene was very solemn and impressive. Evening was drawing near. Long shadows were cast upon the courtyard, and across the sky, still clear, but rosy with sunset, flights of birds moved slowly. The last rays of the sun touched the roofs of the old grey houses, and the bells from the city churches near were chiming together.
One by one the beautiful figures who had forsaken him crossed the courtyard and filed back to the world, across the stage, while Everyman, in his black robe of sorrow, attended only by Knowledge and Good Deeds, stood at the brink of the tomb.