Yet in my mynde a thynge there is;
All my lyfe I have loved Ryches;
If that my good now helpe me myght
He wolde make my herte full lyght.
I wyll speke to hym in this distresse,
Where art thou, my Goodes, and Ryches?
Goodes.
Who calleth me? Every-man? What hast thou haste?
I lye here in corners, trussed and pyled so hye,
And in chestes I am locked so fast,
Also sacked in bagges, thou mayst se with thyn eye
I cannot styrre; in packes low I lye.
What wolde ye have? lightly me saye,—
Syr, an ye in the worlde have sorowe or adversyte
That can I helpe you to remedy shortly.
Every-man.
In this world it is not, I tell thee so,
I am sent for an other way to go,
To gyve a strayte counte generall
Before the hyest Jupiter of all:
And all my life I have had joye and pleasure in the,
Therefore, I pray the, go with me:
For paraventure, thou mayst before God Almighty
My rekenynge helpe to clene and puryfye;
For it is said ever amonge
That money maketh all ryght that is wrong.
Goodes.
Nay, Every-man, I synge an other songe;
I folowe no man in such vyages.
For an I wente with the,
Thou sholdes fare moche the worse for me.
Goodes then exults in having beguiled him, laughs at his situation and leaves him. Of whom shall he take council? He bethinks him of Good Dedes.
But alas she is so weke
That she can nother go nor speke.
Yet wyll I venter on her now
My Good Dedes, where be you?
Good Dedes.
Here I lye colde on the grounde,
Thy sinnes hath me sore bounde
That I cannot stere.
Every-man.
I pray you that ye wyll go with me.
Good Dedes.
I wolde full fayne, but I can not stand veryly.
Every-man.
Why, is there any thynge on you fall?
Good Dedes.
Ye, Sir; I may thanke you of all.
If ye had parfytely sheved me,
Your boke of counte full redy had be.
Loke, the bokes of your workes and dedes eke,
A! se how they lye under the fete,
To your soules hevynes.
Every-man.
Our Lorde Jesus helpe me,
For one letter here I cannot se!
Good Dedes.
There is a blynde rekenynge in tyme of dystres!
Every-man.
Good-Dedes, I pray you, helpe me in this nede,
Or elles I am for ever dampned in dede.
Good Dedes calls in Knowledge to help him to make his reckoning; and Knowledge takes him lovingly to that holy man Confession; and Confession gives him a precious jewel called Penance, in the form of a scourge.
When with the scourge of Penance man doth hym bynde,
The oyl of forgyvenes than shall he fynde,—
Now may you make your rekenynge sure.
Every-man.
In the name of the holy Trynyte,
My body sore punyshed shall be.
Take this, Body, for the synne of the flesshe!
Also thou delytest to go gay and fresshe,
And in the way of dampnacyon thou dyd me brynge,
Therefore suffre now strokes of punysshynge.
Now of penaunce I wyll wede the water clere
To save me from Purgatory, that sharpe fyre.
Good Dedes.
I thanke God, now I can walke and go;
And am delyvered of my sykenesse and wo,
Therfore with Every-man I wyll go and not spare;
His good workes I wyll helpe hym to declare.
Knowlege.
Now Every-man, be mery and glad,
Your Good Dedes cometh now, ye may not be sad.
Now is your Good Dedes hole and sounde,
Goynge upryght upon the grounde.
Every-man.
My herte is lyght, and shall be evermore,
Now wyll I smyte faster than I dyde before.
Knowledge then makes him put on the garment of sorrow called contrition, and makes him call for his friends Discretion, Strength and Beauty to help him on his pilgrimage, and his Five Wits to counsel him. They come at his call and promise faithfully to help him.
Strength.
I Strength wyll by you stande in dystres,
Though thou wolde in batayle fyght on the grownde.
Fyve-Wyttes.
And thought it were thrugh the world rounde,
We wyll not depart for swete ne soure.
Beaute.
No more wyll I unto dethes howre,
Watsoever therof befall.
He makes his testament, and gives half his goods in charity. Discretion and Knowledge send him to receive the holy sacrament and extreme unction, and Five-Wits expatiates upon the authority of the Priesthood, to the Priest he says,
God hath—more power given
Than to ony Aungell that is in Heven,
With five wordes he may consecrate
Goddes body in flesshe and blode to make,
And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes.
The preest byndeth and unbyndeth all bandes
Both in erthe and in heven.—
No remedy we fynde under God
But all-onely preesthode.
—God gave Preest that dygnyte,
And setteth them in his stede among us to be:
Thus they be above Aungelles in degree.
Having received his viaticum Every-man sets out upon this mortal journey: his comrades renew their protestations of remaining with him; till when he grows faint on the way, and his limbs fail,—they fail him also.