MANHOOD. Yea, sir, yet had I liever the world be wrath,
Than lese the cunning that Conscience me gave.
FOLLY. A cuckoo for Conscience[254]; he is but a daw:
He cannot else but preach.
MANHOOD. Yea, I pray thee, leave thy lewd clattering,
For Conscience is a councillor for a king.
FOLLY. I would not give a straw for his teaching:
He doth but make men wrath.
But wottest thou what I say, man?
By that ilk[255] truth that God me gave,
Had I that bitched Conscience in this place,
I should so beat him with my staff,
That all his stones should stink.
MANHOOD. I pray thee, Folly, go hence and follow not me.
FOLLY. Yes, sir, so mot I the,
Your servant will I be.
I axe but meat and drink.
MANHOOD. Peace, man: I may not have thee for thy name,
For thou sayest thy name is both Folly and Shame.
FOLLY. Sir, here in this clout I knit Shame,
And clepe me but proper Folly.
MANHOOD. Yea, Folly, will thou be my true servant?
FOLLY. Yea, Sir Manhood, here my hand.