IMAGINATION.
Hold, whoreson, here is an halter;
Bind him fast, and make him sure.
PITY.
O men, let truth, that is the true man,
Be your guider, or else ye be forlorn;
Lay no false witness, as nigh as ye can,
On none; for afterward ye will repent it full sore.
FREEWILL.
Nay, nay, I care not therefore.
HICKSCORNER.
Yea, when my soul hangeth on the hedge-cast stones,
For I tell thee plainly by Cock's bones,
Thou shalt be guided, and laid in irons,
They fared even so.
PITY.
Well-a-way,[136] sir, what have I do?