Wrath. Where be these knaves that make this array?
Bod. Lust. Marry! they be gone that other way—
Tell me whom ye mean.
Wrath. I trow, thou scornest!
Bod. Lust. Nay, certainly!
Howsobeit, if I should not lie
At the first blush, I ensure you, faithfully,
I had forgot you clean;
Because ye be thus defensibly arrayed.
What meaneth that? are ye afraid?
Who hath you grieved?
Wrath. Nay, I fear no man that beareth a head;
Yet had I liever that I were dead
Than that should be proved.
Bod. Lust. By my faith! ye are wont to be as bold
As it were a lion of Cotswold;
But now, to my question:
What meaneth all this defensible array?
Wrath. Marry! Sloth warned us two this same day,
Even sith it was noon,
That our master and Reason should make a fray;
And, therefore, he had us, without delay,
To await on our captain.
Bod. Lust. Ah! now I know the matter right well;
But what shall come thereof I cannot tell:
It passeth my brain.
Our master willed that we twain
Should tarry here till he come again.
Envy. What wilt thou do then?
Bod. Lust. Who, I? nay, care not for me!
I will not come where strokes be;
I am not so mad a man.
And I wis it is not for any fear;
But it is a thing that I can well forbear,
And will as long as I can.
Of lust and pleasure is all my mind;
It longeth to me of property and kind;
And if I should to the war,
And lie in mine harness, as other men do,
With hunger and thirst a day or two,
It should me utterly mar.