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Lechery the seuente is:

These seuen synnes I call folye

Manhode What, thou lyest: to this
Seuen the worlde delyuered me,

And sayd they were kynges of grete beaute,
And most of mayne and myghtes.
But yet I praye the, syr, tell me
Maye I not go arayde honestly?
Conscyence Yes, manhode, hardely
In all maner of degre.

Manhode But I must have sportynge of playe.
Conscyence Sykerly, manhode I say not naye:
But good gouernaunce kepe bothe nyght and daye,
And mayntayne mekenes and all mercy.

Manhode All mercy, conscyence: what may that be? Conscyence Syr, all dyscrecyon that god gave the. Manhode Dyscressyon: I knowe not so mote I the. Conscyence Syr, it is all the wyttes that god hathe you sende.

Manhode A, conscyence! conscyence! now I knowe and se

Thy cunnynge is moche more than myne:
But yet I praye the, syr, tell me

What is moost necessary for man in euery tyme?
Conscyence Syr, in euery tyme beware of folye:
Folye is full of false flaterynge.

In what occupacyon that euer ye

be

Alwaye, or ye begyn, thynke on the endynge

For blame.

Now fare well manhode I must wende.

Manhode Now fare well conscyence, myne owne

frende.

Conscyence I praye you, manhode, have god in mynde And beware of folye and shame.

Manhode Yes, yes: ye, come wynde and rayne, God let hym neuer come here agayne.

Now he is forwarde I am ryght fayne,

For in faythe, syr, he had nere counsayled me all amys. A, a, now I have bethought me, yf I shall heuen wyn Conscyence techynge I must begyn,

And clene forsake the kynges of synne
That the worlde me taught,

And conscyence seruaunt wyll I be,
And beleue, as he hath taught me,
Upon one god and persones thre,
That made all thynge of nought:
For conscyence clere I clepe my kynge,
And his knight in good doynge:
For ryght of reason, as I fynde,
Conscyence techynge is trewe.
The worlde is full of boost,
And sayth he is of myghtes moost:
All his techynge is not worthe a coost,
For conscyence he doth refuse.

But yet wyll I hym not forsake,

For mankynde he doth mery make:

Thoughe the world and conscyence be at debate,

Yet the worlde wyll I not despyse,

For bothe in chyrche and in chepynge,19

And in other places beynge,

The worlde fyndeth me all thynge,

And dothe me grete seruyse.
Now here full prest

I thynke to rest,
Now myrthe is best.

Folye What hey! how care awaye!
My name is folye, I am not gaye.
Is here ony man that will saye naye
That renneth in this route?

A, syr, god gyue you good eue.

Manhode Stonde vtter13 felowe where doest y" thy curtesy preue

Folye What, I do but clawe myne ars syr, be your leve.

I praye you, syr, ryue me this cloute.

Manhode What stonde out thou sayned 14 shrewe
Folye By my faythe syr there the cock crewe

12

13 i. e. out or off.

chepynge, i. e. market.
14 Qy. fayned or feigned.

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For I take recorde of this rewe

My thedome15 is nere past.

Manhode Now, trewely, it may well be so. Folye By god, syr, yet have I felowes mo, For in every countre where I go

Some man his thryfte hath lost.

Manhode But herke, felowe, art thou ony craftes man?

Folye Ye, syr, I can bynde a syue and tynke a pan, And therto a coryous bukler player I am. Aryse felowe wyll thou assaye.

Manhode Now, truely, syr, I trow thou canst but lytell skyl of playe.

Folye Yes, by cockes bones that I can.

I wyll neuer fle for no man,

That walketh by the waye.

Manhode Felowe, thoughe thou have kunnynge,

I counsayll the leue thy bostynge,

For here thou may thy felowe fynde,

Whyder thou wylte at longe or shorte.

Folye Come, loke and thou darest aryse and assaye.
Manhode Ye, syr but yet conscyence, byddeth me

naye.

Folye No, syr, thou darest not in good faye,
For, truely, thou faylest no false herte.

Manhode What sayst thou? have I a false herte?
Folye Ye, syr in good faye.

Manhode Manhode wyll not that I saye naye.

Defende the folye, yft you maye,

For in feythe I purpose to wete what thou art.
How sayste thou now folye, hast thou not a touche?
Folye No, ywys, but a lytell on my pouche.
On all this meyne16 I wyll me wouche

That stondeth here aboute.

Manhode And I take recorde on all this rewe
Thou hast two touches, thoughe I saye but fewe
Folye Ye, this place is not without a shrewe:
I do you all out of dewe

15 the dome, i. e. thriving or success.
16 or meinie, alluding to the audience.

Manhode But herke, felowe, by thy faythe where was thou bore?

Folye By my faythe in englonde have I dwelled yore, And all myne auncetters me before.

But syr in London is my chefe dwellynge

Mankode In London! where yf a man the sought? Folye Syr, in holborne I was forthe brought, And with the courtyers, I am betaught.

To westmynster I vsed to wende.

Manhode Herke felowe why doost thou to westmynster drawe

Folye For I am a seruaunt of the lawe.

Couetous is myne owne felowe:

We twayne plete for the kynge,

And poore men that come from vplande

We wyll take theyr mater in hande,

Be it ryght or be it wronge,

Theyr thryfte with us shall wende.

Manhode Now here, felowe, I praye ye whyder wendest y" than?

Folye By my feyth, syr, in to London I ran To the tauernes to drynke the wyne: And then to the Innes I toke the waye, And there I was not welcome to the osteler But I was welcome to the fayre tapaster, And to all the housholde I was ryght dere, For I have dwelled with her many a daye. Manhode Now I praye ye, whyder toke y" than the waye?

Folye In feythe syr ouer London brydge I ran, And the streyght waye to the stewes I came,

And toke lodgynge for a nyght:

And there I found my brother lechery.

There men and women dyde folye,

And every man made of me as worthy

As thoughe I hadde ben a knyght.

Manhode I praye the yet tell me mo of thyne aduen

tures.

Folye In feythe euen streyght to all the freres,

And with them I dwelled many yeres,

And they crowned folye a kynge.

Manhode I praye the, felowe, whyder wendest thou tho?

Folye Syr all englande to and fro: In to abbeys and in to nonneryes also, And alway folye dothe felowes fynde.

Manhode. Now herke, felowe, I pray the tell me thy

name.

Folye I wys, I hyght bothe folyé and shame. Manhode A, ha! thou arte he that conscyence dyd blame

Whan he me taught.

I

praye the folye go

hens and folowe not me.

Folye Yes, good syr, let me your seruaunt be.
Manhode Naye so mote I thye,

For than a shrewe had I caught.

Folye Why, good syr, what is your name?

Manhode Manhode myghty, that bereth no blame. Folye By ye roode, and manhode mystereth in every

game,

Som dele to cherysshe folye :

For folye is felowe with the worlde,

And gretely beloued with many a lorde,
And yf ye put me out of your warde
The worlde ryght wroth wyll be.

Manhode Ye, syr, yet had I leuer the worlde be wrath, Than lese the cunnynge that Conscyence me gave.

Folye A cuckowe for conscyence: he is but a dawe: He can not elles but preche.

Manhode Ye, I praye the, leue thy lewde claterynge, For Conscyence is a counseler for a kynge.

Folye I wolde not gyue a strawe for his techynge: He dooth but make men wrothe.

But wottest thou what I saye, man?

By that ylke " trouthe that god me gave,

Had I that bychyde Conscyence in this place

17 ylke, same.

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