MANHOOD. Now I pray thee, whither took thou then the way?
FOLLY. In faith, sir, over London bridge I ran, And the straight way to the Stews I came, And took lodging for a night: And there I found my brother lechery. There men and women did Folly, And every man made of me as worthy, As though I had been a knight.
MANHOOD. I pray thee yet tell me mo of thine adventures.
FOLLY. In faith, even straight to all the freres, And with them I dwelled many years, And they crowned Folly a king.
MANHOOD. I pray thee, fellow, whither wendest thou tho?
FOLLY. Sir, all England to and fro: Into abbeys and into nunneries also, And alway Folly doth fellows find.
MANHOOD. Now hark, fellow, I pray thee tell me thy name.
FOLLY. I-wis, I hight both Folly and Shame.
MANHOOD. Ah, ah! thou art he that Conscience did blame, When he me taught. I pray thee, Folly, go hence, and follow not me.
FOLLY. Yes, good sir, let me your servant be.
MANHOOD. Nay, so mot I the, For then a shrew had I caught.
MANHOOD. Manhood Mighty, that beareth no blame.
FOLLY. By the rood, and Manhood mistereth[253] in every game Some deal to cherish Folly: For Folly is fellow with the world, And greatly beloved by many a lord, And if ye put me out of your ward, The world right wrath will be.
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?
MANHOOD. Now let us drink at this comnant,[256] For that is courtesy.