Aware, fellows, and stand a-room: How say you? am not I a goodly person? I trow, you know not such a guest: What, sirs, I tell you, my name is Freewill, I may choose whether I do good or ill; But for all that I will do, as me list: My conditions ye know not, perdè, I can fight, chide, and be merry; Full soon of my company ye would be weary, And ye knew all. What, fill the cup, and make good cheer! I trow I have a noble here: Who lent it me? By Christ, a frere; And I gave him a fall. Where be ye, sir? be ye at home? Cock's passion, my noble is turned to a stone. Where lay I last? Beshrew your heart, John; Now, by these bones, she hath beguiled me: Let see; a penny my supper, a piece of flesh ten-pence; My bed right nought: let all this expense-- Now, by these bones, I have lost a halfpenny. Who lay there? my fellow Imagination; He and I had good communication Of Sir John and Sybil, How they were spied in bed together; And he prayed her oft to come hither, For to sing _lo, le, lo, lowe_. They twain together had good sport; But at the stews' side I lost a groat: I trow I shall never i-the.[114] My fellow promised me here to meet, But I trow the whoreson be asleep With a wench somewhere. How, Imagination, come hither, And you thrive, I lose a feather; Beshrew your heart, appear. IMAGINATION. What, how, how, who called after me? FREEWILL. Come near, ye shall never i-the, Where have ye be so long? IMAGINATION. By God, with me it is all wrong, I have a pair of sore buttocks, All in irons was my song, Even now I sat gyved in a pair of stocks. FREEWILL. Cock's passion, and how so? IMAGINATION. Sir, I will tell you what I have do: I met with a wench, and she was fair, And of love heartily I did pray her, And so promised her money: Sir, she winked on me, and said nought, But by her look I knew her thought; Then into love's dance we were brought, That we played the pyrdewy: I wot not what we did together, But a knave catchpole nighed us near, And so did us aspy; A stripe he gave me, I fled my touch, And from my girdle he plucked my pouch: By your leave he left me never a penny: Lo, nought have I but a buckle, And yet I can imagine things subtle For to get money plenty; In Westminster Hall every term I am, To me is kin many a great gentleman, I am knowen in every country; And I were dead, the lawyers' thrift were lost: For this will I do, if men would do cost, Prove right wrong, and all by reason, And make men lese both house and land, For all that they can do in a little season, Peach men of treason privily I can, And when me list, to hang a true man. If they will be money tell, Thieves I can help out of prison, And into lords' favours I can get me soon, And be of their privy council. But, Freewill, my dear brother, Saw you nought of Hickscorner? He promised me to come hither. FREEWILL. Why, sir, knowest thou him? IMAGINATION.