Aware, aware! the whoreson shall aby, His priest will I be, by Cock's body. HICKSCORNER. Keep peace, lest knaves' blood be shed. FREEWILL. By God, if his was nought, mine was as bad. IMAGINATION. By Cock's heart, he shall die on this dagger. HICKSCORNER. By our Lady, then will ye be strangled in a halter. IMAGINATION. The whoreson shall eat him,[134] as far as he shall wade. HICKSCORNER. Beshrew your heart, and put up your blade, Sheathe your whittle, or by Jis,[135] that was never born, I will rap you on the costard with my horn; What, will ye play all the knave? IMAGINATION. By Cock's heart, and thou a buffet shalt have. FREEWILL. Lo, sirs, here is a fair company, God us save; For if any of us three be mayor of London, I-wis, i-wis, I will ride to Rome on my thumb: Alas! ah, see; is not this a great feres? I would they were in a mill-pool above the ears; And then I durst warrant, they would depart anon. HICKSCORNER. Help, help, for the passion of my soul; He hath made a great hole in my poll, That all my wit is set to the ground: Alas! a leech for to help my wound. IMAGINATION. Nay, i-wis, whoreson, I will bite thee, ere I go. FREEWILL. Alas! good sir, what have I do? IMAGINATION. Ware, make room, he shall have a stripe, I trow. PITY. Peace, peace, sirs, I command you. IMAGINATION. Avaunt, old churl; whence comest thou? And thou make too much, I shall break thy brow, And send thee home again. PITY. Ah, good sir, the peace I would have kept fain; Mine office is to see no man slain; And where they do amiss, to give them good counsel, Sin to forsake, and God's law them tell. IMAGINATION. Ah, sir, I ween'd thou hadst been drowned and gone: But I have spied, that there scaped one. HICKSCORNER. Imagination, do by the counsel of me, Be agreed with Freewill, and let us good fellows be; And then, as for this churl Pity, Shall curse the time that ever he came to land. IMAGINATION. Brother Freewill, give me your hand, And all mine ill will I forgive thee. FREEWILL. Sir, I thank you heartily; But what shall we do with this churl Pity? IMAGINATION. I will go to him, and pick a quarrel, And make him a thief, and say he did steal Of mine forty pound in a bag. FREEWILL. By God, that tidings will make him sad; And I will go fetch a pair of gyves, For in good faith he shall be set fast by the heels. HICKSCORNER. Have ado lightly, and be gone, And let us twain with him alone. FREEWILL. Now, farewell, I beshrew you everychone. HICKSCORNER. Ho, ho, Freewill you threw, and no mo. IMAGINATION. Thou lewd fellow, say'st thou that thy name is Pity? Who sent thee hither to control me? PITY. Good sir, it is my property For to despise sinful living, And unto virtue men to bring, If that they will do after me. IMAGINATION.