There is such a multitude at my gate, That I must again repair down thither After mine old manner and rate. [_Here the Devil goeth out, and in cometh the Rich Man's Son alone_. THE SON. How glad am I that my journey is ended, Which I was about this whole day! My horse to stand still I never suffered, Because I would come to the end of my way: But yet I am sorry that I cannot find My loving father at home at his place, That unto him I may break my mind, And let him know my miserable case. [_Here he confesseth his naughtiness, uttering the same with a pitiful voice_. I have been wild, I have been wanton, I have ever followed my fancy and will: I have been to my father a froward son, And from day to day continued still. I have always proudly disdained those That in my madness gave me good counsel: I counted them most my mortal foes, And stoutly against them did rebel. The thing that was good I greatly hated, As one which lacked both wit and reason; The thing that was evil I ever loved, Which now I see is my confusion. I could not abide of the school to hear; Masters and teachers my heart abhorred; Methought the book was not fit gear For my tender fingers to have handled; I counted it a pleasure to be daintily fed, And to be clothed in costly array: I would most commonly slug in my bed, Until it were very far-forth day. And (to be short) anon after this, There came such fancies in my brain, That to have a wife, whom I might kiss, I reckoned to be the greatest gain. But yet, alas, I was quite deceived; The thing itself doth easily appear; I would, alas, I had been buried, When to my father I gave not ear! That which I had I have clean spent, And kept so much riot with the same, That now I am fain a coat that is rent, Alas, to wear for very shame. I have not a cross left in my purse To help myself now in my need, That well I am worthy of God's curse, And of my father to have small meed. [_Here the Rich Man must be as it were coming in_. But except mine eyes do me beguile, That man is my father, whom I do see: And now that he comes, without craft or wile, To him I will bend on either knee. Ah, father, father, my father most dear! FATHER. Ah! mine own child, with thee what cheer? SON. All such sayings as in my mind At the first time ye studied to settle, Most true, alas, I do them find, As though they were written in the Gospel. FATHER. Those words, my son, I have almost forgotten; Stand up, therefore, and kneel no longer, And what it was I spake so often, At two or three words recite to thy father. SON. If that ye be, father, well remembered, As the same I believe ye cannot forget, You said that, so soon as I were married, Much pain and trouble thereby I should get. FATHER. Hast thou by proof, son, this thing tried?