_Wil._ Then, Wit, thou shalt understand, I heard these speeches past among penitent people: when Wit is wayward, Wil is nobody: wofull Wit, blames wanton Wil: wanton Wit, chides worthy Wil: unhappie Wit, hasty Wil: fantastical Wit, forward Will. Over that, Wit thinks scorne of Will, but yet he cannot bee without him: Wit hath lost Will, but yet he is glad to seeke him: Wit mournes for Will, but Wit sees it not: Will travailes for the stone, that Wit must whet himselfe uppon: Will is painefull, but Wit unthankful: Will is courteous, but Wit curst: Will soone content, Wit too curious: Will would be ruled, but Wit had no reason: Will would have beene famous, had Wit beene vertuous: Will had beene good, had not Wit beene bad: Will had not lost Wit, had Wit lookt unto him: Will would doo well, if Wit would doo better: Will would learne, if Wit would teach him: but Will must worke without Wit, and against Wit: and yet it was woonderful that sworne brethren should so disagree, yet one so necessarie for the other in all actions, as nothing could hit well, when they were asunder. Will could meete Wit in a maze, and comfort him with his company: Will could bring Wit into a good order, when he was quite out of course. Wit would be glad of Will: but when? When he found the want of his freend, which he would never doo, till he were wearie of working alone: and then he would embrace Will, make much of Will, and never leave Will for any worlds good. Now when I heard so much of my good Wit, I could not tarie any longer in the company, but from them I go, and by my selfe sate downe, where I slept, and awakt, as I told you. _Wit._ Gramarcie, good Will; why then I perceive we were both asleepe, we lost one another in travaile, and travailed in sleepe, to seeke one another; which walking we have found: happy be this day of our meeting, and twise happy houre of this our freendly greeting. Hee runs farre, that never turnes; hee turnes well, that stayes in time; and hee stayes well, that stands fast; he stands fast, that never falles; hee falles lowe, that never riseth; he riseth well, that stands alone when he is up. Good Will, well met, let us now bee merrie, shake hands, sweare company, and never part. _Will._ Content, heere is my hand, my heart is thine. But ere we goe any further, let us be a little merry. _Wit._ What shall we doo? _Will._ Let us sing. _Wit._ Content. But what? _Will._ What you will; begin, and I will answere you. _A Song betweene Wit and Will_ _Wit._ What art thou, Will? _Will._ A babe of natures brood. _Wit._ Who was thy syre? _Will._ Sweet lust, as lovers say. _Wit._ Thy mother who? _Will._ Wild lustie wanton blood. _Wit._ When wert thou borne? _Will._ In merrie moneth of May. _Wit._ And where brought up? _Will._ In schoole of little skill. _Wit._ What learndst thou there? _Will._ Love is my Lesson still. * * * * * _Wit._ Where readst thou that?