_New G._ Make space! for Cock's body sacred, make space! Aha! well! on! run! God give him evil grace! We were near saint Patrick's way, by Him that me bought! I was twitched by the neck; the game was begun; A grace was; the halter brast asunder--_Ecce signum!_-- The half is about my neck: we had a near run! "Beware!" quod the good wife when she smote off her husband's head--"beware!" Mischief is a convict, for he could his neck-verse-- My body gave a swing when I hung upon the casse. Alas! who will hang such a likely man, and a fierce, For stealing of an horse? I pray God give him care! Do way this halter! what [the] devil doth Mankind here? with sorrow!-- Alas, how my neck is sore, I make avow! _M[an]._ Ye be welcome, New Guise! Sir! what cheer with you? _New G._ Well, sir! I have no cause to mourn. _M[an]._ What was there about your neck? so God you amend! _New G._ In faith! saint Audrey's holy bend; I have a little dishele, as it please God to send, With a running ringworm. [_Enter_ NOW-A-DAYS.] _Now._ Stand, aroom! I pray thee, brother mine! I have laboured all this night; when shall we go dine? A church, here beside, shall pay for ale, bread, and wine; Lo! here is stuff will serve. _New G._ Now, by the holy Mary! thou art better merchant than I! [_Enter_ NOUGHT.] _Nought._ Avaunt, knaves! let me go by! I can not geet, and I should starve. [_Enter_ MISCHIEF.] _Mis._ Here cometh a man of arms; why stand ye so still? Of murder and manslaughter I have my belly fill. _Now._ What, Mischief! have ye been in prison? and it be your will, Meseemeth ye have sco[u]red a pair of fetters. _Mis._ I was chained by the arms; lo! I have them here. The chains I brast asunder and killed the jailor; Yea, and his fair wife halsed in a corner: A! how sweetly I kissed that sweet mouth of hers! When I had do, I was mine own bottler; I brought away with me both dish and doubler. Here is enou' for me: be of good cheer! Yet, well fare the new che[vi]sance! _Man._ I ask mercy of New Guise, Now-a-days, and Nought; Once, with my spade, I remember that I fought; I will make you amends if I hurt you aught, Or did any grievance. _New G._ What a devil liketh thee to be of this disposition? _Man._ I dreamt Mercy was hang[ed]: this was my vision; And that, to you three, I should have recourse and remotion. Now, I pray you, heartily, of your good will; I cry you mercy of all that I did amiss! _Now._ [_Aside._] I say, New Guise, Nought! Titivillus made all this; As siker as God is in heaven, so it is! _Nought._ Stand up on your feet! why stand ye so still? _New G._ Master Mischief! we will you exhort, Mankind's name, in your book, for to report.