The last of all is our great enemy; Which ever hath us in continual hatred Of old encankered malice and envy That he oweth to us, and all the kindred Of all the ancestors of whom we do succeed; Nor yet ceaseth his malice, unto this day, Us to endanger in all that he can or may. And certes! these, our said enemies, Be of their nature so mighty and so strong That hard it will be for us, in any wise, Again them war or battle to underfong; Also our garrisons and fortress to maintain long Again their engines; without spiritual grace We can not perform in no manner case. Wherefore, it is to us right behovable Busily to pray to God, that is immortal, Beseeching Him, as He is merciable, To have compassion and pity on us all; And not to suffer us any wise to fall Into such folly and utter mischance As should them grieve and do displeasance. Also, it behoveth on our part To flee all such manner of occasion As may us put in fear and jeopardy Of their displeasure, in any condition. Newfangleness, and other nice invention, We must forsake in all manner wise; And acquaint us with their contraries: _Quia contraria contrariis curantur._ etc. I tell this tale, sir! to you, Trusting that it be not done in waste: Ye remember, as I suppose, well enow, How it is not fully three days past Sith ye me promised, and bound it fast, From that day forth to be obedient Unto my counsel and advisement? _Man._ Yea, sir! so I did, in very deed; And yet it is my mind and intent To follow the same--have ye no dread! _Rea._ If ye do not, yourself shall repent; Now, fare ye well! for I must be absent As for a season; and, for your comfort, Whensoever ye call me I shall to you resort. _Then he goeth out and_ SENSUALITY _cometh in._ _Sens._ God forbid that ever he come again! Jesu! how may ye this life endure? Meseemeth it should be to you a great pain, Sith ye be of good complexion and nature, To forbear the worldly sport and pleasure; As ye have done now a great season, And all by the foolish counsel of Reason. Where is your lusty heart become That served you so well this other day? Now, so help me God and halidom! I have great marvel how ye may Live in such misery; and, this dare I say, Without ye take some other ways, By my troth! it will shorten your days. And, though I say it, that were pity; For, by Christ! and ye were gone Many a good fellow would make great mone. [_Then he weepeth._ _Man._ Why weep ye so?