_Nought._ Your pottage shall be for-cold, sir! when will ye go dine? I have seen a man lost twenty nobles in as little time; Yet it was not I, by saint Quintin! For I was never worth a potful a' worts sithen I was born. My name is Nought; I love well to make merry; I have be sithen with the common tapster of Bury. I played so long the fool that I am even very weary: Yet shall I be there again, to-morrow. [_Exeunt._ _Mer._ I have much care for you, my own friend! Your enemies will be here anon; they make their avaunt. Think well in your heart--your name is Mankind-- Be not unkind to God, I pray you! be His servant! Be steadfast in condition! see ye be not variant! Lose not, through folly, that is bought so dear. God will prove you soon; and, if that ye be constant, Of His bliss perpetual ye shall be partner. Ye may not have your intent at your first desire; See the great patience of Job in tribulation: Like as the smith trieth iron in the fire, So was he tried by God's visitation. He was of your nature, and of your fragility: Follow the steps of him, my own sweet son! And say, as he said, in your trouble and adversity: _Dominus dedit, Dominus abstulit, sicut sibi placuit; sit nomen Domini benedictum!_ Moreover, in special, I give you in charge: Beware of New Guise, Now-a-days and Nought! Nice in their array, in language they be large; To pervert your conditions all their means shall be sought. Good son! intermise yourself not in their company! They heard not a mass thi[s] twelvemonth, I dare well say; Give them none audience! they will tell you many a lie; Do truly your labour, and keep your holyday! Beware of Titivillus--for he leseth no way-- That goeth invisible and will not be seen; He will rond in your ear, and cast a net before your eyne; He is worst of all: God let him never thene! If ye displease God, ask mercy anon; Else Mischief will be ready to brace you in his bridle. Kiss me now, my dear darling! God shie[l]d you from your fone! Do truly your labour, and be never idle! The blessing of God be with you, and with all these worshipful men! _Man._ Amen! for saint Charity, Amen! Now, blessed be Jesu! my soul is well satiate With the mellifluous doctrine of this worshipful man. The rebellion of my flesh, now it is superate, Thanking be [to] God, of the cunning that I can. Here will I sit, and tittle in this paper The incomparable estate of my promotion. Worshipful Sovereigns! I have written here The glorious remembrance of my noble condition, To have remo[r]se and memory of myself: thus written it is To defend me from all superstitious charms: _Memento, homo, quod cinis es, et in cinerem reverteris._ Lo! I bear on my breast the badge of mine arms.