_Mery-reporte._ The lenger thou lyvest the pyte the gretter, The soner thou be ryd the tydynges the better! Is not this a swete offyce that I have, 985 When every drab shall prove me a knave? Every man knoweth not what goddes servyce is, Nor I my selfe knewe yt not before this. I thynke goddes servauntes may lyve holyly, But the devyls servauntes lyve more meryly. 990 I know not what god geveth in standynge fees, But the devyls servaunts have casweltees[204] A hundred tymes mo then goddes servauntes have. For, though ye be never so starke a knave, If ye lacke money the devyll wyll do no wurse 995 But brynge you strayght to a-nother mans purse. Then wyll the devyll promote you here in this world, As unto suche ryche yt doth moste accord. Fyrste _pater noster qui es in celis_, And then ye shall sens[205] the shryfe wyth your helys. 1000 The greatest frende ye have in felde or towne, Standynge a-typ-to, shall not reche your crowne. _The_ BOY _cometh in, the lest that can play_. _Boy._ This same is even he, by al lycklyhod. Syr, I pray you, be not you master god? _Mery-reporte._ No, in good fayth, sonne. But I may say to the I am suche a man that god may not mysse me. D iii 1006 Wherfore with the god yf thou wouldest have ought done Tell me thy mynde, and I shall shew yt sone. _Boy._ Forsothe, syr, my mynde is thys, at few wordes, All my pleasure is in catchynge of byrdes, 1010 And makynge of snow-ballys and throwyng the same; For the whyche purpose to have set in frame,[206] Wyth my godfather god I wolde fayne have spoken, Desyrynge hym to have sent me by some token Where I myghte have had great frost for my pytfallys, 1015 And plente of snow to make my snow-ballys. This onys[207] had, boyes lyvis be such as no man leddys. O, to se my snow ballys lyght on my felowes heddys, And to here the byrdes how they flycker theyr wynges In the pytfale! I say yt passeth all thynges. 1020 Syr, yf ye be goddes servaunt, or his kynsman, I pray you helpe me in this yf ye can. _Mery-reporte._ Alas, pore boy, who sent the hether?