_Imagination._ Yes, once I stall a horse in the field, And leapt on him for to have ridden my way. At the last a baily me met and beheld, And bad me stand: then was I in a fray[44]. He asked whither with that horse I would gone; And then I told him it was mine own. He said I had stolen him; and I said nay. This is, said he, my brother's hackney. For, and I had not excused me, without fail, By our lady, he would have lad me straight to jail. And then I told him the horse was like mine, A brown bay, a long mane, and did halt behine; Thus I told him, that such another horse I did lack; And yet I never saw him, nor came on his back. So I delivered him the horse again. And when he was gone, then was I fain[45]: For and I had not excused me the better, I know well I should have danced in a fetter. _Freewill._ And said he no more to thee but so? _Imagination._ Yea, he pretended me much harm to do; But I told him that morning was a great mist, That what horse it was I ne wist: Also I said, that in my head I had the megrin, That made me dazzle so in mine eyen, That I might not well see. And thus he departed shortly from me. By this time a third party has approached; for an impatient inquiry for Hick Scorner immediately brings that redoubtable gentleman upon the stage, possibly slightly the worse for liquor, seeing that his first words are those of one on a ship at sea. They may, however, indicate merely a seafaring man, for he has been a great traveller in his time, 'in France, Ireland, and in Spain, Portingal, Sevile, also in Almaine,' and many places more, even as far as 'the land of Rumbelow, three mile out of hell'. He is acquainted with the names of many vessels, of which 'the _Anne_ of Fowey, the _Star_ of Saltash, with the _Jesus_ of Plymouth' are but a few. With something of a chuckle he adds that a fleet of these ships bound for Ireland with a crowded company of all the godly persons of England--'piteous people, that be of sin destroyers', 'mourners for sin, with lamentation', and 'good rich men that helpeth folk out of prison'--has been wrecked on a quicksand and the whole company drowned. Next he has an ill-sounding report of his own last voyage to give. When that is finished Imagination proposes an adjournment for pleasures more active than conversation, where purses may be had for the asking. Every man bear his dagger naked in his hand, And if we meet a true man, make him stand, Or else that he bear a stripe; If that he struggle, and make any work, Lightly strike him to the heart, And throw him into Thames quite.