Immediately thereupon, four little deaths raised the poor king up, who was by this time shivering like the leaf of an aspen, and snatched him out of sight like lightning. Next after him came a young fellow and woman. He had been a jolly companion and she a lady of pleasure, or one free of her person; but they were called here by their naked names, drunkard and harlot. "I hope," said the drunkard, "I shall find some favour with you; I have sent to you many a bloated booty in a torrent of good ale; and when I failed to kill others, I came myself, willingly, to feed you." "With the permission of the court," said the harlot, "you have not sent half as much as I, and my offerings were burning sacrifices, rich roast meat ready for the board." "Hey, hey!" said Death, "all this was done for your own accursed passions' sake and not to feed me. Bind the two face to face, as they are old acquaintances, and cast them into the land of Darkness, and let each be a torment to the other, until the day of judgment." They were then snatched away, with their heads downwards. Next to these there came seven recorders. Having been commanded to raise their hands to the bar, they would by no means obey, as the rails were greasy. One began to wrangle boisterously; "we ought to obtain a fair citation to prepare our answer;" said he, "instead of being rushed upon unawares." "But are we bound to give you that same specific citation," answered Death, "since you obtain in every place, and at every period of your life, warning of my coming. How many sermons have you not heard upon the mortality of man? How many books have you not seen? How many graves, how many sculls, how many diseases, how many messages and signs have you not had? What is your Sleep, but my own brother? What are sculls, but my visage? What does your daily food consist of but dead creatures? Seek not to cast your neglect upon me. Speak not of summons, when you have obtained it a hundred times." "Pray," said one red recorder, "what have you to advance against us?" "What?" said Death. "Drinking the sweat and blood of the poor, and levying double your wages." "Here is an honest man," replied the recorder, pointing to a pettifogger behind him, "who knows that we have never done any thing but what was fair; and it is not fair of you to detain us here, without a specific crime to prove against us." "Hey, hey!" said Death, "you shall prove against yourselves. Place these people," said he, "on the verge of the _precipice_ before the tribunal of _Justice_, they shall obtain equity there though they never practiced it."