and get his bed ready with his predecessor, and there you may kiss his toe for ever, and he, the toe of Lucifer.” At the word, four death-imps raised him up, now trembling like an aspen leaf, and snatched him away out of sight, with the speed of lightning. Next after him, came a man and woman; he had been a boon companion, and she a kind and lavish maid, but there they were called by their plain, unvarnished names, a drunkard and a harlot. “I hope,” said the drunkard, “I may obtain some favor in your eyes, for I despatched hither on a flood of good ale many a fatted prey, and when I failed to slay others, I willingly came myself to feed you.” “By the court’s leave,” said the minion, “not half so many as I have despatched to you as a burnt offering ready for table.” “Ha, ha,” exclaimed Death, “it was to feed your own accursed lusts, and not me, that all this was done. Let them be bound together and hurled into the land of darkness.” And so they too were hurried away headlong. Next to them came seven recorders, who, on being bidden to raise their hands {55} to the bar, pretended not to hear the command, for their palms were so thickly greased. One of them, bolder than the rest, began to argue, “We ought to have had fair citation, in order to prepare our reply, instead of being attacked unawares.” “Oh, we are not bound to give you any particular notice,” said Death, “because ye have, everywhere, and everywhile throughout your lives, warning of my advent. How many sermons on the mortality of man have ye heard? How many books, how many graves, knells and fevers, how many messages and signs, have ye seen? What is your Sleep but my brother? Your heads but my image? Your daily food but dead creatures? Seek not to lay the blame of your ill hap on my shoulders—ye would not hear of the summons, although ye had it an hundred times.” “Pray what have you against us?” asked one ruddy recorder. “What indeed?” exclaimed Death, “the drinking the sweat and blood of the poor, and the doubling your fees.” “Here is an honest man,” he said, pointing to a wrangler behind them, “who knows I never did aught but what was fair, and it is not fair in you to detain us here, seeing you have no specific charge to prove against us.” “Ha, ha!” cried Death, “ye shall bring proof against yourselves; place them on the verge of the precipice before the throne of Justice; there they will obtain justice, though they practised it not.”