ld I might get;
But my custom is clean contrary.
I give thee no respite: come hence, and not tarry.

_Everyman._ Alas, shall I have no longer respite?
I may say _Death_ giveth no warning:
To think on thee, it maketh my heart sick,
For all unready is my book of reckoning.
But twelve year and I might have abiding,
My counting book I would make so clear,
That my reckoning I should not need to fear.
Wherefore, _Death_, I pray thee, for God's mercy,
Spare me till I be provided of remedy.

_Death._ Thee availeth not to cry, weep, and pray:
But haste thee lightly that you were gone the journey,
And prove thy friends if thou can.
For, wete thou well, the tide abideth no man,
And in the world each living creature
For _Adam's_ sin must die of nature.

_Everyman._ _Death_, if I should this pilgrimage take,
And my reckoning surely make,
Show me, for saint _charity_,
Should I not come again shortly?

_Death._ No, _Everyman_; and thou be once there,
Thou mayst never more come here,
Trust me verily.

_Everyman._ O gracious God, in the high seat celestial,
Have mercy on me in this most need;
Shall I have no company from this vale terrestrial
Of mine acquaintance that way me to lead?

_Death._ Yea, if any be so hardy,
That would go with thee and bear thee company.
Hie thee that you were gone to God's magnificence,
Thy reckoning to give before his presence.
What, weenest thou thy life is given thee,
And thy worldly goods also?

_Everyman._ I had wend so, verily.

_Death._ Nay, nay; it was but lent thee;
For as soon as thou art go,
Another awhile shall have it, and then go therefro
Even as thou hast done.
_Everyman_, thou art mad; thou hast thy wits five,
And here on earth will not amend thy life,
For suddenly I do come.

_Everyman._ O wretched caitiff, whither shall I flee,
That I might scape this endless sorrow!
Now, gentle _Death_, spare me till to-morrow,
That I may amend me
With good advisement.

_Death._ Nay, thereto I will not consent,
Nor no man will I respite,
But to the heart suddenly I shall smite
Without any advisement.
And now out of thy sight I will me hie;
See thou make thee ready shortly,
For thou mayst say this is the day
That no man living may scape away.

_Everyman._ Alas, I may well weep with sighs deep;
Now have I no manner of company
To help me in my journey, and me to keep;
And also my writing is full unready.
How shall I do now for to excuse me?
I would to God I had never be gete!