Everyman and Other Old Religious Plays, with an Introduction | Page 9

am sent to thee From
God out of his majesty.
Everyman. What, sent to me?
Death. Yea, certainly. Though thou have forget him here, He thinketh
on thee in the heavenly sphere, As, or we depart, thou shalt know.
Everyman. What desireth God of me?
Death. That shall I show thee; A reckoning he will needs have Without
any longer respite.
Everyman. To give a reckoning longer leisure I crave; This blind matter
troubleth my wit.
Death. On thee thou must take a long journey: Therefore thy book of
count with thee thou bring; For turn again thou can not by no way, And
look thou be sure of thy reckoning: For before God thou shalt answer,
and show Thy many bad deeds and good but a few; How thou hast
spent thy life, and in what wise, Before the chief lord of paradise. Have
ado that we were in that way, For, wete thou well, thou shalt make

none attournay.[9]
Everyman. Full unready I am such reckoning to give. I know thee not:
what messenger art thou?
Death. I am Death, that no man dreadeth. For every man I rest and no
man spareth; For it is God's commandment That all to me should be
obedient.
Everyman. O Death, thou comest when I had thee least in mind; In thy
power it lieth me to save, Yet of my good will I give thee, if ye will be
kind, Yea, a thousand pound shalt thou have, And defer this matter till
another day.
Death. Everyman, it may not be by no way; I set not by gold, silver, nor
riches, Ne by pope, emperor, king, duke, ne princes. For and I would
receive gifts great, All the world 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![10] To my soul a full great profit it
had be; For now I fear pains huge and great. The time passeth; Lord,
help that all wrought; For though I mourn it availeth nought. The day
passeth, and is almost a-go; I wot not well what for to do. To whom
were I best my complaint to make? What,