_Everyman._ Veryly, Felawshyp, gramercy.

_Felawshyp._ Tusshe, by thy thankes I set not a strawe,
Shewe me your grefe and saye no more.

_Everyman._ If I my herte sholde to you breke,
And than you to tourne your mynde fro me,
And wolde not me comforte whan ye here me speke,
Then sholde I ten tymes soryer be.

_Felawshyp._ Syr, I saye as I wyll do in dede.

_Everyman._ Than be you a good frende at nede,
I have founde you true herebefore.

_Felawshyp._ And so ye shall evermore,
For, in fayth, and thou go to hell
I wyll not forsake the by the waye.

[EVERYMAN _now explains his need for a companion along the road to
the next world._]

_Felawshyp._ That is mater in dede! Promyse is duty,
But and I sholde take suche vyage on me,
I knowe it well, it sholde be to my payne;
Also it make me aferde, certayne.
But let us take counsell here as well as we can,
For your wordes wolde fere a stronge man.