My chest big as a tun,
My legs be full light for to run,
To hop and dance, and make merry.
By the mass, I reck not a cherry,
Whatsoever I do!
I am the heir of all my father's land,
And it is come into my hand:
I care for no more.

CHARITY.
Are you so disposed to do,
To follow vice, and let virtue go!

YOUTH.
Yea, sir, even so:
For now-a-days he is not set by,
Without he be unthrifty.

CHARITY.
You had need to ask God mercy;
Why did you so praise your body?

YOUTH.
Why, knave, what is that to thee?
Wilt thou let[6] me to praise my body?
Why should I not praise it, and it be goodly?
I will not let for thee.

CHARITY.
What shall it be, when thou shalt flit