A Select Collection of Old English Plays…
“ FREEWILL. What, death, and he were here, he should sit by thee; Trowest thou, that he be able to strive with us three? Nay, nay, nay.IMAGINATION. Well, fellows, now let us go our way; For at Shooter's Hill we have a game to play.HICKSCORNER. In good faith, I will tarry no lenger space.FREEWILL. Beshrew him for me, that is last out of this place.PITY. Lo, Lords, they may curse the time they were born, For the weeds that overgroweth the corn, They troubled me guiltless, and wote not why, For God's love yet will I suffer patiently: We all may say well-a-way, for sin that is now-a-day. ”
