Everyman (play)

"O Death, thou comest when I had thee least in mind."

"Everyman, I wyll go with thee and be thy guyde In thy moste nede to go by thy syde."

"Death: What, wenest thou thy lyfe is gyven thee And thy wordely gooddes also? Everyman: I had wende so, verely. Death: Ney, nay, it was but lend thee, For as sone as thou arte go Another a whyle shall have it, and than go therfro Even as thou hast done. Everyman, thou arte mad, that hast thy wyttes five And here on erth wyll not amende thy lyve, For sodenly I do cume."

"Loo, fayre wordes maketh fooles fayne; They promyse, and nothynge wyll do certayne."