Lo! charity is a great thing,
Of all virtues it is the king:
When God in earth was here living,
Of charity he found none ending.
I was planted in his heart;
We two might not depart.[3]
Out of his heart I did spring,
Through the might of the heaven-king:
And all priests that be,
May sing no mass without charity:
And charity to them they do not take,
They may not receive him, that did them make
And all this world of nought.
YOUTH.
Aback, fellows, and give me room,
Or I shall make you to avoid soon!
I am goodly of person;
I am peerless, wherever I come.
My name is Youth, I tell thee,
I flourish as the vine-tree:
Who may be likened unto me,
In my youth and jollity?
My hair[4] is royal and bushed thick;
My body pliant as a hazel-stick;
Mine arms be both big[5] and strong,
My fingers be both fair and long;
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.
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