Fool. Hold! I have yet a little something more to leave amongst you, and then I hope I shall dye quietly. So to my first Son, Pickle Herring, I'll give him my Cap and my Coat, a very good Sute, Boy; And to my second Son, I'll give him my Purse and Apparel, but, be sure, Boys, you do not quarrel; As to my other Three, my Executors they shall be.
[Then, Pickle Herring puting his Hand to his Sword,
Fool. Hold, hold, Boy! Now I submit my Soul to God.
Pickle Herring. A very good thought, old Father.
Fool. Mareham Church Yard, I hope, shall have my Bones.
[Then the Dancers walk round the Fool with their Swords in their Hands, and Pickle Herring stamps with his foot and says,
Heigh, old Father.
Fool. Why, Boy, since I have been out of this troublesome World I have heard so much Musick of Fiddles playing and Bells ringing, that I have a great fancy to go away singing, so prithee, Pickle Herring, let me have one of thy best Songs.
Pickle Herring. You shall have it, old Father.
Fool. Let me see it.
[They sing
Good People all, I pray you now behold
Our old Fool's Bracelet is not made of Gold,
But it is made of Iron and good Steel,
And unto Death we'll make this old Fool yield.
Fool. I pray forbear, my Children small,
For as I am lost as Parent to you all,
O, let me live a while your Sport for to advance,
That I may rise again, and with you have a dance.
[The Sons sing
Now, old Father, that you know our Will,
That for your Estate we do your Body kill,
