Sorrow and trouble had Owlglass for his manifold wickedness; but the mood in which he spake unto his mother, remained not upon him any while. For as the tree falleth so doth it lie, and in so much joyous company hath Master Owlglass spent his life, that now at the end of it can he not send forth the remembrance of it, and a smack of his ancient knavery cometh back unto him. When those which were around him perceived that he was near unto his end, they besought and moved him to confess his transgressions unto the priest. And that would he not do until an old nun of marvellous wisdom came and entreated him. Then he opened his mouth and spake unto her, saying: “Nay, but I die not sweetly, for death is bitter indeed, and unto me cometh with a face of woe; and why should I confess unto any man in secret? For what I have done,—knowing that in my manhood I have perfected many and divers things,—is perceived by me to be noised abroad over many lands and countries, and unto not a few is it well known, and of me converse they continually; and unto the end of time shall the inheritance of my life come unto others that arise after me. Of a truth do I not think so scurvily of the world. But an if I have done therein any good, it shall not be remembered; and if man receive it not, then will the Almighty Lord record it within the glorious book he hath of his creatures. And yet of my evil doings will there be constant report, so that without confession shall they be multiplied. Three sorrows have I, the which I have not done and performed, and the which could have been accomplished by me.”

And the holy nun answered him, and said: “Dear heart! be ye content; for an if it might be an evil thing that ye would do, have ye in the thought concerning it wrought more than half thereof. But what be these things, evil or good?” And Owlglass answered, and said: “The first of these things is, that when I beheld a man walking in the street, and his coat hung below his mantle, I followed after him, and I thought that the coat would have fallen from off him; then would I fain have rolled it up, and did I not do it. For when that I approached unto him, I was grievously vexed that I could not cut off his coat as far as it hung down beneath the mantle. And this thing, the which I did not, troubled me most sorely. Unto this add I the second thing, the which is, that when I behold a man who sitteth, and with a knife thrust between his jaws, doth pick his teeth, then would I gladly jerk the knife into his wizen, for that thereby he might not again mar his teeth. And the last thing that I have not done is, that when a pack of old women sate conferring together, and gossiping away the character, conduct, and interests of those which be fools enow to look upon them with awe and reverence, I could not sew their mouths up, hath troubled me sorely.” Then said the old nun unto him: “Meanest thou that, and wouldst thou do it unto me?” “Yea,” quoth the dying knave. “Then would I give unto thee thy viaticum, and assoilzie thee,—and that thou shouldst get thee unto the foul fiend, the which owneth thee, and all like unto thee!” “Nay,” answered Owlglass, “an if thou dost this, thou dost condemn the whole human race, for be we not every one of us fools or knaves?” But she tarried no longer with him, the which he deemed not civil, for with others, until that he was bidden to depart, remained he always.