That so hath reft us of our merriment;
But rede me what pain doth thee so appal;
Or lovest thou, or be thy younglings miswent?
PER. Love hath misled both my younglings and me;
I pine for pain, and they my pain to see.
WIL. Perdie, and wellaway! ill may they thrive;
Never knew I lover's sheep in good plight:
But and if in rhymes with me thou dare strive,
Such fond fantasies shall soon be put to flight.
PER. That shall I do, though mochell worse I fared: