I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,
That rubbed she must be on the gall
Bytwene the tappet[822] and the wall.
Cr. Con. What, horson, arte thou suche a one? 1250
Fan. Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.
Cr. Con. Hast thou ony more? let se, procede.
Fol. Ye, by God, syr, for a nede,
I haue another maner of sorte,
That I laugh at for my dysporte;
And those be they that come vp of nought,