The snyte snyueled in the snowte and smyled at the game.
Magn. Cockes bones, herde you euer suche another?
Fol. Se, syr, I beseche you, Largesse my brother.
Here Fansy cometh in.
Magn. What tydynges with you, syr, that you loke so sad?
Fan. When ye knowe that I knowe, ye wyll not be glad.
Fol. What, brother braynsyke, how farest thou? 1870
Magn. Ye, let be thy iapes, and tell me howe
The case requyreth.
Fan. Alasse, alasse, an heuy metynge!