Magn. And is this the credence that I gaue to the letter?
Fan. Why, coulde not your wyt serue you no better?
Magn. Why, who wolde haue thought in you suche gyle?
Fan. What? yes, by the rode, syr, it was I all this whyle
That you trustyd, and Fansy is my name;
And Foly, my broder, that made you moche game.
Here cometh in Aduersyte.
Magn. Alas, who[848] is yonder, that grymly lokys?
Fan. Adewe, for I wyll not come in his clokys.[849] 1900
Magn. Lorde, so my flesshe trymblyth nowe for drede!