That thou canst not haue neuer mercy in his syght.
Magn. Alasse, my wyckydnesse, that may I wyte!
But nowe I se well there is no better rede,
But sygh and sorowe, and wysshe my selfe dede.
Dys. Ye, ryd thy selfe, rather than this lyfe for to lede;
The worlde waxyth wery of thé, thou lyuest to longe.
Hic intrat Myschefe.
Mys. And I, Myschefe, am comyn at nede,
Out of thy lyfe thé for to lede:
And loke that it be not longe