And on that sleue these wordes were wrete,
A false abstracte cometh from a fals concrete:
His hode was syde, his cope was roset graye: 440
Thyse were the wordes that[321] he to me dyde saye.
DYSSYMULATION.
How do ye, mayster? ye loke so soberly:
As I be saued at the dredefull daye,
It is a perylous vyce, this enuy:
Alas, a connynge man ne dwelle maye
In no place well, but foles with hym[322] fraye!