Deus. Of what man that thou be sclayne,
He xal have vij. folde more payn,
Hym were bettyr never to be sayn
On lyve be nyth ne day.
Caym. Alas! alas! whedyr may I go?
I dare nevyr se man in the vesage,
I am woundyn as a wrecche in wo,
And cursyd of God ffor my ffalfage.
Unprofytabyl and vayn also,
In felde and towne, in strete and stage,