In mekyl shame I xal be throwe.
Scriba. Alas! the tyme that this betyd,
Ryght byttyr care doth me embrace!
Alle my synnys be now unhyd,
ȝon man befor me hem alle doth trace.
If I were onys out of this place,
To suffyr deth gret and vengeauns able;
I wyl nevyr come befor his face,
Thow I xulde dye in a stable.
Mulier. Thow I be wurthy ffor my trespas