Hic Lazarus moritur, etc.
Magdalyn. Alas! ffor wo myn here I rende,
Myn owyn dere brothyr lyth here now ded;
Now have we lost a trusty ffrende,—
The sybbest blood of oure kynreed!
Martha. Alas! alas! and weleway!
Now be we tweyn bothe brothyrles!
ffor who my hert is colde as clay;
A! hoo xal comforte oure carefulnes?
Ther had nevyr woman more doolfulnes;