| | I am so hungry that I may not slepe | |
| | Now wolde god that I mighte slepe euyr | |
| | Thanne sholde no hunger in my wombe crepe | |
| | Ther is no thing than bred that me were leuyr | |
| 745 | Thus day be day this child gan to crye | |
| | Til in his fadris barm adoun it lay | |
| | And sayde farwel fader I mot dye | |
| | For this payne no lenger suffre I may | |
| | And whenne the woful fader ded hym say | |
| 750 | For wo his armys he gan to byte | |
| | And sayde allas fortune and welawey | |
| | Thy fals whele my wo I may wyte | |
| | His othir child wende that for hunger it was | |
| | That he his armys gnew & not for woo | |
| 755 | And sayde fader do not so allas | |
| | But rathir eet the flessh vp on vs two | |
| | Our flessh thow yaf vs take oure flessh vs fro | |
| | And ete ynough right thus the child sayde | |
| | And aftir that with ynne a day or two | |
| 760 | The child leyde hym doun in his lappe & deyde | |
| | Hym self dispeiryd eek for hunger starf | |
| | Thus endid the mighty erle of pyse | |
| | From high estate fortune from hym carf | |
| | Of this tragedye it oughte I nough suffyse | |
| 765 | Who so wil here it in a lengir wyse | |
| | Redith the grete poet of ytaile | |
| | That hight daunte for he can it deuyse | |
| | Fro poynt to poynt nat o word wil he fayle | |
| | A | L though that Nero were as vicyous | |