| 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 | |