alone walking in thought plaining and sore sighing all desolate me remembring of my living my death wishing both early and late infortunate is so my fate that vote ye what out of measure my life i hate thus desperate in soche pore eslate though i endure of other cure am i not sure thus to endure is hard certain such is my cure i you ensure what creature may have more pain my truth so plain is taken in vain and great disdain in remembrence yet i full faine would me complain me to abstaine from this penence but in substaunce none allegiance of my grevaunce can i not find right so my chance with displesance doeth me avance and thus an ende