As Chaucer's monk says, before he begins to "biwayle in maner of tragedie": Tragedie is to seyn a certeyn storie Of him that stood in great prosperitee, And is y-fallen out of heigh degree Into miserie, and endeth wrecchedly.

You paint your flattering words, [Lord] Lassinbergh, Making a curious pensill of your tongue; And that faire artificiall hand of yours Were fitter to have painted heavens faire storie

La. O, wench, I had almost undone my selfe, Come o'tother side, reach me that peticote; Ile tell the storie as I make me ready.