A clerke there was, one Tomas Elyot hight; br ‘Stearns’ wasse hys middel name; I think him so; br His gowne a cutte severe, sterne, clericale. br Hie werkéd in a banke; but lyked it not; br Preferring farre to be a publysshere. br Hie telleth of another clerke hys love br (thow sadnesse more thanne love, methinks it were..) br J. Alfred Prufrock wasse thys clerkés name; br Hie lyved in melancholie fasshyion, br Of chepesyde inns and wasteland wyndowes fogged; br Hie wasse so timide and soe fulle of feare, br Hie lyved a narrowe lyfe of caushyonne, br Hie knewe no joye, methinks; hym thoghte hymselfe br But born to serve some lorde in defferrense.. br br This Elyot’s tale wasse shorte; I hoped itte so; br Methogte hysse lyfe but wasted wayle and woe.