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(18) B8 verso - C1 recto (Page 32-33)

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(18) B8 verso - C1 recto (Page 32-33) -
	32		The Fabillis
	
	
	Zit wald I fane pretend to gentill stait.
	
	
	Weill quod the volf thow wantis pointis twa,
	Belangand to perfyte confessioun.
	To the thrid part off pennance let vs ga,
	Vill thow tak pane for thy transgressioun?
	A schir considder my complexioun,
	Seikly and waik, and off my nature tender,
	Lo, will ze se, I am baith lene and sklender.
	
	
	Zit neuertheles I wald swa it wer licht,
	Schort and not greuand to my tendernes,
	Tak part off pane, fulfill it gif I micht,
	To set my selie saull in way off grace.
	Thow sall quod he forbeir flesch vntill pasche,
	To tame this corps that cursit carioun.
	And heir I reik the full remissioun.
	
	
	I grant thairto, swa ze will giff me leif,
	To eit puddingis, or laip ane lyttill blude,
	Or heid, or feit, or paynchis let me preif.
	In cace I falt of flesch in to my fude.
	For grit mister I gif the leif to dude,
	Twyse in the oulk, for neid may haif na law.
	God zeild zow schir, for that text weill I knaw.
	
	
	Quhen this wes said, the volf his wayis went,
	The foxe on fute he fure vnto the flude.
	To fang him fisch haillelie wes his intent.
	Bot quhen he saw the walterand wallis woude,
	
	
			Off Esope.			33
	
	
	All stonist still in to ane stair he stude.
	And said, better that I had biddin at hame,
	Nor bene ane fischar in the deuillis name.
	
	
	Now man I scraip my meit out off the sand,
	For I haif nouther boittis net nor bait.
	As he wes thus for falt off meit murnand,
	Lukand about his leuing for to lait.
	Vnder ane tre he saw ane trip off gait.
	Than wes he blyith, and in ane hewch him hid,
	And fra the gait he stall ane lytill kid.
	
	
	Syne ouer the heuch vnto the see he hyis,
	And tuke the kid be the hornis twane,
	And in the watter outher twyis or thryis,
	He dowkit him, and till him can he sayne.
	Ga doun schir kid, cum vp schir salmond agane.
	
	
	Quhill he wes deid syne to the land him drewch,
	And off that new maid salmond eit anewch.
	
	
	Thus fynelie fillit with zoung tender meit,
	Vnto ane derne for dreid he him addrest,
	Vnder ane busk, quhair that the sone can beit,
	To beik his breist and bellie he thocht best.
	And rekleslie he said quhair he did rest,
	Straikand his wame aganis the sonis heit,
	Vpon this wame set wer ane bolt full meit.
	
	
	Quhen this wes said the keipar off the gait,
	Cairfull in hart his kid wes stollen away,
	On euerilk syde full warlie couth he wait,

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