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(9) [ A7v-A8r (Page 14-15) ] -
14 The Fabillis

My gude friday is better nor zour pace,
My dische likingis is worth zour haill expence,
I haue housis anew off grit defence,
Off cat, na fall na trap, I haue na dreid.
I grant quod scho and on togidder thay zeid

In skugry ay throw rankest gers and corne:
Vnder cowert full preuelie couth thay creip,
The eldest wes the gyde and went beforne,
The zounger to hir wayis tuke gude keip.
On nicht thay ran, and on the day can sleip,
Quhill in the morning or the lauerok sang,
Thay fand the town, and in blythlie couth gang.

Not fer fra thyne vnto ane vorthie vane,
This burges brocht thame sone quhare thay suld be.
Withowt God speid thair herberie wes tane,
In to ane spence with vittell grit plentie,
Baith cheis, and butter vpon skelfis hie,
Flesche and fische aneuch baith fresche and salt,
And sekkis full off grotis meill and malt.

Efter quhen thay disposit wer to dyne,
Withowtin grace thay wesche and went to meit.
With all coursis that cukis culd deuyne,
Muttoun and beif, strikin in tailzeis greit
Ane lordis fair thus couth thay counterfeit,
Except ane thing thay drank the watter cleir,
In steid off wyne bot zit thay maid gude cheir.

Off Esope 15

With blyith vpcast and merie countenance,
The eldest sister sperit at hir gest
Giff that scho thocht be ressone difference,
Betuix that chalmer and hir sarie nest,
Ze dame quod scho bot how lang will this lest?
For euermair I wait and langer to.
Gif it be swa ze ar at eis quod scho

Till eik thair cheir ane subcharge furth scho brocht,
Ane plait off grottis, and ane disch full off meill,
Thraf caikkis als I trow scho spairit nocht,
Aboundantlie about hir for to deill.
And mane full fyne scho brocht in steid off geill,
And ane quhyte candill owt off ane coffer stall,

In steid off spyce to gust thair mouth withall.

This maid thay merie quhill thay micht na mair
And haill zule haill cryit vpon hiee,
Zit efter ioy oftymes cummis cair,
And troubill efter grit prosperitie,
Thus as thay sat in all thair iolitie,
The spenser come with keyis in his hand,
Oppinnit the dure and thame at denner fand.

Thay taryit not to wesche as I suppose,
Bot on to ga quha micht formest win.
The burges had ane hole, and in scho gois,
Hir sister had na hole to hyde hir in,
To se that selie mous it wes grit sin.

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