(42) E8 verso - F1 recto (Page 80-81)

80 The Fabillis

Syne loutit doun, and tuke him be the hand.
Ryse vp lowrence, I leif the for to stand.

Quhair hes thow bene this sesoun fra my sicht?
Thow sall beir office, and my stewart be.
For thow can knap doun caponis on the nicht,
And lourand law thow can gar hennis de.
Schir said the foxe that ganis not for me.
And I am rad, gif thay me se on far,
That at my figure, beist and bird will skar.

Na (quod the volff) thow can in couert creip
Vpon thy wame, and hint thame be the heid.
And mak ane suddand schow vpon ane scheip,
Syne with thy wappinnis wirrie him to deid.
Schir said the foxe ze knaw my roib is reid.
And thairfoir thair will na beist abyde me,
Thocht I wald be sa fals as for to hyde me.

Zis (quod the volff) throw buskis and throw brais
Law can thow lour, to come to thy intent.
Schir said the foxe ze wait weill how it gais,
Ane lang space fra thame thay will feill my sent.
Than will thay schaip, suppois thay suld be schent.
And I am schamefull for to cum behind thame,
In to the feild thocht I suld sleipand find thame.

Na (quod the volff) thow can cum on the wind,
For euerie wrink forsuith thow hes ane wyle.
Schir (said the foxe) that beist ze mycht call blind
Off Esope. 81

That micht not eschaip than fra me ane myle.
How micht I ane off thame that wyis begyle?
My tippit twa eiris, and my twa gray ene,
Garris me be kend, quhair I wes neuer sene.

Than (said the volff) lowrence, I heir the le,
And castys for perrellis thy ginnes to defend.
Bot all thy sonzeis sall not auaill the,
About the busk with wayis thocht thow wend.
Falset will failze ay at the latter end:
To bow at bidding, and byde not quhill thow brest,
Thairfoir I giff the counsall for the best.

Schir (said the foxe) it is lentring ze se,
I can nocht fische, for weiting off my feit,
To tak ane banestikill, thocht we baith suld de.
I haue nane vther craft to win my meit.
Bot wer it pasche, that men suld pultrie eit
As kiddis, lambis, or caponis in to ply.
To beir zour office than wald I not set by.

Than (said the volff) in wraith wenis thou with wylis,
And with thy mony mowis me to mat.

It is ane auld dog, doutles that thow begylis:
Thow wenis to drau the stra befoir the cat.
Schir (said the foxe) God wait, I mene not that,
For and I did, it wer weill worth that ze,
In ane rude raip had tyit me till ane tre.

Bot nou I se, he is ane fule perfay,