(50) F8 verso - G1 recto (Page 96-97)

96 The Fabillis

Lowrence wes euer remembring vpon wrinkis,
And subtelteis, the volff for to begyle.
That he had hecht ane caboik, he forthinkis.
Zit at the last he findis furth an wyle
Than at him selff softlie couth he smyle.
The volff sayis, lowrence, thou playis bellie blind.
We seik all nycht, bot na thing can we find.

Schir (said the tod) we ar at it almaist.
Soft zow ane lytill, and ze sall se it sone.
Than to ane manure place thay hyit in haist.
The nycht wes lycht, and pennyfull the mone.
Than till ane draw well thir senzeours past but hone.
Quhair that twa bukkettis seuerall suithlie hang.
As ane come vp, ane vther doun wald gang.

The schadow off the mone schone in the well.
Schir said lowrence anis ze sall find me leill.
Now se ze not the caboik weill zour sell,
Quhyte as ane neip, and round als as ane seill.
He hang it zonder, that na man suld it steill

Schir traist ze weill, zone caboik ze se hing,
Micht be ane present to ony lord or king.

Na (quod the volff) mycht I zone caboik haif,
On the dry land, as I it zonder se
I wald quitclame the carll off all the laif.
His dart oxin I compt thame not ane fle.
Zone wer mair meit for sic ane man as me.

Off Esope 97

Lowrence (quod he) leip in the bukket sone,
And I sall hald the ane, quhill thow haue done.
Lowrence gird doun baith sone, and subtellie.
The vther baid abufe, and held the flaill.
It is sa mekill (quod lowrence) it maisteris me.
On all my tais it hes not left ane naill.
Ze man mak help vpwart, and it haill.
Leip in the vther bukket haistelie.
And cum sone doun, and mak me sum supple.

Than lychtlie in the bukket lap the loun,
His wecht but weir the vther end gart ryis.
The tod come hailland vp, the volff zeid doun.
Than angerlie the volff vpon him cryis.
I cummand thus dounwart, quhy thow vpwart hyis
Schir (quod the foxe) thus fairis it off fortoun,
As ane cummis vp, scho quheillis ane vther doun.

Than to the ground sone zeid the volff in haist.
The tod lap on land, als blyith as ony bell.
And left the volff in watter to the waist.
Quha haillit him out I wait not off the well.
Heir endis the text, thair is na mair to tell.
Zyt men may find ane gude moralitie,
In this sentence, thocht it ane fabill be.

Moralitas.