XXXVI.

FOR he that nold against his vyle Lufts ftryve,
But lives as Beifts of Knawlege fenfityve,

Grows faft to Eild, and Death him fone owrehails : Thairfor the Mule is of a langer Lyfe

Than the flaind Horfe; alfo the barrand Wyfe
Zouthfull appeirs, when that the Brudie fails:
We alfo fe when Nature nocht prevails,
The Pain and Dolour ar fae pungityve,
Nae Medycyne the Patient then avails.

XXXVII.

SEN Our Intents baith we haif fhawn thee thus,
Cheis of us twae the naift delicious,

Or to sustene a sharp Adverfitie,

Danting the Rage of Zouth-heid furious,
And fyn poffes Triumphs innumerous,
With hie Empyre, and lang Felicitie;
Or haif ane Moment Senfualitie
Of fulish Zouth, in Lyf voluptous,
And all thy Days full of fad Miferic:

XXXVIII.

PHEBUS be this his fyrie Cart did wry,
Frae South to Weft declynand biffyly

To dip his Stcids into the Wellin Main;
When ryfing Damps owrefaild his Vifage dry
With Vapours thick, and cluddet all the Sky,
And Notus brym, the Wind meridain,

With Wings donk, and Fedders full of Rain, Awakent me, that I coud not efpy

Quhilk of the twa was for his Lady tane.

XXXIX.

BUT fone I knew they were the Goddeffes
That came in Sleip to valiant Hercules,

When he was zung, and free of every Lore,
To Luft or Honour, Purtith or Riches,
Qubair he contempnit Luft and Idlenefs,

That he in VERTUE micht his Lyfe decore; Then Warks he did of mailt excellent Glore; The mair increfst his painfull Biffiness,

His hie Triumphs and Loving was the more.

A Bytand BALLAT on warlo Wives, That gar thair Men live pinging Lives.

I.

E merry, Brethrene, ane and all,

BE

And fet all Sturt afide;

And every ane togither call

To GOD to be our Gyd;

For as lang lives the mirry Man,

As dois the Wretch for ocht he can,

When Deid him ftrakes, he wats na whan,
And charges him to byde.

II.

THE Rich then fall not spared be,
Thocht they haif Gold and Land,.
Nor zit the Fair, for their Bewty,
Cannot that Charge gainstand.

E

Tho' Wicht or Weak wald flee away, Nae Doubt but all maun Ranfom pay, Quhat Place or quhare can nae Man say, Be Se or zit be Land.

III,

THE mirryeft Man that leives on Lyfe, He fails upon the Se;

For he knaws neither Sturt nor Stryfe,

But blyth and glad is he:

But he that has an evil Wyfe,

Has Sour and Sorrow all his Lyfe,

And that Man quilk leives ay in Stryf, How can he mirry be;

IV.

ANE evil Wyfe is the warft aught

That ony Man can haif;

For he may nevir fit in South,

Unless he be her Slaif:

But of that Sort I knaw nane uther,
Except a Cuckald or his Bruther;
Sunt Lairds and Cuckalds altogither,

May wifs their Wyves in Graif,

BECAUSE thair Wyves haif Maiftery,
That they dar naeways cheip,
Bat gif it be in Privity,

Quhen they are fall afleip;

Ane mirry in thair Company,

To them is worth baith Gold and Fie:

A Menstrell neir coud dairthful be,

Thair Mirth if he coud beit,

VI.

BUT of that Sort whilk I report,

Iknaw nane in this Ring:

But we may all baith grit and small,

Glaidly baith dance and fing,

E 2

Sunt Lairds. Here is spelled with an S, as it ought, and not with a C, as many of the English do.