WILKIN

¶Hoaw master, hoaw, where ar ȝe now? Sir I have done ȝour bidding, For I have fund ane great Horse bane, Ane fairer saw ȝe never nane, Upon Dame Fleschers midding. Sir, ȝe may gar the wyfis trow, It is ane bane of Sanct Bryds cow, Good for the fever quartane: Sir will ȝe reull this relict well, All the wyfis will baith kiss and kneill, Betwixt this and Dumbartane, Sum says ȝe ar ane very loun: Sum says, Legatus natus: Sum says ȝ'ar ane falls Saracen, And sum says ȝe ar for certain Diabolus incarnatus. Bot keip ȝow From subjection, Of the cursed King Correction. For be ȝe with him fangit: Because ȝe ar ane Rome-raker, Ane common public cawsay-paker, But doubt ȝe will be hangit. With Good kind Cristiane Anderson, Where ȝe will be well treatit. Give any li nmer ȝow demands, Scho will defend ȝow with his hands, And womanly debate it. Bawburdie says be the Trinity, That scho shall beir ȝow company, Howbeit ȝe bide ane ȝeir. I reid ȝow speid ȝow heir, And make nam langer tarry: Bide ȝe Long their but weir, I dreid ȝour weird ȝow wary.