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Adew alace amang baith Becaus Bischops carle Chastitie Christ Common-weill CORRECTIOVN counsall debait declair deid deir Devill DILIGENCE DISSAIT dois doun dreid evin fals FALSET feind FLATTRIE FOLIE freir fuillis gang greit gude haif halie hangit hart haue hauld Heir sail Howbeit incontinent IOHNE jeir keip King knaw Ladie leif Lord loun luife lustie Ladie lyfe maid mair maist maister mak jow mony never nocht pardon PAVPER peopill Placebo pray jow preich Preists Prelats Princes Quha Quhair Quhat Quhen Quhilk quhy reformatioun Regioun REX HVMANITAS richt salbe Sanct Sapience schaw scho Sensualitie Sensuality sit doun Solace sould SOWTARS speid speik speir SPIRITVALITIE stait stryfe suld Syne teinds TEMPORALITIE Temporall thair Thairfoir thay thir Thocht thou thow thrie toun trew trow tyme veritie vnder vnto vpon vther wald WANTONNES wee sall weill Welcum wyfe wyfis
Page 373 - Readers are asked to protect Library books from rain, etc. Any volumes which are lost, defaced with notes, or otherwise damaged, may have to be replaced by the Reader responsible.
Page 454 - Heir is ane coird, baith great and lang, Quhilk hangit Johne the Armistrang : Of gude hemp soft, and sound : Gude, halie peopill, I stand for'd Quha ever beis hangit with this cord, Neids never to be dround. The culum of Sanct...
Page 503 - Wanting nocht of my teind ane boll of beir. I gat gude payment of my temporall lands, My buttock-maill, my coattis and my offrands, With all that dois perteine my benefice. Consider now my Lord gif I be wyse.
Page 455 - Bryd's kow, The gruntill of Sanct Antonis sow, Quhilk buir his haly bell : Quha ever he be heiris this bell clinck, Gif me ane ducat for till drink, He sall never gang to hell, Without he be of Baliell borne : Maisters, trow ye, that this be scorne ! Cum win this Pardoun, cum.
Page 532 - His leifing for to win. Thair was nocht ane, in all Lidsdaill, That ky mair craftelie culd staill, Quhair thou hings on that pin.
Page 541 - Bischop wil preich throch all the coast, FOLIE Than stryk ane hag into the poast, For I hard never in all my lyfe, Ane Bischop cum to preich in Fyfe. Gif Bischops to be preichours leiris, Wallaway quhat sail word of freiris?
Page 531 - I may rew: It gart my heid rin hiddie giddie, Sirs God nor I die in ane widdie, Gif this taill be nocht trew: Speir at the Sowtar Geordie Sillie, Fra tyme that he had fild his bellie, With this vnhelthsum aill. Than all the Baxters will I ban, That mixes bread with dust and bran, And fyne flour with beir maill.
Page 491 - An halie scriptour schawis plane. And als my Lord it is weill kend, How he did to the heavin ascend, And set him doun at the richt hand Of God the father I understand.