Page:Cherrie and the slae.pdf/29

 AND THE SLAE. 17 XXXII. All owres are repute to be vice, Owre high, owre low, owre rash, owre nice, Owre het, or yet owrc cauld; Thou seems unconstant by thy signs, Thy thought is on a thousand things, Thou wots not what thou wald. Let fame her pity on thee pour, When all thy banes are broken ; Yon slae suppose thou think it soure, May satisfy to slocken Thy drouth now, of youth now, Which dries thee with desire: Asswage then thy rage man, Foul water quenches fire. XXXIII. What fuil art thou to die of thirst, And now may quench it gif thou list, Sae easily but pain? Mair honour is to vanquish ane, Than fight with ten-some and be tane, And owther hurt or slain. The practice is to bring to pass, And not to enterprize; And as good drinking out of glass, As gold in ony wise. I'd rather, have ever, A bird in hand, or tway, Than seeing ten flying About me all the day.