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 70 POETRY. For man may meet at unsetstevin, Thocht mountains nevir meits. Then do as ye wald be done to, Belovit brethren all; For, out of doubt, what so ye do, Resaif the lyk ye sall. And with what mesur ye do mett, Prepare again the lye to gett. Your feet are not so sicker sett, Bot fortun ye may fall. CHRISTEN LINDESAY TO ROBERT HUDSON Oft have I heard, but efter fund it trew, That courteours kindness lasts bot for a whi Fra once your turnes be sped, why then ade Your promeist friendship passes into exile. But, Robene, faith ye did me not beguyle, I hopit ay of you as of the lave. Gif thow had wit, thow wald haif mony a wy To mak thy self be knawing for a knaive. Montgomerie, that sic hope did once concea Of thy gude will, now finds all is forgottin. Thocht nocht but kindness he did at t craive, He finds thy friendship as it rypis is rotten The smeikie smeithis cairs not his passit travi Bot levis lim lingering dcing of the gravel. A POEME ON A LADY. I. YE hevins abone, with heavenlie ornament Extend your curtins of the cristall air?