That nicht he sleipit never ane wink

Quhen the Sonne is at the hycht, Att nonne quhen it doith schyne most brycht, The schaddow of that hydduous strength Sax myle and more it is of lenth. Thus maye ye Juge, in to your thocht, Gyfe Babilone be heych, or nocht.

Heir entirs Flattery new landit owt of France

Unthrift, sweirnes, falset, povertie, and stryfe Pat polacey in dainger of hir lyfe.

Quhowbeit that divers devote cunnyng Clerkis In Latyne toung hes wryttin syndrie bukis, Our unlernit knawis lytill of thare werkis, More than thay do the rauyng of the Rukis. Quharefore to Colyearis, Cairtaris, & to Cukis, To Jok and …

Heir sall Wantones ga spy them and cum agane to the king

Brother Wantonness, what thinks thou? Yon are the Three Estates I trow Gangand backwart.