Quhilk tyll his Grace I purpose to present.”
“Thow,” quod the Gled, “sall faill of thyne entent.”
The Revin said, “God! nor I rax in ane raipe[267],
And thow get this tyll outher kyng or duke!”
The Pyote said, “Plene[268] I nocht to the Pape
Than in ane smedie I be smorit[269] with smuke.”
With that the Gled the pece claucht in his cluke[270],
And fled his way: the lave[271], with all thair mycht,
To chace the Gled, flew all out of my sycht.
Now have ye hard this lytill tragedie,