Declair me this, now God nor Baliell bind thé,
Quhen I am thair, curst carle, quhair sall I find thé?
Not in heavin, but rather into hell.
Quhen thow art thair thou cannot help thy-sell.
Quhen will thou cum my dolours till abait?
Or[539] I thee find my hippis will get ane hait[540].
Trowis thou, butchour, that I will buy blind lambis?
Gif me my groat, the Devill dryte[541] in thy gambis[542]!
PARDONER.
Swyith! stand abak! I trow this man be mangit[543].