Of all countreis thou knawis the qualiteis;
Quharefore, I thee conjure, be God of lyve,
The veritie declare, withouttin leis[164],
Quhat thou hes hard, be landis or be seis,
Of us kirkmen, boith gude and evyll reporte;
And quhow thay juge, schaw us, we thee exhorte.”
“Father,” said scho, “I catyve creature,
Dar nocht presume with sic mater to mell[165].
Of your caces, ye knaw, I have no cure;
Demand thame quhilk in prudence doith precell.