Louers be war and tak gude heid about Quhome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine. I lat yow wit, thair is richt few thairout Quhome ye may traist to haue trew lufe agane.

For to be yong I wald not, for my wis, Off all this warld to mak me lord and king: The more of age, the nerar hevynnis blis.

In breif Sermone ane pregnant sentence wryte.

The man that will nocht quhen he may Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.

Louers be war and tak gude heid about Quhome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine. I lat yow wit, thair is richt few thairout Quhome ye may traist to haue trew lufe agane.

Nocht is your fairnes bot ane faiding flour, Nocht is your famous laud and hie honour Bot wind inflat in uther mennis eiris.

Ane bow that is ay bent Worthis ay unsmart and dullis on the string; Sa dois the mynd that is ay diligent In ernistfull thochtis and in studying.