The Twa Myss

Esope, myn auctor, makis mencioun
Of twa myss, and thai war sisteris deir,
Of quhome the eldar in a borrowstoun,
The youngar wonnyt uponland, wele neir,
Richt solitar, quhile under buske and breir,
Quhile in the corne, at uthir mennis scaith,
As outlawis dois, and levit on thair waith.

This rurall mouss into the wynter tyde
Had hunger, cauld, and tholit gret distress.
The tothir mouss into the burgh couth byde,
Gild brother was and maid ane fre burgess;
Tol fre also, but custome mar or less,
And fredome had to gang quhar-evir scho list,
Amang the cheiss and meile in ark and kist.

A tyme quhen scho was ful and unfutsair,
Scho tuke in mynd her sister uponland,
And langit for to heir of hir welfair,
To se what lyf scho led Undir the wand:
Bairfut, allone, with pykestaf in hir hand,
As pur pilgryme scho passit out of towne,
To seike hir sister baith our daile and downe.

Throw mony wilsome wayis couth scho walk,
Throw mure and moss, throw banke, busk, and breir,
Cryand, fra fur to fur, fra balk to balk,
"Cum furth to me, myne awne sweit sister deir;
Cry "Pepe! anys!" With that the mouss couth heir,
And knewe hir voce, as kynnismen will do,
Be verray kind; and furth scho come hir to.

The hartlie cheir, Lord God! gif ye had sene,
Was kythit quhen thir sisteris twa war met;
The welcummyng was schawin thaim betwene,
For quhilis thai leuch, and quhilis for joy thai grete,
Quhilis kissit sweit, and quhilis in armis plete;
And thus thai fure, quhill soberit was thair mude,
Syne fut for fut unto thair chalmer yude.

As I hard say, it was a semple wane,
Of fog and fame full misterlyk was maid,
Ane sely scheld undir ane erdfast stane,
Of quhilk the entre was nocht hie nor braide;
And in thai went samyn but mair abaid,
Withoutin fyre or candill birnand bricht,
For commonly sic pykaris lufis nocht licht.

Quhen thai war lugit thus, thir sely myse,
The yungast sister unto the buttry hyid,
Brocht forth nuttis and peiss insteid of spyse;
Gife thar was weile-far, I dud on thaim besyde.
This burgess mouss permingit full of pryde,
And said, " Sister, is this your daly fude? "
" Quhy nocht," quod sche, " Think ye this meit nocht gud?"

" Nay, be my saull, I think it bot a scorne."
"Madame,'" quod sche, "ye be the more to blame;
My moder said, eftir that we war borne
That ye and I lay baith in till a wame;
I kepe the ryte and custome of my dame
And of my syre, liffand in poverte,
For landis haf we nane in properte."

" My faire sister," quod scho, " hald me excusit,
This rude diet and I can nocht accord;
Till tender meit my stomok ay is usit,
For-quhy I fair als wele as ony lord;
Thir rude nuttis and pese, or they be bord,
Will brek my teith, and mak my wame full sklender,
Quhilk usit wer befor to meitis tender."

" Weile, weile, sister," quod the rurale mouss,
" Gif it yow pleise, sic thing as ye se heir,
Baith meit and drink, herbery and house,
Ye sail it have, will ye remane all yeir;
With richt gud will, baith blyth and hartlie cheir,
And that suld mak the meisis that ar rude,
Amang frendis, baith tendir, sweit and gude.

" Quhat plesans is in festis delicate,
The quhilk are gevin with a glowmand browe?
A gentill hart is better recreate
With blyth visage than set till him a cow;
A modicum is fer mair till allowe,
Sa at gud will be carvour at the dess
Than thrawin vult with mony spycit meise."

For all this mery exhortacioun,
The burgess mouss had litill will to sing,
Bot hevely scho kest hir browis doun,
For all the dantes scho couth till hir bring.
Yit at the last scho said, half in hething,
" Sister, this vittale and this riall feste
May weile suffyse for sic a rurale best.

" Lat be this hole, and cum unto my place;
I sail yow schawe, be trewe experiens,
My Gudfryday is better na your Pase;
My dische-likingis is worth your hale expense.
Housis ynewe I have a gret defence;
Of cat, na trape, na fall, I haf na dreid."
" I grant," quod scho, and on togidder yeid.

In stowthry ay, throw rankest gerss and come,
Under covert prevely couth thay crepe,
The eldest mouss was gyde and yeid beforne,
The youngar till hir wayis tuk gud kepe.
On nycht thai ran, and on the day can slepe;
Till in the mornyng or the laverock sang,
Thai fand the towne, and gladly in can gang.

Nocht fer fra this unto a worthy wane,
The burgess brocht thaim syne quhar thai suld be;
Without God spied thair herbery was tane,
In till a spens with vittale gret plente.
Cheise and butter apone skelfis he,
Flesche and fische yneuch, bath fresche and salt,
And sekis full of grotis, meile and malt.

Eftir, quhen thai disposit wer to dyne,
Withouttin grace thai wesche and went to meit,
All kynd of courssis that cukis couth devyne,
Mutone and beif strikin in talyeis grete;
A lordis fair thus can thai counterfeit,
Except a thing, thai drank the wattir cleir
Insteid of wyne, bot yit thai maid gud cheir.

With blyth upcast and mery countenance,
The eldest sister sperit at hir gest
Gif that scho thocht be ressoun differens
Betuix her chalmer and hir sary nest.
" Ye, dame," quod scho, " how lang now will this last?"
" For evirmor, I wait, and langer to."
" Gif it be sa, ye ar at eise," quod scho.

Till eik the cheir the subcharge furth scho brocht,
A plait of groitis and a dische of meill;
Threfe caikis, I trow, scho sparit nocht
Habundantly about hir for to deill;
Furmage full fyne scho brocht, insteid of geill;
A quhyt candill out of a coffer stall,
Insteid of spyce to cresch thair teith withall.

Thus maid thai mery quhile thai micht na mair.
And, "Haile Yule, haile!" thai cryit upon he.
Bot eftir joye oft tymes cummis cair,
And truble eftir gret prosperite.
Thus as thai sat in all thair jolyte,
The spensar come with keyis in his hand,
Opinnit the dure, and thaim at dyner fand.

Thai taryit nocht to wesche, as I suppose,
Bot on to go quha that micht formast win.
The burgess had a hole, and in scho goes;
Hir sister had no hole to hyde her in:
To se this sily mouss it was gret syn,
So desolate and will of a gud reid;
For verray dreid scho fell in swoun ner deid.

Bot as God wald, it fell a happy case;
The spensar had na laser for to byd,
To serche, to seike, to sker, nor yit to chase,
Bot on he went, and left the dure up wyde.
The bald burgess his passage wele has spyd;
Out of hir hoile scho come and cryit on he,
"How fair ye, sister? cry 'pepe' quhar-ever ye be."

This rurale mouss lay flatlingis on the ground,
And for the deid was scho full sair dreidand,
For till hir hart straike mony wilsome stound,
As in a fever trymblit fut and hand;
And quhen hir sister in sic plyte hir fand,
For verray pete scho began to grete,
Syne comfort hir with wordis hony sweit.

" Quhy ly ye sa? Ryse up, my sister deir;
Cum to your meit, this perrell is ourpast."
The tothir answerd with a hevy cheir,
" I may nocht eit, I am sa sair agast;
I had lever thir fourty dayis fast,
With watter caile, and gnawe benis and peise,
Than all your fest in this dreid and diseise."

With fair trety yit scho gart hir ryse,
To the burde thay went and togidder sat;
Scantlie had they drunkin anys or twyse,
Quhen in come Gib Hun tar, our joly cat,
And bad God speid: the burgess up with that,
And till hir hole scho fled as fyre off flynt:
Balderonis the tothir be the bak has hynt.

Fra fute to fate he kest her to and fra,
Quhyle up, quhyle doun, als cant as ony kid;
Quhylis wald he lat hir ryn under the stra,
Quhylis wald he wynke, and play with hir bukhid.
Thus to the sely mouss gret pane he did,
Till at the last, throw fair fortoun and hap,
Betwene the dressour and the wall scho crap.

Syne up in haist behynd the perrelling
So hie she clam, that Gilbert mycht nocht get hir,
And be the clukis richt craftely can hyng,
Till he was gone, hir cher was all the bettir.
Syne doune scho come quhen thair was nane to let hir,
Apone the burgess mouss loud couth scho cry:
" Fair wele, sister, thi feist heir I defy!

" Thy mangery is mengit all with cair,
Thy guse is gud, thi ganesall sour as gall;
The subcharge of thi service is hot sair,
Sa sail thow fynd hereeftirwart may fall.
I thank yone courting and yone parpell wall
Of my defence now fra yone cruell best,
Allmychti God, kepe me fra sic ane fest!

" War I ayns in the kith that I come fra,
For weile and wa I suld nevir cum again."
With that scho tuke hir leif and furth can ga,
Quhylis throw the corne, and quhilis throw the plane;
Quhen scho was furth and fre, scho was full fane,
And mirrely merkit unto the mur:
I can nocht tell how eftirwart scho fure.

Bot I herd say scho passit till hir den,
Als warm in woll, suppose it was nocht grete,
Full benely stuffit, baith but and ben,
Of nutis and pese, benis, ry, and quheit;
Quhen-evir scho list, scho had yneuch till eit,
In quyet and eise, withoutin ony dreid:
Bot till her sisteris fest na mair scho yeid.

Moralitas

Frendis, heir may ye fynd, will ye tak hed,
In this fabill ane gud moralite;
As fitchis mengit ar with noble seid,
Sa intermellit is adversite
With erdlie joyis; so that no stat is fre,
Without truble or sum vexacioun:
And namlie thai quhilk clymmis up most hie,
And nocht content of small possessioun.

Blissit be sympil lyf withoutin dreid;
Blessit be sobir feist and quiete;
Quha has yneugh, of na mair has he neid,
Thocht it be litill in to quantite.
Gret haboundans and blynd prosperite
Oft tymes makis ane evill conclusioun;
Tharfor best thing in erd, I say, for me,
Is mery hart with small possessioun.

O wantoun man, quhilk usis for to feid
Thy wame, and makis it a God to be,
Luk to thi self; I warne the wele on deid,
The cat cummis, and to the mouss has E:
Quhat than availis thi feist in rialte,
With dreidful hart and tribulacioun?
Tharfor best thing in erd, I saye, for me,
Is sikerness, with small possessioun.

Thy awne fyre, Frende, thocht it be bot a gleid,
It warmis weile, and is worth gold to the;
As Salamon sayis, and that thow will it reid,
" Under the hevin I can nocht better be,
Than ay be blyth and lif in quiete."
Quharfor I may conclude be this ressoun:
Of erdly joy it beris mast degre,
Blythness in hert, with small possessioun.