And aye the langer that it liueThe warld sould be the war.Polwarts third flytting agaînst Montgomerie.IN fernall frawart feaming furies fellCurst canker'd, crabed (Clotho) help to quellYon Caribald yone catiue execrabill,Provyde my pen profoundly to distellSome dure despite to daunt yon deuill of hell,And dryve with doole to death detestabillThis mad malitious monster miserabill,Ane tyke tormented, troting out of toone,That rynnes red wood at ilk middes of the Moone.Renew your roaring rage and eager Ire,Jnflame'd with fearfull thundring thuddes of fyre,To pleague this poyson'd pykthank, pestilentWith flying fyreflaughts, burning bright and shyre,Devoir yon deuilish dragon, I desire,And waste his wearied venom violent,Conjure this beastly begger impotent,Suppresse all power of this euill spiritThat bydes and bakes in him als black as Jeit.But reekie Rookes and Ravens or ye ryue himDesist, delay his death whill I descriue him,Syne rypely to his rauing rude reply,To dreadfull dolour dearfly or ye dryve himThrow Pluteos power, pleasure to depryue him,The Lowne may lick his vomit, and denyHis shameles sawes, like Sathans slavish smyWhose maners with his mismade members heir.Doe correspond, as plainly doth appeir.0