Sen throw vertew incressis dignitie,
And vertew is flour and rute of noblesse ay,
Of ony wit or quhat estait thow be,
His steppis follow and dreid for none effray:
Eject vice and follow treuth alway:
Lufe maist thy God that first thy lufe began,
And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span.
Be not ouir proude in thy prosperitie,
For as it cummis sa will it pas away;
The tyme to compt is schort thow may weill se,
For of grene gress sone cummis wallowit hay.
Labour in treuth quhilk suith is of thy fay;
Traist maist in God, for he best gyde the can,
And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span.
Sen word is thrall and thocht is only fre,
Thou dant thy toung, that power hes and may,
Thou steik thy ene fra warldis vanitie:
Refraine thy lust, and harkin quhat I say:
Graip or thow slyde, and keip furth the hie-way,
Thow hald the fast upon thy God and man,
And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span.
— James I, King of Scots, from The Gude and Godlie Ballates (1578).