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A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot

In the Shires of Roxburgh and Selkirk, and others adjacent. Gathered out of Ancient Chronicles, Histories, and Traditions of our Fathers. By Capt. Walter Scot, An old Souldier, and no Scholler, And one that can Write nane, But just the Letters of his Name

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The Queens Answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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The Queens Answer.

The Queen she lent attentive ear,
And of his Honours Courage she did much admire,
My Lord, she said, your Speech I'le keep in mind,
And answer you at some other time,
But neither at Court, nor Council ye shall appear,
For I conceive you're a resolute Cavalier:
At Channel-hall your Lodging shall be there,
Then through our privy-garden to court ye may repair,
For your Disport when to the Court ye come,
Peruse our Library, either even or morn,
At your own pleasure what time so e're it be,
And for your clearer passage ye shall have a privat Keye,
Except our Counsellors and Officers in charge,
We do not grant to any, but your merits do deserve,
Thrice worthy Lord your merits do proclaim,
How Honours noble mark is still your aim;
And to attain the which thou holds thy hands to study,
That thy deserts by Fame has won thee gain already,
Industrious Loyalty doth use, and all men tell,
To aim at Honour it levels very well,
And in your trusty Service shot compleat,
That in the end he's sure have hit the white;
Let Fortune frown or smile ye are content,
At all Essays to bear a heart true bent,

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Though Sin and Hell work Mortals to betray,
Against their malice God hath arm'd thy way:
When Life and Land, and all away is fled,
Yet thy noble Actions is much honoured,
Thy loyal Service to thy King doth prove,
That to thy Country thy heart is joyn'd in love;
Love is a dying life, a living death,
A vapour, shaddow, a bubble, and a breath;
An idle bable, and a poultrey toy,
Whose greatest pattern is a blinded boy,
When Fortune, Love and Death their task hath done,
Fame makes our life through many Ages run,
For be our Actions good or ill,
Fame keeps a Record of our doings still:
By Fame great Julius Cesar ever lives,
And Fame infamous life to Nero gives:
Those that scapes Fortune and extreams of Love,
Unto their longest homes by Death are driven,
When Cesar, Kesar Subjects, objects most,
Be all alike consumed to dirt and dust,
Death endeth all our Cares, or Cares increase,
It sends us into lasting pain or bless.
Awake, awake my Muse, thou sleeps too long,
To bold Buckcleugh again I will return,
Expressing of the time that he did there resort,
And his Intertainment at the English-court,
For Banquets, he had store, and that most free,
Each day by some of their Nobilitie,
His attendance was by Nobles there,
As he had been a Prince late come from far,
The North-countrie English could not be at rest,
While the Scots-warden came to be their Guest.

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Six Weeks at Court continued he,
Still feasted with their Nobilitie;
To the Queens Majestie he made redress,
When she would be pleased he should go from hence,
The Queen was mute, and let the question slide,
Yet wished that he might there abide;
But yet the King of Scots she had no mind to wrong,
By reason that he was her Royal dear Cousin,
To whom she hop'd to prove as kind,
As Mother might do, to please his mind;
What Misses are past, we do declare,
Your King our Cousin will us repair,
Your Master our Cousin and we will agree,
We have already acquainted his Majestie;
But, my Lord, if you will here remain,
Or if ye will return again,
At your Masters hands we'll get you free,
And here you shall have a Sallarie.
He humblie thank'd her Majestie,
Showing the Queen that could not be,
For he had Service in Holland,
And was bound to obey his Masters command;
It was too much to be bound to three,
So beg'd that he might pardoned be.
The Queen answer'd, my Lord, since it is so,
Ye shall be dispatch'd within a day or two,
And a Letter ye shall carrie along with thee
To our Cousin of Scotlands Majestie,
Wherein your heroick Spirit we must commend,
And intend hereafter to be your friend;
Next day she call'd her Secretar,
And charged him a Letter to prepare,

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To his Majesties King of Scotland,
Wherein she lets him understand,
She had past from her former wrong,
By reason Buckcleugh was a valiant man.
Cesar and Tammerlan were valiant men, that's plain,
But in their own person they ventured not like him,
Regulus and Schipio was short of him against their foe,
Most stout Buckcleugh with his small train,
Scal'd a Castle, and had but sixteen men,
And brought a prisoner with him along,
That was bound in Chains and Irons most strong,
Mounts to the Castle top so high,
And cliverly brought him away,
Yet a thousand men there was within,
Of Horse and Foot in the Garison,
Although it did us much offend,
Yet his Courage we must commend;
The Queen to him the Letter gave,
And pleasantly she took her leave,
Wishing him a good Journey home,
In hopes no more her Castle he'd storm.
Now I not intend for to set down,
How that his Honour returned home;
But James the sixth that gracious King,
Was well content of his home coming.