University of Virginia Library

Schir, I beseik thyne Excellence,
Heir my complaynt with pacience.
My dolent hart dois me constrane
Off my infortune to complane,
Quhowbeit I stand in gret dowtance
Quhome I sall wyte of my myschance:
Quhidder Saturnis creueltie,
Ryngand in my Natyuitie,
Be bad aspect, quhilk wyrkis vengeance,
Or vtheris heuinlye influence;
Or geue I be predestinate
In Courte to be Infortunate,
Quhilk hes so lang in seruyce bene,
Contynewallie with kyng and quene,
And enterit to thy Maiestie
The day of thy Natyuitie:
Quharethrow my freindis bene eschamit,
And with my fais I am defamit,
Seand that I am nocht regardit,
Nor with my brether in Courte rewardit;
Blamand my sleuthfull neclygence,
That seikis nocht sum recompence.
Quhen diuers men dois me demand,
Quhy gettis thow nocht sum peis of land,
Als weill as vther men hes gottin?
Than wys I to be dede and rottin,
With sic extreme discomfortyng,
That I can mak no answeryng.
I wald sum wyse man did me teche
Quhidder that I suld flatter or fleche.
I wyll nocht flyte, that I conclude,
For crabyng of thy Celsitude,
And to flatter I am defamit:
Want I reward, than am I schamit.
Bot I hope thow sall do als weill
As did the father of Fameill,
Off quhome Christ makis mentioun,
Quhilk, for ane certane pentioun,
Feit men to wyrk in his wyne ȝaird;
Bot quho come last gat first rewaird,
Quharethrow the first men wer displesit;
Bot he thame prudentlie amesit;
For, thocht the last men first wer seruit,
Ȝit gat the first that thay deseruit.
So am I sure thy maiestie
Sall anis rewarde me, or I de,
And rube the ruste of my ingyne,
Quhilk bene, for langour lyke to tyne.
Althocht I beir nocht lyke ane baird,
Lang seruyce ȝarnis, ay, rewaird.

I can nocht blame thyne excellence,
That I so lang want recompence.
Had I solistit, lyke the laif,
My rewarde had nocht bene to craif.
Bot now I may weill vnderstand,
Ane dum man ȝit wan neuer land,
And, in the court, men gettis na thyng
Withoute inopportune askyng.
Allace, my sleuth and schamefulnes
Debarrit fra me all gredynes.
Gredie men that ar delygent
Rycht oft obtenis thare intent,
And failȝeis nocht to conqueis landis
And, namelye, at ȝoung Prencis handis.
Bot I tuke neuer non vther cure
In speciall, bot for thy plesour.
Bot now I am na mair dispaird,
Bot I sall get Princely rewaird,
The quhilk, to me, sall be mair glore
Nor thame thow did reward afore.
Quhen men dois aske ocht at ane kyng,
Sulde aske his grace ane nobyll thyng,
To his Excellence honorabyll,
And to the asker proffitabyll
Thocht I be, in my askyng, lidder,
I praye thy grace for to considder
Thow hes maid baith lordis and lairdis,
And hes gewin mony ryche rewardis
To thame that was full far to seik,
Quhen I lay nychtlie be thy cheik.

I tak the Quenis grace, thy mother,
My lord Chanclare, and mony vther,
Thy Nowreis, and thy auld Maistres,
I tak thame, all, to beir wytnes.
Auld Wille Dile, wer he on lyue,
My lyfe full weill he could discryue:
Quhow, as ane Chapman beris his pak,
I bure thy grace vpon my bak,
And, sumtymes, strydlingis on my nek,
Dansand with mony bend and bek.
The first sillabis that thow did mute
Was þa, Da Lyn: vpon the lute
Than playt I twenty spryngis, perqueir,
Quhilk wos gret piete for to heir.
Fra play thow leit me neuer rest,
Bot gynkartoun thow lufit, ay, best.
And, ay, quhen thow come frome the scule,
Than I behuffit to play the fule:
As I at lenth, in to my dreme,
My sindry seruyce did expreme.
Thocht it bene better, as sayis the wyse,
Hape to the court nor gude seruyce,
I wate thow luffit me better, than,
Nor, now, sum wyfe dois hir gude man.
Than men tyll vther did recorde,
Said Lyndsay wald be maid ane lorde.
Thow hes maid lordis, schir, be sanct Geill,
Off sum that hes nocht seruit so weill.

To ȝow, my Lordis, that standis by,
I sall ȝow schaw the causis quhy.
Geue ȝe lyst tary, I sall tell,
Quhow my infortune first befell.
I prayit daylie, on my knee,
My ȝoung maister that I mycht see
Off eild, in his aistait Royall,
Hauand power Imperyall.
Than traistit I, without demand,
To be promouit to sum land.
Bot my askyng I gat ouer soun,
Because ane clips fell in the mone,
The quhilk all Scotland maid asteir.
Than did my purpose ryn arreir,
The quhilk war langsum to declare,
And, als, my hart is wounder sare,
Quhen I haue in rememb[e]rance
The suddand cheange, to my myschance.
The kyng was bot twelf ȝeris of aige,
Quhen new rewlaris come, in thare raige,
For commoun weill makand no cair,
Bot for thare proffeit singulair.

Imprudentlie, lyk wytles fullis,
Thay tuke that ȝoung Prince frome the sculis,
Quhare he, vnder Obedience,
Was lernand vertew and science,
And haistelie plat in his hand
The gouernance of all Scotland;
As quho wald, in ane stormye blast,
Quhen Marinaris bene all agast
Throw dainger of the seis raige,
Wald tak ane chylde of tender aige,
Quhilk neuer had bene on the sey,
And to his biddyng all obey,
Geuyng hym haill the gouernall
Off schip, marchand, and Marinall.
For dreid of rockis and foreland,
To put the ruther in his hand,
Without godds grace, is no refuge:
Geue thare be dainger, ȝe may Iuge.
I gyf thame to the deuyll of hell,
Quhilk first deuysit that counsell.
I wyll nocht say that it was treassoun,
Bot I dar sweir, it was no reassoun.
I pray God, lat me neuer se ryng,
In to this realme, so ȝoung ane kyng.

I may nocht tary to desyd it,
Quhow than the court, ane quhyle, was gydit
Be thame that peirtlye tuke on hand
To gyde the kyng and all Scotland:
And, als, langsum for to declare
Thare facound flattryng wordis fair.
Schir, sum wald say, ȝour maiestie
Sall now go to ȝour lybertie;
Ȝe sall to no man be coactit,
Nor to the scule no more subiectit:
We thynk thame verray naturail fulis,
That lernis ouir mekle at the sculis.
Schir, ȝe mon leir to ryn ane speir,
And gyde ȝow lyke ane man of weir;
For we sall put sic men aboute ȝow,
That all the warld and mo sall doute ȝow.
Than to his grace thay put ane gaird,
Quhilk haistelie gat thare rewaird.
Ilke man, efter thare qualitie,
Thay did solyst his maiestie.
Sum gart hym raiffell at the rakcat;
Sum harld hym to the hurly hakcat;
And sum, to schaw thare courtlie corsis,
Wald ryid to leith, and ryn thare horssis,
And wychtlie wallope ouer the sandis;
Ȝe, nother sparit spurris nor wandis;
Castand galmoundis, with bendis and beckis,
For wantones, sum braik thare neckis.
Thare was no play bot cartis and dyce,
And ay schir flattre bure the pryce;
Roundand and rowkand, ane tyll vther.
Tak thow my part, quod he, my bruther,
And mak, betuix ws, sicker bandis,
Quhen ocht sall vaik amangs our handis,
That ilk man stand to help his fallow.
I hald thareto, man, be alhallow,
Swa thow fy[s]che nocht within my boundis.
That sall I nocht, be godis woundis,
Quod he, bot erar tak thy part;
Swa sall I thyne, be god[di]s hart:
And, geue the Thesaureir be our freind,
Than sall we get baith tak and teind.
Tak he our part, than quha dar wrang ws?
Bot we sall part the pelf amang ws.
Bot haist vs, quhill the kyng is ȝoung,
And lat ilk man keip weill ane toung,
And in ilk quarter haue ane spye,
Ws tyll aduerteis haistelie,
Quhen ony casualiteis
Sall happin in [to] our countreis.
Lat ws mak sure prouissioun,
Or he cum to discretioun.
No more he wate nor dois ane sancte,
Quhat thyng it bene to haue, or wante.
So, or he be of perfyte aige,
We sall be sicker of our waige;
And, syne, lat ilk ane carle craif vther.
That mouth speik mair, quod he, my brother,
For god, nor I rax in ane raipe,
Thow mycht geue counsale to the Pape.
Thus lauborit thay within few ȝeris,
That thay become no pagis peris,
Swa haistelye thay maid ane band.
Sum gadderit gold, sum conqueist land.
Schir, sum wald say, be sanct Dinnyce,
Geue me sum fate Benefyce;
And all the proffect ȝe sall haue:
Geue me the name, tak ȝow the laue.
Bot, be his Bowis war weill cumit hame,
To mak seruyce he wald thynk schame;
Syne, slyp awaye, withouttin more,
Quhen he had gottin that he sang fore.
Me thocht it was ane pieteous thyng,
To se that fair, ȝoung, tender kyng,
Off quhome thir gallandis stude no awe,
To play with hym, pluke at the crawe.
Thay become ryche, I ȝowe assure,
Bot aye the Prence remanit pure.
Thare wes few of that garisoun
That lernit hym ane gude lessoun;
Bot sum to crak, and sum to clatter,
Sum maid the fule, and sum did flatter.
Quod ane: the Deuyll stik me with ane knyfe,
Bot, schir, I knaw ane maid in fyfe,
Ane of the lusteast wantoun lassis,
Quhare to, schir, be gods blude scho passis.
Hald thy toung, brother, quod ane vther,
I knaw ane fairar, be fyftene futher.
Schir, quhen ȝe pleis to Leithgow pas.
Thare sall ȝe se ane lusty las.
Now trittyll, trattyll, trolylow,
Quod the thrid man; thow dois bot mow.
Quhen his grace cumis to fair sterlyng,
Thair sall he se ane dayis derlyng.
Schir, quod the fourt, tak my counsall,
And go, all, to the hie boirdall.
Thare may we lope at lybertie,
Withouttin ony grauitie.
Thus euery man said for hym self,
And did amangis thame part the pelf.
Bot I, allace, or euer I wyste,
Was trampit doun in to the douste,
With heuy charge, withouttin more,
Bot I wyst neuer ȝit quharefore,
And haistellie, before my face,
Ane vther slippit in my place,
Quhilk rychelie gat his rewaird,
And stylit was the Anscient laird.
That tyme I mycht mak no defence,
Bot tuke, perforce, in pacience,
Prayand to send thame ane myschance
That had the court in gouernance,
The quhilkis aganis me did malyng,
Contrar the plesour of the kyng.
For weill I knew his graces mynd
Was euer to me trew and kynd,
And, contrar thare Intentioun,
Gart pay me, weill, my pentioun.
Thocht I, ane quhyle, wantit presence,
He leit me haue no Indigence.
Quhen I durst nother peip nor luke,
Ȝit wald I hyde me in ane nuke,
To se those vncouth vaniteis,
Quhow thay, lyke ony beisy beis,
Did occupy thare goldin houris,
With help of thare new gouernouris.
Bot, my complaynt for to compleit,
I gat the soure, and thay the sweit.
Als, Ihone Makerery, the kyngis fule,
Gat dowbyll garmoundis agane the ȝule,
Ȝit, in his maist tryumphant glore,
For his rewarde, gat the grand gore.
Now in the court seindell he gois,
In dreid men stramp vpon his tois,
As I, that tyme, durst nocht be sene
In oppin court, for baith my Eine.

Allace, I haue no tyme to tary,
To schaw ȝow all the fery fary,
Quhow those that had the gouernance
Amangis thame selfis raist variance;
And quho maist to my skaith consentit,
Within few ȝeris full sore repentit,
Quhen thay could mak me no remeid;
For thay war harlit out be the heid,
And vtheris tuke the gouernyng,
Weill wors than thay in alkin thyng.
Thay lordis tuke no more regaird,
Bot quho mycht purches best rewaird.
Sum to thare freindis gat benefyceis,
And vther sum gat Byschopreis.
For euery lord, as he thocht best,
Brocht in ane bird to fyll the nest,
To be ane wacheman to his marrow.
Thay gan to draw at the cat harrow.
The proudest Prelatis of the kirk
Was faine to hyde thame in the myrk
That tyme, so failȝeit wes thare sycht.
Sen syne thay may nocht thole the lycht
Off Christis trew Gospell to be sene,
So blyndit is thare corporall Ene
With wardly lustis sensuall,
Takyng in realmes the gouernall,
Baith gyding court and cessioun,
Contrar to thare professioun,
Quhareof I thynk thay sulde haue schame,
Off spirituall preistis to tak the name.
For Esayas, in to his wark,
Callis thame lyke Doggis that can nocht bark,
That callit ar preistis, and can nocht preche,
Nor Christis law to the peple teche.
Geue for to preche bene thare professioun,
Quhy sulde thay mell with court, or Cessioun,
Except it war in spirituall thyngis;
Referryng vnto lordis and kyngis
Temporall causis to be desydit?
Geue thay thare spirituall office gydit,
Ilke man mycht say, thay did thare partis.
Bot, geue thay can play at the cairtis,
And mollet moylie on ane Mule,
Thocht thay had neuer sene the scule,
Ȝit, at this day, als weill as than,
Wyll be maid sic ane spirituall man.
Prencis that sic prelatis promofis
Accompt thareof to geue behuffis,
Quhilk sall nocht pas but puneischement,
Without thay mend and sore repent,
And, with dew ministratioun,
Wyrk efter thare vocatioun.
I wys that thyng quhilk wyll nocht be,
Thir peruerst Prelatis ar so hie.
Frome tyme that thay bene callit lordis,
Thay ar occasioun of discordis,
And lairglie wyll propynis hecht,
To gar ilk lord with vther fecht,
Geue for thare part it may auaill.
Swa, to the purpose of my taill.
That tyme, in court, rais gret debait,
And euerilk lord did stryue for stait,
That all the realme mycht mak no reddyng,
Quhill on ilk syde thare was blude scheddyng,
And feildit vther, in land and burgh,
Att Lyithgow, Melros, and Edinburgh.
Bot, to deplore I thynk gret paine
Off nobyll men that thare was slane,
And, als, langsum to be reportit
Off thame quhilk to the court resortit;
As tyrrannis, tratouris, and transgressouris,
And commoun publict plaine oppressouris,
Men murdresaris, and commoun theiffis,
In to that court gat, all, releiffis.
Thair was few lordis, in all thir landis,
Bot tyll new regentis maid thare bandis.
Than rais ane reik, or euer I wyste,
The quhilk gart all thare bandis bryste.
Than thay allone quhilk had the gyding,
Thay culde nocht keip thare feit frome slyding,
Bot of thare lyffis thay had sic dreid,
That thay war faine tyll trott ouer tweid.

Now, Potent Prince, I say to the,
I thank the haly Trinitie,
That I haue leuit to se this daye,
That all that warld is went awaye,
And thow to no man art subiectit,
Nor to sic counsalouris coactit.
The foure gret verteous Cardinalis,
I see thame with the principalis.
For Iustice haldis hir sweird on hie,
With hir ballance of Equitie,
And, in this realme, hes maid sic ordour,
Baith throw the heland and the bordour,
That oppressioun and all his fallowis
Ar hangit heych apon the gallowis.
Dame Prudence hes the be the heid,
And temporance dois thy brydill leid.
I se dame force mak assistance,
Berand thy Targe of assurance;
And lusty lady Chaistitie
Hes baneist Sensualitie.
Dame Ryches takis on the sic cure,
I pray God that scho lang indure,
That Pouertie dar nocht be sene
In to thy hous, for baith hir Ene,
Bot fra thy grace fled mony mylis,
Amangis the Hountaris in the Ylis.
Dissimulance dar nocht schaw hir face,
Quhilk wount was to begyill thy grace;
Foly is fled out of the toun,
Quhilk ay was countrar to ressoun;
Polyce and Peace begynnis to plant,
That verteous men can no thyng want;
And, as for sleuthfull Idyll lownis,
Sall fetterit be in the Gailȝeownis.
Ihone Upeland bene full blyith, I trow,
Because the rysche bus kepis his kow.
Swa is thare nocht, I vnderstand,
Withoute gude ordour in this land,
Except the spiritualitie.
Prayand thy grace thareto haue Ee,
Cause thame mak ministratioun
Conforme to thare vocatioun,
To Preche with vnfenȝeit intentis,
And trewly vse the Sacramentis,
Efter Christis Institutionis,
Leuyng thare vaine traditiounis,
Quhilkis dois the syllie scheip Illude,
Quhame for Christ Iesus sched his blude,
As superstitious pylgramagis,
Prayand to grawin Ymagis,
Expres aganis the Lordis command.
I do thy grace tyll vnderstand,
Geue thow to mennis lawis assent,
Aganis the lordis commandiment,
As Ieroboam and mony mo,
Prencis of Israell, allso,
Assentaris to Ydolatrie,
Quhilkis puneist war rycht pieteouslie,
And frome thare realmes wer rutit oute,
So sall thow be, withouttin doute,
Baith heir and hyne, withouttin more,
And want the euerlestyng glore.
Bot, geue thow wyll thy hart inclyne,
And keip his blyssit law deuyne,
As did the faithfull Patriarkis,
Boith in thare wordis and thare warkis,
And as did mony faithfull kyngis,
Off Israell, duryng thare ryngis,
As kyng Dauid and Salomone,
Quhilkis Ymagis wald suffer none
In thare ryche Tempillis for to stand,
Because it was nocht goddis command,
Bot distroyit all Ydolatrie,
As in the scripture thow may see;
Quhose ryche rewarde was heuinly blys,
Quhilk sall be thyne, thow doand this.

Sen thow hes chosin sic ane gaird,
Now am I sure to get rewaird;
And, sen thow art the rychest kyng
That euer in this realme did ryng,
Off gold and stonis precious
Maist prudent and Ingenious,
And hes thy honour done awance,
In Scotland, Ingland, and in France,
Be Merciall dedis honourabyll,
And art tyll euery vertew abyll,
I wat thy grace wyll nocht misken me,
Bot thow wyll vther geue or len me.

Wald thy grace len me, to ane day,
Off gold ane thousand pound, or tway,
And I sall fix, with gude intent,
Thy grace ane daye of pay[e]ment,
With Selit Oblygatioun,
Under this protestatioun:
Quhen the Basse and the Yle of Maye
Beis sett vpon the mont Senaye;
Quhen the lowmound besyde Falkland
Beis lyftit to Northhumberland;
Quhen kirkmen ȝairnis no dignitie,
Nor Wyffis no Soueranitie;
Wynter but frost, snaw, wynd, or rane;
Than sall I geue thy gold agane.
Or I sall mak the pay[e]ment
Efter the daye of Iugement,
Within ane moneth, at the leist,
Quhen Sanct Peter sall mak ane feist
To all the Fyscharis of Aberladye,
Swa thow haue myne Acquittance reddye.
Failȝeand thareof, be sanct Phillane,
Thy grace gettis neuer ane grote agane.

Geue thow be nocht content of this,
I man requeist the Kyng of blys,
That he to me haue sum regaird,
And cause thy grace me to rewaird.
For Dauid, Kyng of Israell,
Quhilk was the gret Propheit Royall,
Sayis, God hes haill at his command
The hartis of Prencis in his hand;
Ewin as he lyste thame for to turne,
That mon thay do withoute sudgeorne;
Sum tyll exault to Dignitie,
And sum to depryue in pouertie;
Sum tyme of lauid men to mak lordis,
And, sum tyme, lordis to bynd in cordis,
And thame alutterlye distroye,
As plesis God, that ryall Roye.
For thow art bot ane Instrument
To that gret kyng Omnipotent.
So, quhen plesis his excellence,
Thy grace sall mak me recompence;
Or he sall cause me stand content
Off quiet lyfe, and sober rent,
And tak me, in my letter aige,
Unto my sempyll Hermytage,
And spend it that my eldaris woun,
As did Matussalem in his toun.
Off this complaynt, with mynd full meik,
Thy graces answeir, schir, I beseik.