 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
XIX. [TO THE SAME.]
Alace! my Lords, hou long will ȝe delayTo put the poets pensione out of plie?
Ȝon shifting sophists hes no thing to say;
Their feckles flyting is not worth a flie.
Mak Bishop Betone vhat they lyk to be:
He must perforce be ather quik or deid.
If he be deid, the mater maks for me;
If he be quik, then they can cum no speid.
By consequence, it can not bot succeid,
For laik of forces they must tyn the feild;
And for the Bishope, I defy his feid;
Ȝok vhen we will, I hope to gar him ȝeild.
So, good my Lords, I crave no more of ȝou,
Bot shift me not vhill ȝe haif slane my sou.
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |