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Now sall the pepill mak Collatioun, then biginnis the Interlude, the Kings, Bischops and principall players being out of their seats.
Pauper,
the pure man.
Of zour almis gude folks for Gods luife of heavin,
For I haue motherles bairns either sax or seavin:
Gifze'ill gif me na gude for the luife of Iesus,
Wische me the richt way till Sanct-Androes.

Diligence.
Quhair haue wee gottin this gudly companzeoun?
Swyith out of the feild fals raggit loun.
God wait gif heir be ane weill keip it place,
Quhen sic ane vilde begger Carle may get entres.
Fy on zow officiars that mends nocht thir failzies,
I gifzow all till the deuill baith Provost and Bailzies:
Without ze cum and chase this Carle away
The Deuill a wordze'is get mair of our play.
Fals huirsun raggit Carle, quhat Deuil is that thou rugs

Pauper.
Quha Devil maid the ane gentill man that wald cut not thy lugs?

Dili.
Quhat now? me thinks the carle begins to crack,
Swyith carle away or be this day Ise break thy back.
Heir sall the Carle clim vp and sit in the Kings tchyre.
Cum doun, or be Gods croun fals loun I sall slay the.

Pauper.
Now sweir be thy brunt schinis the Deuill ding them fra the.
Quhat say ze till thir court dastards be thay get hail clais
Sa sune as thay leir to sweir and trip on thair tais.

Di.
Me thocht the carle call it me knaue evin in my face,
Be Sanct Fillane thou salbe slane, bot gif thou ask grace:
Loup doun or be the gude Lord thow sall los thy heid.

Paup.
I sal anis drink or I ga thocht thou had sworne my deid.

Heir Diligence castis away the ledder.
Dili.
Loup now gif thou list for thon hes lost the ledder.

Paup.
It is full weil thy kind to loup and licht in a ledder.
Thou sal be faine to fetch agane ye ledder or I loup
I sall sit heir into this tcheir till I haue tumde the stoup.

Heir sall the Carle loup aff the scaffad.
[Dil.]
Swyith begger bogill haist the away,
Thow art over pert to spill our play.

Pauper.
I wil not gif for alzour play worth an sowis fart,
For thair is richt lytill play at my hungrie hart.

Diligence.
Quhat Devill ails this cruckit carle?

Pauper.
Marie meikill sorrow:
I can not get, thocht I gasp to beg nor to borrow.

Diligence.
Quhair deuill is this thou dwels or quhas thy intent?

Pauper.
I dwell into Lawthiane ane myle fra Tranent

Dil.
Quhair wald thou be carle, the suth to me schaw?

Pauper.
Sir evin to Sanct-Androes for to seik law.

Dili.
For to seik law in Edinburgh was the neirest way,

Pauper.
Sir I socht law thair this monie deir day.
Bot I culd get nane at Sessioun nor Seinze,
Thairfoir the mekill din Deuill drounall the meinze.

Dil.
Shaw me thy mater man with al the circumstances
How that thou hes happinit on thir vnhappie chances.

Pauper.
Gude-man will ze gif me of zour Charitie
And I sall decalir zow the black veritie.
My father was ane auld man and ane hoir,
And was of age fourscoir of zeirs and moir.
And Mald my mother was fourscoir and fyfteine,
And with my labour I did thame baith susteine.
Wee had ane Meir that cary it salt and coill,
And everie ilk zeir scho brocht vs hame ane foill.
VVee had thrie ky that was baith fat and fair,
Nane tydier into the toun of air.
My father was sa waik of blude and bane,
That he deit, quhairfoir my mother maid great maine
Then scho deit within ane day or two,
And thair began my povertie and wo.
Our gude gray Meir was baittand on the feild,
And our Lands laird tuik hir for his hyreild
The Vickar tuik the best Cow be the head,
Incontinent quhen my father was deid.
And quhē the Vickar hard tel how that my mother,
VVas dead, fra-hand he tuke to him ane vther,
Then Meg my wife did murne both evin & morow
Till at the last scho deit for verie sorow:
And quhen the Vickar hard tell my wyfe was dead,
The thrid Cow he cleikit be the head.
Thair vmest clayis that was of rapploch gray,
The Vickar gart his Clark bear them away.
Quhen all was gaine I micht mak na debeat
Bot with my bairns past for till beg my meat.
Now haue I tald zow the blak veritie,
How I am brocht into this miserie.

Dil.
How did ye person, was he not thy gude freind?

Pau.
The devil stick him, he curst me for my teind
And halds me zit vnder that same proces
That gart me want the Sacrament at Pasche.
In gudefaith sir, thocht he wald cut my throt,
I haue na geir except ane Inglis grot.
Quhilk I purpois to gif ane man of law.

Diligence.
Thou art the daftest fuill that ever I saw,
Trows thou man be the law to get remeid,
Of men of kirk, na nocht till thou be deid.

Paup.
Sir be quhat law tell me quhairfoir or quhy?
That ane Vickar sould tak fra me thrie ky.

Diligence.
Thay haue na law except and consuetude,
Quhilk law to them is sufficient and gude.

Paup.
Ane consuetude against the common weill,
Sould be na law I think be sweit Sanct Geill.
Quhair will ze find that law tell gif ze can?
To tak thrie ky fra ane pure husband man.
Ane for my father, and for my wyfe ane vther,
And the thrid Cow he tuke fra Mald my mother.

Diligence.
It is thair law all that thay haue in vse
Thocht it be Cow, Sow, Ganer, Gryse or Guse,

Pauper.
Sir I wald speir at zow ane questioun,
Behauld sum Prelats of this Regioun,
Manifestlie during thair lustie lyfis,
Thay swyfe Ladies, Madinis and vther mens wyfis.
And sa thair cunts thay haue in consuetude,
Quhidder say ze that law is evill or gude?

Dil.
Hald thy toung man, it seims that thou war mangit,
Speik thou of Preists but doubt thou will be hangit.

Pauper.
Be him that buir the cruell Croun of thorne,
I cair nocht to be hangit evin the morne.

Diligence.
Be sure of Preistis thou will get na support,

Pauper.
Gif that be trew the feind resaue the sort.
Sa sen I se I get na vther grace,
I will ly doun and rest mee in this place.

Pauper lyis doun in the feild, Pardoner enters.
Pardoner.
Heir sall he lay doun his geir vpon ane buird and say,

Sowtar.
Welcum hame Robert Rome-raker,
Our halie patent pardoner:
Gif ze haue dispensatioun.
To pairt me and my wickit wyfe,
And me deliver from sturt and stryfe,
I mak zow supplicatioun.

Pardoner.
I sall zow pairt but mair demand,
Sa I get mony in my hand,
Thairfoir let se sum cunze:

Sowtar.
I haue na silver be my lyfe,
Bot fyue schillings and my schaipping knyfe,
That sall ze haue but sunze.

Pardoner.
Quhat kynd of woman is thy wyfe,

Sowtar.
Ane quick Devill Sir, ane storme of stryfe,
Ane Frog that fyles the winde:
Ane fistand flag, a flagartie fuffe,
At ilk ane pant scho lets ane puffe,
And hes ra ho behind.
All the lang day scho me dispyts,
And all the nicht scho flings and flyts,
Thus sleip I never ane wink:
That Cockatrice, that commoun huir,
The mekill Devill may nocht induir
Hir stuburnnes and stink.

Sowtars wife.
Theif carle thy words I hard rycht weill
In faith my freindschip ze sall feill,
And I the fang:

Sowtar.
Gif I said ocht Dame be the Rude,
Except ze war baith fair and gude,
God nor I hang.

Pardoner.
Fair dame gif ze wald be ane wower,
To part zow twa I haue ane power,
Tell on ar ze content?

Sowtars wyfe.
Ze that I am with all my hart
Fra that fals huirsone till depart,
Gif this theif will consent.
Causses to part to part I haue anew,
Becaus I gat na chamber-glew,
I tell zow verely
I meruell nocht, sa mot I lyfe,
Howbeit that swingeour can not swyfe,
He is baith cauld and dry.

Pard.
Quhat wil ze gif me for zour part?
Ane cuppill of sarks with all my hart,
The best claith in the land:

Pardoner.
To part sen ze ar baith content,
I sall zow part incontinent,
Bot ze mon do command.
My will and finall sentence is,
Ilk ane of zow vthers arsse kis:
Slip doun zour hois, me thinkis the carle is glaikit,
Set thou not by howbeit scho kisse and slaik it,
Heir sall scho kis hir arsse with silence.
Lift vp hir clais, kis hir hoill with zour hart,

Sowtar.
I pray zow sir forbid hir for to fart.

Heir sall the Carle kis hir arsse with silence.
Pardoner.
Dame pas ze to the east end of the toun,
And pas ze west evin lyke ane cuckald loun,
Go hence ze baith with Baliels braid blissing,
Schirs saw ze ever mair sorrowles pairting?

Heir sall the boy cry aff the hill.
Wilkin.
Hoaw maister, hoaw, quhair ar ze now?

Pardoner.
I am heir Wilkin widdiefow.

Wilkin.
Sir I haue done zour bidding,
For I haue fund ane great hors bane,
Ane fairer saw ze never nane,
Vpon Dame Fleschers midding
Sir, ze may gar the wyfis trow,
It is ane bane of Sanct Bryds cow,
Gude for the feuer quartane:
Sir will ze reull this relict weill,
All the wyfis will baith kis and kneill,
Betuixt this and Dumbartane.

Pardoner.
Quhat say thay of me in the toun?

Wilkin.
Sum sayis ze ar ane verie loun:
Sum sayis, Legatus natus:
Sum sayis z'ar ane fals sals Saracene,
And sum sayis ze ar for certaine
Diabolus incarnatus.
Bot keip zow fra subiectioun,
Of the curst King Correctioun:
For be ze with him fangit:
Becaus ze ar ane Rome-raker,
Ane commoun publick cawsay-paker,
But doubt ze will be hangit.

Pardoner.
Quhair sall I ludge into the toun?

Wilkin.
With gude kynde Cristiane Anderson,
Quhair ze will be weill treatit.
Gif ony limmer zow demands,
Scho will defend zow with hir hands,
And womanlie debait it.
Bawburdie says be the Trinitie,
That scho sall beir zow cumpanie,
Howbeit ze byde ane zeir.

Pardoner.
Thou hes done weill be Gods mother
Tak ze the taine and I the t'other:
Sa sall we mak greit cheir.

Wilkin.
I reid zow speid zow heir,
And mak na langer tarie:
Byde ze lang thair but weir,
I dreid zour weird zow warie.

Heir sall Pauper rise and rax him.
Paup.
Quhat thing was zon that I hard crak & cry?
I haue bene dreamand and dreueland of my ky.
With my richt hand my haill bodie I saine,
Sanct Bryd, Sanct Bryd, send me my ky againe.
I se standand zonder ane halie man,
To mak me help let me se gif he can.
Halie maister, God speid zow and gude morne,

Pard.
Welcum to me thocht thou war at the horne.
Cum win the pardoun and syne I sall the saine,

Pauper.
Wil that pardoun get me my ky againe?

Pardoner.
Carle of thy ky I haue nathing ado,
Cum win my my pardon and kis my relicts to.

Heir sall he saine him with his relictis.
Pard.
Now lows thy pursse & lay doun thy offrand,
And thou sall haue my pardon euin fra-hand.
With raipis and relicts I sall the saine againe,
Of Gut or grauell thou sall neuer haue paine.
Now win the pardon limmer, or thou art lost:

Pauper.
My haly father, quhat wil that pardon cost?

Pard.
Let se quhat mony thou bearest in thy bag:

Paup.
I haue ane grot heir bund into ane rag.

Pard.
Hes thou na vther siluer bot ane groat?

Pauper.
Gif I haue mair sir cum and rype my coat.

Pard.
Gif me that grot man, gif thou hest na mair,

Pauper.
With all my heart maister lo tak it thair:
Now let me se zour pardon with zour leif.

Pardoner.
Ane thousand zeir of pardons I the geif.

Pauper.
Ane thousand zeir? I will not liue sa lang,
Delyuer me it maister and let me gang.

Pardoner.
Ane thousand zeir I lay vpon thy head,
With totiens quotiens: now mak me na mair plead:
Thou hast resaifit thy pardon now already.

Pauper.
Bot I can se na thing sir be our Lady:
Forsuith maister, I trow I be not wyse:
To pay ere I haue sene my marchandryse.
That ze haue gottin my groat full sair I rew:
Sir, quhidder is zour pardon black or blew?
Maister, sen ze haue taine fra me my cunzie,
My marchandryse schaw me withouttin sunzie.
Or to the Bischop I sall pas and pleinzie
In Sanct-Androis, & summōd zow to the Seinzie.

Par.
Quhat craifis the carle? me thinks thou art not wise.

Pauper.
I craif my groat or ellis my marchandrise.

Pardoner.
I gaif the pardon for ane thowsand zeir,

Pauper.
How sall I get that pardon let me heir?

Pardoner.
Stand still and I sall tell the haill storie:
Quhen thow art deid and gais to Purgatorie,
Being condempit to paine a thowsand zeir:
Then sall thy pardoun the releif but weir,
Now be content ze ar ane mervelous man:

Pauper.
Sall I get nathing for my grot quhill than?

Pardoner.
That sall thou not I mak it to zow plaine?

Pauper.
Na than gossop, gif me my grot againe.
Quhat say ze maisters call ze this gude resoun?
That he sould promeis me ane gay pardoun:
And he resaue my money in his stead.
Syne mak me na payment till I be dead:
Quhen I am deid I wait full sikkerlie,
My sillie saull will pas to Purgatorie:
Declair me this? now God nor Baliell bind the,
Quhen I am thair curst carle, quhair sall I find the?
Not into heavin, bot rather into hell:
Quhen you art thair thou can not help thy sel.
Quhen will thou cum my dolours till abait?
Or I the find my hippis will get ane hair.
Trowis thou butchour that I will by blind lambis:
Gif me my grot the devill dryte in thy gambis.

Par.
Suyith stand abak, I trow this man be mangit:
Thou gets not this carle, thocht you suld be hangit

Pauper.
Gif me my grot weill bund into ane clout,
Or be Gods breid Robin sall beir ane rout.

Heir sal thay fecht with silence and Pauper sal cast doun the buird, and cast the relicts in the water
Diligence.
Quhat kind of daffing is this al day?
Suyith smaiks out of the the feild, away.
Into ane presoun put them sone,
Syne hang them quhen the play is done.

Heir sall Diligence mak his proclamatioun.
Diligence.

Heir sall the thrie estaits cum fra the palzeoun gangand backwart led be thair vyces.
Wantonnes.
Now braid benedicite,
Quhat thing is zon that I se?
Luke Solace my hart:

Solace.
Brother Wantonnes quhat thinks thow?
Zon ar the thrie estaits I trow:
Gang and backwart.

Wantonnes.
Backwart, backwart, out wallaway?
It is greit schame for them I say,
Backwart to gang:
I trow the King Correctioun,
Man mak ane reformatioun:
Or it be lang.
Now let vs go and tell the King,
Pausa.
Sir wee haue sene ane mervelous thing
Be our iudgement:
The thrie estaits of this Regioun,
Ar cummand backwart throw this toun,
To the Parlament.

Rex.
Backwart, backwart, how may that be?
Gar speid them haistelie to me:
In dreid that thay ga wrang:

Placebo.
Sir I se them zonder cummand,
Thay will be he heir evin fra hand,
Als fast as thay may gang.

Gude-coun.
Sir hald zou stil & skar them nocht,
Till ze persaue quhat be thair thocht,
And se quhat men them leids:
And let the King Correctioun,
Mak ane scharp inquisitioun,
And mark them be the heids.
Quhen ze ken the occasioun,
That maks them sic persuasioun;
Ze may expell the caus:
Syne them reforme as ze think best,
Sua that the Realme may liue in rest.
According to Gods lawis.

Heir sall the thrie estaits cum and turne thair faces to the King.
Spir.
Gloir, honour, laud triumph and victorie
Be to zour michtie prudent excellence:
Heir ar we cum all the estaits thrie,
Readie to mak our dew obedience.
At zour command with humbill observance,
As my pertene to Spiritualitie.
With counsell of the Temporalitie.

Temp.
Sir we with michtie curage at command
Of zour superexcellent Maiestie,
Sall mak seruice baith with our hart and hand,
And sall not dreid in thy defence to die:
Wee ar content but doubt that wee may se
That nobill heavinlie King Correctioun,
Sa he with mercie mak punitioun.

Merchand.
Sir we ar heir zour Burgessis and Merchands,
Thanks be to God that we may se zour face:
Traistand wee may now into divers lands,
Convoy our geir with support of zour grace.
For now I traist wee sall get rest and peace,
Quhē misdoars ar with zour sword overthrawin
Then may leil-merchands liue vpon thair awin.

Rex.
Welcum to me my prudent Lords all,
Ze ar my members suppois I be zour head:
Sit doun that we may with zour iust counsall,
Aganis misdoars find soveraine remeid.
Wee sall nocht spair for fauour nor for feid,
With zour avice to mak punitioun:
And put my sword to executioun.

Cor.
My tender freinds I pray zow with my hart,
Declair to me the thing that I wald speir,
Quhat is the caus that ze gang all backwart?
The veritie thair of faine wald I heir.

Spiri.
Soveraine we haue gaine sa this mony a zeir
Howbeit ze think we go vndecently,
VVee think wee gang richt wonder pleasantly.

Dil.
Sit doun my Lords into zour proper places:
Syne let the King consider all sic caces.
Sit doun sir scribe, and sit doun dampster to:
And fence the Court as ze war wont to do.

Thay ar set doun & Gud-counsell sal pas to his seat.
Rex.
My prudent Lords of the thrie estaits,
It is our will abuife all vther thing.
For to reforme all them that maks debaits,
Contrair the richt quhilk daylie dois maling,
And thay that dois the Common-weil doun thring
With help and counsell of King Correctioun,
It is our will for to mak punisching:
And plaine oppressours put to subiectioun.

Spiritu.
Quhat thing is this sir, that ze haue devysit?
Schirs ze haue neid for till be weill advysit.
Be nocht haistie into zour executioun,
And be nocht our extreime in zour punitioun.
And gif ze please to do sir, as wee say,
Postpone this Parlament till ane vther day.
For quhy? the peopill of this Regioun,
May nocht indure extreme correctioun.

Correct.
Is this the part my Lords that ze will tak?
To mak vs supportatioun to correct:
It dois appeir that ze ar culpabill,
That ar nocht to Correctioun applyabill.
Suyith Diligence gaschaw it is our will,
That everilk man opprest geif in his Bill.

Dili.
All maneir of men I wairne that be opprest,
Cum and complaine and thay salbe redrest.
For quhy, it is the nobill Princes will,
That ilk compleiner sall gif in his Bill.

Iohne the Common-weill.
Out of my gait, for Gods saik let me ga:
Tell me againe gude maister quhat ze say.

Diligence.
I warne al that be wrangouslie offendit,
Cum and complaine and thay sall be amendit.

Iohn.
Thankit be christ yat buir the croun of thorne
For I was never sa blyth sen I was borne.

Diligen.
Quhat is thy name follow that wald I feil?

Iohn.
Forsuith thay call me Iohne the cōmon-weil.
Gude maister I wald speir at zou ane thing,
Quhair traist ze I sall find zon new cumde King?

Dili.
Cum over, and I sall schaw the to his grace,

Iohne.
Gods bennesone licht on that luckie face.
Stand by the gait, let se gif I can loup,
I man rin fast incace I get ane coup.

Heir sall Iohne loup the stank or els fall in it.
Dili.
Speid the away, thou taryis all to lang:

Iohne.
Now be this day I may na faster gang.
Iohne to the King.
Gude day, gud day, grit God saif baith zour graces
Wallie, wallie fall thay twa weill fairde faces.

Rex.
Shaw me thy name gude man I the command,

Io.
Marie Iohne the common-weil of fair Scotland

Rex.
The commoun weill hes bene amang his fais:

Ioh.
Ze sir that gars the commoun-weil want clais.

Rex.
Quhat is the caus the common weil is crukit?

Ioh.
Becaus the common-weill hes bene overlukit

Rex.
Quhat gars the luke sa with ane dreirie hart?

Ioh.
Becaus the thrie estaits gangs all backwart.

Rex.
Sir cōmon weill knaw ze the limmers that thē leids!

Iohne.
Thair canker cullours I ken them be the heads:
As for our reverent fathers of Spiritualitie,
Thay ar led be Couetice and cairles Sensualitie.
And as ze se Temporalitie hes neid of correctioun.
Quhilk hes lang tyme bene led be publick oppressioun:
Loe quhair the loun lyis lurkand at his back,
Get vp I think to se thy craig gar ane raip crack.
Loe heir is Falset and Dissait weill I ken,
Leiders of the merchants and sillie crafts-men.
Quhat mervell thocht the thrie estaits backwart gang?
Quhen sic an vyle cumpanie dwels them amang.
Quhilk hes reulit this rout monie deir dayis,
Quhilk gars Iohn the cōmon-weil want his warme clais
Sir call them befoir zow and put them in ordour,
Or els Iohn the common-weil man beg on the bordour.
Thou feinzeit Flattrie the feind fart in thy face,
Quhen ze was guyder of the Court we gat litill grace.
Ryse vp Falset and Dissait without ony sunze,
I pray God nor the devils dame dryte on thy grunze.
Behauld as the loun lukis evin lyke a theif,
Monie wicht warkman thou brocht to mischeif.
My soveraine Lord Correction I mak zow supplication,
Put thir try it truikers from Christis congregation.

Correctioun.
As ze haue devysit but doubt it salbe done
Cum heir my Sergeants and do zour debt sone.
Put thir thrie pellours into pressoun strang,
Howbeit ze sould hang them ze do them na wrang.

First Sergeant.
Soverane Lords wee sall obey zour commands:
Brother vpon thir limmers lay on thy hands.
Ryse vp sone loun thou luiks evin lyke ane lurden:
Zour mouth war meit to drink an wesche inrden.

Secund Sergeant.
Cum heir gossop, cum heir, cum heir,
Zour rackles lyfe ze sall repent:
Quhen was ze wont to be sa sweir?
Stand still and be obedient.

First Sergeant.
Thair is nocht in all this toun,
Bot I wald nocht this taill war tald.
Bot I wald hang him for his goun,
Quhidder that it war Laird or laid.
I trow this pellour be spur-gaid,
Put in thy hand into this cord,
Howbeit I se thy skap skyre skaid:
Thou art ane stewat I stand foird.

Heir sall the vycis be led to the stocks.
Secund Ser.
Put in zour leggis into the stocks,
For ze had never ane meiter hois:
Thir stewats stinks as thay war Broks,
Now ar ze sikker I suppois.
Pausa.
My Lords wee haue done zour commands,
Sall wee put Covetice in captivitie?

Correction.
Ze hardlie lay on them zour hands,
Rycht sa vpon Sensualitie,

Spi.
This is my Grainter and my Chalmerlaine,
And hes my gould and geir vnder hir cuiris:
I mak ane vow to God I sall complaine,
Vnto the Paip how ze do me iniuris.

Covetice.
My reverent fathers tak in patience,
I sall nocht lang remaine from zour pesence
Thocht for ane quhyll I man from zow depairt,
I wait my spreit sall remaine in zour hart.
And quhen this King Correctioun beis absent,
Then sall we twa returne incontinent.
Thairfoir adew.—

Spiritualitie.
Adew be Sanct Mavene,
Pas quhair ze will we ar twa naturall men.

Sensualitie.
Adew my Lord—

Spiritualitie.
Adew my awin sweit hart.
Now duill fell me that wee twa man depart.

Sensuali.
My Lord how beit this parting dois me paine,
I traist in God we sal meit sone agane.

Spiri.
To cum againe I pray zow do zour cure,
Want I zow twa I may nocht lang indure.

Heir sal the Sergeants chase them away, and they sal gang to the seat of Sensualitie.
Tempor.
My Lords ze knaw the thrie estaits,
For Common-weill suld mak debaits:
Let now amang vs be devysit,
Sic actis that with gude men be praysit.
Conforming to the common law,
For of na man we sould stand aw.
And for till saif vs fra murmell,
Schone Diligence fetch vs Gude-counsell
For quhy he is ane man that knawis,
Baith the Cannon and Civill lawis.

Diligence.
Father ze man incontinent,
Passe to the Lords of Parliament.
For quhy thay ar determinat all,
To do na thing by zour counsall.

Gude-counsal.
That sal I do within schort space,
Praying the Lord to send vs grace:
For till conclude or wee depart,
That thay may profeit efterwart,
Baith to the Kirk and to the King,
I sall desyre na vther thing.
Pausa.
My Lords God glaid the cumpanie,
Quhat is the caus ze send for me?

Merchand.
Sit doun and gif vs zour counsell,
How we sall slaik the greit murmell,
Of pure peopill, that is weill knawin,
And as the Common-weill hes schawin.
And als wee knaw it is the Kings will,
That gude remeid be put thairtill.
Sir Common-weill keip ze the bar,
Let nane except zourself cum nar.

Iohne.
That sall I do as I best can,
I sall hauld out baith wyfe and man.
Ze man let this puir creature,
Support me for till keip the dure.
I knaw his name full sickerly,
He will complaine als weill as I.

Couns.
My worthy Lords sen ze haue taine on hand
Sum reformatioun to mak into this land:
And als ze knaw it is the Kings mynd,
Quha till the Common-weil hes ay bene kynd:
Thocht reif and thift wer stanchit weill aneuch,
Zit sumthing mair belangis to the pleuch.
Now into peace ze sould provyde for weirs,
And be sure of how mony thowsand speirs,
The King may be quhen he hes ocht ado,
For quhy my Lords this is my ressoun to.
The husband-men and commons thay war wont,
Go in the battell formest in the front.
Bot I haue tint all my experience,
Without ze mak sum better diligence:
The Common-weill mon vther wayis be styllit,
Or be my faith the King wilbe be gyllit.
Thir pure commouns daylie as ze may se,
Declynisdoun till extreme poverrie:
For sum ar hichtit sa into thair maill,
Thair winning will nocht find them water kaill.
How Prelats heichts thair teinds it is weill knawin,
That husband-men may not weill hald thair awin.
And now begins ane plague amang them new,
That gentill men thair steadings taks in few.
Thus man thay pay great ferme or lay thair steid,
And sum ar plainlie harlit out be the heid,
And ar distroyit without God on them rew.

Paup.
Sir be Gods breid that taill is verie trew.
It is weill kend I had baith nolt and hors,
Now all my geir ze se vpon my cors.

Correction,
Or I despairt I think to mak ane ordout

Iohne.
I pray zow sir begin first at bordour.
For how can we send vs aganis Ingland
Quhen we can nocht within our natiue Land,
Destroy our awin Scots, common trator theifis,
Quha to leill laborers daylie dois mischeifis.
VVar I ane King my Lord be Gods wounds,
Quha ever held cōmon theifis within thair bounds:
Quhair throw that dayly leilmen micht be wrangit
Without remeid thair chiftanis suld be hangit,
Quhidder he war ane knicht, ane Lord or Laird
The Devill draw me to hell and he war spaird.

Tempora.
Quhat vther enemies hes thou let vs ken?

Iohne.
Sir I compleine vpon the idill men:
For quhy sir it is Gods awin bidding
All Christian men to wirk for thair living.
Sanct Paull that pillar of the Kirk,
Sayis to the wretchis that will not wirk
And bene to vertews laith
Qui non laborat non manducet.
This is in Inglische toung or leit:
Duha labouris nocht he sall not eit,
This bene against the strang beggers,
Fidlers, pypers, and pardoners:
Thir Iugglars, Iestars, and idill cuitchours,
Thir carriers and thir quintacensours:
Thir babil-beirers and thir bairds,
Thir sweir swyngeours with Lords and Lairds:
Ma then thair rents may susteine,
Or to thair profeit neidfull bene,
Quhilk bene ay blythest of discords,
And deidly feid amang thar Lords.
For then they sleutchers man be treatit,
Or els thair querrels vndebaitit.
This bene against thir great fat Freiris,
Augustenes, Carmleits and Cordeleirs:
And all vthers that in cowls bene cled,
Quhilk labours nocht and bene weill fed.
I mein nocht laborand Spirituallie,
Nor for thair living corporallie:
Lyand in dennis lyke idill doggis
I them compair to weil fed hoggis.
I think they do them selfis abuse,
Seing that thay the warld refuse:
Haising profest sic povertie,
Syne fleis fast fra necessitie.
Quhat gif thay povertie wald professe?
And do as did Diogenes,
That great famous Philosophour,
Seing in earth bot vaine labour,
Alutterlie the warld refusit,
And in ane tun be him self inclusit,
And leifit on herbs and water cauld,
Of corporall fude na mair he wald.
He trottit nocht from toun to toun,
Beggand to feid his carioun.
Fra tyme that lyfe he did profes,
The wald of him was cummerles.
Rycht sa of Marie Magdalene,
And of Mary th'Egyptiane:
And of auld Paull the first Hermeit,
All thir had povertie compleit.
Ane hundreth ma I micht declair,
Bot to my purpois I will fair:
Concluding sleuthfull idilnes,
Against the Common-weill expresse.

Correctioun.
Quhom vpon ma will ze compleine?

Iohne.
Marie on ma and ma againe.
For the pure peopill cryis with cairis,
The infetching of Iustice airis:
Exercit mair for couetice,
Then for the punisching of vyce.
Ane peggrell theif that steillis ane kow,
Is hangit. bot he that steillis ane bow
With als meikill geir as he may turs,
That theif is hangit be the purs.
Sic pykand peggrall theifis ar hangit,
Bot he that all the warld hes wrangit,
Ane cruell tyrane ane strang transgressour,
Ane common publick plaine oppressour,
By buds may he obteine fauours
Of Tresurers and compositours.
Thocht he serue greit punitioun,
Gets easie compositioun:
And throch laws consistoriall
Prolixt, corrupt and perpetuall.
The common peopill ar put sa vnder,
Thocht thay be puir it is na wonder.

Correction.
Gude Iohne I grant all that is trew,
Zour infortoun full sair I rew:
Or I pairt aff this Natioun,
I sall mak reformatioun.
And als my Lord Temporalitie,
I zow command in tyme that ze
Expell oppressioun aff zour lands.
And als I say to zow merchands,
Gif ever I find be land or sie,
Dissait be in zour cumpanie:
Quhilk ar to Common-weill contrair,
I vow to God I sall not spair
To put my sword to executioun,
And mak on zow extreme punitioun.
Mairover my Lord Spiritualitie,
In gudlie haist I will that ze
Set into few zour temporall lands.
To men that labours with thair hands.
Bot nocht to ane gearking gentill man,
That nether will he wirk, nor can:
Quhair throch the policy may incresse.

Temporalitie.
I am content sir be the messe:
Swa that the Spiritualitie,
Sets thairs in few als weill as wee.

Correctioun.
My Spirituall Lords ar ze content?

Spiritualitie.
Na, na, wee man tak advysement
In sic maters for to conclude,
Ouir haistelie, wee think nocht gude.

Cor.
Conclude ze nocht with the Comon-weil
Ze salbe punischit be Sanct Geill.

Heir sall the Bischops cum with the Freir.
Spiritualitie.
Schir we can schaw exemptioun,
Fra zour temporall punitioun:
The quhilk wee purpois till debait.

Correction.
Wa than, ze think to stryue for stait.
My Lords quhat say ze to this play?

Temporalitie.
My soverane Lords we will obay,
And tak zour part with hart and hand,
Quhat ever ze pleis vs to command.
Heir sal the Temporal stait sit doun on thair knies, & say.
Bot wee beseik zow Soveraine,
Of all our cryms that ar bygaine
To gif vs ane remissioun,
And heir wee mak to zow conditioun,
The Common-weill for till defend
From hence-forth till our liues end.

Correctioun.
On that conditioun I am content
Till pardon zow sen ze repent,
The Common-weill tak be the hand,
And mak with him perpetuall band.
Heir sall the temporal staits, to wit, the Lords and merchands imbreasse Iohne the Common-weill.
Iohne haue ze ony ma debaits
Against the Lords of Spirituall staits?

Iohne.
Na sir I dar nocht speik ane word.
To plaint on Preistis it is na bourd:

Correctioun.
Flyt on thy fow fill I desyre the:
Swa that thou schāw bot the veritie.

Iohne.
Grandmerces then I sall nocht spair,
First to compleine on the Vickair.
The pure Cottar being lyke to die,
Haifand zoung infants twa orthrie:
And hes twaky but ony ma,
The Vickar most haif ane of thay:
VVith the gray frugge that covers the bed.
Howbeit the wyfe be purelie cled,
And gif the wyfe die on the morne,
Thocht all the bairns sould be forlorne,
The vther kow he cleiks away
With the pure cot of raploch gray.
Wald God this custome war put doun,
Quhilk never was found it be ressoun.

Temporal.
Ar all thay tails trew that thou telles?

Pauper.
Trew sir, the Divill stick me elles.
For be the halie Trinitie,
That same was practeisit on me.
For our Vickar God giue him pyne,
Hes zit thrie tydie kye of myne.
Ane for my father and for my wyfe ane vther,
And the thrid cow he tuke for Mald my mother.

Iohne.
Our Persone heir he takis na vther pyne,
Bot to ressaue his teinds and spend them syne.
Howbeit he be obleist be gude resloun,
To preich the Evangell to his parochoun.
Howbeit thay suld want preiching sevintin zeir.
Our Persoun will not want ane scheif of beir.

Pau.
Our bishops with thair lustie rokats quhyte,
Thay flow in riches royallie and delyte:
Lyke Paradice bene thair palices and places,
And wants na pleasour of the fairest faces.
Als thir Prelates hes great prerogatyues,
For quhy thay may depairt ay with thair wyues:
Without ony correctioun or damnage,
Syne tak ane vther wantoner but mariage.
But doubt I wald think it ane pleasant lyfe,
Ay on q̄uhen I list to part with my wyfe.
Syne tak ane vther of far greiter bewtie,
Bot ever alace my Lords that may not be,
For I am bund alace in mariage,
Bot thay lyke rams rudlie in thair rage.
Vnpysalt rinnis amang the sillie zowis,
Sa lang as kynde of nature in them growis.

Person.
I hou lies fals huirsun raggit loun,
Thair is na Preists in all this toun,
That ever vsit sic vicious crafts.

Iohne.
the feind ressaue thay flattrand chafts:
Sir Domine I trowit ze had be dum.
Quhair Devil gat we this ill fairde blaitie bum?

Pers.
To speik of Preists be sure it is na bourds:
Thay will burne men nowfor rakles words,
And all thay words ar herisie in deid,

Iohn.
The mekil feind resaue the saul that leid.
All that I say is trew thocht thou be greifit,
And that I offer on thy pallet to preifit.

Spr.
My lords quhy do ze thoil that lurdun loun,
Of Kirk-men to speik sic detractioun.
I let zow wit my Lords it is na bourds,
Of Prelats for till speik sic wantoun words.
Heir Spritualitie faires and rages.
Zon villaine puttis me out of Charitie.

Tempo.
Quhy my Lord sayis he ocht bot verity
Ze can nocht stop ane pure man for till pleinze
Gif he hes faltit, summond him to zour Seinze.

Spritual.
Zea that I sall. I mak greit God a vow
He sall repent that he spak of the kow.
I will not suffer sic words of zon villaine.

Pauper.
I han gar gif me my thrie fat ky againe.

Spr.
Fals carle to speik to me stands thou not aw?

Pau.
The feind resaue them that first devysit that law
Within an houre efter my dade was deid
The Vickar had my kow hard be the heid.

Person.
Fals huirsun carle I say that law is gude,
Becaus it hes bene lang our consuetude:

Pauper.
Quhen I am Paip that law I sal put doun
It is ane sair law for the pure commoun.

Spritu.
I mak an vow thay words thou sal repent.

Counsall.
I zow requyre my Lords be patient.
Wee came nocht heir for disputatiouns,
Wee came to make gude reformatiouns.
Heirfoir of this zour propositioun,
Conclude and put to executioun.

Mer.
My Lords conclud that al the tēporal lands
Be set in few to laboreris with thair hands.
With sic restrictiouns as sall be devysit,
That thay may liue and nocht to be supprysit.
With ane ressonabill augmentatioun,
And quhen thay heir ane proclamatioun:
That the Kings grace dois mak him for the weir,
That thay be reddie with harneis, bow and speir.
As for my self my Lord this I conclude.

Coun.
Sa say we all zour ressoun be sa gude.
To mak ane Act on this we ar content:

Iohne.
On that sir Scribe I tak ane instrument.
Quhat do ze of the corspresent and kow?

Counsall.
I wil conclude nathing of that as now
Without my Lord of Spiritualitie,
Thairto consent with all this haill cleargie.
My Lord Bischop will ze thairto consent?

Spri.
Na, na, never till the day of Iudgement.
Wee will want nathing that wee haue in vse,
Kirtil nor kow, teind lambe, reind gryse nor guse.

Tem.
Forsuith my lord I think we suld conclude,
Seing this kow ze haue in consuetude:
Wee will decerne heir that the Kings grace,
Sall wryte vnto the Paipis holines:
With his consent be proclamatioun,
Baith corspresent and cow wee sall cry doun.

Spiri.
To that my Lords wee plainlie disassent,
Noter thairof I tak ane instrument.

Tē.
My lord be him that al the warld hes wrocht,
Wee set nocht by quhider ze consent or nocht:
Ze ar bot ane estait and we ar twa,
Et vbi maior par sibi tota.

Ioh.
My lords ze haif richt prudentlie concludit,
Tak tent now how the land is clein denudit:
Of gould and silver quhilk daylie gais to Rome,
For buds, mair then the rest of Christindome.
War I ane King sir be coks passioun,
I sould gar mak ane proclamatioun.
That never ane penny sould go to Rome at all,
Na mair then did to Peter nor to Paull.
Do ze nocht sa, heir for conclusioun
I gifzow all my braid black malesoun.

Merchant.
It is of treuth sirs, be my christindome;
That mekil of our money gais to Rome.
For we merchants I wait within our bounds,
Hes furneist Preists ten hundreth thowsand punds.
For thair finnance, nane knawis sa weill as wee:
Thairfoir my Lords devyse sum remedie.
For throw thir playis and thir promotioun,
Mair for denners nor for devotioun.
Sir Symonie hes maid with them ane band,
The gould of weicht thay leid out of the land.
The Common-weil, thair throch bein sair opprest
Thairfoir devyse remeid as ze think best.

Counsell.
It is schort tyme sen ony benefice,
VVas sped in Rome except greit Bischopries.
Bot now for ane vnworthie Vickarage,
Ane Preist will rin to Rome in Pilgramage.
Ane cavell quhilk was never at the scule,
Will rin to Rome and keip ane Bischops mule:
And syne cum hame with mony colorit crack,
With ane buirdin of benefices on his back.
Quhilk bene against the, law ane man alane,
For till posses ma benefices nor ane.
Thir greit commends I say withoutin faill,
Sould nocht be giuen bot to the blude Royall:
Sa I conclude my Lords and sayis for me,
Ze sould annull all this pluralitie.

Spritualitie.
The Paip hes giuen vs dispensatiouns:

Counsall.
Zea that is be zour fals narratiouns.
Thocht the Paip for zour pleasour will dispence,
I trow that can nocht cleir zour conscience.
Advyse my Lords quhat ze think to conclude,

Temporalitie.
Sir be my faith I think it verie gude,
That fra hence furth na Preistis sall pas to Rome.
Becaus our substance thay do still consume.
For pleyis and for thair profeit singulair,
Thay haif of money maid this realme bair.
And a's I think it best be my advyse,
That ilk Preist sall haif bot ane benefice.
And gif thay keip nocht that fundatioun,
It sall becaus of deprivatioun.

Merchant.
As ze haif said my Lord we wil consent,
Scribe mak ane act on this incontinent.

Couns.
My Lords, thair is ane thing zit vnproponit
How Prelats and Preistis aucht to be disponit:
This be and done wee haue the les ado;
Quhat say ze sirs? this is my counsall lo:
That or wee end this present Parliament,
Of this mater to tak rype advysement.
Mark weill my Lords, thair is na benefice
Giuen to ane man, bot for ane gude office.
Quha taks office and syne thay can nocht vsit,
Giuer and taker I say ar baith abusit.
Ane Bischops office is for to be ane preichour,
And of the law of God ane publick teachour.
Rycht sa the Persone vnto his parochoun,
Of the Evangell sould leir them ane lessoun.
Thair sould na man desyre sic dignities,
Without he be abill for that office.
And for that caus, I say without leising,
Thay haue thair teinds, and for na vther thing.

Sp.
Freind quhair find ze that we suld prechours be

Coun.
Luik quhat Sanct Paul wryts vnto Timothie
Tak thair the Buik let se gif ze can spell.

Spritual.
I never red that, thairfoir reid it zour sel,

Counsall
sall read thir wordis on ane Buik.

Fidelis sermo, siquis Episcopatum desiderat, bonum opus desiderat,
oporteteum irreprehensibilem esse, vnius vxoris virum, sobrium,
prudentem, ornatum, pudicum, hospitalem doctorem: non vinolentum,
non percussorem: sed modestum.

Spiritualitie.
Ze temporall men be him that heryit hell,
Ze ar ovir peart with sik maters to mell.

Temporalitie.
Sit still my Lord, ze neid not for til braull,
Thir ar the verie words of th'Apostill Paull.

Spir.
Sum sayis be him that woare the croun of thorne,
It had bene gude that Paull had neir bene borne.

Counsal.
Bot ze may knaw my Lord Sanct Pauls intent,
Schir red ze never the Newtestament?

Spiritualitie.
Na sir, be him that our Lord Iesus sauld,
I red never the New testament nor auld.
Nor ever thinks to do sir be the Rude,
I heir freiris say that reiding dois na gude.

Counsell.
Till zow to reid them I think it is na lack,
For anis I saw them baith bund on zour back:
That samin day that ze was consecrat,
Sir, quhat meinis that?

Spiritualitie.
The feind stick them that wat.

Merchant.
Then befoir God how can ze be excusit?
To haif ane office and waits not how to vsit.
Quhairfoir war gifin zow all the temporal lands?
And all thir teinds ze haif amang zour hands.
Thay war giuin zow for vther causses I weine,
Nor mummil matins and hald zour clayis cleine.
Ze say to the Appostils that ze succeid,
Bot ze schaw nocht that into word nor deid.
The law is plaine: our teinds suld furnisch teichours:

Couns.
Zea that it sould, or susteine prudent preichours.

Pauper.
Sir God nor I be stickit with ane knyfe,
Gif ever our Persoun preichit in all his lyfe.

Persone.
Quhat devil raks the of our preiching vndocht?

Pauper.
Think ze that ze suld haue the teinds for nocht?

Persone.
Trowis thou to get remeid carle of that thing?

Pauper.
Zea be Gods breid richt sone war I ane King.

Persone.
Wald thou of Prelats mak deprivatioun?

Pauper.
Na I suld gar them keip thair fundatioun,
Quhat devill is this, quhom of sould Kings stand aw?
To do the thing that thay sould be the law.
War I ane King be coks deir passioun,
I sould richt sone mak reformatioun.
Failzeand thair of zour grace sould richt sone finde,
That Preists sall leid zow lyke ane bellie blinde.

Iohne.
Quhat gif King David war leiuand in thir dayis?
The quhilk did found sa mony gay Abayis:
Or out of heavin quhat gif he luikit doun?
And saw the great abominatioun:
Amang thir Abesses and thir Nunries,
Thair publick huirdomes and thair harlotries,
He wald repent he narrowit sa his bounds,
Of zeir lie rent thriescoir of thowsand pounds.
His successours maks litill ruisse I ges,
Of his devotioun or of his holines.

Abbasse.
How dar thou carle presume for to declair,
Or for to mell the with sa heich a mater?
For in Scotland thair did zit it never ring,
I let the wit ane mair excellent King.
Of holines he was the verie plant,
And now in heavin he is ane michtfull Sanct.
Becaus that fyftein Abbasies he did found,
Quhair throw great riches hes ay done abound
Into our Kirk and daylie zit abunds,
Bot kings now I trow few Abbasies founds.
I dar weill say thou art condempnit in hel,
That dois presume with sic maters to mell.
Fals huirsun carle thou art ovir arrogant,
To iudge the deids of sic ane halie Sanct.

Iohne.
King Iames the first Roy of this Regioun,
Said that he was ane sair Sanct to the croun.
I heir men say tha the was sumthing blind,
That gaue away mair nor he left behind.
His successours that halines did repent,
Quhilk gart them do great inconvenient.

Abbas.
My Lord Bishop I mervel how that ze,
Suffer this carle for to speik heresie?
For be my faith my Lord will ze tak tent,
He servis for to be brunt incontinent.
Ze can nocht say bot it is heresie,
To speik against our law and libertie.

Spiritualitie.
Sancte pater I mak zow supplicatioun,
Exame zon carle, syne mak his dilatioun:
I mak ane vow to God omnipotent,
That bystour salbe brunt incontinent.
Venerabill father I sall do zour command,
Gif he seruis deid I sall sune vnderstand.
Pausa.
Fals huirsun carle schaw furth thy faith,

Iohne.
Me think ze speik as ze war wraith,
To zow I will nathing declair,
For ze ar nocht my ordinair.

Flat.
Quhom in trowis thou fals monster mangit?

Iohne.
I trow to God to se the hangit:
War I ane King be coks passioun,
I sould gar mak ane congregatioun,
Of all the freirs of the four ordouris,
And mak zow vagers on the bordours.
Schir will ze giue me audience,
And I sall schaw zour excellence:
Sa that zour grace will giue me leife
How into God that I beleife.

Corr.
Schaw furth zour faith and feinze nocht.

Iohne.
I beleife in God that all hes wrocht,
And creat everie thing of nocht.
And in his Son our Lord Iesu,
Incarnat of the Virgin trew:
Quha vnder Pilat tholit passioun,
And deit for our Salvatioun.
And on the thrid day rais againe,
As halie scriptour schawis plane.
And als my Lord it is weill kend,
How he did to the heavin ascend:
And set him doun at the richt hand,
Of God the father I vnderstand.
And sall cum iudge on Dumisday,
Quhat will ze mair sir that I say?

Correctioun
Schawfurth the rest, this is na game.

Iohne.
I trow Sanctam Ecclesiam,
Bot nocht in thir Bischops nor thir Freirs,
Quhilk will for purging of thir neirs.
Sard vp the ta raw and doun the vther,
The mekill Devill resaue the fidder.

Correctioun.
Say quhat ze will sirs be Sanct Tan,
Methink Iohne ane gude Christian man.

Temporalitie.
My Lords let be zour disputatioun,
Conclude with firme deliberaioun.
How Prelats fra thyne sall be disponit:

Merch.
I think for me evin as ze first proponit.
That the Kings grace sall gif na benefice,
Bot till ane peichour that can vse that office.
The sillie sauls that bene Christis scheip,
Sould nocht be givin to gormand wolfis to keip.
Quhat bene the caus of all the heresies,
Bot the abusioun of the prelacies?
Thay will correct and will nocht be correctit:
Think and to na prince thay will be subiectit.
Quhairfoir I can find na better remeid,
Bot that thir kings man take it in thair heid.
That thair be giuen to na man bischopries,
Except thay preich out throch thair diosies.
And ilk persone priech in his parochon,
And this I say for finall conclusion.

Tempora.
Wee think zour counsall is verie gude,
As ze haue said wee all conclude.
Of this conclusioun Noter wee mak ane act:

Scrybe.
I wryte all day bot gets never ane plack.

Pauper.
Och, my Lords for the halie Trinitie,
Remember to reforme the consistorie.
It hes mair neid of reformatioun,
Nor Ploutois court sir be coks passioun.

Pers.
Quhat caus hes thou fals pellour for to pleinze
Quhair was ze ever summond to thair seinze?

Pa.
Marie I lent my gossop my mear to fecth hame coills
And he hir drounit into the querrell hollis.
And I ran to the Consistorie for to pleinze,
And thair I happinit amang ane greidie meinze.
Thay gaue me first ane thing thay call citandum,
Within aucht dayis I gat bot lybellandum,
Within ane moneth I gat ad opponendum,
In half ane zeir I gat interloquendum,
And syne I gat, how call ze it? ad replicandum:
Bot I could never ane word zit vnderstand him.
And than thay gart me cast out many plackis,
And gart me pay for four and twentie actis.
Bot or thay came half gait to concludendum,
The feind ane plack was left for to defend him.
Thus thay postponit me twa zeir with thair traine,
Syne hodie ad octo bad me cum againe.
And than thir ruiks thay roupit wonder fast,
For sentence silver thay cryit at the last.
Of pronunciandum thay maid me wonder faine,
Bot I gat never my gude gray meir againe.

Temp.
My Lords we mon reforme thir consistory lawis,
Quhais great defame aboue the heavins blawis.
I wist ane man in persewing ane kow,
Or he had done he spendit half ane bow.
Sa that the kings honour wee may avance,
Wee will conclude, as thay haue done in France.
Let Sprituall maters pas to Spritualitie,
And Temporall maters to Temporalitie.
Quha failzeis of this sall cost them of thair gude,
Scribe mak ane act, for sa wee will conclude.

Spritualitie.
That act my Lords plainlie I will declair,
It is againis our profeit singulair.
Wee will nocht want our profeit be Sanct Geill.

Temporalitie.
Zour profeit is against the Common weil
It salbe done my Lords as ze haue wrocht,
We cure nocht quhidder ze consent or nocht.
Quhairfoir servis then all thir Temporall Iudges?
Gif temporall maters sould seik at zow refuges.
My Lord ze say that ze ar Sprituall,
Quhairfoir mell ze than with things temporall?
As we haue done conclude sa sall it stand,
Scribe put our Acts in ordour evin fra hand.

Spritualitie.
Till all zour acts plainlie I disassent,
Notar thairof I tak ane instument.

Heir sall Veritie and Chastitis mak thair plaint at the baz.
Veritie.
My Soverane I beseik zour excellence,
Vse Iustice on Spritualitie:
The qubilk to vs hes done great violence,
Becaus we did rehers the veritie.
Thay put vs close into Captivitie,
And sa remanit into subiectioun:
Into great langour and calamitie,
Till we war fred be King Correctioun.

Chast.
My lord I half great caus for to complaine,
I could get na Iudging intill this land:
The Spirituall stait had me sa at disdane,
With Dame Sensuall thay haue maid sic ane band.
Amang them all na freindschip sirs I fand,
And quhen I came the nobill innis amang,
My lustie Ladie Priores fra hand:
Out of hir dortour durlie scho me dang.

Veritie.
With the advyse sir of the Parliament,
Hairtlie we mak zow supplicatioun:
Cause King Correctioun tak incontinent,
Of all this sort examinatioun.
Gif thay be digne of deprivatioun,
Ze haue power for to correct sic cases:
Chease the maist cunning Clerks of this natioun,
And put mair prudent pastours in thair places.
My prudent Lords I say that pure craftsmen,
Abuse sum Prelats ar mair for to commend:
Gar exame them and saze sall sune ken,
How thay in vertew Bischops dois transcend.

Scribe.
Thy life and craft mak to thir Kings kend,
Quhat craft hes thow declair that to me plaine?

Tail.
Ane tailzour sir that can baith mak and mend:
I wait nane better into Dumbartane.

Scri.
Quhairfoir of tailzeours beirs thou the styl?

Tailzeour.
Becaus I wait is nane within ane myll,
Can better vse that craft as I suppois:
For I can mak baith doublit coat and hois.

Scri.
How cal thay zou sir with the schaiping knife?

Sowtar.
Ane sowtar sir, nane better into Fyfe.

Scribe.
Tel me quhairfoir ane sowtar ze ar namit?

Sowtar.
Of that surname I neid nocht be aschamit.
For I can mak schone brotekins and buittis,
Gif me the coppie of the Kings cuittis.
And ze sall se richt sune quhat I can do:
Heir is my lasts and weill wrocht ledder lo.

Couns.
O Lord my God this is an mervelous thing
How sic misordour in this Realme sould ring.
Sowtars and tailzeours thay ar far mair expert
In thair pure craft and in thair handie art,
Nor ar our Prelatis in thair vocatioun:
I pray zow sirs mak reformatioun.

Verit.
Alace, alace, quhat gars thir temporal Kings
Into the Kirk of Christ admit sic doings?
My Lords for lufe of Christs passioun,
Of thir ignorants mak depriuatioun.
Quhilk in the court can do bot flatter and fleich,
And put into thair places that can preich.
Send furth and seik sum devoit cunning Clarks,
That can steir vp the peopill to gude warks.

Correctioun.
As ze haue done Madame I am content,
Hoaw Diligence pas hynd incontinent.
And seik out throw all towns and cities:
And visie all the vniversities.
Bring vs sum Doctours of Divinitie.
VVith licents in the law and Theologie.
VVith the maist cunning Clarks in all this land,
Speid sune zour way and bring them heir fra hand.

Diligence.
Quhat gif I find sum halie provinciall?
Or minister of the gray freiris all?
Or ony freir that can preich prudentlie,
Sall I bring them with me in cumpanie?

Correction.
Cair thou nocht quhat estait sa ever he be,
Sa thay can teich and preich the veritie,
Maist cunning Clarks with vs is best beluifit,
To dignitie thay salbe first promuifit.
Quhidder thay be Munk, Channon, Preist or Freir,
Sa thay can preich faill nocht to bring them heir.

Diligence.
Than fair-weill sir, for I am at the flicht,
I pray the Lord to send zow all gude nicht.

Heir sall Diligence pas to the palzeoun.
Temporalitie.
Sir we beseik zour soverane celsitude,
Of our dochtours to haue compassioun:
Quhom wee may na way marie be the Rude,
Without wee mak sum alienatioun
Of our land for thair supportatioun,
For quhy? the markit raisit bene sa hie
That Prelats dochtours of this natioun,
Ar maryit with sic superfluitie:
Thay will nocht spair to gif twa thowsand pound.
With thair dochtours to ane nobill man:
In riches sa thay do superabound.
Bot we may nocht do sa be Sanct Allane,
Thir proud Prelats our dochters sair may ban;
That thay remaine at hame sa lang vnmaryit:
Schir let zour Barrouns do the best thay can.
Sum of our dochtours I dreid salbe miscary it.

Correct.
My Lord zour complaint is richt ressonabill,
And richt sa to our dochtours profitabill:
I think or I pas asf this natioun,
Of this mater till mak reformatioun.

Heir sall enter common thift.
Thift.
Ga by the gait man, let me gang,
How Devill came I into this thrang:
VVith sorrow I may sing my sang,
And I be taine:
For I haue run baith nicht and day,
Throw speid of fut I gat away,
Gif I be kend heir, wallaway
I will be slaine.

Pauper.
Quhat is thy name man be thy thrift?

Thift.
Huirsun thay call me common thift:
For quhy I had na vther schift,
Sen I was borne,
In Eusdaill was my dwelling place,
Mony ane wyfe gart I cry alace:
At my hand thay gat never grace,
Bot ay forlorne.
Sum say is ane king is cum amang vs,
That purposis to head and hang vs:
Thair is na grace gif he may fang vs
Bot on an pin.
Ring he, we theifis will get na gude,
I pray God and the halie Rude,
He had bene smoird into his cude,
And all his kin.
Get this curst King me in his grippis,
My craig will wit quhat weyis my hippis:
The Devill I gif his toung and lippis,
That of me tellis:
Adew I dar na langer tarie:
For be I kend thay will me carie,
And put me in ane fierie farie,
I se nocht ellis.
I raise be him that herryit hell,
I had almaist forzet my sell:
Will na gude fallow to me tell,
Quhair I may finde
The Earle of Rothus best haiknay,
That was my earand heir away:
He is richt starck as I heir say
And swift as winde.
Heir is my brydill and my spurris,
To gar him lance ovir land and furris:
Micht I him get to Ewis durris, I tak na cuir:
Of that hors micht I get ane sicht,
I haife na doubt zit or midnicht,
That he and I sould tak the flicht
Throch Dysert mure.
Of cumpanarie tell me brother,
Quhilk is the richt way to the Strother,
I wald be welcum to my mother,
Gif I micht speid:
I wald gif baith my coat and bonet,
To get my Lord Lindesayis broun Ionet:
War he bezond the watter of Annet,
We sould nocht dreid.
Quhat now Oppressioun my maister deir?
Quhat mekill Devill hes brocht zow heir?
Maister tell me the caus perqueir,
Quhat is that ze haue done?

Oppressioun.
Forsuith the kings maiestie,
Hes set me heir as ze may se:
Micht I speik Temporalitie,
He wald me releife sone.
I beseik zow my brother deir,
Bot halfe ane houre for to sit heir:
Ze knaw that I was never sweir,
Zow to defend:
Put in zour leg into my place,
And heir I sweir be Gods grace,
Zow to releife within schort space,
Syne let zow wend.

Thift.
Than maister deir gif me zour hand,
And mak to me ane faithfull band,
That ze sall cum agane fra hand
Withoutin faill:

Oppressioun.
Tak thair my hand richt faithfullie
Als I promit the verelie,
To gif to the ane cuppill of kye
In Liddisdaill. Thift puts his legs in the stockis.

Haif I nocht maid ane honest schift,
That hes betrasit common Thift?
For thair is nocht vnder the list,
Ane curster cors:
I am richt sure that he and I,
Within this halzeir craftely
Hes stolne ane thowsand scheip and ky,
By meiris and hors.
Wald God I war baith sound and haill,
Now liftit into Liddisdaill
The Mers sould find me beif and kaill,
Quhat rak of bread:
War I thair liftit with my lyfe,
The Devill sould stick me with ane knyfe
And ever I come againe to Fyfe,
Quhill I war dead.
Adew I leife the Devill amang zow,
That in his fingers he may fang zow:
With all leill men that dois belang zow,
For I may rew:
That ever I came into this land,
For quhy ze may weill vnderstand,
I gat na geir to turne my hand:
Zit anis adew.

Heir sall Diligence conuoy the thrie Clarks.
Dilig.
Sir, I haue brocht vnto zour Excellence,
Thir famous Clarks of greit intelligence:
For to the common peopill thay can preich,
And in the Scuilis in Latine toung can teich.
This is ane Doctour of Divinitie,
And thir twa Licents men of gravitie.
I heare men say thair conversatioun,
Is maist in Divine Contemplatioun.

Doctour.
Grace, peace and rest from the hie Trinitie,
Mot rest amang this godlie cumpanie:
Heir ar we cumde as zour obedients,
For to fulfill zour iust commandements.
Quhat euir it please zour Grace vs to command,
Sir, it sall be obeyit euin fra-hand.

Rex.
Gud freinds ze ar richt welcome to vs all,
Sit doun all thrie and geif vs zour counsall.

Cor.
Sir I giue zow baith counsal & cōmand,
In zour office vse exercitioun:
First that ze gar search out throch all zour land,
Quha can nocht put to executioun
Thair office efter the institutioun,
Of godlie law is, conforme to thair vocatioun:
Put in thair places men of gude conditioun,
And this ze do without dilatioun.
Ze ar the head sir of this congregatioun,
Preordinat be God omnipotent:
Quhilk hes me send to mak zow supportatioun,
Into the quhilk I salbe diligent.
And quha saever beis inobedient,
And will nocht suffer for to be correctit,
Thay salbe all deposit incontinent,
And from zour presence they sall be deiectit.

Counsall.
Begin first at the Spritualitie,
And tak of them examinatioun,
Gif they can vse their divyne dewetie,
And als I mak zow supplicatioun,
All thay that hes thair offices misvsit,
Of them make haistie depriuatioun:
Sa that the peopill be na mair abusit.

Correctioun.
Ze ar ane Prince of Spritualitie.
How haue ze vsit zour office now let se?

Spi.
My lords quhen was thair ony Prelats wont,
Of thair office till ony King mak count?
Bot of my office gif ze wald haue the feill,
I let zow with I haue it vsit weill.
For I tak in my count twyse in the zeir,
Wanting nocht of my teind ane boll of beir.
I gat gude payment of my Temporall lands,
My buttock-maill, my coattis and my offrands,
With all that dois perteine my benefice,
Consider now my Lord gif I be wyse.
I dar nocht marie contrair the common law,
Ane thing thair is my Lord that ze may knaw.
Howbeit I dar nocht plainlie spouse ane wyfe,
Zit Concubeins I haue had four our fyfe.
And to my sons I haue giuin rich rewairds,
And all my dochters maryit vpon lairds.
I let zow wit my Lord I am na fuill,
For quhy I ryde vpon ane amland Muill.
Thair is na Temporall Lord in all this land,
That maks sic cheir I let zow vnderstand.
And als my Lord I gif with gude intentioun,
To divers Temporall Lords ane zeirlie pensioun
To that intent that thay with all thair hart,
In richt and wrang sal plainlie tak my part.
Now haue I tauld zow sir on my best ways,
How that I haue exercit my office.

Cor.
I weindzour office had bene for til preich,
And Gods law to the peopill teich,
Quhairfoir weir ze that mytour ze me tell?

Spiritu.
I wat nocht man be him that herryit hel

Cor.
That dois betakin that ze with gude intent,
Sould teich & preich the auld & Newtestament

Spritu.
I haue ane freir to preiche into my place,
Of my office ze heare na mair quhill Pasche.

Chastitie.
My Lords this Abbot and this Priores
Thay scorne thair gods, this is my reason quhy,
Thay beare an habite of feinzeit halines,
And in thair deid thay do the contrary:
For to liue chaist thay vow solemnitly,
Bot fra that thay be sikker of thair bowis
Thay liue in huirdome and in harlotry,
Examine them Sir, how thay obserue thair vowis.

Correctioun.
Sir Scribe ze sall at Chastities requeist
Pas and exame zon thrie in gudlie haist.

Scribe.
Father Abbot this counsall bids me speir,
How ze haue vsit zour Abbay thay wald heir.
And als thir Kings hes giuin to me commissioun,
Of zour office for to mak inquisitioun.

Abbot.
Tuiching my office I say to zow plainlie,
My Monks and I, we leif richt easelie:
Thair is na Monks from Carrick to Carraill
That fairs better and drinks mair helsum Aill.
My Prior is ane man of great devotioun:
Thairfoir daylie he gets ane double portioun.

Scrib.
My Lords how haue ze keipt zour thrie vows

Abbas.
Indeid richt weill till I gat hame my bows,
In my Abbay quhen I was sure professour,
Then did I leife as did my predecessour.
My paramours is baith als fat and fair,
As ony wench into the toun of Air.
I send my sons to Pareis to the scullis,
I traist in God that thay salbe na fuillis,
And all my douchters I haue weill providit,
Now iudge ze gif my office be weill gydit.

Scr.
Maister Person schaw vs gif ze can preich?

Per.
Thocht I preich not I can play at the caiche:
I wait thair is nocht ane amang zow all,
Mair ferilie can play at the fut-ball:
And for the carts the tabils and the dyse,
Aboue all persouns I may beir the pryse.
Our round bonats we mak them now four nuickit
Of richt fyne stuiff gif zow list cum and luikit.
Of my office I haue declarit to the,
Speir quhat ze pleis, ze get na mair of me.

Scribe.
Quhat say ze now my Ladie Priores?
How haue ze vsit zour office can ze ges?
Quhat was the caus ze refusit harbrie?
To this zoung lustie Ladie Chastitie.

Prio.
I wald haue harborit hir with gude intent,
Bot my complexioun thairto wald not assent:
I do my office efter auld vse and wount,
To zour Parliament I will mak na mair count.

Veritie.
Now caus sum of zour cunning Clarks
Quhilk ar expert in heavinlie warks,
And men fulfillit with charitie
That can weill preiche the veritie,
And gif to sum of them command
Ane sermon for to make fra-hand.

Correction.
As ze haue said I am content,
To gar sum preich incontinent.
Pausa.
Magister noster I ken how ze can teiche,
Into the scuillis and that richt ornatlie:
I pray zow now that ze wald please to preiche,
In Inglisch toung, land folk to edifie.

Doctour.
Soverane I sall obey zow humblilie,
With ane schort sermon presentlie in this place:
And schaw the word of God vnfeinzeitlie,
And sinceirlie as God will giue me grace.
Heir sall the Doctour pas to the pulpit and say.
Sivis ad vitam ingredi serva mandata.
Devoit peopill Sanct Paull the preichour sayis,
The fervent luife and fatherlie pitie,
Quhilk God almichtie hes schawin mony wayis
To man in his corrupt fragilitie,
Exceids all luife in earth, sa far that we
May never to God mak recompence conding
As quha sa lists to reid the veritie,
In halie Scripture he may find this thing.
Sic Deus dilexit mundum.
Tuiching nathing the great prerogatiue,
Quhilk God to man in his creatioun lent:
How man of nocht creat superlatiue
Was to the Image of God omnipotent
Let vs consider that speciall luife ingent,
God had to man quhen our foir father fell,
Drawing vs all in his loynis immanent,
Captive from gloir in thirlage to the hel.
Quhen Angels fell, thair miserabil ruyne
Was never restorit: bot for our miserie,
The Sun of God secund persone divyne,
In ane pure Virgin tuke humanitie:
Syne for our saik great harmis suffered he
In fasting, walking, in preiching cauld and heit,
And at the last ane schamefull death deit he,
Betwix twa theifis on Croce he zeild the Spreit:
And quhair an drop of his maist precious blude
Was recompence sufficient and conding,
Ane thowsand warlds to ransoun from that wod
Infernall feind, Sathan, notwithstanding
He luifit vs sa, that for our ransoning,
He sched furth all the blude of his bodie,
Riven rent and sair wondit quhair he did hing,
Naild on the Croce on the Mont Calvary.
Et copiosa apud eum redemptio.
O cruell death, be the the venemous
Dragon, the Devill infernall lost his pray:
Be the the stinkand, mirk, contageous,
Deip pit of hell mankynd escaipit fray.
Be the the port of Paradice alsway
Was patent maid vnto the heavin sa hie:
Opinnit to man and maid ane reddie way,
To gloir eternall with th'haly Trinitie.
And zit for all this luife incomparabill,
God askis na rewaird fra vs againe
Bot luife for luife: in his command but fabill,
Conteinit ar all haill the lawis ten:
Baith ald and new and commandements ilk ane,
Luife bene the ledder quhilk hes bot steppis twa:
Be quhilk we may clim vp to lyfe againe,
Out of this vaill of miserie and wa.
Diliges Dominum Deum tuum ex toto corde tuo & proximum tuum sicut teipsum: in his duobus mandatis. &c.
The first step suithlie of this ledder is,
To luife thy God as the fontaine and well
Of luife and grace: and the secund I wis,
To luife thy nichtbour as thou luifis thy sell.
Quha tynis ane stop of thir twa gais to hel,
Bot he repent and turne to Christ anone,
Hauld this na fabill, the halie Evangell
Bears in effect thir words everie one.
Sivis ad vitam ingredi serva mandata Dei.
Thay tyne thir steps all thay quha ever did sin,
In pryde invy, in ire and lecherie:
In covetice or ony extreme win,
Into sweirnes or into gluttonie.
Or Quha dois nocht the deids of mercie,
Gif hungrie meit and gif the naikit clayis.

Pers.
Now walloway thinks thouna schame to lie?
I trow the Devill a word is trew thou sayis:
Thou sayis thair is bot twa steppis to the heavin
Quha failzeis them man backwarts fall in hell,
I wait it is ten thowsand mylis and sevin
Gif it be na mair, I do it vpon thy sell.
Schort leggit men I se be Bryds bell,
Will nevir cum thair, thay steppis bene sa wyde.
Gif thay be the words of the Evangell,
The Sprituall men hes mister of ane gyde.

Abbot.
And I beleif that cruikit men and blinde,
Sall neuer get vp vpon sa hich ane ledder:
By my gude faith I dreid to ly behinde,
Without God draw me vp into ane tedder.
Quhat and I fal, than I will break my bledder:
And I cum thair this day the Devill speid me:
Except God make me lichter nor ane fedder,
Or send me doun gude Widcok wingis to flie.

Persone.
Cum doun dastart and gang sell draiff,
I vnderstand nocht quhat thow said.
Thy word, war nather corne nor caiff,
I wald thy toung againe war laide.
Quhair thou sayis pryde is deidlie sin,
I say pryde is bot honestie.
And Covetice of warldlie win
Is bot wisdome, I say for me.
Ire, hardines and gluttonie,
Is nathing ellis but lyfis fude:
The naturall sin of lecherie
Is bot trew luife, all thir ar gude.

Doctor.
God and the Kirk hes giuin command,
That all gude Christian men refuse them:

Persone.
Bot war thay sin I vnderstand,
We men of Kirk wald never vse them.

Doctour.
Brother I pray the Trinitie,
Zour faith and charitie to support:
Causand zow knaw the veritie,
That ze zour subiects may comfort.
To zour prayers peopill I recommend,
The rewlars of this nobill regioun:
That our Lord God his grace mot to them send,
On trespassours to mak punitioun.
Prayand to God from feinds zow defend,
And of zour sins to gif zow full remissioun:
I say na mair, to God I zow commend.

Heir Diligence spyis the freir round and to the Prelate
Dili.
My lords, I persaue that the Spirituall stait,
Be way of deid purpois to mak debait:
For be the counsall of zon flattrand freir,
Thay purpois to mak all this toun on steir.

First Licent.
Traist ze that thay wilbe inobedient,
To that quhilk is decreitit in Parliament?

Diligen.
Thay se the Paip with awfull ordinance
Makis weir against the michtie King of France:
Richt sa thay think that prelats suld nocht sunzie
Be way of deid defend thair patrimonie.

First Lice.
I pray the brother gar me vnderstand,
Quhair ever Christ possessit ane fut of land.

Diligence.
Zea that he did father withoutin fail,
For Christ Iesus was King of Israell.

Fir. Li.
I grant that christ was king abufe al kings
Bot he mellit never with temporall things:
As he hes plainlie done declair him sell,
As thou may reid in his halie Evangell.
Birds hes thair nests, and tods hes thair den,
Bot Christ Iesus the Saviour of men
In all this warld hes nocht ane penny braid,
Quhair on he may repois his heavinlie head.

Diligence.
And is that trew?—


Zes brother be Alhallows:
Christ Iesus had na propertie bot the gallows.
And left not quhen he zeildit vp the Spreit,
To by himself ane simpill winding scheit.

Diligence.
Christs successours I vnderstand,
Thinks na schame to haue temporall land.
Father thay haue na will I zow assure,
In this warld to be indigent and pure:
Bot sir sen ze ar callit sapient,
Declair to me the caus with trew intent:
Quhy that my lustie Ladie Veritie,
Hes nocht bene weill treatit in this cuntrie?

Batcheler.

First Serge.
Sir pleis ze that we twa invaid them,
And ze sall se vs sone degraid them,
Of coill and chaplarie?

Correctioun.
Pas on I am richt weill content,
Syne banische them incontinent
Out of this cuntrie.

First Sergeant.
Cum on sir freir and be nocht fleyit,
The King our maister mon be obeyit,
Bot ze sall haue na harme:
Gif ze wald travell fra toun to toun,
I think this hude and heauie goun
Will hald zour wambe ovir warme.

Flat. Freir.
Now quhat is this that thir monster meins?
I am exemptit fra Kings and Queens,
And fra all humane law:

Secund Sergeant.
Tak ze the hude and I the gown,
This limmer luiks als lyke ane lown,
As any that ever I saw.

First Sergeant.
Thir freirs to chaip punitioun,
Haulds them at their exemptioun,
And na man will obey:
Thay ar exempt I zow assure,
Baith fra Paip, kyng and Empreour,
And that maks all the pley.

Secund Sergeant.
On Dumisday quhen Christ sall say
Venite benedicti:
The Freirs will say without delay
Nos sumus exempts.

Heir sall thay spuilze Flattrie of the Freirs habite:
Gude-counsell.
Sir be the halie Trinitie,
This same is feinzeit Flattrie,
I ken him be his face:
Beleiuand for to get promotioun,
He said that his name was Devotioun,
And sa begylit zour grace,

First Sergeant.
Cum on my Ladie Priores,
We sall leir zow to dance:
And that within ane lytill space,
Ane new pavin of France.
Heir sall thay spuilze the Priores and scho sall haue ane kirtill of silk vnder hir habite.
Now brother be the Masse,
Be my iudgement I think
This halie Priores
Is turnit in ane cowclink.

Priores.
I gif my freinds my malisoun,
That me compellit to be ane Nun
And wald nocht let me marie:
It was my freinds greadines,
That gart me be ane Priores,
Now hartlie them I warie.
Howbeit that Nunnis sing nichts and dayis,
Thair hart waitis nocht quhat thair mouth sayis
The suith I zow declair:
Makand zow intimatioun,
To Christis congregatioun,
Nunnis ar nocht necessair.
Bot I sall do the best I can,
And marie sum gude honest man,
And brew gude aill and tun:
Mariage be my opinioun,
It is better Religoun,
As to be freir or Nun.

Flat. fre.
My Lords for Gods saik let not hang me
Howbeit that widdiefows wald wrang me
I can mak na debait:
To win my meat at pleuch nor harrowis,
Bot I sall help to hang my marrowis,
Baith Falset and Dissait.

Correct.
Than pas thy way & greath the gallous
Syne help for to hang vp thy fellow is.
Thou gets na vther grace:
Of that office I am content,
Bot our Prelates I dread repent,
Be I fleimde from thair face.

Heir sall Flattrie sit besyde his marrowis.
Dissait.
Now Flattrie my auld companzeoun,
Quhat dois zon King Correctioun?
Knawis thou nocht his intent?
Declair to vs of thy novellis:
Ze'ile all be hangit, I se nocht ellis,
And that incontinent.

Dissait.
Now walloway will ze gar hang vs?
The Devill brocht zon curst king amang vs,
For mekill sturt and stryfe:

Flattrie.
I had bene put to deid amang zow,
War nocht I tuke on hand till hang zow,
And sa I saisit my lyfe.
I heir them say thay will cry doun,
All freirs and Nunnis in this Regioun,
Sa far as I can feill:
Becaus thay ar nocht necessair,
And als thay think thay ar contrair,
To Iohne the common-weill.

Heir sal the Kings and the temporal start round togider.
Correcti.
With the advice of King Humanitie,
Heir I determine with rype advysement,
That all thir Prelats sall deprivit be,
And be decreit of this present Paliament,
That thir thrie cunning Clarks sapient
Immediatlie thair places sall posses:
Becaus that thay haue bene sa negligent,
Suffring the word of God for till decres.

Rex Hu.
As ze haue said but dout it salbe done,
Pas to and mak this interchainging sone.

The Kings servants lay hands on the thrie prelats & says.
Wanton.
My Lords we pray zow to be patient,
For we will do the Kings commandement.

Spritualitie.
I mak ane vow to God and ze vs handill,
Ze sallbe curst and gragit with buik and candill:
Syne we sall pas vnto the Paip and pleinzie,
And to the Devill of hell condemne this meinze.
For quhy sic reformatioun as I weine
Into Scotland was never hard nor seine.

Heir sal thay spuilze them with silence and put thair habite on the thrie Clarks.
Meachant,
We mervell of zow paintit sepulturis,
That was sa bauld for to accept sic cuiris.
VVith glorious habite rydand vpon zour Muillis,
Now men may se ze ar bot verie fuillis.

Sprituali.
We say the Kings war greiter fuillis nor we
That vs promovit to sa greit dignitie.

Abbot.
Thair is ane thowsand in the kirk but doubt,
Sic fuillis as we gif thay war weill socht out,
Now brother sen it may na better be,
Let vs ga soup with Sensualitie.

Heir sall thay pas to Sensualitie.
Spritua.
Madame I pray zow mak vs thrie gude cheir,
We cure nocht to remaine with zow all zeir.

Sensualitie.
Pas fra vs fuillis be him that hes vs wrocht
Ze ludge nacht heir, becaus I knw zow-nocht.

Spritualitie.
Sir Covetice will ze also misken me?
I wait richt weill ze wil baith gif and len me:
Speid hand my freind spair nocht to break the lockis,
Gif me ane thowsand crouns out of my box.

Covetice.
Quhairfoir sir suil gif zow ane thowsand crowns?
Ga hence ze seime to be thrie verie lowns.

Spritualitie.
Ise nocht els brother withoutin faill,
Bot this fals warld is turnit top ouir taill:
Sen all is vaine that is vnder the lift,
To win our meat we man make vther schift.
With our labour except we mak debait,
I dreid full sair we want baith drink and meat.

Persone.
Gif with our labour we man vs defend,
Then let vs gang quhair we war never kend.

Spritualitie.
I wyte thir freirs that I am thus abusit,
For by thair counsall I haue bene confusit.
Thay gart me trow it suffysit, allace,
To gar them plainlie preich into my place.

Abbot.
Allace, this reformatioun I nay warie,
For I haue zit twa dochters for to marie:
And thay ar baith contractit be the Rude,
And waits nocht how to pay thair tocher-gude.

Pers.
The Devill mak cair for this vnhappie chance,
For I am zoung and thinks to pas to France.
And tak wages amang the men of weir,
And win my living with my sword and speir.

The Bischop, Abbot, persone, and Priores depairts altogidder.
Gude-counsall.
Or ze depairt sir aff this Regioun,
Gif Iohne the common-weill ane gay garmoun:
Becaus the Common-weill hes bene overluikit,
That is the caus that Common weill is cruikit.
With singular profeit he hes bene sa supprysit,
That he is baith cauld, naikit and disgysit.

Correctioun.
Heir sal thay cleith Iohne the common-well gorgeouslie and set him doun amang them in the Parliament.
Pausa.

Heir sall Diligence with the Scribe and the trumpet pas to the pulpit and proclame the Actus.

The first Act.

Heir sall Pauper cum befoir the King and say.
Pauper.
I gif zow my braid bennesoun,
That hes givin Common-weill a goun:
I wald nocht for ane pair of plackis,
Ze had nocht maid this nobill Actis.
I pray to God and sweit Sanct Geill,
To gif zow grace to vse them weill:
Wer thay weill keip it I vnderstand,
It war great honour to Scotland.
It had bene als gude ze had sleip it,
As to mak acts and be nocht keip it:
Bot I bezeik zow for Alhallows,
To heid Dissait and hang his fellows.
And banische Flattrie aff the toun,
For thair was never sic ane loun.
That beand done I hauld it best,
That everie man ga to his rest.

Correctioun.
As thou hes said it salbe done,
Suyith Sergeants hang zon swingeours sone.

Heir sal the Sergeants lous the presoners out of the stocks and leid them to the gallows.
Frst Ser.
Cum heir sir Theif, cum heir, cum heir
Quhen waize wont to be sa sweit?
To hunt Cattell ze war ay speidie
Thairfoir ze sall weaue in ane widdie.

Thift.
Man I be hang it? allace, allace,
Is thair nane heir may get me grace?
Zit or I die gif me ane drink.

First Sergeant.
Fy huirsun carle I feil ane stink.

Thift.
Thocht I wald nocht that it wittin
Sir in gude faith I am bedirtin:
To wit the veritie gif ze pleis
Louse doun my hois put in zour neis.

First Segeant.
Thou art ane limmer I stand foird
Slip in thy head into this coird:
For thou had never ane meiter tippit,

Thift.
Pausa.

Fi. Serg.
Speid hand man with thy clitter clatter.

Thift.
For Gods saik sir let me mak watter.
Howbeit I haue bene cattel-gredie
It schamis to pische into ane widdie.

Heir sal Thift be drwin vp, or his sigour.
Secu. Serge.
Cum heir Dissait my companzeoun
Saw ever ane man lyker ane loun?
To hing vpon ane gallows:

Dissait.

Secund Sergeant.
Now in this halter slip thy hand,
Stand still, me think ze draw aback:

Dissait.
Allace maister ze hurt my crag,

Secund Sergeant.
It will hurt better I woid an plak,
Richt now quhen ze hing on ane knag.

Dissait.
Adew my maisters merchant men,
I haue zow servit as ze ken:
Truelie baith air and lait:
I say to zow for conclusioun,
I dreid ze gang to confusioun,
Fra tyme ze want Dissait.
I leirit zow merchants mony ane wyle,
Vpalands wyfis for to begyle,
Vpon ane markit day:
And gar them trow zour stuffe was gude,
Quhen it was rottin be the Rude,
And sweir it was nocht sway.
I was ay roundand in zour ear,
And leirit zow for to ban and sweir,
Quhat zour geir cost in France:
Howbeit the Devill ane word was trew,
Zour craft gif King Correctioun knew,
Wald turne zow to mischance.
I leirit zow wyllis many fauld,
To nix the new wyne and the auld,
That faschioun was na follie:
To sell richt deir and by gud-echaip,
And mix Ry-meill amang the saip,
And Saiffrone with Oyl-dolie.
Forzet nocht ocker I counsall zow,
Mair then the vicker dois the kow,
Or Lords thair doubill maill:
Howbeit zour elwand be too skant,
Or zour pound wecht thrie vnces want,
Think that bot lytill faill.
Adew the greit Clan Iamesone,
The blude Royal of Clappertoun,
I was ay to zow trew:
Baith Andersone and Patersone,
Above them all Thome Williamsone,
My absence ze will rew.
Thome Williamsone it is zour pairt,
To pray for me with all zour hairt,
And think vpon my warks:
How I leirit zow ane gude lessoun,
For to begyle in Edinburgh toun,
The Bischop and his Clarks.
Ze zoung merchants may cry allace,
For wanting of zour wonted grace,
Zon curst King ze may ban:
Had I leifit bot halfe ane zeir
I sould haue leirit zow crafts perqueir,
To begyle wyfe and man.
How may ze merchants mak debait?
Fra tyme ze want zour man Dissait,
For zow I mak great cair:
Without I ryse fra deid to lyfe,
I wait weill ze will neverthryfe,
Farther nor the fourth air.

Heir sal Dissait be drawin vp or ellis his figure.
First Ser.
Cum heir Falset & mence the gallows,
Ze man hing vp amang zour fallows,
For zour cankart conditioun:
Monie ane trew man haue ze wragnit,
Thairfoir but doubt ze salbe hangit,
But mercie or remissioun.

Falset.
Heir sall he luke vp to his fallows hingand.
Heir sall thay festin the coard to his neck with ane dum countenance thairefter he sall say.

Heir sal he be heisit vp, and not his figure and an Craw or ane Ke salbe castin vp as it was his saull.
Flattrie.
Haue I nocht chaipit the widdie weil?
Zea that I haue haue be sweit Sanct Geill,
For I had nocht bene wrangit:
Becaus I servit be Alhallows,
Till haue bene merchellit amang my fellowis:
And heich aboue them hangit.
I maid far ma falts nor my maits,
I begylde all the thrie estaits,
With my hypocrisie:
Quhen I had on my freirs hude
All men bele: sit that I was gude:
Now iudge ze gif I be.
Tak me ane rackles rubiatour,
Ane theif ane tyrane or ane tratour,
Of everie vyce the plant.
Gif him the habite of ane freir,
The wyfis will trow withoutin weir,
He be ane verie Saint.
I knaw that cowle and skaplarie,
Genners mair hait nor charitie,
Thocht thay be blak or blew:
Quhat halines is thair within,
Ane wolfe cled in ane wedders skin,
Iudge ze gif this be trew.
Sen I haue chaipit this firie farie,
Adew I will na langer tarie,
To cumber zow with my clatter:
Bot I will with ane humbill spreit,
Gang serve the Hermeit of Lareit:
And leir him for till flatter.

Heir sal enter Foly
Foly.
Gude day my Lords and als God saine,
Dois na man bid gude day againe?
Quhen fuillis ar fow then ar thay faine,
Ken ze nocht me?
How call thay me can ze nocht tell?
Now be him that herryit hell.
I wait nocht how thay call my sell,
Bot gif I lie.

Diligen.
Quhat brybour is this that maks sic beiris?

Foly.
The feind ressaue that mouth that speirs:
Gude-man ga play zow with zour feiris,
With muck vpon zour mow:

Diligence.
Fond fuill quhair hes thou bene sa lait?

Foly.
Marie cummand throw the Schogait.
Bot thair hes bene ane great debait.
Betwixt me and ane Sow.
The Sow cryit guff and I to ga,
Throw speid of fute I gat awa,
Bot in the midst of the cawsa,
I fell into ane midding:
Scho lap vpon me with ane bend,
Quha ever the middings sould amend,
God send them ane mischevous end,
For that is bot Gods bidding.
As I was pudlit thair God wait,
Bot with my club I maid debait:
Ise never cum againe that gait,
I sweir zow be Alhallows
I wald the officiars of the toun,
That suffers sic confusioun,
That thay war harbreit with Mahown,
Or hangit on ane gallows.
Fy fy that sic ane fair cuntrie,
Sould stand sa lang but policie:
I gif them to the Devill hartlie.
That hes the wyte:
I wald the Provost wald tak in heid,
Of zon midding to make remeid,
Quhilk pat me and the Sow at seid,
Quhat may I do bot flyte?

Rex.
Pas on my servant Diligence,
And bring zon fuill to our presence.

Diligence.
That sall be done but tarying,
Foly ze man ga to the King.

Foly.
The King, quhat kynde of thing is that?
Is zon he with the goldin Hat?

Diligence.
Zon same is he, cum on thy way:

Foly.
Gif ze be King, God zow gude day,
I haue ane plaint to make to zow:

Rex.
Quhom on Folie?—

Folie.
Marie on ane Sow.
Sir scho hes sworne that scho sall sla me,
Or ellis byte baith my balloks fra me:
Gif ze be King be Sanct Allan,
Ze sould do Iustice to ilk man.
Had I nocht keipit me with my club,
The Sow had draw in me in ane dub.
I heir them say thair is cum to the toun,
Ane King callit Correctioun.
I pray zow tell me quhilk is he:

Diligence.
Zon with the wings, may nocht se?

Folie.
Now wallie fall that weill fairde mow,
Sir I pray zow correct zon Sow:
Quhilk with hir teith but sword or knyfe,
Had maist haue reft me of my lyfe:
Gif ze will nocht mak correctioun,
Than gif me zour protectioun
Of all Swyne for to be skaithles
Betuix this toun and Innernes.

Dili.
Foly hes thou ane wyfe at hame?

Foly.
Zea that I haue, God send hir schame:
I trow be this scho is neir deid,
I left ane wyfe bindand hir heid,
To schaw hir seiknes I think schame,
Scho hes sic rumbling in hir wambe:
That all the nicht my hart overcasts,
With bocking and with thunder-blasts.

Diligence.
Peradventure scho be with bairne.

Folie.
Allace I trow scho be forfairne.
Scho sobbit and scho fell in sown,
And than thay rubbit hir vp and doun:
Scho riftit, routit and maid sic stends,
Scho zeild and gaid at baith the ends.
Till scho had castin ane cuppill of quarts
Syne all turnit to ane rickill of farts.
Scho blubert, bockit and braikit still,
Hir arsse gaid evin lyke ane wind mill.
Scho stumblit and stutterit with sic stends,
That scho recantit at baith the ends.
Sik dismell drogs fra hir scho schot,
Quhill scho maid all the fluir on flot.
Of hir hurdies scho had na hauld,
Quhill scho had twmed hir monyfauld.

Dilig.
Better bring hir to the Leitches heir:

Folie.
Trittill trattill, scho may nocht steir,
Hir verie buttoks maks sic beir,
It skars baith foill and fillie:
Scho bocks sik bagage fra hir breist,
He wants na bubbils that sittis hir neist,
And ay scho cryis a preist a preist,
With ilk a quhillie lillie.

Diligence.
Recoverit scho nocht at the last?

Folie.
Zea bot wit ze weil scho fartit fast.
Bot quhen scho sichis my hart is sorie,

Diligence.
Bot drinks scho ocht?—

Folie.
Ze be Sanct Marie,
Ane quart at anis it will nocht tarie,
And leif the Devill a drap:
Than sic flobbage scho layis fra hir,
About the wallis, God wait sic wair,
Quhen it was drunkin I gat to skair,
The lickings of the cap.

Diligence.
quhat is in that creill I pray the tell?

Folie.
Marie I haue Folie Hats to sell.

Dili.
I pray the sell me ane or tway:

Folie.
Na tarie quhill the market day,
I will sit doun heir be Sanct Clune,
And gif my babies thair disiune.
Cum heir gude Glaiks my dochter deir
Thou salbe maryit within ane zeir,
Vpon ane freir of Tillilum,
Na thou art nather deaf nor dum:
Cum hidder Stult my sone and air,
My ioy thou art baith gude and fair:
Now sall I fend zow as I may
Thocht ze cry lyke ane Ke all day.

Heir sal the bairns cry keck lyke ane Ke and he sal put meat in thair mouth.
Diligence.
Get vp Folie but tarying,
And speid zow haistelie to the King:
Get vp methink the carle is dum.

Folie.
Now bum baleriebum bum.

Diligence.
I trow the trucour lyis in ane trance
Get vp man with ane mirrie mischance:
Or be Sanct Dyonis of France,
Ise gar the want thy wallet:
Its schame to se man how thow lyis,

Folie.
Wa zit againe now this is thryis:
The Devill wirrie me and I ryse,
Bot I sall break thy pallet.
Me think my pillok will nocht ly doun,
Hauld doun zour head ze lurdon loun,
Zon fair las with the Sating goun
Gars zow thus bek and bend:
Take thair ane neidill for zour cace
Now for all the hiding of zour face,
Had I zow in ane quyet place.
Ze wald nocht waine to flend.
Thay bony armis thats cled in silk,
Ar evin als wantoun as any wilk,
I wald forbeir baith bread and milk
To kis thy bony lippis:
Suppois ze luke as ze war wraith,
War ze at quyet behind ane claith,
Ze wald not stick to preise my graith,
With hobling of zour hippis.

Diligence.
Suyith harlot haist the to the King,
And let allane thy tratrilling.
Lo heir is Folie sir alreadie,
Ane richt sweir swingeour be our Ladie.

Folie.
Thou art not half sa sweir thy sell,
Quhat meins this pulpit, I pray the tell?

Dili.
Our new Bischops hes maid ane preiching,
Bot thou heard never sic pleasant teiching:
Zon Bischop wil preich throch the coast,

Folie.
Heir sall Foly hing vp his hattis on the pulpet and say.

Rex.
Quhy Folie wald thou mak ane preiching?

Folie.
Zea that I wald sir be the Rude,
But eyther flattering or fleiching.

Rex.
Now brother let vs heir his teiching,
To pas our tyme and heir him raise.

Dili.
He war far meiter for the kitching,
Amang the pottis sa Christ me saife.
Fond Foly sall I be thy Clark,
And answeir the ay with amen:

Foly.
Heir fal Folie begin hir sermon, as followis.
Stultorum numerus infinitus.
Stultorum.
Sapientia huius mundi stultitia est apud Deum.

Dili.
Quhom to schaips thou to sell that hude?
I trow to sum great man of gude.

Folie.
This hude to sell richt faine I wald,
Till him that is baith auld & cald:
Reddie till pas to hell or heavin,
And hes fair bairns sax or seavin:
And is of age fourscoir of zeir,
And taks ane lasse to be his peir:
Quhilk is nocht fourteine zeir of age,
And ioynis with hir in mariage:
Geifand hir traist that scho nocht wald,
Rycht haistelie mak him cuckald.
Quha maryes beand sa neir thair dead,
Set on this Hat vpon his head.

Dili.
Quhat Hude is that tell me I pray the?

Folie.
This is ane haly Hude I say the,
This Hude is ordanit I the assure,
For Sprituall fuillis that taks in cure,
The saullis of great Diosies,
And regiment of great Abesies,
For gredines of warldlie pelfe,
Than can nocht iustlie gyde them selfe.
Vthers sauls to saife it settis them weill,
Syne sell them awin saullis to the Deuil.
Quha ever dois sa, this I conclude,
Vpon his heid set on this Hude.

Diligence.
Foly is thair ony sic men
Now in the Kirk that thou can ken?
How sall I ken them?—

Folie.
Na keip that clois,
Ex operibus eorum cognoscetiseos.
And fuillis speik of the Prelacie,
It will be hauldin for herisie.

Rex.
Speik on hardlie I gif the leife:

Foly.
Than my remissioun is in my sleife.
Will ze leife me to speik of Kings?

Rex.
Zea hardlie speik of all kin things.
Conforming to my first narratioun,
Ze ar all fuillis be Coks passioun.

Dili.
Thou leis, I trow this fuill be mangit.

Folie.
Gif I lie God nor thou behangit.
For I haue heir I to the tell
Ane nobill cap imperiell,
Quhilk is nocht ordanit bot for doings,
Of Empreours, of Duiks and Kings.
For princelie and imperiall fuillis,
Thay sould haue luggis als lang as Muillis.
The pryde of Princes withoutin faill,
Gars all the warld rin top ovir taill.
To win them warldlie gloir and gude,
Thay cure nocht schedding of saikles blude.
Quhat cummer haue ze had in Scotland,
Be our auld enemies of Ingland?
Had nocht bene the support of France,
We had bene brocht to great mischance.
Now I heir tell the Empreour,
Schaippis for till be ane Conquerour.
And is muifing his ordinance,
Against the Nobill King of France.
Bot I knaw nocht his iust querrell,
That he hes for till mak battell.
All the Princes of Almanie,
Spain ze, Flanders and Italie.
This present zeir ar in ane flocht:
Sum sall thair wages find deir bocht.
The Paip with bombard, speir and scheild,
Hes send his armie to the feild.
Sanct Peter, Sanct Paull nor Sanct Androw,
Raisit never sic ane Oist I trow.
Is this fraternall charitie,
Or furious folie, quhat say ze?
Thay leird nocht this at Christis Scuillis:
Thairfoir I think them verie fuillis.
I think it folie be Gods mother,
Ilk Christian Prince to ding doun vther:
Becaus that this hat sould belang them,
Gang thou and part it evin amang them,
The Prophesie withouttin weir,
Of Merling beis compleit this zeir:
For my gudame the Gyre Carling,
Leirnde me the Prophesie of Marling:
Quhairof I sall schaw the sentence,
Gif ze will gif me audience.
Flan Fran resurgent, simul Hispan viribus vrgent,
Dane vastabunt, Vallones vallapar abunt.
Sic sibi nomen in a mulier cacanst in olla:
Hac epulum comedes—

Diligence.
Marie that is ane il fauorit dische.

Folie.
Sa be this Prophesie plainlie appeirs,
That mortall weirs salbe amang freirs:
Thay sall nocht knaw weill in thair closters.
To quhom thay sall say thair Pater nosters.
Wald thay fall to and fecht with speir and sheild
The feind mak cuir quhilk of them win the feild.
Now of my sermon haue I maid ane end,
To Gilly-mouband I zow all commend.
And I zow all beseik richt hartfullie:
Pray for the saull of gude Cacaphatie:
Quhilk laitlie drownit himself into Lochleavin,
That his sweit saull may be aboue the heavin.