Then home rode the abbot of comfort fo cold,
And he mett his fhepheard a going to fold:
How now, my lord abbot, you're welcome home;
What newes do you bring us from good king John?

45

Sad newes, fad newes, fhepheard, I must give ;
That I have but three days more to live:

For if I do not anfwere him queftions three,
My head will be fmitten from my bodìe.

The firft is to tell him there in that ftead,
With his crowne of golde fo fair on his head,
Among all his liege- men so noble of birth,
To within one penny of what he is worthe.

The feconde, to tell him, without any doubt,
How foone he may ride this whole world about:
And at the thirde queftion I must not fhrinke,
But tell him there truly what he does thinke.

Now cheare up,
fire abbot, did you never hear yet,
That a fool may learn a wife man witt?
Lend me horse, and ferving men, and your apparel,
And I'll ride to London to anfwere your quarrel.

55

60

Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee,

65

I am like your lordfhip, as ever may bee:
And if you will but lend me your gowne,

There is none fhall knowe us at fair London towne.

Now horfes, and ferving-men thou shalt have,
With fumptuous array moft gallant and brave;
With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope,
Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope.

70

Now welcome, fire abbot, the king did fay,
Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day;
For an if thou canst answer my questions three,
Thy life and thy living both faved fhall bee.

75

And first, when thou feeft me here in this ftead,
With my crown of golde fo fair on my head,

Among all my liege - men fo noble of birthe,
Tell me to one penny what I am worth.

For thirty pence our Saviour was fold

Amonge the falfe Jewes, as I have bin told;
And twenty nine is the worth of thee,

For I thinke, thou art one penny worfer than hee.

The king he laughed, and fwore by St. Bittel
I did not think I had been worth fo littel!

Now fecondly tell me, without any doubt, How foone I may ride this whole world about.

You must rise with the fun, and ride with the fame,

Until the next morning he rifeth againe;

༡༠

And then your grace need not make any doubt,

But in twenty four hours you'll ride it about.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,

I did not think, it could be gone fo foone!

Now from the third question thou must not shrinke,

But tell me here truly what I do thinke.

96

Yea, that fhall I do, and make your grace merry:

You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury;

But

Meaning probably St. Botolph.

But I'm his poor fhepheard, as plain you may fee,
That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee.

The king he laughed, and swore by the maffe,
Ile make thee lord abbot this daye in his place!
Now naye, my liege, be not in fuch speede,
For alacke I can neither write, ne reade.

Four nobles a weeke, then I will give thee,
For this merry jeft thou haft fhowne unto mee;
And tell the old abbot when thou comeft home
Thou haft brought him a pardon from good king John.

100

105

VIII.

VERSES BY K. JAMES I.

As in the former bo ok we gave two Sonnets of Q. Elizabeth, we were willing to afford the reader a Short Specimen of the poetical talents of her fucceffor James I. and we the rather Selected this, as it shows his majesty's dexterity at puning, and is mentioned in no catalogue of his works. It properly confifts of long alexandrines, and is preserved in "A choice collection of Scots poems,» 8vo. part II. Edinburgh, 1709.

"K. James (Says the editor of that book) having re"turned to Sterling the 18th of July, 1617, on the morrow "deigned with his presence some philosophick disputations; " and gave the following characters of the performers. „

AS

A

S Adam was the firft of men,

whence all beginning takt:

So Adamfon was prefident,

and firft man in this act. The thefes Fairlie did defend,

which, though they lies contein, Yet were fair lies, and he the fame right fairlie did maintein.

The feild first entred Mafter Sands,

and there he made me fee, That not all fands are barren fands,

but that fome fertile bee. Then Mafter Young moft fubtilie ?

the thefes did impugne, And kythed old in Aristotle, althogh his name be Young. To him fucceeded Mafter Reid, who, though Reid be his name, Neids neither for his difpute blufs nor of his fpeech think shame. Laft entred Mafter King the lifts,

and difput like a king,

How reafon reigning, as a queene,

fhuld anger under- bring.

To their deferved praife have I

thus playd upon their names,

And wil's their colledge hence be cal'd the colledge of king JAMES.

IX.

THE HEIR OF LINNE.

It is owing to an overfight that this old ballad is not placed higher in the volume. It is given from a copy in the editor's folio MS; Some breaches and defects in which, rendered the infertion of a few Supplemental stanzas necessary. Thefe it is hoped the reader will pardon.

From the Scottish phrases here and there difcernable in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the Tweed.

The Heir of Linne seems not to have been a Lord of Parliament, but a LAIRD, whofe title went along with his eftate.

PART THE FIRST,

LITHE and liften, gentlemen,

To fing a fong I will beginne:
It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.

His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
And he lov'd keeping companìe.

To spend the daye with merry cheare,

To drinke and revell every night,
To card and dice from eve to morne,

It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.

To

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