Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us

bought,

That he wil mend that is amiss: for many a manful

Is

freyke

sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought; And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake.

Thus in No place, this NOBODY, in No time I met,

Where NO man, 'ne 'l NOUGHT was, nor NOTHING did appear;

Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swet,

,2

That'Aeolus through the eccho did cause me to hear.
Then I drew me down into a dale, whereas the dumb deer
Did shiver for a shower; but I shunted from a freyke:
For I would no wight in this world wist who I were,
But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake.

IV. QUEEN ELIZABETH'S VERSES, WHILE PRISONER AT WOODSTOCK,

WRIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTER

These verses are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Travels, which has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at Strawberry-Hill. In Hentzner's book they were wretchedly corrupted, but are here given as amended by his ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two ancient readings of Hentzner's copy are here restored.

OH, Fortune! how thy restlesse wavering state
Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt!
Witnes this present prisonn, wither fate

Could beare me, and the joys I quit.

Thus causedst the guiltie to be losed

From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed:
Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved,

And freeing those that death hath well deserved.
But by her envie can be nothing wroughte,
So God send to my foes all they have thoughte.

A.D. MDLV.

1 "Then." MSS. and PC.

ELIZABETHE, PRISONNER.

2 "Hercules." MSS. and PC.

3 "Could beare," is an ancient idiom, equivalent to Did bear or Hath borne. See below the Beggar of Bednal Green, ver. 57. "Could say."

V. THE HEIR OF LINNE

The original of this ballad is found in the Editor's folio manuscript, the breaches and defects in which, rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as indeed the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject.

From the Scottish phrases here and there discernable in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the Tweed. The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a Lord of Parliament, but a Laird, whose title went along with his estate.

PART THE FIRST

LITHE and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song 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 companie.

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 ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,

To alwaye spend and never spare,
I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent ;
And he maun sell his landes so broad,
His house, and landes, and all his rent.

His father had a keen stewàrde,

And John o' the Scales was called hee:
But John is become a gentel-man,

And John has gott both gold and fee.

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;
Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,
Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,

My gold is gone, my money is spent ;

My lande nowe take it unto thee:
Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,
And thine for aye my lande shall bee.

Then John he did him to record draw,
And John he cast him a gods-pennie ;1
But for every pounde that John agreed,
The lande, I wis, was well worth three.
He told him the gold upon the borde,
He was right glad his land to winne;
The gold is thine, the land is mine,

And now Ile be the lord of Linne.

Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

For soe he to his father hight.

My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,
Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:

But sweare me nowe upon the roode,

That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend ;
For when all the world doth frown on thee,
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.

The heire of Linne is full of golde:

And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,
Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,
And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.
They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thinne;
And then his friendes they slunk away;
They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.

He had never a penny in his purse,
Never a penny left but three,

And one was brass, another was lead,2
And another it was white monèy.2

1 i.e. earnest-money; from the French 'Denier à Dieu.' At this day, when application is made to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle to accept an exchange of the tenant under one of their leases, a piece of silver is presented by the new tenant, which is still called a God's-penny."

2 Sic MS.

Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,1
Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,
For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.
But many a trustye friend have I,
And why shold I feel dole or care?
Ile borrow of them all by turnes,
Soe need I not be never bare.

But one, I wis, was not at home;
Another had payd his gold away;
Another call'd him thriftless loone,
And bade him sharpely wend his way.
Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
Now well-aday, and woe is me;
For when I had my landes so broad,
On me they liv'd right merrilee.
To beg my bread from door to door
I wis, it were a brenning shame:
To rob and steale it were a sinne :

To worke my limbs I cannot frame.
Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,

For there my father bade me wend; When all the world should frown on mee I there shold find a trusty friend.

PART THE SECOND

AWAY then hyed the heire of Linne
Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,

Untill he came to lonesome lodge,

That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.

He looked up, he looked downe,

In hope some comfort for to winne: But bare and lothly were the walles.

Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne.

The little windowe dim and darke
Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe;
No shimmering sunn here ever shone ;
No halesome breeze here ever blew.

1 Sic MS.

No chair, ne table he mote spye,

No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought save a rope with renning noose, That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters,

These words were written so plain to see: "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyselfe to penurie ?

"All this my boding mind misgave,
I therefore left this trusty friend :
Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,
And all thy shame and sorrows end."
Sorely shent wi' this rebuke,

Sorely shent was the heire of Linne,
His heart, I wis, was near to brast

With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne, Never a word he spake but three : "This is a trusty friend indeed,

And is right welcome unto mee."

Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
And sprung aloft with his bodìe:
When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,
And to the ground came tumbling hee.
Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,

Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
At length he looked, and saw a bille,
And in it a key of gold so redd.
He took the bill, and lookt it on,

Strait good comfort found he there :

It told him of a hole in the wall,

In which there stood three chests in-fere.1

Two were full of the beaten golde,

The third was full of white money;

And over them in broad letters

These words were written so plaine to see: "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere; Amend thy life and follies past;

For but thou amend thee of thy life, That rope must be thy end at last." 1 "In-fere," i. e. together. ·