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IV. Q. ELIZABETH's VERSES, WHILE PRISONER

AT WOODSTOCK,

WRIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTER,

- are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Traveli, which has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at STRAWBERRY-HILL. In Hentzner's book they were avretcheilly 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,

5

H, Fortune! how thy restlefle wavering state

Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt!
Witnes this present prisonn, whither fate

Could beare me, and the joys I quit.
Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed
From bandes, wherein are innocents inclused:

Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved,

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

ELIZABETHE, PRISONNER.

A. D. MDLV.

Ver. 4. Could beare, is an ancient idiom, equivalent to Did bear or Hath borne. See below the Beggar of Bednal Grein, ver. 57. Could say.

V.
THE HEIR OF LINNE.

The original of this Ballad is found in the Editor's folio MS. the breaches and defects in which, rendered the inJertion of supplemental ftanzas necessary. These it is hoped the Reader will pardon, as indeed the conclusion of the story was fuggested by a modern ballad on a fimilar subject.

From the Scottish phrases bere and there discernable in this poem, it skould seem to have been originally composed beyond the Iweed.

The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a Lord of Parliament, but a LAIRD, whose title went along with his eflate.

PART THE FIRST,

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ITHE and listen, gentlemen,

To fing a song I will begione :
It is of a lord of faire Scotland,

Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.

5

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.

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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.

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To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,

To alwaye spend and never fpare,
I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,

Of gold and fee he mote be bare.

15

Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne

Till all his gold is gone and spent; And he maun fell his landes so broad,

His house, and landes, and all bis rent.

20

His father had a keen stewarde,

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

And John has gott both gold and fee.

35

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,

Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ; Iff thou wilt sell thy landes foe broad,

Good store of god Ile give thee heere.

My gold is gone, my money is spent;
My lande nowe take it unto thee:

go Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,

And thine for aye ny lande Thall bue. VOL. II.

K

Then

Then John he did him to record draw,

And John he cast him a gods-pennie * ;
But for every pounde that John agreed,

The lande, I wis, was well worth three.

35

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 fold his land soe broad,

Both hill and bolt, and moore and fenne,
All but a poore and lonesome lodge,

That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

45

For soe he to his father hight.

My fonne, when I am gonne, fayd hee,
Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,

And thou wilt spend thy gold fo 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, fayd hee,
Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make, , 55

And he that spares, ne'er moté he thee. * i.e. earneft-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 filver is presented by the new tenant, which is fill called a GODS-PENNY,

They

They ranted, drank, and merry made,

Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; And then his friendes they flunk away;

They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.

60

He had never a penny left in his purse,

Never a penny left but three,
And one was brass, another was lead,

And another it was white money.

65

Nowe well-aday, fayd the heire of Linne,

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 nerer bare.

jo

But one, I wis, was not at home;

Another had payd his gold away ; Another callid him thriftless loone,

And bade him sharpely wend his way.

Now well-aday, fayd the heire of Linne,

Now well-aday, and woe is me! For when I had my landes fo broad, On me they liv'd right merrilee. Ver. 63, 4, 5, &c. Sic MS,

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