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 fell his landes fo broad,
His houfe, and landes, and all bis 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.

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15

20

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ;

Iff thou wilt fell thy landes foe 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.
K

VOL. II.

Then John he did him to record draw,
And John he caft him a gods-pennie *;
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 fold his land foe broad,
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,

All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
That ftood far off in a lonely glenne.

For foe he to his father hight.

My fonne, when I am gonne, fayd hee,
Then thou wilt spend thy lande fo broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold fo free:

But fweare me nowe upon the roode,

That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
For when all the world doth frown on thee,
Thou there fhalt 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,

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 leafes, a piece of filver is prefented by the new tenant, which is ftill 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.

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.

60

Nowe well-aday, fayd the heire of Linne,
Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,

65

For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.

But many a truftye friend have I,

And why fhold 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, 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,

To beg my bread from door to door
I wis, it were a brenning shame:
To rob and fteal it were a finne:

To worke my limbs I cannot frame.

Now lle away to lonesome lodge,
For there my father bade me wend;
When all the world fhould frown on mee,
I there fhold find a trufty friend.

PART THE SECOND.

85

A

WAY then hyed the heire of Linne

O'er hill and holt, and moor and fenne,

Untill he came to lonesome lodge,

That stood fo lowe in a lonely glenne.

He looked up, he looked downe,

In hope fome comfort for to winne :

But bare and lothly were the walles.

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

The little windowe dim and darke

Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe ; No fhimmering funn here ever shone ;

Ne halefome breeze here ever blew.

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10

No

No chair, ne table he mote spye,

No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought fave a rope with renning noose, That dangling hung up o'er his head.

And over it in broad letters,

These words were written fo plain to fee: "Ah! graceleffe wretch, haft fpent thine all, "And brought thyfelfe to penurie?

"All this my boding mind mifgave,
"I therefore left this trufty friend :
"Let it now fheeld thy foule difgrace,
"And all thy fhame and forrows end."

Sorely fhent wi' this rebuke,

Sorely fhent was the heire of Linne;

His heart, I wis, was near to brast

With guilt and forrowe, fhame and finne.

Never a word fpake the heire of Linne,

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25

Never a word he spake but three:

"This is a trufty friend indeed,

"And is right welcome unto mee."

Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
And fprang aloft with his bodie:

When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,

And to the ground came tumbling hee.

K 3

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Aftonyed