ANE PLEASANT SATYRE OF THE THRIE ESTAITIS.

Prologue.

Spoken by DILIGENCE.

The Father and founder of faith and felicitie,

That your fassioun [433] formed to his similitude,

And his Sone, our Saviour, scheild in necessitie,

That bocht yow from baillis [434], ransonit on the Rude,

Repleadgeand [435] his presonaris with his hart blude;

The Halie Gaist, governour and grounder of grace,

Of wisdome and weilfair baith fontane and flude,

Saif yow all that I sie seisit [436] in this place,

And scheild yow from sinne,

And with his spreit yow inspyre,

Till I have schawin my desyre!

Silence, Soveraine, I requyre,

For now I begin.

Prudent Peopill I pray yow all

Tak na man greif in speciall,

For wee sall speik in generall,

For pastyme and for play:

Thairfoir till all our rymis be rung

And our mistoinit [437] sangis be sung

Let everie man keip weill ane toung

And everie woman tway.

An Interlude of the Puir Man and the Pardoner.

[Heir sall entir Pauper the puir man.

PAUPER.

Of your almis, gude folks, for God’s luife [438] of heavin,

For I have motherles bairns either sax or seavin.

Gif ye’ill gif me na gude [439], for the luife of Jesus

Wische [440] me the richt way till Sanct-Androes.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair haif wee gottin this gudly companzeoun?

Swyith [441]! out of the feild, [thow] fals raggit loun.

God wait [442] gif heir be ane weill-keipit place,

Quhen sic ane vilde [443] begger carle may get entres [444].

Fy on yow officiars, that mends nocht thir failyies [445]!

I gif yow all till the Devill, baith Provost and Bailzies!

Without ye cum and chase this carle away,

The devill a word ye’is get mair of our play.

Fals huirsun, raggit carle, quhat Devil is that thou rugs [446]?

PAUPER.

Quha Devill, maid thee ane gentill man, that wald cut not thy lugs [447]?

DILIGENCE.

Quhat now! me-thinks the carle begins to crack [448].

Swyith, carle, away, or be this day I’se break thy back.

[Heir sall the Carle clim up and sit in the King’s tchyre.

Cum doun, or be God’s croun, fals loun, I sall slay thee.

PAUPER.

Now sweir be thy brunt [449] schinnis, the Devill ding [450] thame fra thee.

Quhat say ye till thir court dastards? be [451] thay get hail clais [452],

Sa sune as thay leir [453] to sweir and trip on thair tais.

DILIGENCE.

Me-thocht the carle callit me knave, evin in my face.

Be Sanct Fillane! thou sal be slane bot gif [454] thou ask grace.

Loup [455] doun, or, be the gude Lord, thow sall lose thy heid.

PAUPER.

I sall anis drink or I ga, thocht [456] thou had sworne my deid [457].

[Heir Diligence castis away the ledder.

DILIGENCE.

Loup now, gif thou list, for thou hes lost the ledder.

It is full weill thy kind to loup, and licht in a tedder [458].

PAUPER.

Thou sall be faine to fetch agane the ledder, or I loup.

I sall sit heir into this tcheir till I have tumde [459] the stoup [460].

[Heir sall the Carle loup aff the scaffald.

DILIGENCE.

Swyith [461]! beggar, bogill [462], haist thé away;

Thow art over pert to spill our Play.

PAUPER.

I will not gif, for al your 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 [463] sorrow.

I can not get, thocht I gasp, to beg nor to borrow.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair, devill, is this thou dwels? or quhat’s thy intent?

PAUPER.

I dwell into Lawthiane, ane myle fra Tranent.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair wald thou be, carle? the suth [464] to me schaw.

PAUPER.

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

DILIGENCE.

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 Seinzie;[465]

Thairfor the meikill din Devill droun all the meinzie [466].

DILIGENCE.

Schaw me thy mater, man, with all the circumstances,

How that thou hes happinit on thir unhappie chances.

PAUPER.

Gude man, will ye gif me of your charitie,

And I sall declair yow the black veritie.

My father was ane auld man and ane hoir [467],

And was of age fourscoir of yeirs and moir.

And Mald, my mother, was fourscoir and fyfteine,

And with my labour I did thame baith susteine.

Wee had ane meir that caryit salt and coill [468],

And everie ilk [469] yeir scho brocht us hame ane foill.

Wee had thrie ky [470] that was baith fat and fair,

Nane tydier into the toun of Air.[471]

My father was sa waik of blude and bane

That he deit [472], 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 [473] on the feild,

And our land’s laird tuik hir for his hyreild.[474]

The vickar tuik the best cow be the heid,

Incontinent, quhen my father was deid.

And quhen the vickar hard tel how that my mother

Was deid, fra hand he tuk to him ane-uther.

Then Meg, my wife, did murne baith evin and morrow,

Till at the last scho deit for verie sorrow.

And quhen the vickar hard tell my wyfe was dead

The thrid cow he cleikit [475] be the heid.

Thair umest clayis [476], that was of rapploch [477] gray,

The vickar gart his clark bear them away.[478]

Quhen all was gane I micht mak na debeat,

Bot with my bairns past for till beg my meat.

Now haif I tald yow the blak veritie

How I am brocht into this miserie.

DILIGENCE.

How did the person [479]? was he not thy gude freind?

PAUPER.

The Devil stick him! he curst me for my teind,

And halds me yit under that same proces

That gart me want the Sacrament at Pasche.

In gude faith, Sir, thocht he wald cut my throt,

I have na geir except ane Inglis grot [480],

Quhilk I purpois to gif ane man of law.

DILIGENCE.

Thou art the daftest fuill that ever I saw.

Trows [481] thou, man, be the law to get remeid

Of men of Kirk! Na, nocht till thou be deid.

PAUPER.

Sir, be quhat law, tell me, quhairfoir or quhy

That ane vickar suld tak fra me thrie ky?

DILIGENCE.

Thay have na law exceptand consuetude,

Quhilk law, to them, is sufficient and gude.

PAUPER.

Ane consuetude against the common weill

Suld be na law, I think, be sweit Sanct Geill.

Quhair will ye find that law, tell gif ye can,

To tak thrie ky fra ane pure husband-man?

Ane for my father, and for my wyfe ane-uther,

And the third cow he tuke fra Mald my mother.

DILIGENCE.

It is thair law, all that thay have in use,

Thocht it be cow, sow, ganer [482], gryse [483], or guse.

PAUPER.

Sir, I wald speir [484] at yow ane questioun.

Behauld sum prelats of this regioun—

[Here the Puir Man recites further legalised oppressions by the priesthood, but is interrupted.]

DILIGENCE.

Hald thy toung, man, it seims that thou war mangit.[485]

Speik thou of preists but [486] 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 resave the sort [487]!

Sa sen I se I get na uther grace

I will ly down and rest mee in this place.

[Heir sall the Puirman ly doun in the feild, and the Pardoner sall cum in and say.

PARDONER.

Bona dies! Bona dies!

Devoit Pepill, gude day I say yow.

Now tarie ane lytill quhyll, I pray yow,

Till I be with yow knawin.

Wat ye weill how I am namit?

Ane nobill man and undefamit,

Gif that all the suith war schawin.

I am Sir Robert Rome-raker,

Ane perfyte publike pardoner [488]

Admittit be the Paip.

Sirs, I sall schaw yow, for my wage,

My pardons and my pilgramage,

Quhilk ye sall se, and graip [489].

I give to the Devill, with gude intent,

This unsell [490] wickit New Testament,

With thame that it translaitit.

Sen layik [491] men knew the veritie

Pardoners get no charitie

Without that thay debait it.

Amang the wives with wrinks [492] and wyles,

As all my marrowis [493], men begyles

With our fair fals flattrie.

Yea, all the crafts I ken perqueir [494]

As I was teichit be ane freir

Callit Hypocrisie.

Bot now, allace! our greit abusioun

Is cleirlie knawin till our confusioun,

That we may sair repent.

Of all credence now I am quyte,

For ilk man halds me at dispyte

That reids the New Test’ment.

Duill fell [495] the braine that hes it wrocht!

Sa fall them that the Buik hame brocht!

Als I pray to the Rude

That Martin Luther, that fals loun [496],

Black Bullinger, and Melancthoun,

Had bene smorde in thair cude [497].

Be him that buir the crowne of thorne

I wald Sanct Paull had never bene borne;

And als I wald his buiks

War never red in the kirk,

Bot amangs freirs, into the mirk [498],

Or riven amang ruiks!

[Heir sall he lay doun his geir upon ane buird, and say,

My patent pardouns ye may se,

Cum fra the Cane [499] of Tartarie,

Weill seald with oster-schellis.

Thocht ye have na contritioun

Ye sall have full remissioun

With help of buiks and bellis.

Heir is ane relict lang and braid,

Of Fin Macoull the richt chaft blaid [500],

With teith and al togidder.

Of Colling’s cow heir is ane horne,

For eating of Makconnal’s corne

Was slaine into Baquhidder.

Heir is ane coird baith great and lang

Quhilk hangit Johne the Armistrang,[501]

Of gude hemp, soft and sound.

Gude halie peopill, I stand for’d,

Quha-ever beis hangit with this cord

Neids never to be dround.

The culum [502] of Sanct Bryd’s kow;

The gruntill [503] of Sanct Antonis sow,

Quhilk buir his haly bell.

Quha-ever he be heiris this bell clinck

Gif me ane ducat for till drink;

He sall never gang [504] to hell,

Without he be of Baliell [505] borne.

Maisters, trow ye that this be scorne [506].

Cum win this pardoun, cum.

Quha luifis thair wyfis nocht with thair hart,

I have power thame for till part.

Me-think yow deif and dum:

Hes nane of yow curst wickit wyfis

That haldis yow intill sturt [507] and stryfis,

Cum tak my dispensatioun;

Of that cummer [508] I sall mak yow quyte,

Howbeit your-selfis be in the wyte [509],

And mak ane fals narratioun.

Cum win the pardoun, now let se,

For meill, for malt, or for monie,

For cok, hen, guse, or gryse.

Of relicts heir I haif ane hunder;

Quhy cum ye nocht? this is ane wounder:

I trow ye be nocht wyse.

[A grotesque episode is here introduced in which the Pardoner, for the price of “ane cuppill of sarks” (shirts), divorces a malcontent sowtar, or shoemaker, and his wife. Upon their despatch, east and west, the Pardoner’s boy cries from the hill.]

WILKIN.

Hoaw! Maister, hoaw! quhair ar ye now?

PARDONER.

I am heir, Wilkin widdiefow [510].

WILKIN.

Sir, I have done your bidding,

For I have fund ane greit hors bane,

Ane fairer saw ye never nane,

Upon dame Flescher’s midding.

Sir, ye may gar the wyfis trow

It is ane bane of Sanct Bryd’s cow,

Gude for the fever quartane [511].

Sir, will ye reull this relict weill,

All the wyfis will baith kiss and kneill

Betuixt this and Dumbartane.

PARDONER.

Quhat say thay of me in the Toun?

WILKIN.

Some sayis ye are ane verie loun,

Sum sayis Legatus Natus;

Sum sayis ye ar ane fals Saracene,

And sum sayis ye ar for certaine

Diabolus Incarnatus.

Bot keip yow fra subjectioun

Of the curst King Correctioun;

For, be ye with him fangit [512],

Becaus ye ar ane Rome-raker,

Ane common publick cawsay-paker [513],

But doubt ye will be hangit.

PARDONER.

Quhair sall I ludge into the toun?

WILKIN.

With gude kynde Cristiane Anderson,

Quhair ye will be weill treatit.

Gif ony limmer [514] yow demands,

Scho will defend yow with hir hands,

And womanlie debait it.

Bawburdie sayis be the Trinitie

That scho sall beir yow cumpanie

Howbeit ye byde ane yeir [515].

PARDONER.

Thou hes done weill, be God’s mother;

Tak ye the taine [516] and I the tother,

Sa sall we mak greit cheir.

WILKIN.

I reid [517] yow, speid yow heir,

And mak na langer tarie;

Byde ye lang thair, but weir [518],

I dreid your weird yow warie [519].

[Heir sall Pauper rise, and rax him.

PAUPER.

Quhat thing was yon that I heard crak [520] and cry?

I have bene dreamand, and dreveland [521] of my ky.

With my richt hand my haill bodie I saine [522];

Sanct Bryd, Sanct Bryd, send me my ky againe!

I se standand yonder ane halie man,

To mak me help let me se gif he can.

Halie Maister, God speid yow, and gude morne!

PARDONER.

Welcum to me, thocht thou war at the horne![523]

Cum win the pardoun, and syne I sall thé saine [524].

PAUPER.

Will that pardon get me my ky againe?

PARDONER.

Carle, of thy ky I have nathing ado:

Cum win my pardon, and kis my relicts to.

[Heir sall he saine him with his relictis.

Now lowse thy pursse and lay doun thy offrand,

And thou sall have my pardoun evin fra hand.

With raipis [525] and relicts I sall thé saine againe;

Of gut [526] or gravell thou sall never have paine.

Now win the pardoun, limmer, or thou art lost.

PAUPER.

My haly Father, quhat wil that pardon cost?

PARDONER.

Let se quhat mony thou bearest in thy bag.

PAUPER.

I haif ane grot heir, bund into ane rag.

PARDONER.

Hes thou na uther silver bot ane groat?

PAUPER.

Gif I have mair, Sir, cum and rype [527] my coat.

PARDONER.

Gif me that groat, man, gif thou hest na mair.

PAUPER.

With all my hart, Maister, lo tak it thair.

Now let me se your pardon, with your leif.

PARDONER.

Ane thousand yeir of pardons I thee geif.

PAUPER.

Ane thousand yeir! I will nocht live sa lang.

Delyver me it, Maister, and let me gang [528].

PARDONER.

Ane thousand year I lay upon 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 nocht wyse

To pay ere I have sene my marchandryse.

That ye have gottin my groat full sair I rew.

Sir, quhidder is your pardon black or blew?

Maister, sen ye have tain fra me my cunzie [529],

My marchandryse schaw me, withouttin sunzie [530];

Or to the bischop I sall pas and pleinzie [531]

In Sanct-Androis, and summond yow to the Seinzie [532].

PARDONER.

Quhat craifis [533] the carle? me-thinks thou art not wise.

PAUPER.

I craif my groat, or ellis my marchandrise.

PARDONER.

I gaif thé pardon for ane thowsand yeir.

PAUPER.

How sall I get that pardon, let me heir.

PARDONER.

Stand still and I sall tell the haill [534] storie.

Quhen thow art deid, and gais to Purgatorie,

Being condempnit to paine a thowsand yeir,

Then sall thy pardoun thee releif, but weir.

Now be content, ye ar ane mervelous man.

PAUPER.

Sall I get nathing for my groat quhill than [535]?

PARDONER.

That sall thou not, I mak it to yow plaine.

PAUPER.

Na than, gossop, gif me my groat againe.

Quhat say ye, Maisters? call ye this gude resoun,

That he suld promeis me ane gay pardoun,

And he resave my mony, in his stead [536],

Syne mak me na payment till I be dead?

Quhen I am deid I wait full sikkerlie [537]

My sillie [538] saull will pas to Purgatorie.

Declair me this, now God nor Baliell bind thé,

Quhen I am thair, curst carle, quhair sall I find thé?

Not in heavin, but rather into hell.

Quhen thow art thair thou cannot help thy-sell.

Quhen will thou cum my dolours till abait?

Or [539] I thee find my hippis will get ane hait [540].

Trowis thou, butchour, that I will buy blind lambis?

Gif me my groat, the Devill dryte [541] in thy gambis [542]!

PARDONER.

Swyith! stand abak! I trow this man be mangit [543].

Thou gets not this, carle, thocht thou suld be hangit.

PAUPER.

Gif me my groat, weill bund into ane clout [544],

Or, be Goddis breid [545], Robin sall beir ane rout [546].

[Heir sall thay fecht with silence; and Pauper sal cast down the buird, and cast the relicts in the water.

DILIGENCE.

Quhat kind of daffing [547] is this al day?

Swyith, smaiks [548]! out of the feild, away!

Intill ane presoun put them sone,

Syne hang them, quhen the Play is done.

THE POOR MAN’S MARE.

PAUPER.

Marie! I lent my gossop my mear, to fetch hame coills,

And he hir drounit into the querrell hollis:[549]

And I ran to the Consistorie, for to pleinze,

And thair I happinit amang are greidie meinze [550].

Thay gave me first ane thing thay call Citandum,

Within aucht [551] dayis I gat bot Lybellandum,

Within ane moneth I gat ad Opponendum,

In half ane yeir I gat Interloquendum,

And syne I gat, how call ye it? ad Replicandum:

Bot I could never ane word yit understand him.

And than thay gart me cast out many plackis [552],

And gart me pay for four and twentie actis.

Bot or thay came half gait [553] to Concludendum

The Feind ane plack was left for to defend him.

Thus thay postponit me twa yeir with thair traine [554],

Syne, Hodie ad octo, bad me cum againe;

And than, thir ruiks, thay roupit [555] wonder fast,

For sentence silver thay cryit at the last.

Of Pronunciandum thay maid me wonder faine;

Bot I got never my gude gray meir againe.