The admonitioun to the Lordis.
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FOr lois thow Lythquo may miserably lament,
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Thy fait Infortunat, and duilfull destanie,
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That precious peirle James our Regent
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In the was slane, dissauit duilfullie.
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O cursit hour, O deid of fellonie,
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O waryit hand, O wappin violent,
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That sparit not his greit Nobilitie
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Sa undeservit suddanly to be schent.
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In wickit hour he saift the from the Gallous
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Or schew his grace to sic ane graceles grume,
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Had thow bene hangit Tratour and thy fallowis
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This commounweill had borne the Laurell blume
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Better Justice was not from hence to Rome,
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Mair quyet peace befoir never King heir held,
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Allace that sic ane Tratour suld consume
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His dayis befoir our King had bene of eild.
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Dowglas and Hume, addres zow now anone,
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His tressonabill dolent deith for to Revenge:
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With Atholl, Erskyn, and Stewartis everie one
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Grame, and Lyndsay remember on this change.
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Schaw now he luifit the manly Laird of Grange
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Glenkarne, and Sempill, convene with ane accorde
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Throwout this Realme lyke Ratches se ze range,
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And seik thair blude that hes his body borde.
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All uther Erlis, and Barrounis of renoun,
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Convene zourselfis with hart and haill Intent,
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All partakeris to put to confusioun:
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With him that slew that Abell Innocent.
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And in our harts perfytlie do it prent,
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Gif ane of zow siclyke had loist his breith
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How day and nycht he wald be deligent
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Zour cause and quarrell Revenge unto the deith.
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Edinburgh Dundie, and uther Burrowtounis,
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Remember how the Regent lufit zow weill
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Heill nor conceill, reset nane of thay lownis,
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Nother art nor part, that did his body keill.
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Sen he was keipar of zour commounweill,
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Cleik on his quarrell, and schortly zow dispone
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Lat never thay Ruffians within zour rowmes reill
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Bot kyith now kyndenes quhen that his grace is gone.
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Zour tender King now behind dois abyde,
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Thy servand schot was only for thy saik,
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Had he not tane thy Governance and gyde
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Lang mycht he levit with Lady An his maik,
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Na tratour Hammiltoun had gevin that mortal straik
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War not in hope to mak thy Grace forlorne,
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Thay thocht his deith wald mak thy power waik
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And than obtene thay socht sa lang beforne.
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Bot God that hes thy Majestie in cure,
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Will fruster all thair fullische Interprysis,
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As war thay Bouchers thy Father did combure,
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Quha flemit ar for thair devillische devysis.
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Thair fact and act, all Scotland now disprysis,
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Thair awin misdeidis hes sa undone thair weill
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Thay dar never enter in Judgement nor assysis,
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Nor clame thair lands, that did thy Father keill.
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Quhat trow ze Tygers, that God omnipotent
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Will wynk unsene sic wickitnes and wrang:
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Ze may be sure his bow is reddy bent
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Zow to ruit out, luke ford and think not lang.
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Hammiltoun and Hepburne ze wil sing baith ane sang
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Shrewit is that service ze haif schawin to zour king
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Wald poysonit himself, his Father wyrreit strang,
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Now slane his Regent to mak zourselfis to ring.
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Wo worth unlefull meinis manifest,
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That ze haif socht to bruik Authoritie,
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Zit un obtenit, quhill that our King may lest
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Quhome Christ conserve in his Minoritie.
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That tender plant our Superioritie
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Suld haif, quha is our kyndely King of nature,
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The King of Kingis of his Majoritie
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Mak never ane King over Scotland of a Tratour.
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Wo to the scheddars of his saikles blude,
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Wo cause of wo, sa mony did commend,
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Wo to thay Gylouris of godlynes denude,
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Wo to thay Pelouris, sic Interprysis pretend.
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Wo thame Involve, now quhen his wo hes end,
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Wo and eik wrak, mot fall that bludy band
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Wo will thay cry, and rew that thay him kend,
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For wo quhen that thay lois baith lyfe and land.
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Schamt is that sort, with schame thai wil be schent
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Schamt schameles, schame hes schawin unto yis na-tioun
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Schamt ar yai tratouris, sic tressoun did invent
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Schame sorrowles will be thair Castigatioun.
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For schame thay dar never clame now dominatioun
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To purches place did sa his deith prevent,
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Place haif thay loist, and fund thair desolatioun,
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That socht sic place, till God had bene content.
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And God thair pryde will puneis presentlie,
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That dois pretend be murther manifest
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To Royall roume, and heich Authoritie,
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Huiking na harme sa thay may be possest.
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In warldly welth quhilk wisdome suld detest,
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Quhen it proceidis of falset and Invy:
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Vainegloir, dissait, or ocht that may molest
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Gude governance throw teinfull Tratorie.
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Wyse Nobill Lords my Schedull now considder
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And gif the wysest Lord the Governance,
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Sinder not now that ar assemblit togidder
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Quhill ane be chosin the commonnweill to avance.
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Sic as will puneis this last unhappy chance,
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And feiris God now sen the roume dois vaik,
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Chosin lyke the tother, ze myster not to pans,
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For in all Scotland he hes not left his maik.
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Now is he weill, and ze in wo God wait,
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Zour wickitnes and warkis hes the wyte,
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Zour Inobedience hes purchessit Goddis hait.
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Zour gredynes to eik zour Rentis greit.
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In vaine ze reid the Scripture as ane ryte,
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And of the pure hes na Compassioun,
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Thir ar the cause, that ze of him ar quyte
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That rewlit zow, and wald maid Reformatioun.
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