SOLACE

Now quha saw ever sic ane thrang? Me thought sum said I had gain wrang, Had I help I walled sing ane sang With ane right mirrie noise. I have sic pleasure at my heart, That garris me sing the trouble pairt: Waldsum Good fallow sill the quart It walled my hairt rejoice. Howbeit my coat be short and nippit, Thanks be to God I am well hippit Thought all my gold may shone be grippit Until ane penny purse. Thought I ane seruand Long have be, My purchais is nought worth ane preine: I may sing Peblis on the greine For ocht that I may tursse. Quhat is my name can ȝe not guess, Sirs ken ȝe nought Sandy solace? They called my mother bony Bess That dwelled between the bowis. [] Of twelve ȝeir old sho learnit to swyfe, Thankit be the great God on live: Scho maid me fathers four or five, But doubt this is nam mowis. When ane was dead sho got ane uther, Was never man had sic ane mother: Of fathers sho maid me ane further, Of law it men and leirit: Scho is baith wise, worthy and wicht For scho spairis nouther kuik nor knight: Ȝea four and twenty on ane Night, And ay their eine schobleirit, And give I lie sirs ȝe may speir: Bot saw ȝe nought the King cum heir? I am ane sportour and playfeir To that Royal young King: He said he walled within short space Cum pass his time into this place: I pray the Lord to send him grace, That he Long time may ring. The fiend a faster I might gang: I might not thrist out throw the thrang, Of wife's fyftein fidder: Then for to rin I tuik ane rink, Bot I felt never sik ane stink: For our lords luif give me ane drink, Placebo my deir brother. I wait not sir be sweit saint Marry, I have be in ane feirie fairy Or else until ane trance: Sir I have seen I ȝow assure The fairest earthly creature, That ever was formit be nature And mayest for to advance To luik on his is great delight, With lippis reid and cheikis quhyte I walled renounce all this World quite For till stand in his grace: Scho is wanton and scho is wise: And cled scho is on the new gise, It walled garall ȝour flesh up rise To luik upon his face. War I ane king it should be kenned, I should not spair on his to spend: And this same Night for his to send, For my pleasure: Quhat rak of ȝour prosperity Give ȝe want Sensuality? I walled nought give ane silly fly, For ȝour treasure. Quhat say ȝe sir ar ȝe content, That scho cum heir incontinent: Quhat vails ȝour kingdom and ȝour rend, And all ȝour great treasure: Without ȝe have ane mirrie life, And cast aside all sturt and strife And sa Long as ȝe want ane wife, Fallen to and taken ȝour pleasure. Sir let nam sorrow in ȝow sink, Bot give us Ducats for till drink: And we shall never sleip ane wink Till it be back or eadge: Ȝe ken well Sir we have no cunȝe, Nam sovereign or we farther gang Gar Sensuality sing ane sang. Sovereign get up and see ane heavenly sicht Ane fair Lady in quhyt abuilȝement: Scho may be peir unto ane king or knicht, Most Like ane Angel be my judgement. Ȝon is ane stranger I stand ford, He seems to be ane lusty Lord: Be his heir-cumming for concord, And be kind till our King: He shall be welcome to this place, And treatit with the Kings grace: Be it nought sa, we shall him chase, And to the devil him ding. Sir we shall mend our condition, Sa ȝe give us remission, Bot give us live to sing: To dance, to play at Chess and Tabils, To reid Stories and mirrie fabils, For pleasure of our King. Brother Wantonness quhat thinks thou? Ȝon ar the thrie estaits I trow: Gangand backwart. Sir quhill ȝe get ane prudent Queine, I think ȝour Majesty serein Should have ane lusty Concubein, To play ȝow withal: For I knaw be ȝour quality, Ȝe want the gift of chastity Fallen to in nomine Domini, This is my counsel. I speak Sir under protestation, That nane at me have indignation: For all the Prelates of this Nation, For the mayest partly: They think nam shame to have ane huir, And sum hes thrie under their cuir: This to be true I'll ȝow assuir Ȝe shall heir efterwart. ¶ Sir knew all the mater throch To play ȝe walled begin Speir at the Monks of Bamirrinoch, Giflecherie be sin. Ȝes lusty lady thought he war never sa seek, I wait ȝe bear his health into ȝour breik: Ane kiss of ȝour sweit mow in ane morning, Till his sickness might be great comforting, And also he makes ȝow supplication, This Night to make with him collatioun. Now schaw me sir I ȝow exhort How ar ȝe of ȝour luif content Think ȝe not this ane mirrie sport: