❧ The tragical end and death of the Lord james Regent of Scotland, lately set forth in Scottish, and printed at Edinburgh. 1570. And now partly turned in to English.  

JAMES Earl of Murray Regent of renown  
Now lieth dead, and woefully put down,  
Murdered without mercy, mourning for remaid  
Who lost his life in Lythquo by a Clown,  
Guiltless God wots, betrayed in to that town.  
Was slain by gun-shot, and suddenly put to death,  
Done by the Papists our foes, through felonous faith.  
Hangman to Harry, now Burrio to their brother,  
Well may this murder manifest the t'other.   

¶ What wight a live would not lament his loss?  
Woe is me to want him, is the common voice:  
For such a Prince shall never poor man have,  
Killed by a Traitor, stealing upon him close,  
Purposing of purpose, life for life to loose,  
But no comparison twixt a kings son and a Knave  
Sigh he is gone, we cannot again him crave.  
Through all our realm I dare well make this choice,  
Reigned not his fellow since buried was the Bruise.   

¶ To keep good rule he road, and took no rest,  
Both South and North, and sometime East and West,  
All to decore our common wealth men know:  
By whom let us see, was Pirates so oppressed?  
Or yet the thieves so thrown down and dressed?  
Argyle and Huntlye hid them both for awe,  
And when he might, he was tendant at Law,  
Twice on a day, and sleeped not in sleuth,  
To see no fauters should bear them by the truth.   

¶ Of this foul fact suppose our foes be fain,  
Yet after Moses, josua comes again,  
To guide the people, give glory therefore to GOD.  
Should they succeed, that have Lord james so slain?  
Beware of that, lest that ye feel the pain,  
And have your weak ones wyrried with the Toad.  
Think ye with reason that such should rule the rod,  
Which with double murder have made us such ado  
And with our King would play like cozenage to?   

¶ Pray, if you please, I warrant you ye have need,  
To keep our King from kankred Kedzochis seed,  
That daily ways inventes to put him down:  
His Grandsire slain at Lythquo as I it reed,  
His Gudsire thrice did leave this land in deed,  
Harry at midnight murdered in this town,  
His Cousin now last, and yet they claim the crown.  
Blind jocke may guess, if these be godly deeds,  
Brewed by that Bishop in whom this mischiefs breeds   

¶ Cut of that Papist Prothogal parts,  
That with his leese all the Laity pervartes,  
Strait join your forces to the fields without fear,  
Because ye take your stoutness all in starts,  
To Hamilton in haste while ye have hearts.  
devise some way to pay your men of war,  
For if they once begon, ye need not gather gear.  
Fight well, and war them, and win the riches thore,  
And if ye do thus, in deed ye need no more.   

¶ Cursed be ye both, Bishop and Bothwell each,  
For this foul deed, your necks the halter stretch,  
If ye two want the withy, they do much wrong you:  
Lythquo lament, your burgesses may look bleach,  
In their said time your Burrow ruth the leech,  
Because of this murder lately made among you,  
For if I thought it helped aught to hung you,  
So should ye die, and set your town on fire,  
As some part of punishment to assuage God's ire.   

¶ Over these two houses for these deeds inding,  
The hand of GOD doth over their heads hang,  
Them to destroy, I doubt not in these our days:  
Hepburnis will go to wrack, for wyrring of the King,  
But Hamiltons fie, this was a fouler thing.  
Is this your firm religion, yea is, yea is?  
Such a time shall come I trow as Thomas says:  
herdmen shall hunt you up through Garranis hill,  
Casting their Plates and let the plough stand still.   

¶ Apparently these plagues are poured out,  
To wreak this world, and wots ye where about?  
Because we want no vice under the heaven:  
Sigh double murder makers seek to rule the rout,  
With the Ninivites to our GOD let us go cry and shout,  
For to retreat that sentence justly given.  
Yet thou good Lord, that judgeth all things even,  
seeing the peril that over the people stands,  
Let not their blood be sought at guiltless hands.   

¶ Now Lords & Lordings assembled in this place,  
Over long we talk of Tragedies, alas,  
Away with care, with comfort now conclude:  
As good in paper, as speak it to your face,  
If murderers for this gear get any grace,  
You shall be shent, think on, I say for good,  
Sigh art and part are guilty of his blood,  
Why should ye fear, or favour them for fleiching?  
You herd yourselves what Knox spoke at the preaching.   

¶ First on the fields, make shortly to le 〈…〉  
We lack but one, and what the worse are we?  
Sigh GOD was pleased to take him out of pine:  
All men on moold are marked for to die,  
In time and place appointed, so was he.  
Let not in care your couragies decline,  
For want of one I would not all should tine.  
Go seek at Roxbrugh when the King was slain  
And yet one woman won the house again.   

¶ Sigh then by women doughty deeds were done,  
You Barons be blithe, and hold your hearts above,  
And let us hear wherefore ye happened hither,  
They are no great party, and ye speed you soon,  
Albeit that boyd be dayily in Denone,  
Lang or Argyle be gathered in together,  
When all is done, the Counsel may consider,  
What is the most those murderers may do,  
Suppose that Huntly would come & help them to.   

¶ Had we one head would stoutly undertake it,  
The Barons says they should be boldly backed,  
Might they with speediness travel to these towns:  
Why stand ye afeard of Traitors twice detracted?  
Think ye not shame to hear your Lordships lacked?  
Some fears their flesh, some gins to gather crowns  
〈…〉 ideses their heads, some girds them up in gowns  
Look how your enemies prides then in their spurring  
Keeping the fields, and frees not in their furring.   

¶ woe worth the wives that fostered you and fed,  
You do nothing love but lie on soften bed,  
And keep you fro cold, with clouts in your shoe:  
I think great wonder how ye can be so dread,  
Or fray at them that last before you fled.  
Wanting their Queen, sith God is 'gainst them too.  
Why lie ye here, having here little to do?  
The Barons bids you shortly bide, or else begun,  
Courage decay if Scotishmen tarry long.   

¶ Have Lions looks, and then make way forth clear,  
Be Hannibals, and hoist your hearts with cheer.  
But be not still, while those Knaves do enclose you.  
He needs not work that hath one good oversaeer,  
Nor ye need fight, so that your hearts were fraeer.  
But by my soul myself could never ruse you:  
I know well for this crime Christ shall accuse you.  
For sparing Agag, Saul was punished sore,  
So shall he you, I dare not say no more.   

¶ The Lord of hosts that heaven & earth commands,  
Keep our young King from all unhappy hands,  
And that good Queen of England, and her Counsel to.  
You fear the Frenchmen should overlay these lands,  
But I hear say by some that understands,  
The Doctors doubt but they have more ado.  
Our Queen is kept straightly, her power is igo,  
England will help you, and ye will help yourselves,  
And be the contrair, crave of them nothing else.   

¶ Thus far ye well, I spare not to offend you,  
In simple verse this Schedul that I sand you,  
Beseeching you to scan it if ye may.  
Steal ye away, the wives will vilipend you,  
And if ye bide, the Barons will commend you.  
Best were it I think, we might prevent that day,  
Their meeting is on Sunday I hear say,  
In Glasgow town, thinking to fight or flee,  
It looks well there, ye get no more of me.   
FINIS.   

¶ The Tragedies lenvoy.  

AS men records,  
In deed my Lords,  
I shrink not for to show:  
Suppose ye crack,  
You lie aback,  
And libels by the Law.  
You make not to,  
As men should do,  
I trow ye stand in some awe:  
Suppose ye height,  
To see you fight,  
That day will never daw.   

Is no remayd,  
Fro he be dead,  
No man to seek amends:  
Or who is here,  
Dare break a spear,  
Upon yone limmeris lends  
You dare not mum,  
Till Sadler come,  
To see what England sends:  
Thinking to say it,  
And aye delay it,  
And so the matter ends.   

With sighs and sobs,  
And belted robes,  
You counterfeit the dole:  
What doughty deeds,  
To wear such weeds?  
Except it were a fool.  
Make to the town,  
And cow them down,  
Now or your courage cule  
For Maddie says,  
Bide ye few days,  
You be not their while Zule.   

Is this the thing,  
Who guides the King?  
You cannot all agree:  
Now fie for shame,  
Fetch Levenox hame,  
You have none nar nor he.  
If he want grace,  
To guide that place,  
There is other two or three:  
Then war I fain,  
But all in vain,  
To wish and will not be.   

And some there been,  
Warts on the Queen,  
But gape awhil they get her  
And were she here,  
I take no fear,  
The Fiend abye we set her,  
For we are now,  
As stark I trow,  
As farnȝer when we met her  
When all is done,  
They start to soon,  
To boast, & not the better.   

I think it best,  
You take no rest,  
If ye durst under take it:  
And we be true,  
We are iniew,  
You shall be boldly back it.  
But sine I see,  
It will not be,  
That metre will not make it  
The Fiend make cair,  
I say na mair,  
I rue that ever I spoke it.   Rob. Sempill. 
Finis.   

Imprinted at London by john Awdely, dwelling in little Britain street, without Aldersgate. 1570.