It cumis the of kynde to be ane tratour, To ryd on nycht, to rug, to reif, to fteill. Quhen thow puttis poyfone to me, I appeill 405 The in that parte, and preif it on thy perfoun; Clame nocht to clergy, for I defy the garfoun, Thow fall by it deir, Avith me, duerch, and thow dele.
In Ingland, owle, fould be thy habitatioun, Homage to Ed wart Langfchankis maid thy kyn, 410 In Dunbar reffavit him thy fals natioun, Thay fowld be exylit Scotland mair and rayn. Ane ftark gallowis, ane vviddy, and ane pyn, The heid poynt of thy eldeiis armis ar; Writtin in poyfie abone "Hang Dunbar, 415 Quarter and draw, and mak that furname thin."
I am the Kingis blude, his trew fpeciall Clerk, That nevir yit imaginit his offence, Conftand in mynd, in thocht, word, and werk, Only dependand upoun his excellence; 420 Treftand to baif of his magnificence Guerdoun, reward, and benefyce bedene; Quhen that the revynnis fall ryfe out bayth thy ene, And on the rattis falbe thy refidence.
Fra Atrik Forreft furth ward to Drumfreifs 425 Thow beggit with ane pardoun in all kirkis, Collapis, crudis, meill, grottis, gryce, and geifs, And undir nycht quhylis thow ltall ftaigis and ftirkis.
