Wit restor'd in several select poems not formerly publish't.

The Scots arrears.

FOwre hundred thousand pounds A lusty bag indeed▪ Was't ever knowne so vast a sum Ere past the river Tw•…•…de?

Grea•…•… pitty it is, I swear, Whole carts was thither sent, Where hardly two in fifty knew, What forty shillings meant: But 'twas to some perceiv'd, Three kingdomes were undone.

And those that sit heere thought it fitt, To settle them one by one, Now Ireland hath no haste, So there theile not begin; The Scottish ayde must first be pai'd, For ye came freely in, And William Lilly writes— Who writes the truth you know; In frosty weather they marched hither. Up to the chins in snow.

Free quarter at excesse, They do not weigh a feather, Those Crowns for coals brought in by shoals; Scarce kept their men together, Of plunder they esteeme As trifles of no worth, Of force ye dote because recruite Issued no faster forth. If once this cash is paid I hope the Scot be spedd, He need not steale but fairly deal Both to be cloth'd and fedd. Our sheep and oxen may Safe in their pastures stand, What need they filch the cow Thats milch to sojourne in their land.

I wonder much the Scot With this defiles his hands,

Because the summ's a price of Rome Rays'd out of the Bishops lands, But too too wel ye know To what intent they in came Twas not their paines produc'd this gaines Twas sent to packe them home, Mee thinks I heare them laugh To see how matters proved, And give ashout it so fell out, Ye were more fear'd then loved, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…key after this •…•…nge hath forgott 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 fires hee much retires 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shows himselfe no Scott.