%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Maddeis Proclamatioun Sempill, Robert University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/04/2011 30369

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

S119982 IN loftie veirs I did rehears, / My drerie Lamentatatioun Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 7 Maddeis Proclamatioun Maddeis Proclamatioun Maddie's Proclamation Sempill, Robert ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/4/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation crime death politics/ government royalty Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/4/2011 2:48:01 PM XBallad Mellon, Gillian Created XML Version of Ballad 5/4/2011 2:48:01 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 2:48:01 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 2:48:01 PM Transcriptionist Two Hammerschmidt, Soren Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2011 2:48:01 PM Transcriptionist One Abrams, Annie Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/22/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 4/22/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/22/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/15/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/15/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/10/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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IN loftie veirs I did reheirs, My drerie Lamentatioun And now allace, maist ceirful cace I mak my Proclamatioun. Desyring all, baith greit and small, That heiris me be Narratioun Not for to wyte, my rude Ind[y]te: Sen maid is Intimatioun. I do Intend, nane to offend, That feiris God arycht, Thocht murtherars, & blud sc[h]eddars, Wald haif me out of sycht. Thair malice vane, I do disd[a]ne, And curse thair subtell flycht, My name is knawin, thair bru[i]t is bla-win Abrode baith day and nycht. For I a wyfe with sempill lyfe, Dois wyn my meit ilk day, For small availl, ay selling ca[il], The best fassoun I may. Besyde the Throne, I wait u[p]one, My mercat but delay: Gif men thair walk, I heir t[h]air talk And beiris it weill away. In felloun feir, at me t[ha]y speir, Quhat tythands in this land Quhy sit I dum, and dar not mum? Oft tymes thay do demand, To thame agane, I answer p[l]ane, Quhair thay besyde me stand Na thing is [h]eir, bot mortalll weir, Wrocht be ane bailfull band. A wickit race of grumi[,s] but grace Of Kedyochis curst clan, Be tressoun vile, quha dois d[e]fyle, Thame self baith wyfe and man. As lait is sene, with weipin[g] Ene, Thairfoir I sall thame ban: Caus our Regent maist Inn[o]cent, That cursit seid over ran. Quhat cruelteis thay E[n]emeis, Hes wrocht be tymes past, I lat over slyde, I may not [by]de, Sa sair I am agast, Thair anterous actis, thair furious factis, Auld bukis quha will over ca[s]t, And men on live, can yit discr[i]ve Thair doings first and last. Thairfoir my Lords, as best accords Sen ye ar hapnit hidder, This I will say tuix sport and play My wordis weill considder, And ponder thame for your awin schame To mark thame be not lidder: Lat na mans feid, throw feirfull dreid, Your hartis mak to swidder. For I heir say, thay will display Thair baners on the feild: Thinkand but dout, to ruit yow out, Or cause yow seik sum b[eild] At thame, rycht fane, or [dout ye n]ane, That ganyell will thay yeild, Stand not abak (oh) febill pak, Bot swordis leir to weild.
Defend your richt, in Goddis sicht Quhome of do ye stand aw? Rycht few I trow, will yow allow, Gif ye your selfis misknaw. Stand to thairfoir, fyle not the scoir, Bot all togidder draw, Not in Cat harrowis, lyke cankrit mar-rowis For feir of efter flaw. Do ye not se that mad meney, How thay ar waxin crous? To wirk yow tene, thai mak the Quene, Thair strenth and strang blokhous. The murther fy, thay do deny, And countis yow not ane sous, Thair proude pretence throw negligence Will be maist dangerous. To Lythquo toun, thay ar all boun Quhair thay the murther wrocht, And thinkis to de, or fortifie, Thair fellony forethocht. And trewlie I, can not espy, Quhat uther thing thay socht, Bot King put doun, & clame the Croun Be bludy murther bocht. I Pans and muse, how thay excuse This murther perpetrate, Or with quhat grace haldis up thair face Quhair it is nominate. Gif (as I trow) thay it allow, Lyke Wolfis Insatiate: Quha can repent, that thay be schent, With blude commaculate? Fall to thairfoir I yow Imploir, My Lords with ane assent, And think it lang, ay quhill ye fang, The feiris that did Invent This crueltie, be tyrannie, To sla our rycht Regent, For thay maist sure, dois still Indure With hartis Impenitent. That man in deid, is worth sum meid His fault that dois confes, Bot quhat rewarde suld be preparde, For him that dois transgres. And will not graunt, bot rather vaunt In his unhappynes, Maist sure the gallous, with all his fallous, For thair unthankfulnes. For gif self lufe, was from abufe, Dejectit out of hevin, Quhen Lucifer, wald be ane bar, To God and think him evin. Quhat sall we wene of tratours kene, That Ithandly hes strevin. For to deface the Nobill race, Of Stewarts od and evin. Considder weill, thair cankrit zeill Hes thristit mony day, For to posses but godlynes, The Crowne withouttin stay. As now of lait, thair curst consait, With murther thay display: Quhen thay thocht gude, to drink this blude Be that ungodly way.
Bot Sathan sure, dois thame allure With wordis fals and vane: Ay promysing, thame to be King, Quhairof thay ar full fane. In Paradice he did Intice, Be subtell craft and trane, The man first maid, sa God hes said, In Sacrede Scripture plane. He said that he, suld equall be, To God Omnipotent, The Appill sweit, gif he wald eit, Quhairof was maid restraint. With small defence, he gaif credence Bot did he not repent? Quhen efterwart, he felt the smart, And God aganis him bent. Sa sall all thay, that dois this day With mischant mynde maling, Aganis the treuth but ony reuth And Crowning of our King. And this thay muse for thair behufe, To place thair awin offspring, But thay repent, thay will be schent, And hell at thair ending. Authoritie gif Just he be, Quhy do thay this Ill will him? His graitfull gide, throw pevische pride Allace quhy did thay kill him? Thair heid supreme in to this Realme Admit gif thay not will him Than ye my Lords, cut of with cords Thame will be troublous till him. Revenge this wrang, lat tratours hang Gods Lawis dois sa requyre, Lat Caleb eik, and Josue seik, The promysit Impyre. Thocht murmurars, and murtherars Wald all your deith conspyre: In wyldernes with cursitnes, At lenth thay will all tyre. That Campion of Babilon, That bludy beildar up: With Mytrid heid, ane homyceid, That saikles blude dois sup. Gar cow his Crowne, or put him doun That he may taist the Cup Quhairwith oft tymes, for saikles crymes Mennis lyves he Interup. And se that never, ye do dissever From first contractit band, Quhen ye our King of yeiris ying, Maid Rewlar of this land. Lat not Invy, cause sum ly by, Bot all togidder stand: Than God the Lord, misericord, Will be your sure warrand. From Cail mercat, quhair as I sat Thir wordis I did Indyte, The wyfis amang, that thocht greit lang To se my awin hand wryte. Gif ony be, that will Judge me, To speik bot in dispyte, Gar mend the mis, committit is, And I na mair sall flyte.
FINIS. Quod Maddie.