%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE LAIRD OF DYSARTS / DREAME. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/23/2014 33176

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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

R179908 I The Laird of Dysert, Melvine by name, / In the reigne of King Charles, I dream'd a dreame, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 615 THE LAIRD OF DYSARTS / DREAME. THE LAIRD OF DYSARTS DREAME. THE LORD OF DYSART'S DREAM. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/23/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature monstrosity religious concepts supernatural/ magic Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/23/2014 2:11:19 PM XBallad Jaworski, Cheryl Created XML Version of Ballad 6/23/2014 2:11:19 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2014 2:11:19 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Palmer Browne, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2014 2:11:19 PM Transcriptionist Two Reyes-Ortiz, Joannekris Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2014 2:11:19 PM Transcriptionist One Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/29/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/15/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/1/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE LAIRD OF DYSARTS</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">DREAME.</hi></seg>
I The Laird of Dysert, Melvine by name, In the reigne of King Charles, I dream'd a dreame, The like apparition (as all men sayes) Was never seene, since Thomas Rymers dayes: And so because the Lords of the Session, And all the Advocates and their profession, Gets no imployment (for the people moanes, For want of Justice, shading teares with groanes: They vow, and swear they'l never be too faine While that the Session shall sit down againe. And so to make our Law-men laugh or smile, I'le tell them this dreame to sport them a while. I went to my Bed being drunk at night, When the Moone was mounted to her full hight, I thought I saw a Dove flie from the Skye, In bignesse of the Turtles quantitie. This Bird she lighted on a withered bough, Into a faire Wood spatious eneugh. And there by open Proclamation, She sommonds the ramping roaring Lyon, The wood Wolfe, and the Asse, only these three, She cits them to confesse their villanie. She commands the Wolf the Lyon to shrive, And to give account of his prerogative. She bides the Lyon the Wolf to confesse, And likewise to shrive the sillie simple Asse, And so Cardinall Wolfe first thus begins, To confesse the Lyon of his deadly sins. Since quoth the Wolfe, great Lyon ye are prince, And King of beasts by divine providence, Confesse your faults, for now I am your priest, To pardon and calme your conscience to rest. Then said the Lyon, I confesse I am The bloudiest beast that ever God did frame, For right and wrong with me indifferent are, Lawlesse I leave, what I desire, I dare, I make Religion a clocke for my cause, But I am carelesse to defend her Lawes, I devour all beasts, I murther, I kill, Horse, Kyne, and Sheepe, to glut my roaring will, My conscience is a gulfe which nought can stuff, My stomack is hell which never gets annuffe, O! what a monster am I to depaint, I swime in sin, and I cannot repent. I pray thee holy Wolfe grant me a pardon, For all my faults, and let me raigne at randum Tush, sayes the Wolfe, My soveraigne king and prince, Feare not, nor care not, for your small offence. Ye may commit, and never give a groane, The seven deadly sins bondled-up in one: A large prerogative to you is given, To rule on earth, as God doth rule in heaven.
So I absolve you, for the truth I tell, Kings are exempted from the plagues of hell. Thankes, sayes the Lyon, ye have set me free, And my roome conscience runs at libertie: But Jesuite-Wofe, since ye absolve me so, I must confesse you now before you go: Tell me your sins, and tell them all in briefe, For I know well ye are a common thiefe. Yes, sayes the Wolfe, I cannot abhor it Albeit Gods wrath should fall upon me for it. Except the devil, and his fraternitie, God never made a creature like to me. I am a deadly foe to man, and beast, And to my kyne; but yet I am a priest, I feed on carion horses, Beeffe and Mutton, My stomacke like my conscience is a glutton: I will not cry for mercie, I will goe And hang myselfe, to end my endlesse woe. Dispaire not, sayes the Lyon, for I tell thee, Thy sins are small, and sillie that befell thee, For what thou doeth, it is thy kindly nature, Inclines thee to it, ordain'd by thy Creator, Thy stomacke is so sharpe, it cannot want Flesh, though it were the carcage of a Saint, So I absolve thee from thy hearts affliction, God in his mercie is without restriction. Now saith the Lyon, Godlesse Asse come hither, Its you that yockes men by the eares together. No, sayes the Asse, I sweare in all my life, I never injur'd neither man nor wife: Nor lad, nor lasse, I never yet did wrong, To cat, or dog, either by teeth or tongue. The Lion saith, Thou art a reprobate, Who thinke to live and die without a falt. One thing torments my conscience, quoth the Asse, Remarke, and I shall tell you how it was, My master in his shoone did put some stray, To keepe his feete warme, walking out the way: I beeing faint, some straes I plucked out, To glut my stomacke, and my greedie gut: This is the greatest sin I boldly sweare, That ever I committed late or aire. O! cryes the Lyon, common thiefe and knave, Thou did thy master wickedly deceive, For which I doome thee to remaine with Sathan, To burne in hell with Corah and with Dathan. So I the Laird of Dysart flang and started And at these words I wakned all agasted: I dream'd this dreame, soft sleeping at mine ease, Let all mens mindes expound it as they please. To make my Law-men laugh it's my intent, Although I made myselfe a foole in print.
FINIS.