%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Poysonit Schot Sempill, Robert University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1570-1570 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/29/2018 36364

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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

S124075 GIf wicked vice first sen the warld began / Had age be age, but punishment Increst? Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 18: 5 The Poysonit Schot The Poisoned Shot Sempill, Robert Printer Robert / Lekpreuik 1570-1570

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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 10/29/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/29/2018 3:23:52 PM XBallad Raychawdhuri, Anita Created XML Version of Ballad 10/29/2018 3:23:52 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/29/2018 3:23:52 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/29/2018 3:23:52 PM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/29/2018 3:23:52 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/7/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 6/11/2018 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left">The Poysonit Schot</seg>
GIf wicked vice first sen the warld began Had age be age, but punishment Increst? In eirth lang syne yair had bene nothing than, Saif onlyvice and malice manifest. Bot to thir dayis sic meanis God ay drest, Aganis vice that vertew ay hes strevin: Thocht ather uther be tyme hes oft opprest, Last Justice Judge bure ay the ballance evin. Sa of his plesure it plesit him provyde, Us to exerce as ship under the saill: Sum tyme in storme, sum tyme in temperate tyde To let us knaw this warld is but fraill. Betuix gude and evill markand our travaill, In evills flude not menand our nawfrage: Princes be Justice he ordanit in this vaill, Us to conduct as Pilats dois their Barge. And sa we se in Storeis as we reid, Ay to thir dayis sum Magistrates did ring: Sum gude some evill, betyme as d[i]d succeid At quhais plesure vertew did fade or spring. The gude did vertew, the wicked vice upbring Quhat plesis them the same the pepill suittis And sa we se the maners of the King Is ay the mark quhairat his subjectis shuittis This part to preif be yair particular lives It war to lang in vulgare veirs expres it, At lenth the same sen Cronickles discrives, And als experience will cause us to confes it. And last of all, how wicked vice Incres it Amang ourselves throw Marcis negligence, And how the same began to be suppressit: Be Murrayis meane we haif experience. Quhat vice rais up revolve into zour minds Quhat sin, quhat shame, in hir last dayis did reil That prudent Prince gif yat he tuik sum pynis That mys to mend I hope ze haif ane feill. Gif ocht he socht except ane commounweill, The gloir of God and Kingis obedience: And in that cause maid Justice ay his sheild, I seik na Judge bot zour awin conscience. His awin estate he cairit ay to knaw, For pompe nor pryde can na man say he preist, Societie he socht, and keipit curage law, Thinkand alwayis that mesure was ane feist. His peple luifit, and cairit for the leist, For profite panst not, nor his commoditie: In trouble travellit: his cummer never ceist Ay to his wraik, and our utilitie. Thus be his prudence vertew was erectit In him the pure oppressed had releif: Throw him Idolatrie and vice wes ejectit, Throw him Gods Kirk and peple fand releif. Throw him wes vinqueist the beildars of yis greif Throw him yis realme fand sum stabilitie Throw him was baneist thift, murther, & reif, Piracie puneist, and devillishe sorcerie. Sa vertew sprang, and vice began to faide, Oppressioun fled, and Justice tuik the place, His godly lyfe all godly men may aide: Be his exemple vertew to imbrace. And als his lyfe may in ane other cace, All Princes warne heirefter to succeid: Thair foes to flatter that hes ane double face, And to be war to clap ane traytours heid.
Even as the man the quhilk be musik playis Mistonit stringis castis not away we se, But peice and peice be sundrie wrestis & sayis Ilk ane with uther be tyme causis agre. Even so that Prince thocht be humilitie, His peple wyn, and concord to contrake Bot as sum stringis will rather brek nor be, Evin so the wickit be mercy will not make. His mercy wan: bot mair his mercy tint Not he, bot we, his mercy now may rew His mercy loist, we wan the swordis dint, His mercy saifit, be murther that him slew. Suppose his mercy this bergane to us brew Zit mene I not bot men suld mercy use, To penitents, quha myndis not vice renew, Bot nane to sic continewis in abuse. His mercy saifit, quha mercy not deservit, His mercy did preserve the arrogant: His mercy sum amangis us hes preservit, Thocht thay seme holy indeid yai ar na sanct. His mercy saifit, we wer the better want, Thair Serpents seid to tyranis wald us thral Because sic peple in tyme he did not dant, But warldly mercy Christ sufferit him to fall. For mortall malice, and curst covetice, With wickit Invy commonit all in Ire: And prydefull arrogance the mother of all vice Aganis that Prince did cruelly conspire. His fais hartis Inflamit all in fyre, His blude to seik Invyfull of his gloir: Saikles to shuit him ane harlet feit for hyre, Hangman to Hary, that tratouris wes befoir. O bludy bouchour bastard of Balials blude Quha to this Realme had nother lufe nor zeill O tressonable tratour be tresson yat thocht gude Murdreis the Prince preserver of this weill. O sorrowfull shot, thy poysoun did doun steill, Not only him, quhom wofully thow woundit: Bot pure & riche, thy vennoume hes gart feill, Of his deir deith the stoundis him confoundit. That shot allace yis realme hes shot in tway That shot to vice the portis hes oppinit plane, That shot hes Justice and vertew shot away, That shot Idolatrie is shuitand up agane. Sic shottis unpuneist gif lang time yai remane Vice sall be vertew, and vertew sall be vice: Wrang salbe richt, and richt salbe thocht vane Ilk ane unpuneist sall pleis thair awin device. That shot hes sinderit quhilk was togidder knit That shot hes cuillit our curage as ye leid That shot hes feiblit our manly force and wit, That shot our sichts hes blindit all indeid. We se and spyis not our sorrowis to succeid, We meint & meinis not this wickitnes correck We wald and will not hank yame be ye heid Quha hes preparit the swordis for our nek. Vagabounds we wander in miserie & wo As ship but Ruther, sa ga we now but gyde: We skail we scatter we wait not quhair we go Spyis not the rock quhairon we rashe our syde We haif na grace nor power to provyde, Aganis this rage and crueltie: remeid Bot willingly allace throw arrogance & pryde Offers this Realme as Sacrifice to deid.
In place of peace now murther weir uprasis In place of lufe Invy amangis us springis, In place of Faith his freind falset betrasis In place of rest Rebellioun with us ringis. In place of ane, we have so mony Kingis, The Crownit King gettis na obedience Sum France for aide, & sum Ingland inbringis The ane for wrak the tother for defence. And so this Realme quhilk enemeis oft sayit With cruell weir and sturdie stormis fell, Quhilk feirful force of Ingland never frayit, Of France the feir, nor Spaine in just quarrel Quhilk to thir dayis unvenqueist buir ye bell Sall now allace be fatell destenie: As Ajax wes, be vanquer of the sell, On proper knyfe constraynit for to die. Quhat wald allace our Kings & elders say, Gifin thir dayis from hevin yai now discendit To se this Realme so dulefully decay, In quhais defence yair lusty lyvis thay endit. Thay wald I trust repent yair time sa spendit Thay wald I wait yair labouris loist forthink To se yair Babes ye blude quhilk yai defendit Aganis nature sa cruelly updrink. Justlie yis plague I dout not we deservit Seikand the menis of our awin mischeif: Bakwart from God because we haif suervit Thairfoir we taist his punischment in greif. Zit in his mercy haifand ay beleif, Still sall I pray his devine Majestie, Aganis this rage to send us releif, Our King to saif and his Nobilitie. Lenvoye. GO bony bill deploir Of deith the dolent stound, Quhilk did our Prince devoir James Regent of Renoun. I pray the go, declair the wo Sen syne that dois abound, I gif command, throw burgh and land, The same zow gar resound. Our cair may move the stonis, And havie rockis to rair: Swa mony stormes at onis, Struke never land sa fair. The cause of that, the hevins wat, Not I, I zow declair, Except it be, to let us se, How Kingdomes ar bot cair. Zit lat us not dispair Into thir walis of wo, God may convert our cair in plesure and in Jo. He may discord, turne in accord, And mak him freind was fo: He may I trest, set us at rest, Thocht all the warld say no. It sulde releve our greif, To se our King bening: In him I hope releif, Of zeiris thocht he be zing. His future age, sum great presage, Presentis us in his Ring: Quha our defence, in his nascence, Tuik haill in governing.
FINIS. Imprentit at Edinburgh be Robert Lekpreuik. Anno. Do. 1570.