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ADMONITION TO MONTGOMERIE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Give patient eare to sumething I man saye
Last Line: Ye stoll awaye and durst no more be seene.
Alternate Author Name(s): James Vi, King Of Scotland; James I Of England
Subject(s): Montgomerie, Alexander (1545-1611)


Give patient eare to sumething I man saye,
Beloved Sanders, maistre of our art.
The mouse did helpe the lion on a daye;
So I protest ye take it in good part,
My admonition cumming from a hart
That wishes well to you and all your craft,
Who woulde be sorie for to see you smart,
Thogh other poets trowes ye be gone daft.
A friend is aye best knowen in tyme of neede,
Which is the cause that gars me take such caire
Now for your state, since there is cause indeed;
For all the poets leaves you standing baire:
Olde crucked Robert makes of you the haire,
And elfegett Polward helpes the smitthie smuike;
He comptes you done, and houpes but anie mair
His tyme about, to winne the chimnay nuike.
Bot as the good chirurgian oft does use --
I meane to rype the wounde before he heal'd;
Appardone me, I thinke it no excuse,
Suppose I tell the cause why they have rail'd;
And sine considder whither ye have fail'd,
Or what hath caus'd them this waye to backbite you:
Into that craft they never yett prevail'd,
Albeit of late they houpe for to outflite you.
For ye was cracking crouslie of your broune,
If Robert lie not, all the other night,
That there was anie like him in this toune;
Upon the grounde ye wolde not lett it light,
He was so firie speedie, yaulde and wight;
For to be shorte, he was an A per se.
Bot yett beleeve ye saw an other sight
Or all was done (or Robins rithme does lie).
Thus cracked ye and bragged but replie
Or answer made by anie present then,
As Dares did, when as he did ou'rhie
AEneas court nor coulde not finde a man
That matche him durst; the stirke for him that wann
Which ordain'd was, he craved at AEnes hand
And saide "Since there is none that does or can
Be matche to me, what longer shall I stand?
Delaye no more, bot give me the rewarde
Preordinate for them that victor war.'
Thus Dares ended, bot AEneas stairde
The campe about; "Since there is none that darr,'
AEneas said, "bot all seemes verrie skarr
T'essaye yone man, gar bring the bullock soone.'
Thus as he bade, they broght the bullocke narr
Which hade his hornes ou'rgilded all abone.
Amongs the armie which were witnes thair,
And not but wonder harde yone Dares boaste,
Entellus raise, a man of stature mair
Nor Dares was, and saide "Cheefe of our hoaste,
I now repent my former youthe is loste;
Bot since I see he shames your armie so,
Have at him then, it shall be on his coste,
As I beleeve, if Jove be not my foe.'
The circumstances of this bargane keene
I will remitt to Virgils ornate stile;
Bot well I watt Entellus soone was seene
By all to winne: So cracked ye a while,
That none might neere you scarcelie by a mile,
Till your Entellus harde you at the last.
The daye was sett, bot ye begoode to smile
For scorne, and thought to winne by running fast.
The wavering worde did spredd abroade belive
Of all your crackes and bargane that was made;
Eache one with other bussillie did strive
Who should be soonest at that solemne rade,
That they might judge which of the horse shoulde leade;
Ye saide there woulde no question be of that
Besides, ye saide, ye caired not all there feade:
Brecke as they woulde, the race it should no latt.
That night ye ceas'd and went to bed, bot grien'd
Yett fast for day, and thocht the night to lang:
At last Diana doune her heade reclin'd
Into the sea, then Lucifer up sprang,
Auroras poste, whome she did send amang
The gettie cloudes for to foretell ane houre
Before she staye her teares, which Ovide sang
Was for her love which turned into a floure.
Fra Lucifer hade thus his message done,
The rubie virgin came for to forspeeke
Apollos cumming in his glistring throne,
Who suddainlie therafter cleare did keeke
Out through his cart, where Eous was eke
With other three which Phaeton hade drawen
About the earthe till he became so seeke
As he fell doune where Neptune fand him fawen.
Bot to conclude, the houre appointed came:
Ye made yow readie for to rinne the race:
Ye bracke togither, and ranne out the same,
As Robin sayes, it hade bene fil'd your face.
It chanc'd ye were forerunne a prettie space,
A mile or more, that keeped it so cleene.
When all was done, ye hade so evill a grace
Ye stoll awaye and durst no more be seene.





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