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TO HIS MAJESTIE
Shir, clenge your ****rie of thir cruell crymis, Adultries, witchcraftis, incests, sakeles bluid; Delay not, bot as David did betymis, Your company of such men soon secluid. Out with the wicked;-garde you with the gude; Of mercy and of judgment sey to sing. Quhen ye suld stryk, I wald ye vnderstude; Quhen ye suld spair, I wish ye were bening. Chuse godly counsel, leirne to be a king. Beir not thir burthenis longer on your bak. Jumpe not with justice for no kynd of thing. To just complantis gar gude attendance tak. Thir bluidy sarks cryis alwayis in your eiris: Prevent the plague that presently appeirs. |
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