O soverayne lord, be it to youre plesance
This book to take of my symplicité
Thus newly made for rememorance,
Whiche no man hath in worlde bot oonly ye.
Whiche I compiled unto youre rialté
And to the quenes hertes consolacioun
To know the state of youre domynacioun.
And for the prynce to have playne conyshance
Of this regioun, in what nobilité
It hath been kept alway of greet pushance,
With baronage and lordes of dignyté
The whiche alway God graunte that ye and he
May so kepe forth undir youre governance
To Goddes plesire withouten variance.
Thus to yow thre rials in unyté
This book with hert and lowly obeishance
I present now with al benygnyté
To been everemore within youre governance
For soveraynté and youre inherytance
Of Scotland hool, whiche shuld your reule obaye
As sovereyn lorde, fro whiche thay prowdly straye.
Wythin thre yere thaire grete rebellioun
Ye myght oppresse and uttirly restrayne
And have it alle in youre possessioun
And to obeye youre myght make thaym ful fayne
As Kynge Edward the first with hungir and payne
Thaym conquerde hool to hys subjeccioun
To byde forevere undir his hool proteccioun.
Who hath an hurte and wille it nought diskure
And to his leche can nought his sore compleyne
In wo evermore withouten any cure
Alle helples forth he muste comporte his peyne.
And who his own erande forgatte to seyne
As alle thise wise men say alway and wote
Men calle a fool or elles an idyote.
Wherfore to yow, as prince moste excellent
I me compleyne, as resoun techeth me
That youre fadir gafe me in commaundement
In Scotlonde ryde for his regalyté
To seke his ryght thare of hys sovereynté
And evydence to gette and to espy
Appurtenant unto hys monarchy.
— Chronicle of John Hardyng, Prologue.