"The original copy (preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, London,) is entitled, _A new ballad, declaring the great treason conspired against the young king of Scots, and how one Andrew Browne, an English-man, which was the king's chamberlaine, prevented the same. To the tune of Milfield, or els to Green-sleeves_. At the end is subjoined the name of the author, W. Elderton. 'Imprinted at London for Yarathe James, dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church,' in black-letter folio."--PERCY.
This ballad was licensed to James on the 30th of May, 1581.
Out alas! what a griefe is this, That princes subjects cannot be true, But still the devill hath some of his, Will play their parts whatsoever ensue; Forgetting what a grievous thing 5 It is to offend the anointed king! Alas for woe, why should it be so? This makes a sorrowful heigh ho.
In Scotland is a bonnie kinge, As proper a youth as neede to be, 10 Well given to every happy thing, That can be in a kinge to see: Yet that unluckie country still, Hath people given to craftie will. Alas for woe, &c. 15
On Whitsun eve it so befell, A posset was made to give the king, Whereof his ladie nurse hard tell, And that it was a poysoned thing: She cryed, and called piteouslie, 20 "Now help, or else the king shall die!" Alas for woe, &c.
One Browne, that was an English man, And hard the ladies piteous crye, Out with his sword, and bestir'd him than, 25 Out of the doores in haste to flie; But all the doores were made so fast, Out of a window he got at last. Alas for woe, &c.
He met the bishop coming fast, 30 Having the posset in his hande: The sight of Browne made him aghast, Who bad him stoutly staie and stand. With him were two that ranne awa, For feare that Browne would make a fray. 35 Alas, for woe, &c.
"Bishop," quoth Browne, "what hast thou there?" "Nothing at all, my friend," sayde he, "But a posset to make the king good cheere." "Is it so?" sayd Browne, "that will I see. 40 First I will have thyself begin, Before thou go any further in; Be it weale or woe, it shall be so. This makes a sorrowful heigh ho."
The bishop sayde, "Browne, I doo know, 45 Thou art a young man poore and bare; Livings on thee I will bestowe; Let me go on, take thou no care." "No, no," quoth Browne, "I will not be A traitour for all Christiantie: 50 Happe well or woe, it shall be so. Drink now with a sorrowfull," &c.