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'I pray thee now, good John o'th' Scales,
'one forty peece for to lend me.'
'Away, away, thou thriftless loon,
'away, away, this may not be,
'For Christ's curse on my head,' he said,
'if ever I trust the one pennie.'
Again bespake the heir of Linne,
to John o' th' Scales wife then spake he;
'Madam some alms on me bestow,
'I pray for sweet saint charity,'
'Away, away, thou thriftless loon,
I swear thou'lt get no alms of me;
'Should we hang any losealls here,
'the first we would begin with thee.'
O then bespake a good fellow,
who sat at John o' th' Scales board,
Said, 'turn again thou heir of Linne;
'sometime thou was a right good Lord;
'Some time a good fellow thou'st been,
'and sparedst not thy gold and see;
'Therefore I'll lend the forty-pence,
'and other forty if need be:
'And aye, I pray the John o' th' Scales,
'let him fit in they companie;
'For well I wot thou hast his land,
'and a good bargain it was to thee.'
Up to him spake John o' th' Scales,
all wod, he answer'd him again:
'Now Christ's curse on my head,'
'but I did lose by that bargain.
'here I do proffer thee all Linne,
