194THE LAIRD OF WARISTON

A.‘The Laird of Waristoun,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 109.

B.‘Laird of Wariestoun,’ Kinloch MSS, VII, 217; Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 49.

C.‘Death of Lord Warriston,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 56.

Birrell’s Diary, under the date of July 2, 1600, has the following entry: “John Kinland [Kincaid] of Waristone murderit be hes awin wyff and servant-man, and the nurische being also upone the conspiracy. The said gentilwoman being apprehendit, scho was tane to the Girth Crosse upon the 5 day of Julii, and her heid struck fra her bodie at the Can-nagaitfit; quha diet verie patiently. Her nurische was brunt at the same tyme, at 4 houres in the morneing, the 5 of Julii.” P. 49.

Both husband and wife belonged to houses of some note. The wife, Jean Livingston, was a daughter of John Livingston of Dunipace, “and related to many of the first families in Scotland.”

Nothing seems to have been done to keep the murder from divulging. Warriston being only about a mile from Edinburgh, information very soon reached the authorities of justice, and those who were found in the house, the mistress, the nurse, and two female servants, were arrested. The crime was committed on Tuesday morning, not long after midnight. On Thursday such trial as there was took place, and it may have occupied three hours, probably less. At three o’clock on Saturday morning sentence was executed. This had been burning (i. e.after strangling), both for the principal and her accomplice, the nurse; but for the well-born woman, no doubt through the influence of her kindred, it was commuted to beheading. The servant-man who did the handiwork fled, but the penalty for undue devotion to his former master’s daughter overtook him within four years. He was broken on a cart-wheel with a plough-coulter.

The judicial records in the case of Jean Livingston are lost, but the process of the murder and the provocation are known from a register of the trial of Robert Weir, the actual perpetrator, and partly also from Jean Livingston’s own relation. Jean Livingston, having conceived a deadly hatred and malice against her husband, John Kincaid, “for the alleged biting of her in the arm and striking her divers times,” sent word by her nurse, Janet Murdo, to Robert Weir, formerly servant to her father, to come to Wariston to speak with her concerning the murdering of him. The nurse, who, we may safely suppose, had been the witness of Kincaid’s brutal behavior, was no unwilling agent. “She helped me too well in mine evil purpose,” says her mistress; “for when I told her what I was minded to do, she consented to the doing of it, and ... when I sent her to seek the man who would do it, she said, I shall go and seek him, and if I get him not, I shall seek another; and if I get none, I shall do it myself.” This the nurse confessed. The other two women knew nothing of the deed before it was done; “and that which they knew,” says the mistress again, “they durst not tell for fear, for I had compelled them to dissemble.” Robert Weir, having given consent, was put in a cellar, where he stayed till midnight, about which time he came up and went to Kincaid’s chamber. Kincaid, who had waked with the “din,” and was leaning over the side of his bed, was knocked to the floor by a blow in the neck, kicked in the belly, and then throttled. “As soon as that man gripped him and began his evil turn,” says the wife, “so soon as my husband cried so fearfully, I leapt outover my bed and went to the hall, where I sat all the time till that unhappy man came to me and reported that mine husband was dead.” She desired Weir, she says, to take her away with him, for she feared trial, albeit flesh and blood made her think that her father’s interest at court would have saved her (this may have been an after-thought). But Weir refused, saying, You shall tarry still, and if this matter come not to light, you shall say he died in the gallery, and I shall return to my master’s service. But if it be known, I shall fly and take the crime on me, and none dare pursue you.

A benevolent minister, who visited Jean Livingston in prison about ten o’clock on Thursday, the third day after the murder, found her “raging in a senseless fury, disdainfully taunting every word of grace that was spoken to her, impatiently tearing her hair, sometimes running up and down the house like one possessed, sometimes throwing herself on the bed and sprawling, refusing all comfort by word, and, when the book of God was brought to her, flinging it upon the walls, twice or thrice, most unreverently.” His warnings of wrath to come and his exhortations to seek mercy through repentance were treated as “trittle, trattle,” and she stubbornly refused to pray for herself, or to take part in his prayer, or to say so much as Godhelp me. He told her that she was promising herself impunity, but within a few hours, when she should have the sentence of death pronounced against her, the pride of her heart would be broken. The trial and sentence followed hard upon this, and when the minister returned, some time in the afternoon, he found a visible and apparent grace beginning in her. He remained with her till after midnight, and when he left her, Jean Livingston could say that she felt in her heart a free remission of all her sins. This worthy man came to the prison again early the next morning, and found God’s grace wonderfully augmented in her. She was full of joy and courage. Those that stood about her said they never saw her so amiable or well-favored. The glory of God was shining both without and within her.

To follow no further this astounding chapter in psychology, this bairn of twenty-one years,[10]with whom the Lord began to work in mercy upon Thursday at two hours in the afternoon, gave up her soul to him in peace upon the Saturday following at three hours in the morning. “When she came to the scaffold and was carried up upon it, she looked up to the Maiden with two longsome looks,” but her serenity was not disturbed. She made a confession at each of the four corners of the scaffold, took “good night” cheerfully of all her friends, kissing them, and then, “as a constant saint of God, humbled herself on her knees and offered her neck to the axe.”[11]

It may be gathered from Weir’s indictment that it was the ill treatment which she had received from her husband that incited the wife to the murder. Two of the ballads,A4,B2, make the same representation. An epitaph on Jean Livingston gives us to understand that both parties were very young, and were married aganst their will (invita invito subjuncta puella puello): whence perpetual disagreements (nihil in thalamo nisi rixæ, jurgia, lites).

InA,B, the strangling is done by the nurse and her lady, Man’s Enemy personally knotting the tether inA; inCit is done by the nurse alone. InB8 the great Dunipace, in his anger at hearing what his daughter has done, cries out for her to be put in a barrel of pikes[12]and rolled down some lea. InCthe father, mother, and brother come to see Jean, and would fain give everything to borrow her. This is a by much too flattering account of the behavior of her relatives, who were principally anxious to have her got out of the world with as little éclat as might be. None of them came near her in prison, though Wariston’s brother did.Cmakes Wariston’s mortal offence not the throwing a plate at her face (A) or striking her on the mouth (B), but the taxing her with a bairn by another man.[13]The unfriendly relations of the pair must have been notorious. In the prison the wife “purged herself very sincerely from many scandalous things she had been bruited with. Not that she would excuse herself that she was a sinner in the highest rank, but that she might clear herself from these false reports that her house was charged with:” Memorial, p. XXVII.

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 109, as taken down by Sir Walter Scott from the recitation of his mother.

1Down by yon garden greenSae merrily as she gaes;She has twa weel-made feet,And she trips upon her taes.2She has twa weel-made feet,Far better is her hand;She’s as jimp in the middleAs ony willow-wand.3‘Gif ye will do my bidding,At my bidding for to be,It’s I will make you ladyOf a’ the lands you see.’* * * * * *4He spak a word in jest;Her answer wasna good;He threw a plate at her face,Made it a’ gush out o blood.5She wasna frae her chamberA step but barely three,When up and at her richt handThere stood Man’s Enemy.6‘Gif ye will do my bidding,At my bidding for to be,I’ll learn you a wileAvenged for to be.’7The Foul Thief knotted the tether,She lifted his head on hie,The nourice drew the knotThat gard lord Waristoun die.8Then word is gane to Leith,Also to Edinburgh town,That the lady had killd the laird,The laird o Waristoun.* * * * * *9‘Tak aff, tak aff my hood,But lat my petticoat be;Put my mantle oer my head,For the fire I downa see.10‘Now, a’ ye gentle maids,Tak warning now by me,And never marry aneBut wha pleases your ee.11‘For he married me for love,But I married him for fee;And sae brak out the feudThat gard my dearie die.’

1Down by yon garden greenSae merrily as she gaes;She has twa weel-made feet,And she trips upon her taes.

Down by yon garden green

Sae merrily as she gaes;

She has twa weel-made feet,

And she trips upon her taes.

2She has twa weel-made feet,Far better is her hand;She’s as jimp in the middleAs ony willow-wand.

She has twa weel-made feet,

Far better is her hand;

She’s as jimp in the middle

As ony willow-wand.

3‘Gif ye will do my bidding,At my bidding for to be,It’s I will make you ladyOf a’ the lands you see.’

‘Gif ye will do my bidding,

At my bidding for to be,

It’s I will make you lady

Of a’ the lands you see.’

* * * * * *

4He spak a word in jest;Her answer wasna good;He threw a plate at her face,Made it a’ gush out o blood.

He spak a word in jest;

Her answer wasna good;

He threw a plate at her face,

Made it a’ gush out o blood.

5She wasna frae her chamberA step but barely three,When up and at her richt handThere stood Man’s Enemy.

She wasna frae her chamber

A step but barely three,

When up and at her richt hand

There stood Man’s Enemy.

6‘Gif ye will do my bidding,At my bidding for to be,I’ll learn you a wileAvenged for to be.’

‘Gif ye will do my bidding,

At my bidding for to be,

I’ll learn you a wile

Avenged for to be.’

7The Foul Thief knotted the tether,She lifted his head on hie,The nourice drew the knotThat gard lord Waristoun die.

The Foul Thief knotted the tether,

She lifted his head on hie,

The nourice drew the knot

That gard lord Waristoun die.

8Then word is gane to Leith,Also to Edinburgh town,That the lady had killd the laird,The laird o Waristoun.

Then word is gane to Leith,

Also to Edinburgh town,

That the lady had killd the laird,

The laird o Waristoun.

* * * * * *

9‘Tak aff, tak aff my hood,But lat my petticoat be;Put my mantle oer my head,For the fire I downa see.

‘Tak aff, tak aff my hood,

But lat my petticoat be;

Put my mantle oer my head,

For the fire I downa see.

10‘Now, a’ ye gentle maids,Tak warning now by me,And never marry aneBut wha pleases your ee.

‘Now, a’ ye gentle maids,

Tak warning now by me,

And never marry ane

But wha pleases your ee.

11‘For he married me for love,But I married him for fee;And sae brak out the feudThat gard my dearie die.’

‘For he married me for love,

But I married him for fee;

And sae brak out the feud

That gard my dearie die.’

Kinloch MSS, VII, 217; from the recitation of Jenny Watson.

1It was at dinner as they sat,And whan they drank the wine,How happy war the laird and ladyOf bonnie Wariston!2The lady spak but ae word,The matter to conclude;The laird strak her on the mouth,Till she spat out o blude.3She did not know the wayHer mind to satisfy,Till evil cam into [her] headAll by the Enemy.* * * * * *4‘At evening when ye sit,And whan ye drink the wine,See that ye fill the glass weill upTo the laird o Wariston.’5So at table whan they sat,And whan they drank the wine,She made the glass aft gae roundTo the laird o Wariston.6The nurice she knet the knot,And O she knet it sicker!The lady did gie it a twig,Till it began to wicker.7But word’s gane doun to Leith,And up to Embro toun,That the lady she has slain the laird,The laird o Waristoun.8Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,And an angry man was he;Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,And row her down some lea!9She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,I wish ye may sink for sin!For I have been your wifeThese nine years, running ten;And I never loved ye sae wellAs now whan ye’re lying slain.10‘But tak aff this gowd brocade,And let my petticoat stay,And tie a handkerchief round my face,That the people may not see.’

1It was at dinner as they sat,And whan they drank the wine,How happy war the laird and ladyOf bonnie Wariston!

It was at dinner as they sat,

And whan they drank the wine,

How happy war the laird and lady

Of bonnie Wariston!

2The lady spak but ae word,The matter to conclude;The laird strak her on the mouth,Till she spat out o blude.

The lady spak but ae word,

The matter to conclude;

The laird strak her on the mouth,

Till she spat out o blude.

3She did not know the wayHer mind to satisfy,Till evil cam into [her] headAll by the Enemy.

She did not know the way

Her mind to satisfy,

Till evil cam into [her] head

All by the Enemy.

* * * * * *

4‘At evening when ye sit,And whan ye drink the wine,See that ye fill the glass weill upTo the laird o Wariston.’

‘At evening when ye sit,

And whan ye drink the wine,

See that ye fill the glass weill up

To the laird o Wariston.’

5So at table whan they sat,And whan they drank the wine,She made the glass aft gae roundTo the laird o Wariston.

So at table whan they sat,

And whan they drank the wine,

She made the glass aft gae round

To the laird o Wariston.

6The nurice she knet the knot,And O she knet it sicker!The lady did gie it a twig,Till it began to wicker.

The nurice she knet the knot,

And O she knet it sicker!

The lady did gie it a twig,

Till it began to wicker.

7But word’s gane doun to Leith,And up to Embro toun,That the lady she has slain the laird,The laird o Waristoun.

But word’s gane doun to Leith,

And up to Embro toun,

That the lady she has slain the laird,

The laird o Waristoun.

8Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,And an angry man was he;Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,And row her down some lea!

Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,

And an angry man was he;

Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,

And row her down some lea!

9She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,I wish ye may sink for sin!For I have been your wifeThese nine years, running ten;And I never loved ye sae wellAs now whan ye’re lying slain.

She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,

I wish ye may sink for sin!

For I have been your wife

These nine years, running ten;

And I never loved ye sae well

As now whan ye’re lying slain.

10‘But tak aff this gowd brocade,And let my petticoat stay,And tie a handkerchief round my face,That the people may not see.’

‘But tak aff this gowd brocade,

And let my petticoat stay,

And tie a handkerchief round my face,

That the people may not see.’

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 56.

1‘My mother was an ill woman,In fifteen years she married me;I hadna wit to guide a man,Alas! ill counsel guided me.2‘O Warriston, O Warriston,I wish that ye may sink for sin!I was but bare fifteen years auld,Whan first I enterd your yates within.3‘I hadna been a month married,Till my gude lord went to the sea;I bare a bairn ere he came hame,And set it on the nourice knee.4‘But it fell ance upon a day,That my gude lord returnd from sea;Then I did dress in the best array,As blythe as ony bird on tree.5‘I took my young son in my arms,Likewise my nourice me forebye,And I went down to yon shore-side,My gude lord’s vessel I might spy.6‘My lord he stood upon the deck,I wyte he haild me courteouslie:Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’7She turnd her right and round about,Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me?Alas! I was too young married,To love another man but thee.’8‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me;This bonny bairn is not mine,You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’9In discontent then hame she went,And aye the tear did blin her ee;Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revengedFor these harsh words he’s said to me.10She’s counselld wi her father’s stewardWhat way she coud revenged be;Bad was the counsel then he gave,It was to gar her gude lord dee.11The nourice took the deed in hand,I wat she was well paid her fee;She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,Which soon did gar this young lord dee.12His brother lay in a room hard by,Alas! that night he slept too soun;But then he wakend wi a cry,‘I fear my brother’s putten down.13‘O get me coal and candle light,And get me some gude companie;’But before the light was brought,Warriston he was gart dee.14They’ve taen the lady and fause nourice,In prison strong they hae them boun;The nourice she was hard o heart,But the bonny lady fell in swoon.15In it came her brother dear,And aye a sorry man was he:‘I woud gie a’ the lands I heir,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’16‘O borrow me, brother, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life is nae pleasure to me.’17In it came her mother dear,I wyte a sorry woman was she:‘I woud gie my white monie and gowd,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’18‘Borrow me, mother, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life’s now nae pleasure to me,’19Then in it came her father dear,I wyte a sorry man was he;Says, ‘Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,If I had you at hame wi me!20‘Seven daughters I hae left at hame,As fair women as fair can be;But I would gie them ane by ane,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’21‘O borrow me, father, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;I that is worthy o the death,It is but right that I shoud dee.’22Then out it speaks the king himsell,And aye as he steps in the fleer;Says, ‘I grant you your life, lady,Because you are of tender year.’23‘A boon, a boon, my liege the king,The boon I ask, ye’ll grant to me;’‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,Whateer ye ask it’s granted be.’24‘Cause take me out at night, at night,Lat not the sun upon me shine,And take me to yon heading-hill,Strike aff this dowie head o mine.25‘Ye’ll take me out at night, at night,When there are nane to gaze and see,And hae me to yon heading-hill,And ye’ll gar head me speedilie.’26They’ve taen her out at nine at night,Loot not the sun upon her shine,And had her to yon heading-hill,And headed her baith neat and fine.27Then out it speaks the king himsell,I wyte a sorry man was he:‘I’ve travelld east, I’ve travelld west,And sailed far beyond the sea,But I never saw a woman’s faceI was sae sorry to see dee.28‘But Warriston was sair to blame,For slighting o his lady so;He had the wyte o his ain death,And bonny lady’s overthrow.’

1‘My mother was an ill woman,In fifteen years she married me;I hadna wit to guide a man,Alas! ill counsel guided me.

‘My mother was an ill woman,

In fifteen years she married me;

I hadna wit to guide a man,

Alas! ill counsel guided me.

2‘O Warriston, O Warriston,I wish that ye may sink for sin!I was but bare fifteen years auld,Whan first I enterd your yates within.

‘O Warriston, O Warriston,

I wish that ye may sink for sin!

I was but bare fifteen years auld,

Whan first I enterd your yates within.

3‘I hadna been a month married,Till my gude lord went to the sea;I bare a bairn ere he came hame,And set it on the nourice knee.

‘I hadna been a month married,

Till my gude lord went to the sea;

I bare a bairn ere he came hame,

And set it on the nourice knee.

4‘But it fell ance upon a day,That my gude lord returnd from sea;Then I did dress in the best array,As blythe as ony bird on tree.

‘But it fell ance upon a day,

That my gude lord returnd from sea;

Then I did dress in the best array,

As blythe as ony bird on tree.

5‘I took my young son in my arms,Likewise my nourice me forebye,And I went down to yon shore-side,My gude lord’s vessel I might spy.

‘I took my young son in my arms,

Likewise my nourice me forebye,

And I went down to yon shore-side,

My gude lord’s vessel I might spy.

6‘My lord he stood upon the deck,I wyte he haild me courteouslie:Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’

‘My lord he stood upon the deck,

I wyte he haild me courteouslie:

Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,

Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’

7She turnd her right and round about,Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me?Alas! I was too young married,To love another man but thee.’

She turnd her right and round about,

Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me?

Alas! I was too young married,

To love another man but thee.’

8‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me;This bonny bairn is not mine,You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’

‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,

Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me;

This bonny bairn is not mine,

You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’

9In discontent then hame she went,And aye the tear did blin her ee;Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revengedFor these harsh words he’s said to me.

In discontent then hame she went,

And aye the tear did blin her ee;

Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revenged

For these harsh words he’s said to me.

10She’s counselld wi her father’s stewardWhat way she coud revenged be;Bad was the counsel then he gave,It was to gar her gude lord dee.

She’s counselld wi her father’s steward

What way she coud revenged be;

Bad was the counsel then he gave,

It was to gar her gude lord dee.

11The nourice took the deed in hand,I wat she was well paid her fee;She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,Which soon did gar this young lord dee.

The nourice took the deed in hand,

I wat she was well paid her fee;

She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,

Which soon did gar this young lord dee.

12His brother lay in a room hard by,Alas! that night he slept too soun;But then he wakend wi a cry,‘I fear my brother’s putten down.

His brother lay in a room hard by,

Alas! that night he slept too soun;

But then he wakend wi a cry,

‘I fear my brother’s putten down.

13‘O get me coal and candle light,And get me some gude companie;’But before the light was brought,Warriston he was gart dee.

‘O get me coal and candle light,

And get me some gude companie;’

But before the light was brought,

Warriston he was gart dee.

14They’ve taen the lady and fause nourice,In prison strong they hae them boun;The nourice she was hard o heart,But the bonny lady fell in swoon.

They’ve taen the lady and fause nourice,

In prison strong they hae them boun;

The nourice she was hard o heart,

But the bonny lady fell in swoon.

15In it came her brother dear,And aye a sorry man was he:‘I woud gie a’ the lands I heir,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

In it came her brother dear,

And aye a sorry man was he:

‘I woud gie a’ the lands I heir,

O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

16‘O borrow me, brother, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life is nae pleasure to me.’

‘O borrow me, brother, borrow me?

O borrowd shall I never be;

For I gart kill my ain gude lord,

And life is nae pleasure to me.’

17In it came her mother dear,I wyte a sorry woman was she:‘I woud gie my white monie and gowd,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

In it came her mother dear,

I wyte a sorry woman was she:

‘I woud gie my white monie and gowd,

O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

18‘Borrow me, mother, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;For I gart kill my ain gude lord,And life’s now nae pleasure to me,’

‘Borrow me, mother, borrow me?

O borrowd shall I never be;

For I gart kill my ain gude lord,

And life’s now nae pleasure to me,’

19Then in it came her father dear,I wyte a sorry man was he;Says, ‘Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,If I had you at hame wi me!

Then in it came her father dear,

I wyte a sorry man was he;

Says, ‘Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,

If I had you at hame wi me!

20‘Seven daughters I hae left at hame,As fair women as fair can be;But I would gie them ane by ane,O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

‘Seven daughters I hae left at hame,

As fair women as fair can be;

But I would gie them ane by ane,

O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

21‘O borrow me, father, borrow me?O borrowd shall I never be;I that is worthy o the death,It is but right that I shoud dee.’

‘O borrow me, father, borrow me?

O borrowd shall I never be;

I that is worthy o the death,

It is but right that I shoud dee.’

22Then out it speaks the king himsell,And aye as he steps in the fleer;Says, ‘I grant you your life, lady,Because you are of tender year.’

Then out it speaks the king himsell,

And aye as he steps in the fleer;

Says, ‘I grant you your life, lady,

Because you are of tender year.’

23‘A boon, a boon, my liege the king,The boon I ask, ye’ll grant to me;’‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,Whateer ye ask it’s granted be.’

‘A boon, a boon, my liege the king,

The boon I ask, ye’ll grant to me;’

‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,

Whateer ye ask it’s granted be.’

24‘Cause take me out at night, at night,Lat not the sun upon me shine,And take me to yon heading-hill,Strike aff this dowie head o mine.

‘Cause take me out at night, at night,

Lat not the sun upon me shine,

And take me to yon heading-hill,

Strike aff this dowie head o mine.

25‘Ye’ll take me out at night, at night,When there are nane to gaze and see,And hae me to yon heading-hill,And ye’ll gar head me speedilie.’

‘Ye’ll take me out at night, at night,

When there are nane to gaze and see,

And hae me to yon heading-hill,

And ye’ll gar head me speedilie.’

26They’ve taen her out at nine at night,Loot not the sun upon her shine,And had her to yon heading-hill,And headed her baith neat and fine.

They’ve taen her out at nine at night,

Loot not the sun upon her shine,

And had her to yon heading-hill,

And headed her baith neat and fine.

27Then out it speaks the king himsell,I wyte a sorry man was he:‘I’ve travelld east, I’ve travelld west,And sailed far beyond the sea,But I never saw a woman’s faceI was sae sorry to see dee.

Then out it speaks the king himsell,

I wyte a sorry man was he:

‘I’ve travelld east, I’ve travelld west,

And sailed far beyond the sea,

But I never saw a woman’s face

I was sae sorry to see dee.

28‘But Warriston was sair to blame,For slighting o his lady so;He had the wyte o his ain death,And bonny lady’s overthrow.’

‘But Warriston was sair to blame,

For slighting o his lady so;

He had the wyte o his ain death,

And bonny lady’s overthrow.’

4.The MS indicates that this is the nurse’s speech.

51. whanstruck out, aswritten over.

8. hasstruck out, ‘ssubstituted.

102. staystruck out, besubstituted.

103.Originallyhandkerchief; handstruck out.

Kinloch has made several changes in printing:

71. has gane.

83. Fy! gar.

84. some brae.

93. gud wife.He givesasin 51;bein 102;handkerchiefin 103.

64. Whase.Perhaps, Wha’srather thanWhae’s.

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