He had never a penny in his purse, Never a penny left but three, And one was brass, another was lead, And another it was white money. Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee, For when I was the lord of Linne, I never wanted gold nor fee. But many a trustye friend have I, And why shold I feel dole or care? Ile borrow of them all by turnes, Soe need I not be never bare. But one, I wis, was not at home; Another had payd his gold away; Another call'd him thriftless loone, And bade him sharpely wend his way. Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, Now well-aday, and woe is me; For when I had my landes so broad, On me they liv'd right merrilee. To beg my bread from door to door I wis, it were a brenning shame: To rob and steale it were a sinne: To worke my limbs I cannot frame. Now Ile away to lonesome lodge, For there my father bade me wend; When all the world should frown on mee I there shold find a trusty friend. PART THE SECOND Away then hyed the heire of Linne Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne, Untill he came to lonesome lodge, That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. He looked up, he looked downe, In hope some comfort for to winne: But bare and lothly were the walles. Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne. The little windowe dim and darke Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe; No shimmering sunn here ever shone; No halesome breeze here ever blew. No chair, ne table he mote spye, No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought save a rope with renning noose, That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written so plain to see: "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyselfe to penurie? "All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend: Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, Sorely shent was the heire of Linne, His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne, Never a word he spake but three: "This is a trusty friend indeed, And is right welcome unto mee." Then round his necke the corde he drewe, And sprung aloft with his bodie: When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine, And to the ground came tumbling hee. Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, Ne knewe if he were live or dead: At length he looked, and saw a bille, And in it a key of gold so redd. He took the bill, and lookt it on, Strait good comfort found he there: It told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere. Two were full of the beaten golde, The third was full of white money; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plaine to see: