Many are the poet's addresses to the King in happier circumstances when James is at home and in full enjoyment of these joys of Edinburgh. His prayers for a benefice are sometimes grave and sometimes comic, but never-failing. He describes solicitors (or suitors) at Court, all pushing their fortune. "Some singis, some dancis, some tells storyis." Some try to make friends by their devotion, some have their private advocates in the King's chamber, some flatter, some play the fool-- "My simpleness among the lave Wist of na way so God me save, But with ane humble cheer and face Referris me to the Kyngis grace, Methinks his gracious countenance In ryches is my sufficence." Not always so patient, however, he jogs James's memory with a hundred remedies. "God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man!" he cries with rueful glee through a lively set of verses-- "For war it so than weill were me Bot (without) benefice I wald not be; My hard fortune war endit then God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man!" John Thomson's man was, according to the popular saying, a man who did as his wife told him; and Dunbar was strong in the Queen's favour. Therefore happy had been his fate had James been of this character. We cannot, however, follow the poet through all his pleadings and witty appeals and remonstrances, until at last in despairing jest he commends "the gray horse Auld Dunbar" to his Majesty, and draws or seems to draw at last a consolatory reply, which is thus recorded at the end of the poem under the title of "Responsio Regis." "Efter our writtingis, Treasurer Tak in this gray horse, Auld Dunbar, Which in my aucht with service trew In lyart changit is his heu. Gar house him now against this Yuill And busk him like ane Bischoppis muill, For with my hand I have indorst To pay whatever his trappouris cost." Whether this response was really from James's hand or was but another wile of the eager suitor it is impossible to tell: but he did eventually have a pension granted him of twenty pounds Scots a year, until such time as a benefice of at least fifty pounds should fall to him; so that he was kept in hope. After this Dunbar tunes forth a song of welcome to "his ain Lord Thesaurair," in which terror at this functionary's inopportune absence--since quarterday we may suppose--is lost in gratulations over his return. "Welcome," he cries-- "Welcome my benefice and my rent And all the lyflett to me lent, Welcome my pension most preclair, Welcome my awin Lord Thesaurair." Thus the reckless and jolly priest carols. A little while after he has received his money he sings "to the Lordes of the King's Chacker," or Exchequer-- "I cannot tell you how it is spendit, But weel I wat that it is ended."