And John himselfe sate at the bord-head, 65
Because now lord of Linne was hee;
"I pray thee," he said, "good John o' the Scales,
"One forty pence for to lend mee."
"Away, away, thou thriftless loone;
Away, away, this may not bee: 70
For Christs curse on my head," he sayd,
"If ever I trust thee one pennie."
Then bespake the heire of Linne,
To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:
"Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 75
I pray for sweet saint Charitie."
"Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
I sweare thou gettest no almes of mee;
For if we should hang any losel heere,
The first we wold begin with thee." 80
Then bespake a good fellòwe,
Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord;
Sayd, "Turn againe, thou heir of Linne;
Some time thou wast a well good lord.
"Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 85
And sparedst not thy gold and fee;
Therefore Ile lend thee forty pence,
And other forty if need bee.
"And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
To let him sit in thy companie: 90
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
And a good bargain it was to thee."
Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
All wood he answer'd him againe:
"Now Christs curse on my head," he sayd, 95
"But I did lose by that bargàine.
"And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
Before these lords so faire and free,
Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape
By a hundred markes than I had it of thee."
"I drawe you to record, lords," he said, 100
With that he cast him a gods-pennie:
"Now by my fay," sayd the heire of Linne,
"And here, good John, is thy monèy."