did everie man
reaconter his marrow, till that the 230 slew such as matched thame. But
heir without slawchter the multitud fled. Thare had those of Samaria the
prophete of God to conforte, to instruct, and to promesse victorie unto
thame. But England, in that persute, had nothing, but as God secreatlie
wrought by his providence in these men that knew nothing of his wirking,
nether yitt of the causes thareof, more then the wall that fell upoun
the rest of Benhadadis army knew what it did. And tharefor, yit agane we
say, that such as in that suddane dejectioun beholdis not the hand of
God, feghting against pride for fredome of his awin litill flock,
injustly persecutted, dois willingly and malitiouslie obscure the glorie
of God. But the end thairof is yitt more notable.

The certane knowledge of the disconfiture cuming to the Kingis earis,
(who wated upoun newes at Lowmaban,[225]) hie was stryckin with ane
suddane feare and astonisment, so that skarslye could hie speak, or
had[226] purpoise with any man. The nycht constrayned him to remane
whare he was, and so yead[227] to bed; but raise without rest or qwyet
sleape. His continuall complaint was, "Oh, fled Oliver! Is Oliver tane?
Oh, fled Oliver!" And these woordis in his melancholie, and as it war
caryed away in ane transe, repeated hie from tyme to tyme, to the verray
hour of his death. Upone the morne, which was Sanct Katherins day,[228]
returned he to Edinburgh, and so did the Cardinall from Hadingtoun. But
the one being eschamed of the other, the brute of thare communicatioun
came nott to publict audience. The King maid inventorie of his poise, of
all his juwellis and other substance;[229] and tharefter, as eschamed to
look any man in the face, secreatlie departed to Fyfe, and cuming to the
Hall-yardis,[230] was humanlie receaved of the Ladye[231] Grange, ane
ancient and godly matron, (the Lard at his cuming was absent.) In his
cumpany war only with him Williame Kirkaldy, now Lard of Grange, and
some otheris that wated upoun his chalmer. The Lady at suppar, persaving
him pensive, begane to conforte him, and willed him to tack the werk of
God in good parte. "My portioun, (said he,) of this world is schorte,
for I will nott be with you fyvetene dayis." His servandis reparing unto
him, asked, Whare hie wold have provisioun maid for his Yule?[232]
quhilk then approched. He ansuered, with a disdanefull smyrk, "I can
nott tell: chuse ye the place. Butt this I cane tell you,