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Full text of "An English garner; ingatherings from our history and literature"

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Volume I. 





1 I 



|/2l 

v./ 



E. 



(?) 



Contents of tlje first QUoutme* 

(?) The late Expedition in Scotland, made by the King's Highness 1 army, under 

the conduct of the Right Honourable the Earl of Hertford. (1544) • • • 
Sir P. Sidney. Syr P. S. His ■ Astrophel and Stella. \ Wherein the 

excellence of s\oeet Poesy is concluded. (1581-1584)1 

Spenser, and others. Astrophel. A Pastoral Elegy upon the death of 

the most noble and valorous Knight, Sir Philip Sidney. (1591) 

The Great Frost. Cold doings in London, except it be at the Lottery. 

With News out of the Country. (1608) 

J. D. Esquire. The Secrets of Angling: teaching, the choicest Tools, Baits, 

and Seasons, for the taking of any Fish in Pond or River. (1613) 
R. Peeke. Three to One. ^Being an English Spanish combat performed by 

a Western Gentleman of Tavistock in Devonshire, with an English 

quarterstaff against three Spaniards. (1625) 

(?) A True Relation of a brave English Stratagem practised lately upon a sea 

town in Galicia, one of the Kingdoms of Spain. (1626) 

J. Taylor. The Carriers' Cosmography : or a Brief Relation of the Inns, 

Ordinaries, Hostelries, and other Lodgings in and near London. ( 1637) 
(?) England's Joy, or a Relation of the most remarkable Passages, from His 

Majesty's Arrival at Dover, to His entrance at Whitehall. (1660) 
N. N. A Narrative of all the Proceedings in the Draining of the Great 

Level of Fens, extending into the Counties of Northampton, &c. (1661) 
(?) A Relation of the Retaking of the Island of Sta Helena and three Dutch 

East India Ships. (1673)^ 

Capt. R. Knox. Nineteen Years' Captivity in the Kingdom of Conde Uda 

in the Highlands of Ceylon, between March 1660 and October 1679. (1681) 



Capt. R. Bodenham. Voyage to Scio in 

1551 A.D p. 33 

Rev. J. Brome. Curious navies of a 

Jury, at Huntingdon in 1619 A.D.... 32 
L. Bryskett. A Pastoral Eclogue ... 273 
J. Campion. The English trade to Scio 50 

C. Cotton. Winter 215 

Content. Sonnets after ASTROPHEL ... 595 

S. Daniel. Poliiis and Sonnets 580 

Bp. J. Earle. Character of a Child ... 653 
Queen Elizabeth. Importune me no more 11 
Rev. J. Fox. A false fearful Imagination 

of Fire at Oxford University 101 

G.Gascoigxe. G.l SCOIGNE's arraignment 

at BEAUTY'S bar 63 

R.Greene. La.MILIA's Song 620 

Rev. R. Hakluyt. Tlie Antiquity of 

the trade with the Levant ^o 

The Voyage of the Dog to tlie Gulf of 

Mexico, 1539 458 

Sir W. Herbert. The Boat of Bale ... 644 
W. Lauson. Comments on The Secrets 

of Angling 191 

E. Leigh. Hints to Travellers 446 

T.Lodge. SIREN pleasant l foe to reason 14 

My bonny lass ! thine eye 456 

Sir J. Mennis or Rev. J. Smith. King 

OBERON's apparel 17 

PHILLADA flouts me 310 

J. Milton. Books 13 

Sir T. More. A Letter to his wife ALICE 297 
A. M[unday]. Captivity of JOHN FOX 

of Woodbridge 201 

T. Nash. Somrwhat to read for them 

that list 497 

Earl of Oxford. Sonnets after ASTRO- 

PHEL 599 

What cunning can express ? 57 



PAGE 
113 

494 
249 

77 
141 

621 
601 
223 

25 
313 

59 
321 

280 



M. Rovdon. An Elegy p, 

Sir W. Raleigh. The recapture of the 

Island of S ark 16 

Conclusion of his History 654 

Couceipt begotten by the eyes 44 

Could the Romans Iiave resisted 

Alexander ? ... .^ 65 

Lord JOHN TALBOT compared to 

Mmilius 23 

The Infancy and Age of Time in 

The last refuges of the Devii to main- 
tain his Kingdom 199 

The Life of Man described 139 

W. Shaksi'EARE. Life of Man described 138 
Sir H. Sidney. A very godly letter made 

unto Philip Sidney his son 41 

Sir P. Sidney. Letter to his brother 

ROBERT 305 

T. Stevens. A Letter written from Goa 130 
Sir J. Suckling. Why so pale and wan 24 

Fourth version of Ci'PlD's attack .. 651 

The Privy Council. A Brief note on the 

benefits of Fish Days 299 

Thomas, Lord Vaux. The assault of 

CUPID upon the fort 74 

T. "Wilson. Eloquence first given by GOD 464 

(?) A praise of Mistress Ryce 38 

h) A ■wilful wife 31 

(.') An Epitaph upon Sir PHILIP SIDNEY 291 
(?) A n excellent Sonnet, wherein the lover 

exclaimcth against DETRACTION ... 460 

(?) Beauty's fort 128 

(?) Lcroe Posies 611 

(?) Ranks in the British Army about 1630 463 
(?) Report to Lord BURLEIGH of the cost 

of delivering wine in England 46 

(? The Bride's Good Morrow" 47 



FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS. 



PAGE 

A day, a night, an hour 598 

A gentle shepherd born 251 

A grievous sigh 282 

A kin:* gave thee thy ... 292 

A little board *53 

A sail ! a sail ! 216 

A shoe to bear 153 

A sort of shepherds suing 257 

A strife is grown 529 

" A sweet attractive 284 

"Above all others 286 

Affection follows 44 

Ah, bed ! the field where 552 

Ah Lycon ! Lycon ! 274 

" Ah. no ! It is not dead 263 

Ah, where were ye this.. 256 

Ah, wretched boy ! 257 

Alas ! have I not pain ... 510 

Alas ! whence came this 546 

Alcides' speckled poplar 281 

Alike they bite 175 

All these and many more 158 

All these are good 174 

All things are ready 49 

All summer long aloft ... 176 

All the world's 138 

All winds aie hurtful ... 184 

All you that will hold ... 593 

All you that love ! 596 

" Although thy beauty.. 286 

And after him, full 264 

And as a ship in safe ... 179 

And as in Arden 173 

And as it is the soldiers. 75 

And as a skilful fowler. . 168 

And blust'ring Boreas.. 148 

And do I see some cause 536 

And even with the 75 

And every one did 260 

And farewell, merry 296 

And female Courage ... 128 

for . 523 

And as it is now 461 

And in the midsf* thereof -'50 

And I, that in thy time. 291 
Ami in tht- stream ' 176 

And lei your garments, . 1 55 
And loot where mantled 219 
And many a nymph 253 

And now we are arrived 189 

n beholding 161 

A 1 1 . 1 my Muse ' 565 

is 217 

in ports 45 

107 
1 I have ... 76 

Anil that Which Was 282 

And ill- r ... 172 

■ t I'oyd ... 14H 

" And though this 64 



PAGE 

And to entice them 162 

And when I heard my... 40 

And when you see 174 

And when the floods ... 185 

And while I followed ... 289 

And with this bait ...... 175 

And yet some poets fain 45 

"And you compassionate 283 

As Lady, she 462 

As then, no wind at all .. 280 

" Astrophel ! " said she.. 573 

Astrophel with Stella ... 571 

At Beauty's bar as I ... 63 

At length I might 282 

At length they did 641 

Aye me ! to whom shall I 260 

Back to the camp, by ... 293 

Banisht the countries ... 218 

Be your words made ... 549 

Because I breathe not... 530 

Because I oft in dark ... 516 

Before, I taught 164 

Behold what hap 586 

Behold some others 171 

i . in hunting such 254 

Besides, when shepherds 184 

Better place no wit can. 562 

11 themselves 159 

" Break now your 262 

But all for nought I do . 462 

But at the last 163 

But by the way it shall.. 172 

But ere 1 furti go 179 

But every fish loves not 175 

But first his sister that... 261 

But hark ! what merry... 596 

But he for none of them 253 

But here, <) NEPTUNE... 165 

" But he them sees 263 

But here my weary 163 

But here experience 187 

But how this Art 159 

But if the weather 185 

But if you let your 595 

" But live thou there ... 264 

But murder's private ... 566 

But now that hope is ... 564 

But now again see 169 

But, O fool ! think of ... 560 

■ alas ' in vain I .. 461 

But slay, now I discern.. 597 

1 e good heed 173 

" But that immortal 263 

But the wrongs love 579 

J * 1 1 1 then your line 176 

e will these 579 

But vali u in 567 

Bill wh'-n ihi-ir tongues . 572 
But when in time 162 



PAGE 

But when the golden ... 177 

But where friends fail us 221 

But your reasons 579 

Carp, eel and tench 186 

Colin 1 well fits thy sad . 273 

Come Death! the anchor 591 

Come forth ye nymphs ! 265 

Come, let me write 520 

Come Sleep 1 O Sleep ! .. 522 

Conceipt begotten 44 

Cupid ! because thou ... 509 

Cupid which doth 599 

Dear ! why make you ... 532 

" Death ! the devourer.. 262 

Desire ! though thou my 539 

Dian, that fain would ... 551 

Desire himself runs out . 44 

" Did never love 287 

Doth sorrow of thy ... 598 

Doubt you to whom my 558 

Doubt you to whom my. 559 

Doubt there hath been ... 532 

Down fell I then upon... 64 

Drawn was thy race 292 

Eftsoons, all heedless of 255 

England doth hold thy .. 293 

Envious wits ! what 555 

Faction that ever dwells 599 

Fair Cynthia's silver ... 58 

Fair eyes ! sweet lips ! ... 524 

Farewell to you ! my ... 296 

l'i r. in il .1' 1 .'|it.iln 14 

Feigned acceptance 14 

First, when the sun 148 

Fie ! school of Patience . 531 

First, if the weather 183 

Fly! fly! the foe 220 

Fly ! fly 1 my friends ... 513 

For as the seeds in 44 

For beauty beautifies ... 568 

For fancy s flames of ... 456 

For from the time that... 252 

mid pipe, and .. 252 

S before 160 

For Nature, that hath... 180 

For since he learned to . 620 

Forthwith the stones ... 161 

For this you must 174 

Fur there are times 178 

Fortune swears 599 

For what avails to brook 179 

From first appearing ... 188 

From whence, each 57 

Full many maidens 253 

Go my flock ! go get ... 574 

Good-will, the Master... 75 



First lines of poems and stanzas. 7 



PAGE 

Good brother Philip ! ... 544 

Go, wailing verse ! the .. 580 

" Grant ! O grant ! but .. 572 

"Grant ! O Dear ! on ... 57 2 

Great gifts and wisdom . 292 

Grief ! find the words !... 550 

Haply, the cinders 289 

Happy in sleep ; waking 590 

Hark all you ladies that 595 

Hard-hearted minds 294 

Hark ! how the routed .. 215 

Hark ! hark ! the noise . 217 

H ark 1 hark! their voices 218 

Hark! how the 219 

Harkl Hark! I hear ... 215 

Have tools good store ... 154 

Have twist likewise 154 

Have I caught my 560 

Having this day, 523 

Hear then ! but then ... 570 

Heartsease and only I... 296 

He only like himself 295 

He was (woe worth that. 295 

Her tongue, waking 560 

Her yellow locks 258 

Hereof when tidings ... 259 

Here then you see 183 

Hid whole in heaps of... 460 

Highway ! since you my 545 

Him great harms had ... 517 

His bait the least 167 

His care was all, how ... 256 

His cork is large 17° 

His mother dear, Cupid 511 

His pallid face 258 

His rod or cane 170 

His shank hould neither 152 

His sports were fair, his 252 

His woid " was slain,".. 288 

Hope ! art thou true ... 536 

How many weeping 12 

I count it better pleasure 158 

I curst thee oft, I pity... 526 

If he had pleased, he ... 641 

If thus his very foes he .. 643 

I heard when Fame 38 

I mean not here 156 

I might— unhappy word 519 

I never drank of 54° 

I once may I see, when 593 

I, on my horse ; and 527 

I said thou wert most . . . 564 

I see my hopes must ... 600 

I see the house ! 545 

If a true heart and faith 587 

If Beauty bright be 59° 

If floods of tears could... 600 

If love might sweeten so 561 

" If more may be said... 574 

If Orpheus' voice had ... 561 

If so it hap the offspring 581 

" If that any thought ... 137 

If this be love, to draw... 974 

" If those eyes 555 

" If to secret of my 574 

I loathe the ling'ring ... 460 

In a grove most rich of .. 571 



PAGE 

Indeed it is a life 157 

In highest way of 5*4 

In martial sports I had 529 

In midst and centre 282 

In myrtle arbours on the 595 

In nature apt to like ... 511 

In prison, they him shut 642 

In skills that all do seek 145 

Incontinent with 283 

In this array the Angler 155 

In this rude sort began... 162 

" In this surmise 287 

Into a vineyard 641 

In truth. O Love ! with . 508 

In welt'ring waves my .. 460 

I sent to know from 652 

I should consume to 457 

Is that love ? Forsooth . 576 

I then resolved to starve 651 

It is most true— that ... 505 

It fortuned as he, that... 255 

It were not meet to send 164 

In wrestling, nimble ... 254 

Jealous the gaoler 64 

Kent, thy birthdays 292 

Knowledge her light ... 295 



Late tired with woe 

Leave a wretch in 

Leaving at large 

Let dainty wits cry on... 
Let him our little castle 

Let them that list 

Let us therefore, cry ... 

Light rod t j strike 

Like an invader 

Like some weak lords 
Lo in a little boat 
Look in my griefs 1 and.. 
Love born in Greece, of. 

Loving in truth 

Louder and louder 

Love ! by sure proof 

' ' Love makes earth 

Love more affected 

Love still a boy, and oft 
Love whets the dullest.. 
Lo ! you grow proud ... 



'f 



534 
575 
214 
5°4 
222 

157 
3 1 



5'7 
167 
589 
507 
5^3 
218 
535 
573 
569 
539 
597 
566 



" Madam," quoth I 462 

" Madam," quoth I 76 

Made my approaches ... 651 

" March ! " " March 1 " 652 

Mark what a line 17° 

Methinks I hear the 216 

More ease it were 156 

Morpheus! the lively ... 519 

Muses ! I oft invoked ... 530 

Music doth witness call 569 

Music more lofty swells 569 

My Cynthia hath the ... 587 

My bonny lass ! 456 

My cable is a Constant.. 644 

My decks are all of 645 

My keel is framed of ... 644 

" My lord," quoth 1 63 

My love bound me with 597 



PAGE 

My mouth doth water ... 521 

My Muse may well 538 

My mainmast made of .. 644 

My sailors are my 646 

My saint I keep to me .. 600 

My Sighs shall serve me 644 

My words, I know, do.. 525 

My years draw on my ... 592 

Nations, thy wit ; our ... 293 

Nearer and nearer 216 

Nearer she comes 217 

" Ne ever sing the love. 262 

Ne her with idle words.. 254 

" Never season was 573 

Next unto this 181 

Niggard time threats, if. 563 

Night hath closed all in. 5° 2 

No longer Fame could .. 40 

No more ! my Dear ! ... 535 

No, she hates me 57$ 

None may resist I2 9 

Nor that admirer 166 

Nor with that fish 166 

Nor with that Ork 165 

Not at the first sight ... 504 

Not that I take upon me 165 

Now I find thy looks ... 14 

Now I see, O seemly ... 15 

Now falls it out 178 

Now fins do serve 216 

Now for to take *7 2 

Now lest the Angler ... 188 

Now rhyme, the son of .. 296 

Now see some standing. 171 

Now sink of sorrow I ... 295 

Now stars concealed ... 216 

Now that of absence the 547 

Now that the Angler ... 186 

Now you may see his ... 219 

Nymph of the garden ! . 544 

O absent presence ! 55 6 

O dear life ! when shall I 576 

O Eyes 1 which do 5 2 4 

Ofate ! O fault ! 549 

" O God ! that such 285 

O Grammar rules ! 534 

" O grief ! that liest 283 

Oh! what a pain 3 10 

O happy Thames ! that.. 554 

O how the pleasant airs . 542 

O Joy ! too high for my 537 

O kiss ! which dost those 543 

O let me rather 157 

O my Thought 1 my 577 

" O sun ! " said he 283 

O sweet kiss ! but ah ! ... 56 * 

O Tears ! no tears but ... 553 

O world's deceit 169 

O you that hear this 5 63 

Of all the Kings that ... 54° 

Of Angling and the Art 147 

Of lead likewise 154 

Of thine eyes, I made ... 14 

"Of thousands whom in 642 

Oft and in vain my 5 8 4 

Oft with true sighs, oft 533 

" Oh, Death ! that hast 302 



First lines of poems and stanzas. 



PAGE 

Oh ! now I know them... 218 

On Cupid's bow, how ... 512 

On force of words she ... 128 

( )nly joy ! now here you. 562 

( )r as Thai mantis 152 

Or if I myself find not... 576 

Or to beguile another ... 157 

Or when cold Boreas... 183 

Or when land floods 184 

" ( lur Astrophil did 286 

Our then Ambassador ... 643 

Out ! traitor Absence !... 547 

Pardon mine ears ! both 528 

Bass forth in doleful 460 

1 think that 579 

Phillisides is dead ! 275 

Place pensive wails his .. 295 

Prime youth lusts not ... 15 

Proceeded op with no ... 651 

was judge 509 

Pr o stra te they fell 160 

Prudence and chastity 129 

Queen Virtue's Court ... 507 

Quit ! quit for shame ... 24 

Quoth Beauty, " Nol ... 63 

Beauty, " Well ! O4 

Reason ! in faith, thou... 508 

Rai due my hope on 504 

a my thoughts I 585 

Restore thy treasure ... 586 

Rich fools there be 515 

Round handsome hooks 171 

See how she dives into... 217 

See ! see ! the Rearward 220 

See the hand that 560 

main body 219 

See where a liquid 216 

See where another 170 

She beaten bark 211 

She calleth first on 128 

I straight 541 

I 129 

She. when she saw her... 257 

Si.;!: they did, but now.. 571 

Silence augmenteth 204 

•reel sleep her ... 560 

look that. 588 

Sit then Thalia 167 

t. 256 

S., deadly was llie dint.. 256 

the bullhead ... 187 

So must the Angler 179 

So neither if Don 183 

So shall lb. .11 have T49 

it shall be 188 

Sl '. thoil r... 165 

SO l" tin- WOOd Weill I ; 

S<> when the leaves 184 

.. 506 

ll ... 155 

■ 



FACE 

Stella hath refused me ! 575 

" Stella ! in whose 572 

" Stella ! in whose body 572 

Stella is sick, and in 553 

Stella oft sees the very... 525 

Stella ! since thou so ... 556 

" Stella ! Sovereign of... 572 

Stella the fair ! the 253 

Stella ! the fulness of the 528 

Stella ! the only planet... 537 

Stella! think not that I.. 548 

Stella! whence doth this 521 

Stella ! while now. 548 

" Stella ! whose voice ... 572 

Straight down under a... 597 

Such skill, matched 255 

Sure Neptune's watery 216 

Surely all yEoi/s 215 

Sweet ! alas, why strive 563 

Sweet Bride ! then may. 48 

Sweet kiss ! thy sweets... 542 

Sweet swelling lip ! 543 

Tears, vows and 582 

That day their Hannibal 294 

" That England is a 642 

That glads the hearts ... 39 

That herb of some 259 

That hook I love 152 

That you heard was but 563 

The arms the which 74 

The beasts, birds, stones 561 

The beaten bark 215 

The bending trees 288 

" The blaze whereof 287 

The brave shall triumph 221 

The cha vender amidst ... 187 

The chavender and chub 175 

The common Sense 569 

The curious wits, seeing 514 

The crocodile that weeps 166 

The eagle marked with . 289 

I ithis Knowledge 182 

Th'eleventh good gift ... 182 

The fifth good gift 181 

The first is Faith 180 

The first and worst 129 

The Forlorn now halts . . 220 

The tree that coffins 281 

The general sorrow that. 289 

. which all 259 

The Bills and mountains 158 

The lily in the field 57 

The lofty woods 158 

The man is blest 31 

lity luce 187 

The next assault uneven 641 

The night is passed 47 

The ninth is Placability 182 

lie I Hike who ... 643 

The only bird alone 582 

The other kind that are . 173 

' ■ if her 258 

The salmon swift 

The second gift 1 

tl 1 1 s 1 >. 1 i 1 1 1 1 1 1 II 

1 

I I ni b. inter 585 

1 Her end 



MCE 

The squadron nearest ... 219 

The star of my mishap .. 592 

The sun, lo, hastened . 279 

The swan that was 288 

The Tablet of my heavy 586 

The third is Love 180 

The turtle dove with ... 288 

The twelfth and last 182 

The wisest scholar of the 515 

The worthy in disgrace. 221 

Their caps are furred ... 220 

Their ears hungry of ... 571 

Their lances are the 219 

Their partisans are fine.. 220 

Then adieu, dear flock ! 576 

Then all our wives 31 

" Then Astrophil hath .. 286 

Then Beauty bade to ... 76 

Then Beauty stept 38 

" Then being filled 285 

Then buy your hooks ... 151 

Then Craft the Crier ... 63 

Then did Deucalion ... 161 

Then end to end 150 

Then Fineness thought.. 39 

Then followeth Patience 181 

Then first Desire began. 75 

Then gathering wind, to 461 

Then get good hair 150 

Then go into some great 149 

Then hoisting sails, they 46? 

Then Ignorance the 461 

Then let him go 185 

Then let Old Winter... 222 

Then let your hook 152 

Then let the chill Sirocco 221 

Then look where as that 169 

Then must you have ... 153 

Then on your lines 177 

"Then Pallas afterward 287 

Then pushed soldiers ... 75 

Then Reason, Princess.. 569 

Then she spake, her 573 

Then shall our healths... 222 

Then see on yonder side 168 

Then Skill rose up and.. 40 

Then spake fair Venus.. 12 

Then take good cork ... 151 

Then those Knights 596 

Then Three at once did. 642 

"Then to myself, will I 261 

Then twist them finely.. 150 

There his well-woven ... 255 

There he was fed with... 641 

There his hands in their 573 

There is no man, whose 31 

There is no treasure 48 

" There liveth he 264 

There might you hear... 75 

'There might you see ... 74 

There saw 1 Love, upon 74 

" There, thousand birds 263 

'There underground 220 

There you ought see ... 280 

"Therefore, Dear! this 574 

1 ha! away she ... 574 

583 

1 end b) 644 

Tii. . prune ai 



First lines of poems and stanzas. 9 



PAGE 

These sorrowing sighs... 581 
These traitors ope ... 129 
These bind me, captive.. 462 

These didst thou 293 

These kinds of fish 166 

They stopped his wound 257 
Think now no more to... 565 

Think of my most 577 

Think of that most 577 

Think ! think of those ... 577 
This day is honour now 47 
This discord it begot ... 599 

This fish the fittest i63 

This night, while sleep.. 5 22 

This oracle obscure 160 

This pleasant lily white 58 
This side doth Beauty... 568 

This small light the 562 

"This small wind which 573 

This spectacle had 290 

Those looks ! whose 54 1 

Thou that desir'st 190 

Thou then whom partial 565 
Though dusty wits dare 516 
Though my rude rhymes 274 
Thought ! see thou no... 577 

Thought therefore 577 

Thought ! with good ... 55 1 
Thus bent, he, adding... 641 
Thus doth the voice and 568 
Thus driven with every 461 
Thus have I showed ... 177 

Thus have your rod 153 

Thus serving them 174 

Thus shall our healths... 222 

Thus was the earth 161 

Thy grace, thy face, the 457 

Thy liberal heart 294 

Thy pleasing smiles and 45° 

'Tis now since I sat 651 

'Tis strange the pilot ... 215 

Tis that, that gives 220 

'Tis the plump grape's... 222 
To draw her out, and ... 652 
To hear the impost of ... 593 
" To heavens ! Ah, they 260 
To her, he vowed the ... 254 
" To men ! Ah, they ... 261 

' To praise thy life or 291 

To sink or spoil my 4 61 

" To such a place our ... 652 
" Trust me, while I thee 574 

Under the black cliff's ... 217 



I'AGE 

Unequal fate! 172 

Unhappy sight ! ......... 555 

Upon the branches 281 

Until at last they saw ... 160 

Virtue ! alas, now let me 505 
" Was ever eye did see.. 285 
Weigh but the cause ! ... 588 
Well begone I begone ... 579 
We'll drink the wanting 221 

Well in absence th.s 578 

Wept they had, alas 57 1 

Were all the stars 218 

We think of all the 221 

"What cruel hand 261 

What cunning can 57 

What fair pomp have ... 59° 
What hath he lost ? that 293 

What I have I thus 526 

What if you new 579 

What is not this enough ? 567 
What may words say ... 520 
What monstrous race ... 218 

What pain and grief 3 1 

What pleasure can it be 156 
What plague is greater . 598 
When Cupid scaled first 74 

When fair Aurora 185 

When Fancy thus had... 75 
When far-spent night ... 552 
When I had done what.. 652 
" When he descended ... 284 
When I was forced from 546 
When I was fair and ... 12 
When Love learned first 620 
When my good angel ... 533 
When Nature made her 506 

When Phoibus from 58 

When raging Love 128 

When she had said 12 

When Sorrow, using ... 557 

When the monthly 17 

When this did nothing .. 651 
Whence to sharp wars ... 252 
Where be those roses ... 554 
Wherefore good wives... 31 
Whether the Turkish ... 5 l8 
Wherefore twixt life and 462 
Wherewith I saw how... 38 
Whii h link must neither 150 
Which when she ended.. 264 
Which when she saw ... 258 
Which daily more and... 252 
While favour fed my ... 564 



TAGE 

While we together jovial 221 

Whilst by her eyes 589 

Who hath the breast ... 559 

Who hath the eyes 55 8 

Who hath the feet 559 

Who hath the hair 559 

Who hath the hand 559 

Who hath the lips 55 8 

Who hath the voice...... 559 

Who have so leaden 570 

Who is it that this dark 57 8 

Whose senses is so evil . . 570 

Who will in fairest book 538 

Why, alas ! and are you 578 

Why, alas, doth she 575 

Why doth my mistress.. 583 

Why so dull and mute... 24 

Why so pale and wan ... 24 

With bleak and with ... 219 

With heads erect 217 

With how sad steps 5 l8 

" Within these woods ... 284 

With massy trident high 217 

With this there is a red 58 

With what sharp checks S 12 

Woe, having made 53 1 

Woe to me ! and do you. 564 

" Woods, hills and rivers 261 

Wouldst thou catch fish 190 

" Yea, Madam," quoth I 64 

Yet, alas, before you go 575 

Yet furthermore it doth 176 

Yet gentle English 566 

Yet must you have 15S 

Yet natheless the more .. 128 

Yet nothing cou!d his ... 642 

Yet Reason soon 39 

Yet rich in zeal, though 291 

Yet Sighs ! dear Sighs '. 55° 

Yet storm doth cease ... 461 

Yet those lips, so 560 

Yet to content the willing 159 

Yet witches may repent 567 

Yet worse than worse ... 566 

" You knew, who knew.. 284 

You Nymphs that in ... 148 

Young Astrophel ! the .. 251 

Your client poor, my ... 565 

Your fair mother is abed 563 

Your words, my friend 513 

You that do search for .. 510 
You that with allegory's 517 

You then ungrateful 5 f >7 




IO 



PREFACE. 




E\v of us adequately realize the immense 
Literature which has descended to us from our 
ancestors. Generation after generation has 
passed away ; each of which has produced (in 
the order of its own thought, and with the 
tuition of its inherited or acquired experience) 
many a wise, bright or beautiful thing : which 
having served its own brief day, has straightway 
passed away into utter forgetfulness, there to remain till Doomsday ; 
luilcss some effort like the present, shall restore it to the knowledge 
and enjoyment of English-reading peoples. 

This Collection is to gather, for the gratification of this and 
future ages, a vast amount of incomparable poesy and most stirring 
J mse; which hardly any one would imagine to be in existence at all. 
Of many of the original impressions there survive but one or izco 
it pics, and these of leu are most difficult of access ; so that it is not 
too much to say of the following contents as a whole, that they 
have never hitherto come within the ken of any single English 
scholar. 

The reader must be prepared often to find most crude and 
imperfect theories or beliefs, which later experience has exploded, 
mixed up with most important facts or allusions as to the times, 
manners or customs of the period then under illustration : leaving 
to us the obligation to reject the one, and to receive the other. 

Many of the following books and tracts are the original 
materials otit of which modern historians have culled the most 
I hie touches of their most brilliant pages. In fact, the Series 
! to much of its prose, a Study on a large scale of 
detached areas of English history,- and stands in the same relation 
to the general national Story, as a selected Collection of Parish 
Maps would do to the Ordnance Survey of English land. 

Our grateful thanks in regard to this First Volume arc due to 
U • II •. E juire, for the loan for reproduction herein of 
i at rarities, i he Great Frost at page y7, and The 
Secret i of Anglii [41. 




Queen Elizabeth. 
Importune me no mere ! 



A royal hand moved by a true 
English heart shall unlock this Garner 

Among the hrge collection of manu- 
scripts bequeathed in i 755 by Doctor 
RAWLINSON to the University of 
Oxford, and now in the Bodleian • 
there are upwards of two hundred 
volumes of verse, consisting chiefly 
of transcripts of favourite poems into 



{Rawlinson MS.] 
common-place books ; some of which 
poems have never yet been printed. 

Volume 85 of this Collection, in 
the handwriting of from 1590-1610 
a.d., opens with the following poem ; 
which has been erroneously ascribed 
by Lord Orford {Works, 1. 552, Ed. 
1790) to Edward de Vere, 'Earl 
of Oxford. 



12 



Importune me no more! [ Queen f Uzabeth - 



The modernizing of the spelling of the ! the literal rhyme ; though the sound of 
poetry in this Series will often destroy ! it may frequently be preserved to the ear. 



film 


\iM 


W fM.n o ] 


sf o^S 


fcaKii 


i 



Hen I was fair and young, and favour 
graced me ; 
Of many was I sought, their mistress for 
to be. 
But I did scorn them all ; and answered 
them therefore, 
" Go ! go ! go seek some other where ! 
Importune me no more ! " 



How many weeping eyes, I made to pine with woe ! 

How many sighing hearts ! I have no skill to show. 
Yet I the prouder grew, and answered them therefore, 
" Go ! go ! go seek some other where ! 
Importune me no more !" 

Then spake fair Venus for that proud victorious boy, 
And said, " Fine Dame, since that you be so coy; . 
I will so pluck your plumes that you shall say no more, 
" Go ! go ! go seek some other where ! 
Importune me no more ! " 



When she had said these words, such change grew in my 
breast, 
That neither night nor day since that, I could take any rest. 
I hen lo ! I did repent that I had said before, 
" Go! go ! go seek some other where ! 
Importune me no more ! " 

FINIS. 

To which the transcriber adds as the author's name, 



Elyzabetha regina. 



13 



JOH 



n Milton. 
Books. 



[Areopagitica 1 




Deny not but that it is of greatest concernment 
in the Church and Commonwealth to have a vigi- 
lant eye how Books demean themselves as well as 
I men ; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and do 
I**" 1 sharpest justice on them as malefactors. For Books 
are not absolutely dead things ; but do contain a potency of 
life in them to be as active as that soul was, whose progeny 
thev are- nav they do preserve as in a vial, the purest 
eff cacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them 
I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as 
those fabulous Dragon's teeth; and being sown njf , a nd 
down, may chance to spring up armed men And yet on 
the o her hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a 
man as kill a good book. Who kills a man, kills a reasonable 
creature, GOD's image : but he who destroys, a good book 
k Is rea on itself; kills the image of GOD, as it were in the 
eve Many a man lives a burden to the earth : but a good 
book is theprecious life-blood of a Master Spirit, embalmed 
and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. lis true 
nf age can restore a life ; whereof perhaps there is no great 
oss* and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss 
of a rejected truth ; for the want of which whole nations 

farp the worse. 

We should be wary therefore what persecution we raise 
aeainst the living labours of public men; how we spill that 
sfasoTed hfe of men preserved and stored up in books: since 
ve see a t nd of homicide may be thus committed, some- 
les a martyrdom; and if it extend to the whole impression 
a^ind of massacre: whereof the execution ends not in he 
slayin- of an elemental [ordinary] life; but strikes at that 
eternal and fifth essence, the breath of reason itself; and 
slays an Immortality rather than a life. 




H 



Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
Siren pleasant ! foe to reason. 

\PHILLiS] 

An Ode. 

Ow i find thy looks were feigned, 
Quickly lost and quickly gained ! 
Soft thy skin, like wool of wethers, 
Heart unstable, light as feathers ; 
Tongue untrusty, subtle sighted, 
Wanton will, with change delighted : 

Siren pleasant ! foe to reason. 

Cupid plague thee for this treason ! 

Of thine eyes, I made my mirror, 

From thy beauty came mine error, 

All thy words I counted witty, 

All thy smiles I deemed pity. 

Thy false tears that me aggrieved 

First of all my trust deceived : 

Siren pleasant ! foe to reason, 
Cupid plague thee for this treason ! 

Feigned acceptance when I asked, 
Lovely words with cunning masked, 
Holy vows, but heart unholy: 
Wretched man ! my trust was folly. 
Lily white and pretty winking, 
Solemn vows, but sorry thinking : 
SlRBN pleasant ! foe to reason, 
Cupid plague thee for this treason ! 



T - L Tj^.'] Siren pleasant! foe to reason. 15 

Now I see, O seemly cruel ! 

Others warm them at my fuel. 

Wit shall guide me in this durance, 

Since in love is no assurance. 

Change thy pasture ! take thy pleasure ! 

Beauty is a fading treasure. 

Siren pleasant ! foe to reason, 
Cupid plague thee for this treason ! 

Prime youth lusts not age's still follow, 
And make white these tresses yellow ; 
Wrinkled face for looks delightful, 
Shall acquaint the Dame despiteful : 
And when Time shall eat thy glory ; 
Then, too late, thou wilt be sorry. 
Siren pleasant ! foe to reason, 
Cupid plague thee for thy treason ! 





r6 

Sir Walter Raleigh. 

The recapture of the Island of Sark. 

{History of the World.} 

Ut what strength cannot do; man's wit — beingthe 
most forcible engine — hath often effected : of which 
I will give you an example in a place of our own. 
The island of Sark — joining to Guernsey, and of 
that government — was in Queen Mary's time 
surprised by the French; and could never have been recovered 
again by strong hand: having cattle and corn enough upon 
the place to feed so many men as will serve to defend it; and 
being every way so inaccessible, that it might be held against 
the Great Turk. Yet by the industry of a gentleman of the 
Netherlands ; it was in this sort regained. He anchored in 
the road with one ship of small burden ; and pretending the 
death of his merchant [supercargo], besought the French being 
some thirty in number, that they might bury their merchant 
in hallowed ground, and in the chapel of that isle — offering 
a present to the French of such commodities as they had 
aboard — whereto (with condition that they should not come 
ashore with any weapon, no, not so much as with a knife) the 
Frenchmen yielded. Then did the Flemings put a coffin into 
their boat : not filled with a dead carcase ; but with swords, 
targets [shields] and harquebusses. The French received 
them at their landing; and searching every one of them so 
narrowly as they could not hide a penknife ; gave them leave 
to draw their coffin up the rocks, with great difficulty. Some 
part of the French took the Flemish boat, and rowed aboard 
their ship ; to fetch the commodities promised and what else 
the)- pleased : but being entered, they were taken and bound. 
The Flemings on land, when they had carried their coffin 
into the chapel, shut the door to them ; and taking their 
weapons out of the coffin, set upon the French. They ran 
to the cliff and cried to their company aboard the Flemings to 
come to their succour: but finding the boat charged with 
Flemings; yielded themselves and the place. 

Thus a fox's tail doth sometimes help well to piece out the 
lion's skin, that else would be too short. 



17 




Vice- Admiral Sir John Mennis 

or 
Rev. James Smith. 

King be ron's apparel. 

[Musaritm Delicur.} 

Hen the monthly horned queen 
Grew jealous, that the stars had seen 
Her rising from Endymion's arms ; 
In rage she threw her misty charms 
Into the bosom of the night ; 
To dim their curious prying light. 

Then did the dwarfish fairy elves — 
Having first attired themselves — 
Prepare to dress their Oberon, king, 
In highest robes, for revelling. 

In a cobweb shirt, more thin 
Than ever spider since could spin ; 
Bleached by the whiteness of the snow, 
As the stormy winds did blow 
It in the vast and freezing air. 
No shirt half so fine ! so fair 1 

A rich waistcoat they did bring, 
Made of the trout fly's gilded wing : 
At that, his Elfship 'gan to fret, 
Swearing it would make him sweat, 
Even with its weight ; and needs would wear 
His waistcoat wove of downy hair 
New shaven from an eunuch's chin. 
That pleased him well ; 'twas wondrous thin ! 

EXG. CAR. I. 2 



1 8 KiNGObERON'sAPPAREL. [ ? S-J°hnM«mfc. 

The outside of his doublet was 
Made of the four-leaved true-love grass ; 
On which was set so fine a gloss, 
By the oil of crispy moss, 
That through a mist, and starry light, 
It made a rainbow every night. 
On every seam, there was a lace, 
Drawn by the unctuous snail's slow trace ; 
To it, the purest silver thread 
Compared, did look like dull pale lead. 

Each button was a sparkling eye 
Ta'en from the speckled adder's fry ; 
Which in a gloomy night and dark, 
Twinkled like a fiery spark. 

And for coolness, next his skin 
'Twas with white poppy lined within. 

His breeches, of that fleece were wrought, 
Which from Colchus, Jason brought; 
Spun into so fine a yarn, 
That mortals might it not discern ; 
Woven by Arachne in her loom, 
Last before she had her doom ; 
Dyed crimson with a maiden's blush, 
And lined with dandely on plush. 

A rich mantle, he did wear, 
Made of tinsel gossamer ; 
Bestarred over with a few 
Diamond drops of morning dew. 

His cap was all of " lady's love " 
So passing light, that it did move 
If any humming gnat or fly 
But buzzed the air, in passing by. 

About it was a wreath of pearl 
Dropped from the eyes of some poor girl ; 
Pinched, because she had forgot 
To leave fair water in the pot. 



Sir John Mennis.-j J(lNG ObERON's APPAREL 

And for feather, he did wear. 
Old Nisus' fatal purple hair. 

The sword they girded on his thigh, 
Was smallest blade of finest rye. 

A pair of buskins they did bring 
Of the " cow lady's " coral wing; 
Powdered o'er with spots of jet, 
And lined with purple violet. 

His belt was made of myrtle leaves 
Plaited in small curious threaves ; 
Beset with amber cowslip studs, 
And fringed about with daisy buds. 
In which his bugle horn was hung 
Made of the babbling Echo's tongue ; 
Which set unto his moon-burned lip, 
He winds ; and then his fairies skip. 

At that, the lazy dawn 'gan sound, 
And each did trip a fairy round. 



19 





2o Ancient English Trade in the Levant. [ R,Ha1 ^: 



Rev. Richard Hakluyt. 

The antiquity of the trade with English 
ships into the Levant, 

[Voyages. 1599.] 

|N the years of our Lord 1511, 1512 &c. till the year 
1534; divers tall ships of London, namely the 
Christopher Campion, wherein was factor one Roger 
Whitcome; the Mary George, wherein was factor 
William Gresham; the great Mary Grace, the 
owner whereof was William Gunson, and the Master one 
John Hely; the Trinity Fitz Williams, whereof was Master, 
Lawrence Arkey; the Matthew of London, whereof was 
Master, William Capling ; ' with certain other ships of 
Southampton and Bristol : had an ordinary and usual trade 
to Sicily, Candia, Scio; and somewhiles to Cyprus, as also to 
Tripolis and Barrutti [Beyrout] in Syria. The commodities 
which they carried thither were fine kerseys of divers colours, 
coarse kerseys, white " Western dozens," cottons, certain cloths 
called " statutes" and others called "cardinal whites," and 
calfskins which were well sold in Sicily &c. The commodities 
which they returned [brought] back were silks, camlets, 
rhubarb, malmseys muscadels and other wines, sweet oils, 
cotton wool, Turkey carpets, galls, pepper, cinnamon and 
some other apices, &c. Besides the natural inhabitants of 
the aforesaid places, they had, even in those days, traffic with 
Jews, Turks, and other foreigners. Neither did our merchants 
only employ their own English shipping before mentioned ; 
but that of sundry strangers also : as, namely, Candiots, 
Raguseans, Sicilians, Genoese, Venetian galleasses, Spanish 
and Portuguese ships. All which particulars do most evidently 
appear out of certain ancient ligier books [ledgers] of the 
ht Worshipful Sir William Lock, Mercer of London, of 
Sir WILLIAM BOWYER, Alderman of London, of Master John 
Gresham, and of others; which I Richard Hakluyt "have 
diligently perused and copied out. 



J. Williamson/] ANCIENT ENGLISH TRADE IN THE LEVANT. 2 1 

A voyage made with the ships called the Holy Cross and 
the Matthew Gonson to the isles of Candia and Scio 
about the year 1534 : according to a relation made to 
Master Richard Hakluyt, by John Williamson, 
Cooper and Citizen of London, who lived in the year 
1592. He went as Cooper in the Matthew Gonson the 
next voyage after. 




He ships called the Holy Cross and the Matthew 
Gonson, made a voyage to the islands of Candia and 
Scio in Turkey about the year 1534. And in the 
Matthew went as Captain, Master Richard Gonson, 
son of old Master William Gonson, Paymaster of the King's 
Navy. In this first voyage went William Holstocke — who 
afterwards was Controller of Her Majesty's Navy, and lately 
deceased— as page to Master Richard Gonson aforesaid: 
which Master Gonson died at Scio in this his first voyage. 

The ship called the Holy Cross was a short ship, and of 160 
tons burden. And having been a full year at sea in performance 
of this voyage, with great danger she returned home : where 
upon her arrival at Blackwall in the river Thames, her wine 
and oil casks were found to be so weak, that they were not 
able to hoist them out of the ship : but were constrained to 
draw them as they lay, and put their wine and oil into new 
vessels, and so to unload the ship. Their chief freight was 
very excellent Muscatels and red Malmsey: the like whereof 
were seldom seen before in England. They brought home 
also a good quantity of sweet oils, cotton wools, Turkey 
carpets, galls, cinnamon and some other spices. The said 
ship called the Holy Cross was so shaken in this voyage, 
and so weakened; that she was laid up in the dock, and 
never made a voyage after. 



Another voyage to the isles of Candia and Scio made by 
the Matthew Gonson about the year 1535 : according to 
the relation of John Williamson, then Cooper in the 
same ship; made to Master Richard Hakluyt in 
the year 1592. 



22 English Voyages to Scio. 



J. Williamson. 
1592. 






He good ship called the Matthew Gonson, of 300 tons 
burden — whereof was owner old Master William 
Gonson, Paymaster of the King's Navy — made her 
voyage in the year 1535. In this ship went as 
Captain, Richard Gray, who long after died in Russia. 
Master William Holstocke — afterwards Controller of the 
Queen's Navy — went then as Purser in the same voyage. 
The Master was one John Pichet, servant to old Master 
William Gonson. James Rumnie was Master's Mate. 
The Master Cooper was John Williamson citizen of London, 
living in the year 1592, and dwelling in Saint Dunstan's 
parish in the East. The Master Gunner was John Godfrey 
of Bristol. 

In this ship were six gunners and four trumpeters. All 
which four trumpeters at our return homewards, went on 
land at Messina in the island of Sicily, as our ship rode there 
at anchor ; and got themselves into the galleys that lay near 
unto us, and in them went to Rome. The whole number of 
our company in this ship was about a hundred men. We 
were also furnished with a great boat, which was able to carry 
ten tons of water : which at our return homewards we towed 
all the way from Scio until we came through the Straits of 
Gibraltar into the main ocean. We had also a great long 
boat, and a skiff. 

Wc were out upon this voyage eleven months; yet in all 
this time there died of sickness but one man ; whose name 
was George Forrest, being servant to our Carpenter called 
Thomas Plummlk. 

N*A great ligier book [ledger] of one William Eyrus, 
servant unto Sir William Bowyer, Alderman of 
London — bearing date the 15th of November 1533 
and continued until the 4th of July, 1544 — I find 
that he the said William Eyrus was factor in Scio, not only 
for his master, and for his grace the Duke of Norfolk, but 
also for many others, worshipful merchants of London: among 
whom I find the accounts of these especially, to wit, of his 
said master Sir William Bowyer; of William and Nicholas 
Wilford, Merchant Tailors of London; of Thomas Curtis, 
Pewterer; of John Starky Mercer; of William Ostrige 
Merchant ; andol Ri< hard Field Draper. 




r. Hakiuyt.i English Voyages to Scio. 



23 



And further I find in the said ligier book a note of the said 
Eyrus, of all such goods as he left in the hands of Robert 
Bye in Scio ; who became his master's factor in his room : 
and another like note of particulars of goods that he left in 
the hands of Oliver Lesson, servant to William and 
Nicholas Wilford. 

And for proof of the continuance of this trade until the 
end of the year 1552 : I found annexed unto the former note 
of the goods left with Robert Bye in Scio, a letter being 
dated the 27th of November 1552 in London. 




Sir Walter Raleigh. 



Lord John Talbot compared to 
jEmilius the Consul. 

[History of tkt World.] 

Ut if such a resolution were praiseworthy in 
ZEmilius, as proceeding out of Roman valour: 
then was the English virtue of the Lord John 
Talbot — son to that famous Earl of Shrewsbury, 
— who died at the battle of Chatillon more highly 
to be honoured. For vEmilius was old ; grievously, if 
not mortally wounded; and accountable for the overthrow 
received : Talbot was in the flower of his youth ; unhurt ; 
easily able to have escaped ; and not answerable for that 
day's misfortune : when he refused to forsake his father ; 
who — foreseeing the loss of the battle, and not meaning to 
stain his actions past, by flying in his old age — exhorted his 
noble son to be gone, and leave him. 





2 4 



Sir John Suckling. 
Why so pale and wan^fond lover ? 

\Fragmenta Aurea.\ 

Song. 

Hy so pale and wan, fond lover ? 

Prithee, why so pale ? 
Will, when looking well can't move her, 

Looking ill prevail ? 

Prithee, why so pale ? 

Why so dull and mute, young sinner ? 

Prithee, why so mute ? 
Will, when speaking well can't win her, 

Saying nothing do it ? 

Prithee, why so mute ? 

Quit ! quit for shame ! this will not move, 

This cannot take her. 
If of herself she will not love, 

Nothing can make her. 

The devil take her! 




England's Joy 



OR A 



RELATION 



OF THE 



Most Remarkable passages, from his MA- 
JESTY'S Arrival at DOVER, to His 
entrance at WHITEHALL. 




London, Printed by Thomas Creak, 1660. 



27 



England' s jfor. 




Eing come aboard one of the fairest of those 
ships which attended at Sluce [? Helvoetsluys] 
for wafting him over from the Hague in 
Holland ; and therein having taken leave 
of his sisters, the Princess Royal ; he set 
sail for England on Wednesday evening, 
May 23rd, 1660. And having, during his 
abode at sea, given new names to that 
whole navy (consisting of twenty-six goodly vessels), he 
arrived at Dover on the Friday following [May 25th] about 
two o'clock in the afternoon. 

Ready on the shore to receive him, stood the Lord General 
Monk, as also the Earl of Winchelsea Constable of Dover 
Castle, with divers persons of quality on the one hand ; and 
the Mayor of Dover, accompanied by his brethren of that 
Corporation of the other, with a rich canopy. As soon as he 
had set foot on the shore, the Lord General presenting 
himself before him on his knee, and kissing his royal hand ; 
was embraced by his Majesty : and received divers gracious 
expressions of the great sense he had of his loyalty, and in 
being so instrumental in his Restoration. 

There also did the Corporation of Dover, and the Earl of 
Winchelsea do their duties to him, in like sort ; all the 
people making joyful shouts : the great guns from the ships 
and castle telling aloud the happy news of this his entrance 
upon English ground. 

From thence, taking coach immediately, with his royal 
brothers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester, he passed 
to Barham Down— a great plain lying betwixt Dover and 
Canterbury — where were drawn up divers gallant troops of 
horse, consisting of the nobility, knights and gentlemen of 
note, clad in very rich apparel ; commanded by the Duke of 
Buckingham, Earls of Oxford, Derby, Northampton, 
Winchelsea, Lichfield, and the Lord, Viscount Mordaunt: 



2S Charles II. journeys to Blackheath. [ i6 ^ . 

As also the several foot regiments of the Kentish men. 
]5eing entered the Down on horseback, where multitudes of 
the country people stood making loud shouts, he rode to the 
head of each troop — they being placed on his left hand, three 
deep — who bowing to him, kissed the hilts of their swords, 
and then flourished them above their heads, with no less 
acclamations ; the trumpets in the meantime also echoing 
the like to them. 

In the suburb at Canterbury stood the Mayor and 
Aldermen of that ancient city, who received him with loud 
music, and presented him with a cup of gold of two hundred 
and fifty pounds value. Whence, after a speech made to 
him by the Recorder, he passed to the Lord Campden's 
house, the Mayor carrying the sword before him. 

During his stay at Canterbury (which was till Monday 
morning) he knighted the Lord General Monk, and gave 
him the ensigns of the most honourable Order of the Garter : 
And by Garter Principal King of Arms sent the like unto 
Lord Admiral Montague, then aboard the navy, riding in 
the Downs. There likewise did he knight Sir William 
Maurice, a member of the House of Commons ; whom he 
constituted one of his principal Secretaries of State. 

From Canterbury he came on Monday to Rochester, 
where the people had hung up, over the midst of the streets, 
as he rode, many beautiful garlands, curiously made up with 
costly scarves and ribbons, decked with spoons and bodkins of 
silver, and small plate of several sorts ; and some with gold 
chains, in like sort as at Canterbury : each striving to outdo 
the other in all expressions of joy. 

On Tuesday, May the 29th (which happily fell out to be 
the anniversary of his Majesty's birthday) he set forth from 
Rochester' in his coach; but afterwards took horse on the 
farther side of Blackheath: on which spacious plain he found 
divers great and eminent troops of horse, in a most splendid 
and glorious equipage ; and a kind of rural triumph, expressed 
by the country swains, in a morrice dance with the old music 
of taber and pipe ; which was performed with all agility and 
cheerfulness imaginable. 

And from this Heath these troops marched off before him; 
viz. Major General Brown, the Merchant Adventurers, 
Alderman Rolunson, the Lord Maynard, the Earls of 



? 1 He passes through London. 29 

1660. j 

Norwich, Peterborough, Cleveland, Derby, Duke of 
Richmond, and His Majesty's own Life Guards. 

In this order proceeding towards London, there were 
placed in Deptford, on his right hand— as he passed through 
the town— above an hundred proper maids, clad all alike in 
white garments, with scarves about them: who having 
prepared many flaskets covered with fine linen and adorned 
with rich scarves and ribbons ; which flaskets were full of flowers 
and sweet herbs, strewed the way before him as he rode. ^ 
From thence passing on he came into Saint Georges 
Fields in Southwark, where the Lord Mayor and Aldermen 
of London in their scarlet, with the Recorder and other City 
Council, waited for him in a large tent, hung with tapestry ; 
in which they had placed a chair of state, with a rich canopy 
over it When he came thither the Lord Mayor presented 
him with the City sword, and the Recorder made a speech to 
him ; which being done, he alighted and went into the tent, 
where a noble banquet was prepared for him. 

From this tent the proceeding was thus ordered, viz. first 
the City Marshal, to follow in the rear of His Majesty s Lite 
Guards. Next the Sheriff's trumpets. Then the Sheriff s men 
in scarlet cloaks-, laced with silver on the capes, carrying 
iavelins in their hands. Then divers eminent citizens well 
mounted, all in black velvet coats, and chains of gold about 
their necks, and every one his footman, with suit, cassock 
and ribbons of the colour of his Company : all which were 
made choice of out of the several Companies in this famous 
City and so distinguished : and at the head of each distinction 
the ensign of that Company. 

After these followed the City Council, by two and two, neai 
the Aldermen ; then certain Noblemen and Noblemen s sons, 
Then the King's trumpets. Then the Heralds at Arms 

After them the Duke of Buckingham Then the Fail of 
Lindsey, Lord High Chamberlain of England ; and the Loid 
General Monk. Next to them Garter Principal King of 
Arms; the Lord Mayor on his right hand bearing the City 
swSrd, and a Gentleman Usher on his left : and on each side 
of them the Sergeants at Arms with their maces. 

Then the King's Majesty with his equerries and footmen 
on each side of him ; and at a little distance on each hand his 
royal brothers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester : and aftei 



30 Charles II. enters Whitehall. [ l6 ^ 

them divers of the King's servants who came with him from 
beyond sea. And in the rear of all, those gallant troops, viz. 
The Duke of Buckingham, Earls of Oxford, Northampton, 
Wixchelsea, Lichfield, and Lord Mordaunt : as also five 
regiments of horse belonging to the army. 

In this magnificent fashion, His Majesty entered the 
Borough of Southwark, about half-past three o'clock in the 
afternoon ; and within an hour after, the City of London, 
at the Bridge : where he found the windows and streets 
exceedingly thronged with people to behold him, and the wall 
adorned with hangings and carpets of tapestry and other 
costly stuff: and in many places sets of loud music ; all the 
conduits as he passed running claret wine ; and the several 
Companies in their liveries, with the ensigns belonging to 
them ; as also the trained bands of the city standing along the 
streets as he passed, welcoming him with loyal acclamations. 

And within the rails where Charing Cross formerly was, 
a stand of six hundred pikes, consisting of knights and 
gentlemen, as had been officers in the armies of his late 
Majesty, of blessed memory: the truly noble and valiant 
Sir John Stowell, Knight of the Honourable Order of the 
Bath (a person famous for his eminent actings and sufferings) 
being in the head of them. 

From which place, the citizens in velvet coats and gold 
chains being drawn up on each hand, and divers companies of 
foot soldiers; his Majesty passed betwixt them, and entered 
White Hall at seven o'clock: the people making loud shouts, 
and the horse and foot several volleys of shots, at this his 
happy arrival. Where the House of Lords and Commons 
of Parliament received him, and kissed his royal hand. 

At the same time likewise, the Reverend Bishops of Ely, 
i kv. Rochester and Chichester in their episcopal 
habits, with divers of the long oppressed orthodox clergy ; 
met in that royal Chapel of King Henry the Seventh of 
Wi tmin ter, and there also sung TeDEUM &c. t in praise and 
thanks to Almighty GOD, for this His unspeakable mercy, 
in the deliverance of his Majesty from many dangers, and 
so happily restoring him to rule these kingdoms-, according to 
l,i just and undoubted right. 

FINIS. 



£ jl *" 

ISS ■ V 

&N r 



31 



Anonymous. 
A wilful wife. 

[Cottouian MS. Vesj. A. xxv] 

A Ballet. 

He man is blest, that lives in rest 

And so can keep him still. 
And he's accurst that was the first 

That gave his. wife her will. 

What pain and grief, without relief, 

Shall we poor men sustain ; 
If every Gill shall have her will, 

And over us shall reign. 

Then all our wives, during their lives, 

Will look to do the same : 
And bear in hand, it is as land 

That goeth not from the name. 

There is no man, whose wisdom can 

Reform a wilful wife : 
But only GOD, who made the rod 

For our unthrifty life. 

Let us therefore, cry out and roar : 

And make to GOD request; 
That he redress this wilfulness 

And set our hearths at rest. 

Wherefore good wives ! amend your lives 

And we will do the same ; 
And keep not still that naughty will 

That hath so evil a name. 

FINIS. 




Rev . James Brome, M . A . 

Rector of Cheriton in Kent. 

Curious names of a Jury^ at 
Huntingdon in 1619 a.d. 

[ Traz'ccs.] 

jT is not thought improper to add now a copy of a 
Jury taken before Judge Dodrige, at the Assizes 
holden at Huntingdon, July 1619; which was lately 
presented me by a worthy friend of mine : which is 
the more remarkable because the surnames of some 
inhabitants of this county, annexed to the towns or villages 
to which they belonged; seem to make them at the first 
sight, persons of very great renown and quality. 

Maximilian King of Poseland. 
Henry Prince of Godmanchester. 
George Duke of Sommersham. 
William Marquess of Stukeley. 
Edmund Earl of Hartford. 
Richard Baron of Bythorn. 
Stephen Pope of Newton. 
Stephen Cardinal of Kimbolton. 
Humphrey Bishop of Bugden. 
Robert Lord of Wasely. 
Robert Knight of Winwick. 
• William Abbott of Stukely. 
Robert Baron of Saint Neots. 
William Dean of Old Weston. 
John Archdeacon of Paxton. 
Peter Esquire of Baston. 
Edward Fryar of Ellington. 
I [enry Monk of Stukely. 

»rge Gentleman of Spaldech. 
1 ge Priest of Graff an. 

Richard Deacon of Catworth. 

'1 nomas Yeoman of Barham. 



Captain Roger Bodenham. 



a \j ~E 



Voyage to Scio in i 5 5 1 a.d. 

[Hakluyt's Voyages, 1599.] 

N the year 1550, the 13th of November, I Roger 
Bodenham, Captain of the bark Ancher, entered 
the said ship at Gravesend, for my voyage to the 
islands of Candia and Scio in the Levant. The 
master of my ship was one William Sherwood 
From thencewe departed to Tilbery Hope, and there remained 
with contrary winds until the 6th of January 1551. 

The 6th of January, the master came to Tilbery, and I had 
provided a skilful pilot to carryover [past] Land's End, whose 
name was Master Wood. With all speed I vailed [dropped] 
down that night ten miles, to take the tide in the morning : 
which happily I did, and that night came to Dover and there 
came to an anchor. There I remained until Friday [the 
9th] : meeting with the worthy knight Sir Anthony Aucher, 
owner of the said ship. 

The nth day, we arrived at Plymouth. The 13th in the 
morning, we set forward on our voyage with a prosperous 
wind : and the 16th, we had sight of Cape Finisterre on the 
coast of Spain. 

The 30th, we arrived at Cadiz : and there discharged 
certain merchandize, and took other aboard. 

The 20th of February, we departed from Cadiz, and passed 
the straits of Gibraltar that night ; and the 25th we came 
to the isle of Majorca, and were stayed there five days with 
contrary winds. 

The 1st of March, we had sight of Sardinia, and the 5th 
of the said month we arrived at Messina in Sicily; and there 
discharged much goods, remaining there until Good Friday 
in Lent ,27th of March, 155 1]. 

The chief merchant [in London] that laded the said bark 

Ewe. Gar. I. 3 



34 Voyage to Scio in 1551 a.d. [^ "eSSS 

A ucher was a Merchant Stranger called Anselm Salvago ; 
and because the time was then very dangerous, and that there 
was no going into the Levant — especially to Scio — without a 
safeconduct from the Turk : the said Anselm promised the 
owner Sir Anthony Aucher that we should receive the 
same at Messina. But I was posted from thence to Candia : 
and there I was answered that I should send to Scio, and 
there I should have my safeconduct. I was forced to send 
one, and he had his answer " that the Turk would give none, 
willing me to look what was best for me to do : " which was no 
small trouble to me, considering that I was bound to deliver 
the goods that were in the ship at Scio or send them at my 
adventure [risk]. The merchants supercargoes], without care 
of the loss of the ship, would have compelled me to go or send 
their goods at mine adventure. The which I denied, and 
said plainly I would not go, because the Turk's galleys were 
come forth to go against Malta. But by the French king's 
means, he was persuaded to leave Malta, and to go to Tripoli 
in Barbary : which by means of the French, he wan. 

In this time there were in Candia certain Turkish vessels 
called sky rasas, which had brought wheat thither to sell ; 
and were ready to depart for Turkey. And they departed in 
the morning betimes ; carrying news that I would not go 
forth. That same night I had prepared beforehand what I 
thought good, without making any man privy to it until I 
saw time. Then I had no small business to cause my 
mariners to venture with the ship in such a manifest danger. 
Nevertheless I wan them all to go with me, except three 
which I set on land ; and with all diligence I was ready to 
set forth about eight o'clock at night, being a fair moonshine 
night, aiid went out. Then my three mariners made such 
requests unto the re^t of my men to come aboard, that I was 
constrained to take them in. 

So with a good wind we put into the Archipelago, and 

ing among the islands, the wind scanted fell away , and I 

was forced to anchor at an island called Micone ; where 1 

t irried ten or twelve days; having a Greek pilot to carry the 

ship to Scii . In this i ison, there came many sm ill 

boats with mys lils to go for Scio, with divers 

to sell; and the pilot requested me that I would lei 

1 in my company, to which I yielded. 



Capt.R.J^harn., V OYAGE TO SdO IN I 55 I A. D. 35 

After the said days were expired, I weighed and set sail for 
the island of Scio; with which place I fell in in the afternoon : 
whereupon I cast [tacked] to seaward again to come with the 
island in the morning betimes. The foresaid small vessels 
which came in my company, departed from me to win the 
shore to get in during the night : but upon a sudden they 
espied three foists [light galleys] of Turks coming upon them to 
spoil them. My pilot, having a son in one of those small 
vessels, entreated me to cast about [wear] towards them ; 
which at his request I did : and being somewhat far from 
them, I caused my gunner to shoot a demi-culverin at a 
foist that was ready to enter one of the boats. This was so 
happy a shot that it made the Turk to fall astern of the boat 
and to leave him : by the which means he escaped. 

Then they all came to me, and requested that they might 
hang at my stern until daylight : by which time, I came 
before the mole of Scio, and sent my boat on land to the 
merchants of that place to send for their goods out of hand 
[immediately] or else I would return back with all to Candia, 
and they should fetch their goods from there. But in fine, 
by what persuasion of my merchants, Englishmen, and of 
those of Scio: I was entreated to come into the harbour: 
and had a safe assurance for twenty days against the Turk's 
arm}', with a bond of the city in the sum of 12,000 ducats. 
So I made haste and sold such goods as I had to the Turks 
that came thither ; and put all in order with as much speed 
as I could : fearing the coming of the Turk's navy ; of the 
which, the chief of the city knew right well. 

So upon the sudden, they called me of great friendship 
and in secret told me, I had no way to save myself but to 
be gone; for said they, " We are not able to defend you that 
are not able to help ourselves. For the Turk, where he 
cometh, taketh what he will and leaveth what he lists : but 
the chief of the Turks set order that none shall do any harm 
to the people or to their goods." This was such news to me, 
that indeed I was at my wits' end ; and was brought into 
many imaginations what to do : for the wind was contrary. 
In fine, I determined to go forth. 

But the merchants, Englishmen, and others, regarding 
more their gains than the ship, hindered me very much 
in my purpose of going forth : and made the mariners to 



36 Voyage to Scio in 1551 a.d. [ Capt - V^S 

come to me to demand their wages to be paid out of hand, 
and to have a time to employ [spend] the same there. But 
GOD provided so for me that I paid them their money that 
night : and then charged them that if they would not set the 
ship forth ; I would make them to answer the same in 
England with danger of their heads. Many were married in 
England and had somewhat to lose. These did stick to me. 
I had twelve gunners. The Master Gunner, who was a mad- 
brained fellow, and the owner's servant had a parliament 
between themselves : and he, upon the same, came up to me 
with his sword drawn; swearing that he had promised the 
owner, Sir Anthony Aucher, to live and die in the said ship 
against all that should offer any harm to the ship, and that 
he would fight with the whole army of the Turks, and never 
yield. With this fellow I had much ado : but at the last I 
made him confess his fault and follow my advice. 

Thus with much labour I got out of the mole of Scio into 
the sea, by warping forth ; with the help of Genoese boats, and 
a French boat that was in the mole : and being out, GOD 
sent me a special gale of wind to go my way. Then I caused 
a piece to be shot off for some of my men that were yet in 
the town, and with much ado they came aboard : and then I 
set sail a little before one o'clock, and I made all the sail I 
could. 

About half past two o'clock there came seven galleys into 
Scio to stay the ship, and the Admiral of them was in a great 
rage because she was gone. Whereupon' they put some of 
the best [of t'-.e townsfolk] in prison; and took all the men of 
the three ships which I left in the port, and put them into 
the galleys. The Turks would have followed after me ; but 
that the. townsmen found means that they did not. The next 
came thither an hundred more galleys, and there tarried 
for their whole company, which being together, were about 
250 sail ; taking their voyage to surprise the island of Malta. 

The next day after I departed, I had sight of Candia: but 
I was two days more ere I could get in : where I thought 
myself out of their danger. There I continued until the 
'1 ink's army was past, which came within sight of the town. 

There was preparation made as though the Turks would 
have tome thither. There are in that island of Candia 
many banished men, that live continually in the mountains. 



^■SiSKS:] Voyage to Scio in 1551 a.d. 37 

They came down to serve, to the number of 4,000 or 5,000. 
They are good archers. Every one was armed with his bow 
and arrows, a sword and a dagger; and had long hair, boots 
that reached up to the groin, and a shirt of mail hanging, the 
one half before, and the other half behind. These were sent 
away again as soon as the army was past. They would 
drink wine out of all measure. 

Then the army being past, I ladened my ship with wines 
and other things : and so, after I had that which I had left at 
Scio, I departed for Messina. In the way, I found about 
Zante, certain galliots of Turks laying aboard of certain 
vessels of Venice laden with muscatels. I rescued them, 
and had but a barrel of wine for my powder and shot. 
Within a few days after, I came to Messina. 

I had in my ship a Spanish pilot, called Nobiezia, which 
I took in at Cadiz at my coming forth. He went with me 
all this voyage into the Levant without wages, of goodwill 
that he bare me and the ship. He stood me in good stead 
until I came back again to Cadiz ; and then I needed no pilot. 
And so from thence I came to London with the ship and 
goods in safety : GOD be praised ! 

And all those mariners that were in my said ship — which 
were, besides boys, threescore and ten — for the most part, 
were within five or six years after, able to take charge of 
ships, and did. 

Richard Chancellor, who first discovered Russia, was 
with me in that voyage ; and Matthew Baker, who 
afterwards became the Queen's Majesty's Chief Shipwright. 




£<J 



38 

Anonymous. 
A praise of Mistress Rtce. 

[ToTTEL't Miscellany.] 

Heard when Fame with thund'ring voice, did 

summon to appear 
The chief of Nature's children, all that kind hath 
placed here; 
To view what bruit by virtue got, their lives could justly 

crave, 
And bade them show what praise by truth, they worthy were 
to have. 

Wherewith I saw how Venus came, and put herself in place ; 
And gave her ladies leave at large, to stand and plead their 

case. 
Each one was called by name a row, in that assembly there; 
That hence are gone, or here remains in Court or otherwhere. 
A solemn silence was proclaimed, the judges sate and heard 
What truth could tell or craft could feign, and who should 

be pre fur red. 

Then BEAUTY slept before the bar, whose breast and neck 

were bare : 
With hair trusst up, and on her head a caul of gold she ware. 
Thus Cupid's thralls began to flock, whose hungry eyes did 

say 
That she had stained all the dames that present were that 

day. 
For ere she spake, with whispering words the press was 

tilled throughout ; 
Ami I forced common voice, thereat to give a shout. 

Which cried t<> FAME, " Take forth thy trump and sound her 

praise en high, 



BefJ .557.] A p r a i s e of Mis t r e s s R y c e . 39 

That glads the heart of every wight that her beholds with 

eye." 
" What stir and rule," quoth Order then, ''do these rude 

people make. 
We hold her best that shall deserve a praise for virtue's 

sake." 
This sentence was no sooner said, but Beauty therewith 

blushed. 
The noise did cease, the hall was still, and everything was 

hushed. 



Then Fineness thought by training talk to win that Beauty 

lost, 
And whet her tongue with joly words, and spared for no cost : 
Yet Wantonness could not abide, but brake her tale in haste; 
And peevish Pride for peacock's plumes would needs be 

highest placed: 
And therewithal came Curiousness and carped out of frame. 
The audience laughed to hear the strife, as they beheld the 

same. 

Yet Reason soon appeased the bruit, her reverence made 

and done, 
She purchased favour for to speak, and thus her tale bsgun. 
" Since Bounty shall the garland wear, and crowned be by 

Fame ; 
O happy judges ! call for her, for she deserves the same : 
Where temperance governs, beauty's flowers and glory are 

not sought, 
And shamefast meekness mastereth pride, and virtue dwells 

in thought. 
Bid her come forth and show her face, or else assent each 

one 
That true report shall grave her name in gold or marble 

stone 



40 A praise of Mistress Ryce. [ Before ? I557 . 

For all the world to read at will, what worthiness doth rest 
In perfect pure unspotted life, which she hath here possest." 

Then Skill rose up and sought the press to find, if that he 

might, 
A person of such honest name that men should praise of 

right. 
This one I saw full sadly sit, and shrink herself aside, 
Whose sober looks did show what gifts her wifely grace did 

hide. 
"Lo here," quoth Skill, " good people all, is Lucrece left 

alive ; 
And she shall most accepted be, that least for praise did 

strive." 

No longer Fame could hold her peace, but blew a blast so 

high, 
That made an echo in the air, and sounding through the sky. 
The voice was loud, and thus it said, " Rise, with happy 

days ! 
Thy honest life hath won thee fame, and crowned thee with 

praise." 

And when I heard my mistress' name I thrust amidst the 

throng : 
And clapt my hands, and wished of GOD that she might 

prosper long. 





4i 

Sir Henry Sidney, K.G., 

Lord Deputy of Ireland, and Lord President of Wales. 

Avery godly letter made unto Philip Sidney 
his son, then at school in Shrewsbury. 

\Sidneiana .1 
In the records of Shrewsbury School are the following entries on the 

same day : — Anno Domini 1564. 16 Cat. Nov. [i.e. 17 Oct.] 

Philippus Sidney filius et hceres Henrici Si dm: i • Mi lit is de Pensarst 

in Comit. Cajitia; et Domini Prcesidis confinium Cambria:, nee non Ordinis 

Garterii Militis. 

FOULKUS GREYVELL filius et lucres FOULK1 Greyvell Armigcri de 

Bcauehamp Court e in Comit. Warwici. cod em die. 

Son Philip, 

Have received two letters from you — one written 
in Latin, the other in French— which I take in 
good part; and will you to exercise that practice 
of learning often : for that will stand you in 
most stead in that profession of life that you are 
born to live in. 

And now sithence this is my first letter that ever I did write 
to you, I will not that it be all empty of some advices; which 
my natural care of you provoketh me to wish you to follow, 
as documents to you in this your tender age. 

Let your first action be the lifting up of your mind to 
Almighty GOD by hearty prayer; and feelingly digest the 
words you speak in prayer, with continual meditation and 
thinking of Him to whom you pray : and use this as an 
ordinary act, and at an ordinary hour. Whereby the time 
itself will put you in remembrance to do that which you are 
accustomed to do in that time. 

Apply your study such hours as your discreet Master doth 
assign you, earnestly : and the time, I know, he will so 
limit ; as shall be both sufficient for your learning, and safe 
for your health. And mark the sense and matter of that 
you do read as well as the words : so shall you both enrich 
your tongue with words and your wit with matter; and 
judgment will grow as years grow in you. 

Be humble and obedient to your Master : for unless you 
frame yourself to obey others, yea, and feel in yourself 
what obedience is ; you shall never be able to teach others 



42 Give yourself to be merry! L s,rlI - Si ^: 

how to obey you. Be courteous of gesture and affable unto 
all men; with diversity of reverence according to the dignity 
of the person. There is nothing that winneth so much, with 
so little cost. 

Use moderate diet: so as, after your meal, you may find 
your wit fresher, and not duller; and your body more lively, 
and not more heavy. Seldom drink wine : and yet some- 
times do; lest being enforced to drink upon the sudden, 
you should find yourself inflamed. 

Use exercise of body, but such as is without peril of your 
bones or joints. It will increase your force, and enlarge 
your breath. Delight to be cleanly as well in all parts of 
your body, as in your garments. It shall make you grateful 
in each company : and otherwise loathsome. 

(iive yourself to be merry: for you degenerate from your 
father, if you find not yourself most able in wit and body to 
do anything, when you be most merry. But let your mirth 
be ever void of all scurrility and biting words to any man : 
for a wound given by a word is oftentimes harder to be 
cured than that which is given with the sword. 

Be vou rather a hearer and bearer away of other men's 
talk, than a beginner or procurer of speech : otherwise you 
shall be accounted to delight to hear yourself speak. 

lie modest in each assembly, and rather be rebuked of 
light fellows for maiden-like shamelastness ; than of your 
sad [sober] friends, for pert boldness. Think upon every word 
that you will speak, before you utter it : and remember how 
Nature hath rampered walled up. as it were, the tongue with 
teeth, lips, yea, and hair without the lips; and all, betokening 
reins or bridles for the loose use of that member. 

Above all .things, tell no untruth. No, not in trifles. 
The custom of it is nought : and let it not satisfy you that, 
for a time, the hearers take it for a truth : yet after it will 
be known as it is, to your shame. For there cannot be a 
greater reproach to a Gentleman, than to be accounted a liar. 

Study and endeavour yourself to be virtuously occupied : so 

shall you make sueh an habit of well doing in you; as you 

shall not know how to do evil, though you would. 

tember, my SOU ! the noble blood you are descend 

iur mother's side : and think that only by virtuous life 

and good action you may be an ornament to that illustrious 
family; otherwise, through vice and sloth, you may he 



Sir H.Sidney. A.BOVE ALL THINGS, TELL NO UNTRUTH ! 45 

counted tabes generis, " a spot of your kin," one of the greatest 
curses that can happen to man. 

Well! my little Philip! this is enough for me; and too 
much, I fear, for you. But if I shall find that this light meat 
of digestion nourish in anything, the weak stomach of your 
young capacity ; I will, as I find the same grow stronger, 
feed it with other food. 

Commend me most heartily unto Master Justice Corbet, 
old Master Onslowe, and my cousin his son. Farewell ! 
Your mother and I send you our blessings : and Almighty 
GOD grant you His ! nourish you with His fear! govern you 
with His grace ! and make you a good servant to your Prince 
and country ! Your loving father, 

So long as you live in the fear of GOD, 
H . Sydney. 

A Postcript by my Lady Mary Sidney, in the skirts of my 
Lord President's letter, to her said son Philip. 

Our noble and careful father hath taken pains with 
his own hand to give you in this his letter, so wise, 
so learned, and most requisite precepts for you to 
follow with a diligent and humble thankful mind; as 




I will not withdraw your eyes from beholding and reverent 
honouring the same : no, not so long time as to read any 
letter from me. And therefore, at this time, I will write unto 
you no other letter than this : whereby I first bless you, 
with my desire to GOD to plant in you His grace; and 
secondarily, warn you to have always befjre the eyes of 
your mind these excellent counsels of my lord your dear 
father, and that you fail not continually once in four or 
five days to read them over. 

And for a final leave-taking for this time, see that you show 
yourself as a loving obedient scholar to your good Master ! 
to govern you yet many years ; and that my lord and I may 
hear that you profit so in your learning, as thereby you may 
increase our loving care of you, and deserve at his hands the 
continuance of his great joy, to have him often witness with 
his own hand the hope he hath in your well doing. 

Farewell, my little Philip! and once again the LORD 
bless you ! Your loving mother, 

Mary Sidney. 



44 




Sir Walter Raleigh. 
CGnceipt begotten by the eyes. 

[Poetical Rhapsody^ 

ONCEIPT begotten by the eyes, 
Is quickly born and quickly dies ; 
For while it seeks our hearts to have 
Meanwhile there Reason makes his grave. 
For many things the eyes approve, 
Which yet the heart doth seldom love. 

For as the seeds in springtime sown, 
Die in the ground ere they be grown ; 
Such is Conceipt, whose rooting fails, 
As child that in the cradle quails ; 
Or else within the mother's womb, 
Hath his beginning and his tomb. 



Affection follows Fortune's wheels, 
And soon is shaken from her heels : 
For following beauty or estate, 
Her Liking still is turned to hate. 
For all affections have their change, 
And Fancy only loves to range. 



DESIRE himself runs out of breath, 
And getting, does but gain his death: 
Di SIRE, nor reason hath, nor rest, 
And blind doth seldom choose the bes/ 
.1. attained is not desire, 

J '.Lit as the cinders of the lire. 



Sir KeS] CONCEIPT BEGOTTEN BY THE EVES. 45 

As ships in ports desired are drowned, 
As fruit once ripe, then falls to ground, 
As flies that seek for flames, are brought 
To cinders by the flames they sought : 
So fond Desire when it attains 
The life expires, the woe remains. 



And yet some poets fain would prove 
Affection to be perfect love ; 
And that Desire is of that kind 
No less a passion of the Mind : 
As if wild beasts and men did seek 
To like, to love, to choose alike. 

W. R. 




I 



46 

Anonymous. 

Report to Lord Burleigh of the cost oj 

delivering a Tim of Gascoigny wine 

in England in Novem her 1583. 

[Lansd. MS. 37.] 

It may please you Right Honourable. Understanding that 
it was your Lordship's pleasure to be advertised of the prices 
of the Wines of Gascoigny this year : upon the occasion of 
a Proclamation intended by your Lordship thereon : and 
having now upon the arrival of four or five ships from Bordeaux, 
as well as upon the sight of merchants' letters as otherwise ; 
taken intelligence thereof as much as in me lieth, I do present 
the same to your honourable understanding as followeth. 

imprimis. The price of a Tun of the best 
wines there is 20 crowns : the Crown by 
means of the exchange to be accounted 

at 6s. 6d. 

The charges there. One Crown to the 

Tun 

The freight, primage, and Dover money on the Tun 
The impost, subsidies, and charges for the service 

of Her Majesty, on every Tun 

The lighterage, carriage and porters' due 

The hooping, cellarage and gauging of every Tun 
The leakage on the seas and waste on land 

Sum of the price and charges of a Tun of Wine: 
besides the adventure and forbearing of their 
money is . t £12 14 10 




£ 


s. 


cl. 





10 








6 


6 


1 


i3 





2 


11 








2 


,s 





6 


8 


1 


5 






The lasl year, Her Majesty's proclamation was at £13 the 
Tun when the wines bare juice at 22 and 23 Crowns the Tun : 
the charges then as now. And herein the Merchants humbly 
beseech your honourable consideration towards them. 

i'i annual \ n issued upon this Report, reduced the price 

wine from r 15 ; to 1 1 foi 

which it is clear thai some of the above it 

\\i>iild have had no profit, 1 luitera- 

210 Imi 
; •. wine botl 1 | Id. the 

I il j['I. a bottle; i.e. in present value, is. 4.1. 01 is. 8d 



47 



Anonymous. 
The Bride s " Good Morrow." 

To a pleasant new tune. 

This is one of the most beaujtiful ballads in the English language. 

[Roxburgh Ballads, i. 15. 
in British Museum.] 

He night is passed, and joyful clay appeareth 

most clear on every side. 
With pleasant music we therefore salute you, 
" Good morrow, Mistress Bride ! " 
From sleep and slumber now awake you out of hand : 

your bridegroom stayeth at home ; 
Whose fancy, favour and affection still doth stand 
fixed on thee alone. 
Dress you in your best array : 
This must be your wedding da}'. 

GOD Almighty send you happy joy, 
In health and wealth to keep you still ! 
And if it be His blessed will, 

GOD keep you safe from sorrow and annoy ! 



Mm ' J 





This day is honour now brought into thy bosom 

and comfort to thy heart : 
For GOD hath sent you a friend for to defend you 

from sorrow, care and smart. 
In health and sickness, for thy comfort day and night ; 

he is appointed and brought : 
Whose love and liking is most constant sure and right. 



48 T ii e Bride's "Good M orro w." j" l6th ? Cent . 

Then love ye him as ye ought ! 
Now you have your heart's desire, 
And the thing you did require ; 

GOD Almighty send you happy joy, 
In health and wealth to keep you still ! 
And if it he His blessed will, 

GOD keep you safe from sorrow and annoy ! 



There is no treasure the which may be compared 

.unto a faithful friend. 
Gold soon decayeth, and worldly wealth consumeth 

and wasteth in the wind : 
But love, once planted in a perfect and pure mind, 

endureth weal and woe : 
The frowns of fortune, come they never so unkind, 
cannot the same o'erthrow. 
A bit of bread is better cheer 
Where love and friendship doth appear; 

Than dainty dishes stuffed with strife : 
For where the heart is cloyed with care, 
Sour is the sweetest fare ; 

And death far better than so bad a life. 



Sweet Bride ! then may you full well contented stay you, 

and in your heart rejoice ; 
Sith GOD was guider both of your heart and fancy 

and maker of your choice : 
And lie that preferred you to this happy state 

will not behold you decay ; 
ee you lack relief or help in any rate, 

if you His precepts obey. 



i6th Cent 



] The Bride's "Good Morrow." 49 



To those that ask it faithfully 

The LORD will no good thing deny : 

This comfort in the Scriptures may you find. 
Then let no worldly grief and care 
Vex your heart with foul despair : 

Which doth declare the unbelieving mind. 



All things are ready and every whit prepared 

to bear you company. 
Your friends and parents do give their due attendance 

together courteously. 
The house is drest and garnisht for your sake 

with flowers gallant and green. 
A solemn feast your comely cooks do ready make ; 
where all your friends will be seen. 
Young men and maids do ready stand 
With sweet rosemary in their hand ; 

A perfect token of your virgin's life : 
To wait upon you they intend 
Unto the church to make an end : 

And GOD make thee a joyful wedded wife. 

FINIS. 




Eng.Gar, I. 



J 



50 



asper Campion. 



The English trade to Scio. 1 539-1 570 a.d. 

[Haki.UYt's Voyages 1509.] 

A discourse of the trade to Scio, made in the year 1569, 
[i.e. 1570] by Jasper Campion unto Master Michael 
Lock and unto Master William Winter : as by his 
letters unto them both, shall appear. Written the 14th 
of February 1569 [i.e. 1570]. 




Worshipful Sir, etc. 

S THESE days past, I spake unto you about the 
procurement of a safe - conduct from the great 
Turk for a trade to Scio : the way and manner 
how it may be obtained with great ease, shall 
plainly appear unto you in the lines following. 
Sir, you shall understand that the island of Scio in time 
past hath been a Signiory or lordship of itself; and did 
belong to the Genoese. There were twenty-four of them 
that governed the island, who were called Mauneses. But in 
continuance of time the Turk waxed so strong and mighty : 
that they — considering they were not able to keep it, unless 
they should become his tributaries: because the island had 
no corn nor any kind of victuals to sustain them, but only that 
which must of necessity come out of the Turk's dominions ; 
and the said island being enclosed with the Turks round 
about, and but twelve miles from the Turk's continent — 
therefore the said Genoese did compound and agree to be 
the Turk's tributaries, and to pay him [4,000,000 ducats 
yearly: alM iya provided that the} should keep their laws both 
spiritual and temporal, as they did when the island was in 
their own hands. Thus he granted them their privilege, 



i'S^SH English trade to Scio. 1539-1570 a.d. 51 



which they enjoyed for many years : so that all strangers, 
and also many Englishmen, did trade thither of long 
continuance, and went and came in safety. 

In this meantime, the Prince Pedro Doria, being a 
Genoese, became a captain to serve the Emperor with thirty 
or forty galleys against the Turk. And since that _ time, 
divers other captains belonging to Genoa, have been in the 
service of King Philip against the Turk. Moreover, 
whensoever the Turk made out an army, he perceived that 
no nation did him more hurt than those Genoese who were 
his tributaries. Likewise at the Turk's siege of Malta [in 
1551-53 a. d.]— before which place he lay a great while ; with 
loss of his men, and also of his galleys — he found none so 
troublesome unto his force as one Juanette Doria a Genoese, 
and divers others of the island of Scio, who were his tributaries. 
At which sight, he took such displeasure against them of 
Scio, that he sent certain of his galleys to the island, to seize 
upon all the goods of the twenty-four Mauneses ; and to turn 
them, with their wives and children, out of the island : but 
they would let none other depart, in order that the island should 
not be unpeopled. So that now the Turk hath sent one of his 
chief men to rule there : whereby now it will be more easy 
for us to obtain our safe-conduct than ever it was before. 

For if the townsmen of Scio did know that we would trade 
thither, as we did in times past ; they themselves, and also 
the Customer— for the Turk in all his dominions doth rent 
his customs — would be the chiefest procurer of this our safe- 
conduct for his own gain. Which is no small matter, for we 
must pay no less than ten in the hundred throughout the 
Turk's whole dominion : insomuch that if one of our ships 
should go thither, it would be for the Customer's profit 4,000 
ducats at least ; whereas if we should not trade thither, he 
would lose so much. 

Also the burgesses and the common people would be very 
glad of our trade there, for the commonalty do get more by 
our countrymen than they do by any other nation whatsoever: 
for we do use to buy many of their silk quilts and of their 
scamato and dimity, that the poor people make in that town, 
more than any other nation ; so that we would not so gladly 
■ trade, but the people of the country would be twice as 
willing. Wherefore they themselves would be a means unto 



52 English trade to Scio. 1539-1570 a.d. [*&*££ 

their governor by their petition, to bring this trade to pass : 
giving him to understand that of all nations in the world we 
do him least hurt, and that we may do his country great 
good in consuming those commodities which his country 
people make. 

Furthermore, it were far more requisite that we should 
carry our own commodities, than to suffer a stranger to carry 
them thither : for that we can afford them better cheap than 
a stranger can. 

I write not this by hearsay of other men, but of mine 
own expeiience : for I have traded in the country above this 
thirty years ; and have been married in the town of Scic full 
twenty-four years : so you may assure yourself that I will 
write nothing but truth. 

Now I will declare unto you the wares and commodities 
that are in the countries near about Scio. There are very 
good galls, the best sort whereof are sold in England, five 
shillings the hundredweight' dearer than any other country's 
galls. There are also cotton wool; tanned hides; hides in 
the hair ; wax ; camlets ; mocayares ; grogerams ; silk of 
divers countries ; Cordovan skins tanned white to be made 
black, of them in great quantity; and also coarse wool to 
make beds. The natural commodities growing in the island 
itself are raw silk and mastic. 

Of these commodities there are laden yearly ten or twelve 
great ships of Genoa ; besides five or six which belong to the 
town of Scio : which ships are freighted for Genoa, Messina 
and Ancona. And now that the Mauncscs and the chief 
merchants of Genoa are banished, the trade is clean lost : by 
reason whereof our merehandise must now of necessity be 
better cheap than it has been in times past. 

But yet when all those ships did trade to the country, and 
.'1 o our ships; we never had less than three quintals of 
galls for a kersey; and in England we sold them for 
and 368. the hundred : whereas now they are brought by the 
Venetians; they sell them unto us for £3 10s. and £4 the 
hundredweight. 

Also we had three quintals of cotton wool for a kersey, and 
sold the WOO] for t the most: whereas now 

the Italians Si 11 the same to us for £4 ios. and £5 the 

bin do dwejght. 



uVr'^oJ English trade to Scio. 1539-1570 a.d. 53 

In like manner, camlets: whereas we had three pieces, 
and of the best sort two pieces and a half, for a kersey ; and 
could not sell them above 20s. and 22s. the piece, they sell 
them for 30s. and 35s. the piece. 

Also grogerams, where we had of the best, two pieces and 
a half for a kersey : they sell them for 4s. and 4s. 6d. the 
yard. 

Carpets, the smaller sort which serve for cupboards, we 
had three for a kersey. Whereas we, at the most, could not 
sell them but for 20s. the piece, they sell them for 35s. the piece. 

And so all other commodities that the Venetians do bring, 
they sell them to us for the third part more gains than we 
ourselves obtained in those days that we traded in those parts. 

Likewise the barrels of oil that they bring from Candia, 
we never could sell them above four nobles [£2 13s. 4d.] the 
barrel: where they sell them always for 50s. and £3 the barrel. 

What great pity it is, that we should lose so good a trade ; 
and may have it in our own hands, and be better welcome to 
that country than the Venetians. Moreover, the Venetians 
come very little to Scio ; for most of their trade is to 
Alexandria. 

And for to assure you that we had these commodities in 
barter for our kerseys; look into your father's books, and the 
books of Sir John Gresham and his brethren ; and you shall 
find what I have said to be true. 

Also you know that we are forced to seek for oils out of 
Spain, and that for these many years they have been sold 
there for £25 and £30 the tun : whereas — if we can obtain 
the foresaid safe-conduct from the 1 urk — there are divers 
places in his dominions, where we may lade 500 tuns at £5 
sterling the tun. The places are Modon and Coron, which 
are but twelve miles distant the one from the other; and do 
stand in our way to Scio, as you may plainly see by the card 
[chart]. Also there are places where we may utter L dispose of] 
our own commodities. And not only at these two places, but 
at many others ; where we may have oils, and be better used 
than we are in Spain : where we pay very dear, and also are 
very evilly entreated many ways, as to you is not unknown. 
So "that by these means, if the merchants will, we may be 
eased ; and have such a trade as the like is not in Christendom. 

Now as for getting the safe-conduct, if I were but able to 



54 English trade to Scio. 1539-1570 a. d. [/; f^Tj?".' 

spend £100 by the year : I would be bound to lose it, if that 
I did not obtain the foresaid safe-conduct. For I know that 
if the inhabitants of Scio did but think that we would trade 
thither again ; they would, at their own cost, procure to us 
a safe-conduct without a penny of charges to the merchants. 
So that if the merchants will but bear my charges to solicit 
the cause, I will undertake it myself. Where I pray you 
speak to Master Winter and the other merchants, that this 
may take effect ; and let me have your answer herein as soon 
as conveniently you may : for the time of the year draweth 
nigh that this business must be done. 

Thus I commit you to GOD ; and rest always yours to 
command, 

Yours as your servant, 

Jasper Campion. 



To the Worshipful Master William Winter. 

T may please your worship to understand, that as 
concerning the voyage to Scio, what great profit 
would be got both for merchants, and also for 
owners of ships — as it was well known in those 
days when the Matthew Gonson, the Trinity Fitz Williams, 
and the Saviour of Bristol with clivers other ships which 
traded thither yearly; and made their voyage in ten or twelve 
months, and the longest in a year— Master Francis Lambert, 
Master J.OHN Brooke and Master Draver can truly inform 
you hereof at large. 

And by reason that we have not traded into those parts 
these many years ; and that the Turk is grown mighty, 
whereby our ships do not trade as they were wont: I find 
that the Venetians do bring those commodities hither; and 
do sell them for double the value of that we ourselves were 
accustomed to letch them. Wherefore, as I am informed by 
the abovenamed men, that there is none so fit to furnish 
this voyage as yourself: my request is that there may be a 
ship of convenient burthen prepared for this voyage; and 
then I will satisfy you ;it large what is to be done therein. 
Au.l because the Turk, as I said before, is waxen strong, 




JSrSH ENGLISH TRADE TO SciO. I 539- 1 570 A.U. 55 

and hath put out the Christian rulers and placed his own 
subjects; we may doubt whether we may so peaceably trade 
thither as we were wont : therefore I dare undertake to 
obtain a safe-conduct, if my charges may be borne to go and 
come. Of the way how this may be done, Master Lock can 
satisfy you at large. 

Moreover, I can inform you more of the trade of that 
country than any other ; for that I have been in those parts 
these thirty years, and have been married in the very tow n 
of Scio full four and twenty years. Furthermore, when one 
of our ships cometh thither, they bring at the least 6,000 or 
8,000 kerseys ; so that the customs thereof are very profitable 
for the prince, and the return of them is profitable to the 
common people : for in barter of our wares, we took the 
commodities which the poor of that town made in their 
houses. So that one of our ships brought the prince and 
country more gain than six ships of other nations. The 
want of this our trade thither was the only cause why the 
Christian rulers were displaced : for when they paid not their 
yearly tribute, they were put out by force. 

Touching the ship that must go, she must observe this 
order. She must be a ship of countenance. She must not 
touch in any part of Spain, for the times are dangerous, nor 
take in any lading there: but she either lade in England, 
either goods of our own or else of strangers, and go to Genoa 
or Leghorn, where we may be well intreated. From thence 
she must make her money to buy wines by exchange to 
Candia, for there both customs and exchange are reasonable : 
and not do as the Matthew Gonson and other ships did in 
times past, who made sale of their wares at Messina for the 
lading of their wines ; and paid for turning their white money 
[silver] into gold after four or five in the hundred, and also 
did hazard the loss of ship and goods by carrying away 
their money. Thus by the aforesaid course we shall trade 
quietly, and not be subject to these dangers. 

Also along the coast] from Leghorn to Castel del Mare 
which is but sixteen miles from Naples, and the ready way to 
Candia; you may lade hoops: which will cost 27$ " caro- 
lins " of Naples the thousand, which is z\ ducats of Spain. 
And in Candia for every thousand of hoops you shall have a 
butt of Malmsey clear of all charges. Insomuch that a ship of 



56 English trade to Scio. i 539-1 570 a.d. U^T s °^ 

the burden [300 tons] of the Matthew Gonson will carry 400,000 
hoops, so that 1,000 ducats will lade her. And this is an 
usual trade to Candia, as Master Michael Lock can testify. 

Furthermore, it is not unknown to you, that the oils which 
we do spend [consume] in England for our cloth, are brought 
out of Spain ; and that they are very dear ; so that in Eng- 
land we cannot sell them under £28 and £30 the tun. I say 
we may have good oil, and better cheap in divers places 
within the Straits [of Gibraltar]. 

Therefore if you think good to take this voyage in hand; I 
will inform you more particularly, when you please. 

In the meantime, I rest 

Your Worship's to command. 

Yours at your pleasure. 

Jasper Campion. 




57 



Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 



What cunning can express f 



[~R. S., Pkeenix Nest. 1593. 

Lj. Bodenham, England's Helicon. 1600. J 




Hat cunning can express 
The favour of her face ? 
To whom, in this distress, 
I do appeal for grace. 

A thousand Cupids fly 
About her gentle eye. 



From whence, each throws a dart 

That kindleth soft sweet fire 
Within my sighing heart, 
Possessed by desire. 
No sweeter life I try, 
Than in her love to die. 



The lily in the field 

That glories in his white ; 
For pureness now must yield 
And render up his right. 

Heaven pictured in her face, 
Doth promise joy and grace. 



What cunning can express? [ Em1 £&JwI 

Fair Cynthia's silver light 

That beats on running streams, 
Compares not with her white, 
Whose hairs are all sunbeams. 
Her virtues so do shine 
As day, unto mine eyne. 

With this there is a red 

Exceeds the damask rose : 
Which in her cheeks is spread, 
Whence every favour grows. 
In sky there is no star, 
That she surmounts not far. 



When Phgebus from the bed 

Of Thetis doth arise ; 

The morning blushing red 

In fair carnation-wise, 

He shows it in her face 
As queen of every grace. 

This pleasant lily white, 

This taint of roseate red, 
This Cynthia's silver light, 
The sweet fair Dea spread, 

These sunbeams in mine eye; 
These beauties make me die. 

E. O. 



A 

RELATION 

Of the Retaking of the 

ISLAND 



OF 



S TA HELENA, 



And Three 



Dutch East-India 
SHIPS. 



#ubltst)eD bj> authority 



In the Savoy, 

Printed by Thomas Newcomb, 

M. DC LXXIII. 



6i 



>}> <{< >}> <{< ?} > <{ c >}> < { < >} > <{< > } > ( {< )} > ( {< >} > < {< >} > < {< 4-4- 




^ Relation of the Retaking of the Island 

of Sainta Helena; and three Dutch 

East India ships. 

N the 4th of May [1673] last, in the morning, we 
came in sight of the isle of Saint Helena. In two 
hours afterwards ; we had concluded what to do 
for the retaking of the island : and ordered 200 
men with field colours and officers, who were 
appointed to be put on board a vessel, out of which they 
might be landed; whilst we attacked the ships in the road, 
in case there should be any there. 

About eleven in the forenoon, the Assistance frigate made 
sail, that we might be near in the night, to discover the 
strength of the road : the rest of our ships having furled all 
their sails, lay so till the evening, and came in to us in the 
night. 

The next morning, about seven o'clock, all our ships 
being to the windward of the isle about five miles : our boat 
came on board, and told us that the road was clear. So we 
immediately put 200 men more, on board the Castle fireship ; 
and left her and the other vessel to land our 400 men to the 
windward of the island, in Prosperous Bay. 

The four Men of War made sail for the forts, against which 
we anchored about one in the afternoon ; and after four hours' 
dispute [firing], went to the westward, and there let go our 
anchor again : being confident our men must have landed 
and gained the hills before that time ; and that by the next 
morning, we might expect them on the back of the forts, 
against which time it was resolved to have the William 
and Thomas and one ship more, close under the fort. The 



62 The island surrendered without a struggle. [ i6 * 3 

Dutch no sooner saw us come up again, and that we did 
not intend to leave them : but they came off, and yielded 
the island upon condition that they might not be stripped ; 
which we accepted. They not yet knowing of any army that 
we had landed. 

At sunset we took possession of James' Fort, and 
despatched a trumpeter to Captain Keigwin, commander 
of our land force, to acquaint him with what had passed ; 
and to prevent any injury that might be done to the isle by 
our men in their march to the fort. 

On the nth, between seven and eight in the evening, a 
ship appeared in sight with a flag aloft ; which we cut after, 
and by eleven at night came up with her, and took her : 
which proved to be one of the Dutch East India fleet, sent 
before in advance] with the new Governor for Saint Helena. 

On the 26th, early in the morning, we saw our flags on the 
mount hoisted ; which gave us an account that there were 
six sail in sight. About ten in the forenoon, wehad advice 
that four were coming one way and two the other : who 
immediately appeared in sight at both ends of the island. 
They no sooner saw us ; but they clapped by a wind, and we 
after them : the Assistance, the William and Thomas, and the 
Castle fireship, with one Merchantman to the eastward, after 
four: the Mary and Martha, with two other Merchantmen, 
to the westward, after two ; but it being a very hard gale, 
we could do nothing on them. 

At night the Assistance got up with their Vice-Admiral, and 
the William and Thomas with their Admiral ; with whom they 
kept company all night : and the 27th in the morning, took 
them ; but not in company one with the other, every ship 
steering his, own course, believing by that to lose us. 

The said four Men of War, fireship, and three Dutch East 
India prizes; together with live English East India ships who 
came in company with the Men of War ; are since safely 
arrived. 



FINIS. 



63 



George Gascoigne, Esquire. 
Gjscoigne' s arraignment at Beauty s bar. 




\A Hundred Sniutry Flowers? t 

T Beauty's bar as I did stand ; 
When False Suspect accused me : 
" George," quoth the Judge, " hold up thy hand, 
Thou art arraigned of flattery. 
Tell therefore how thou wilt be tried ? 
Whose judgment here, wilt thou abide ? " 

" My lord," quoth I, " this lady here, 
Whom I esteem above the rest ; 
Doth know my guilt, if any were : 
Wherefore her doom shall please me best. 
Let her be judge and juror both, 
To try me guiltless by mine oath." 

Quoth Beauty, " No ! it sitteth not 
A Prince herself to judge the cause. 
Here is our Justice, well you wot, 
Appointed to discuss our laws. 
If you will guiltless seem to go : 
GOD and your country quite you so." 

Then Craft the Crier called a quest, 
Of whom was Falsehood foremost feer : 
A pack of pick-thanks were the rest, 
Which came false witness for to bear. 
The Jury such, the Judge unjust : 
Sentence was said I should be trusst. 



64 Arraignment at Beauty's bar. [b^*^ 

Jealous the gaoler bound me fast 
To hear the verdict of the bill. 
" George," quoth the Judge, " now thou art cast. 
Thou must go hence to heavy hill ; 
And there be hanged all but the head. 
GOD rest thy soul when thou art dead ! " 

Down fell I then upon my knee, 
All flat before Dame Beauty's face; 
And cried, " Good Lady, pardon me ! 
Which here appeal unto your Grace. 
You know if I have been untrue, 
It was in too much praising you." 

" And though this Judge do make such haste 
To shed with shame my guiltless blood ; 
Yet let your pity first be placed, 
To save the man that meant you good. 
So shall you show yourself a Queen 
And I may be your servant seen." 

Quoth Beauty, " Well ! because I guess 
What thou dost mean henceforth to be : 
Although thy faults deserve no less 
Than Justice here hath judged thee. 
Wilt thou be bound, to stint all strife, 
And be true prisoner all thy life ? " 

" Yea, Madam," quoth I, " that I shall. 
Lo, Faith and Truth my sureties." 
" Why then," quoth she, " come when I call : 
I ask no better warranties." 
Thus am I BEAUTY'S bounden thrall ; 
At her command when she doth call. 

F.vcr or Never. 



65 



8K? I 


M 



Sir Walter Raleigh. 

Could the Romans have resisted Alexander f 

The Englishman a better warrior than either 

Macedonian or Roman. 

{History of the World.'] 

Hat question handled by Livy, — " Whether the 
Great Alexander could have prevailed against the 
Romans ; if, alter his Eastern conquest, he had 
bent all his forces against them ? " — hath been and 
is the subject of much dispute : which, as it seems 
to me, the arguments on both sides do not so well explain, 
as the experience that Pyrrhus hath given of the Roman 
power in his days. For if he — a commander, in Hannibal's 
judgment, inferior to Alexander, though to none else — could, 
with a small strength of men, and little store of money or of 
other needful helps in war ; vanquish them in two battles, 
and endanger their State when it was well settled, and held 
the best part of Italy under a confirmed obedience : what 
would Alexander have done — that was abundantly provided 
of all that is needful to a conqueror — wanting only matter of 
employment ; coming upon them, before their dominion was 
half so well settled ? 

It is easy to say that Alexander had no more than 30,000 
foot and 4.000 horse— as indeed, at his first passage into Asia; 
he carried over not many more ; and that the rest of his 
followers were no better than base effeminate Asiatics. 
But he that considers the armies of Perdiccas, ANTirATER, 
Craterus, Eumenes, Ptolemy, Antigonus, and Lysi- 
machus ; with the actions by them performed : every one 
of which (to omit others) commanded only some fragment 
of this dead Emperor's power ; shall easily find, that such 
a reckoning is far short of the truth. 

Ekg. Gar. I- 5 



66 Could the Ro m a n s [ Sir WRa X 

It were needless to speak of treasure, horses, elephants, 
engines of battery, and the like : of all which the Macedonian 
had abundance; the Roman havingnought, save men and arms. 

As for sea forces. He that shall consider after what sort 
the Romans in their first Punic war, were trained in the 
rudiments of navigation — sitting upon the shore, and beat- 
ing the sand with poles, to practise the stroke of the oar ; 
as not daring to launch their ill-built vessels into the sea — 
will easily conceive how far too weak they would have 
proved in such services. 

Now for helpers in war : I do not see why all Greece and 
Macedon — being absolutely commanded by Alexander — 
might not well deserve to be laid in balance against those parts 
of Italy, which the Romans held in ill-assured subjection. 

To omit therefore all benefit that the Eastern World — 
more wealthy indeed, than valiant — could have afforded unto 
the Macedonian : let us conjecture how the States of Sicily 
and Carthage — nearest neighbours to such a quarrel, had it 
happened — would have stood affected. 

The Sicilians were for the most part Grecians; neither 
is it to be doubted that they would readily have submitted 
themselves unto him that ruled all Greece besides them. 
In what terms they commonly stood ; and how ill they 
were able to defend themselves, it shall appear anon. Sure 
it is, that Alexander coming into those parts, would have 
brought excessive joy to them ; that were fain to get the 
help of Pyrrhus, by offering to become his subjects. 

As for the Carthaginians. If Agathocles, the Tyrant of 
Syracuse — hated of his people, and ill able to defend his 
own besieged city — could, by adventuring to sail into Africa, 
put their dominion; yea, and Carthage itself, in extreme 
hazard: shall we think that they would have been able to 
withstand ALEXANDER ? But why do I question their ability; 
seeing that they sent ambassadors with their submission, as 
far as Babylon ; ere the war drew near them ? 

Wherefore it is manifest that the Romans must (without 
other succour than, perhaps, of some other few Italian 
friends— of which yet there were none that forsook them not 
at Bome time ; both before, and after this) have opposed their 
valour and good military discipline against the power of all 
countries to them known : if they would have made resistance. 



SirW. RaTgJ HAVE RESISTED A L EX AN D E R ? 67 

How they could have sped well in undertaking such a 
match : it is uneasy to find in discourse of human reason. 
It is true, that virtue and fortune work wonders ; but it is 
against cowardly fools, and the unfortunate. For whoever 
contends with one too mighty for him : either must excel 
in these as much as his enemy go beyond him in power ; or 
else must look both to be overcome, and to be cast down so 
much the lower by how much the opinion of his fortune and 
virtue renders him suspected, as likely to make head another 
time against the vanquisher. 

Whether the Roman or the Macedonian were, in those 
days, the better soldier ; I will not take upon me to determine. 
Though I might, without partiality, deliver mine own 
opinion : and prefer that army, which followed not only 
Philip and Alexander, but also Alexander's princes after 
him, in the greatest dangers of all sorts of war; before any 
that Rome either had or, in long time after, did send forth. 

Concerning fortune; who can give a rule that shall always 
hold ? Alexander was victorious in every battle that he 
fought : and the Romans in the issue of every war. But 
forasmuch as Livy hath judged this a matter worthy of con- 
sideration : I think it a great part of Rome's good fortune, 
that Alexander came not into Italy ; where — in three years 
after his death — the two Roman Consuls, together with all 
the powers of that State, were surprised by the Samnites ; 
and enforced to yield up their arms. 

We may therefore permit Livy to admire his own Romans, 
and to compare with Alexander, those captains of theirs ; 
which were honoured sufficiently in being thought equal to 
his followers. That the same conceit should blind our 
judgment ; we cannot permit without much vanity. 

Now in deciding such a controversy, methinks it were not 
amiss for an Englishman to give such a sentence between 
the Macedonians and Romans ; as the Romans once did, 
being chosen arbitrators, between the Ardeates and Aricini 
that strove about a piece of land : saying, " That it belonged 
to neither of them ; but unto the Romans themselves." 

If therefore it be demanded, whether the Macedonian or 
the Roman were the best warrior? I will answer, "The 
Englishman ! " 

5* 



68 The Englishman [ Sir n^X 

For it will soon appear to any that shall examine the 
noble acts of our Nation in war, that they were performed 
bv no advantage of weapon ; against no savage or unmanly 
people ; the enemy being far superior unto us in number 
and all needful provisions ; yea, as well trained as we. or 
commonly better, in the exercise of war. 

In what sort, Philip won his dominion in Greece; what 
manner of men the Persians and Indians were, whom 
Alexander vanquished ; as likewise, of what force the Mace- 
donian phalanx was, and how well appointed against such 
arms as it commonly encountered : any man that hath taken 
pains to read the foregoing story of them, doth sufficiently 
understand. 

Yet was this phalanx never, or very seldom, able to stand 
against the Roman armies ; which were embattled in so 
excellent a form, as I know not whether any nation besides 
them, have used; either before or since. The Roman 
weapons likewise, both offensive and defensive, were of 
greater use than those with which any other nation hath 
served ; before the fiery instruments of gunpowder were 
known. 

As for the enemies with which Rome had to do : we find 
that they which did overmatch her in numbers were as far 
overmatched by her in weapons ; and that they of whom she 
had little advantage in arms, had as little advantage of her in 
multitude. This also — as PLUTARCH well observeth — was 
a part of her happiness ; that she was never overlaid with 
two great wars at once. 

Hereby it came to pass, that having at first increased her 
strength, by the accession of the Sabines ; having won the 
state of Alba — against which she adventured her own self, 
as it were in a wager, upon the heads of three champions ; 
and having thereby made herself Princess of Latium ; she 
did afterwards, by long war, in many ages, extend her 
dominion over all Italy. The Carthaginians had well near 
oppressed her: but her soldiers were mercenary; so that for 
want of proper strength, they were easily beaten at their 
own doors. The ^Etolians — and with them, all or the most 
of Greece — assisted her against Philip the Macedonian. 
Hi-, bein . did lend her his help to heat the same 

The wars against ANTIO( ill's and other Asiatics 



Sir Brf<£ THE BETTER SOLDIER. 69 

were such as gave to Rome small cause of boast, though 
much of joy : for those opposites [opponents] were as base of 
courage, as the lands which they held were abundant of 
riches. Sicily, Spain, and all Greece fell into her hands ; by 
using her aid to protect them against the Carthaginians and 
Macedonians. 

I shall not need to speak of her other conquests. It was 
easy to get more, when she had gotten all this. It is not 
my purpose to disgrace Roman valour ; which was very 
noble : or to blemish the reputation of so many famous 
victories. I am not so idle. This I say, That among all 
their wars I find not any; wherein their valour hath 
appeared comparable to the English. 

If my judgment seem over-partial: our wars in France 
may help to make it good. 

First therefore, it is well known that Rome or perhaps all 
the world besides, had never any so brave a commander 
in war as Julius Cesar; and that no Roman army was 
comparable unto that which served under the same Cesar. 
Likewise, it is apparent that this gallant army, which had 
given fair proof of the Roman courage in the good perform- 
ance of the Helvetian war, when it first entered into Gaul ; 
was nevertheless utterly disheartened, when Cesar led it 
against the Germans. So that we may justly impute all 
that was extraordinary in the valour of Cesar's men ; to 
their long exercise, under so good a leader, in so great a war. 

Now let us in general compare with the deeds done by 
these best of Roman soldiers, in their principal service ; the 
things performed in the same country by our common 
English soldiers, levied in haste from following the cart or 
sitting on the shop-stall : so shall we see the difference. 
Herein will we deal fairly, and believe Cesar in relating the 
acts of the Romans; but will call the French historians to 
witness what actions were performed by the English. 

In Cesar's time, France was inhabited by the Gauls, a 
stout people ; but inferior to the French, by whom they 
were subdued, even when the Romans gave them assist- 
ance. The country of Gaul was rent in sunder, as Ci:sak 
witnesseth, into many Lordships : some of which were 
governed by petty kings and others by the multitude ; none 
ordered in such sort as might make it appliable to the 



7 o T he English m a x [ SirW - Ra S 

nearest neighbour. The factions were many and violent ; 
not only in general through the whole country, but between 
petty states — yea, in every city ; and almost in every house. 
What greater advantage could a conqueror desire ? 

Yet there was a greater. Ariovistus, with his Germans, 
had overrun the country ; and held much part of it in sub- 
jection, little different from mere slavery. Yea, so often had 
the Germans prevailed in war upon the Gauls ; that the 
Gauls — who had sometimes been the better soldiers— did 
hold themselves no way equal to those daily invaders. 

Had France been so prepared unto our English kings, 
Rome itself — by this time, and long ere this time — would 
have been ours. But when King Edward III. began his 
war upon France, he found the whole country settled in 
obedience to one mighty King. A King, whose reputation 
abroad wan no less than his puissance at home. Under 
whose ensign, the King of Bohemia did serve in person ; at 
whose call, the Genoese and other neighbouring states were 
ready to take arms : finally, a King unto whom one Prince — : 
the Dauphin of Viennois — gave away his dominion, for love; 
and another — the King of Majorca — sold away a goodly city 
and territory, for money. 

The country lying so open to the Romans; and being so 
well fenced against the English : it is noteworthy, not who 
prevailed most therein — for it were mere vanity to match the 
English purchases with the Roman conquest ; but whether 
(it the two gave the greater proof of military virtue ? 

>ar himself doth witness, that the Gauls complained 
of their own ignorance in the art of war ; and that their own 
hardiness was, overmatched by the skill of their enemies, 
men ! they admired the Roman towers and engines of 
battery raised and planted against their walls, as more than 
human. What greater wonder is it, that such people were 
beaten by the Romans; than that the Caribs — a naked 
people, but valiant as any under the sky — are commonly put 
to the worse by the Spaniards? 

Besides all this we are to have regard of the great difficulty 

that was found in drawing all Gauls or any great part of 

to one head ; that with joint forces they might oppose 

olants: as also the much more [greater] difficulty 

of holding them l< ther. For hereby it came to pass, 



Sir W. Raleigh. J T H g fi £ . y y R R g Q j p ( £ R yj 

that they were never able to make use of Opportunity : but, 
sometimes compelled to stay for their fellows ; and some- 
times driven to give or take battle upon extreme disadvan- 
tages, for fear lest their companies should fall asunder — as 
indeed, upon any little disaster, they were ready to break, 
and return every one to the defence of his own. 

All this, and — which was little less than all this — great 
odds in weapon; gave to the Romans the honour of many 
gallant victories. 

What such help ? or what other worldly help, than the 
golden mettle of their soldiers, had our English Kings against 
the French ? Were not the French as well experienced in 
feats of war ? Yea, did they not think themselves therein 
our superiors ? Were they not in arms, in horse, and in all 
provisions, exceedingly beyond us. Let us hear what a 
French writer — Jean de Serres — saith of the inequality that 
was between the French and English, when their King John 
was ready to give the onset upon the Black Prince, at the 
battle of Poitiers, "John had all advantages over Edward, 
both in number, force, show, country, and concert — the which 
is commonly a consideration of no small importance in worldly 
affairs — and withal, the choice of all his horsemen, esteemed 
then the best in Europe, with the greatest and wisest captains 
of his whole realm." And what could he have more ? 

I think it would trouble a Roman antiquary to find the 
like example in their histories — the example, I say, of a King 
brought prisoner to Rome by an army of 8,000 ; which he 
had surrounded with 40,000 better appointed and no less 
expert warriors. This I am sure of, that neither Syphax the 
Numidian followed by a rabble of half scullions, as Livy 
rightly terms them ; nor those cowardly kings Perseus and 
Gentius are worthy patterns. 

All that have read of Cressy and Agincourt will bear me 
witness that I do not allege the battle of Poitiers for lack of 
other as good examples of the English virtue : the proof 
whereof, hath left many a hundred better marks in all 
quarters of France, than ever did the valour of the Romans. 

If any man impute these victories of ours to the longbow, 
as carrying further, piercing more strongly, and quicker of 
discharge than the French crossbow ; my answer is ready. 
That in all these respects, it is also, being drawn with a 



72 The Englishman [ sirW - Ra S; 

strong arm, superior to the musket : yet is the musket a 
weapon of more use. The gun and the crossbow are of like 
force when discharged by a boy or woman, as when by a 
strong man : weakness, or sickness, or a sore finger makes 
the longbow unserviceable. More particularly, I say, that 
it was the custom of our ancestors to shoot, for the most 
part, point blank: and so shall he perceive that will note the 
circumstances of almost any one battle. This takes away 
all objection, for when two armies are within the distance 
of a butt's length only one flight of arrows, or two at the 
most, can be delivered before they close. Neither is it in 
general true, that the longbow reacheth further, or that it 
pierceth more strongly than the crossbow ; but this is the 
rare effect of an extraordinary arm, whereupon can be 
grounded no common rule. 

If any man shall ask, How then, came it to pass that the 
English won so many great battles, having no advantage to 
help them ? I may — with best commendation of modesty — 
refer him to the French historian ; who relating the victory 
of our men at Crevant, where they passed a bridge in face of 
the enemy, useth these words, " The English come with a 
conquering bravery — as he that was accustomed to gain 
everywhere — without any stay. He forceth our guard placed 
upon the bridge to keep the passage." Or I may cite another 
place of the same author, where he tells how the I>retons, 
being invaded by Charles VIII., King of France ; thought it 
good policy to apparel 1,500 of their own men in English 
cassocks ; hoping chat the very sight of the English Red 
Cross would be enough to terrify the French. But I will not 
stand to borrow of the French historians — all which, except 
De SBRRES and 1'aulus JElilhlUS, report wonders of our 
Nation — the proposition which first I undertook to maintain, 
" That the military virtue of the English, prevailing against 
all manner of difficulties; ought to be preferred before that 
of the Romans, which was assisted with all advantages that 
could be desii 

If it be demanded, Why, then, did not our Kings finish the 
COnqi \K had done? my answer may be (I hope 

without offence), that our Kings were like to the ra 
.Ea< n>.].: of whom the poet ENNIUS gave this note, 1 
potentes sunt magis gttatn sapicntipotentes, " fbey were more war- 



Sir W. Ralegh. 
16 



j£] THE BETTER SOLDIER. *]$ 



like than politic." Whoso notes their proceedings, may 
find that none of them went to work like a conqueror, save 
only Henry V. ; the course of whose victories, it pleased 
GOD to interrupt by his death. 

But this question is the more easily answered : if another 
be first made. " Why did not the Romans attempt the 
conquest of Gaul, before the time of Cesar ? Why not after 
the Macedonian war ? Why not after the third Punic? or 
after the Numantian ? " At all these times, they had good 
leisure. And then, especially, had they both leisure and fit 
opportunity ; when, under the conduct of M arius, they had 
newly vanquished the Cimbri and Teutones ; by whom the 
country of Gaul had been piteously wasted. Surely, the 
words of Tully were true, " That with other nations, the 
Romans fought for dominion ; with the Gauls, for the pre- 
servation of their own safety ! " Therefore they attempted 
not the conquest of Gaul, until they were Lords of all other 
countries to them known. 

We, on the other side, held only the one half of our own 
island; the other half, being inhabited by a Nation — un- 
less perhaps in wealth and numbers of men, somewhat 
inferior — every way equal to ourselves ; a nation anciently 
and strongly allied to our enemies, the French ; and in that 
regard, enemy to us. So that our danger lay both before 
and behind us : and the greater danger at our backs, where 
we commonly felt it. Always, we feared a stronger invasion 
by land ; than we could make upon France, transporting 
our forces over sea. 

It is usual with men that have pleased themselves in 
admiring the matters which they find in ancient histories ; 
to hold it a great injury done to their judgment, if any one 
take upon him, by way of comparison, to extol the things of 
later ages. But I am well persuaded, that as the divided 
virtue of this our island, hath given more noble proof of 
itself, than under so worthy a leader, the Roman army could 
do ; which afterwards could win Rome and all her empire, 
making Cesar a monarch : so hereafter, by GOD's blessing, 
who hath converted our greatest hindrance into our greatest 
help; the enemy that shall dare to try our forces, will find 
cause to wish ; that, avoiding us, he had rather encountered as 
great a puissance as was that of the Roman Empire. 



74 



Thomas, Lord Vaux of Harrowden. 

The assault of Cupid upon the fort, 

where the Lover s heart lay wounded ; 

and how he was taken. 



[Torrr.I.'s Miscellany.] 

hen Cupid scaled first the fort, 
Wherein my heart lay wounded sore : 
The battery was of such a sort, 
That I must yield or die therefore. 




There saw I Love, upon the wall, 
How he his banner did display : 
Alarm ! Alarm ! he 'gan to call, 
And bade his soldiers keep array. 



The arms the which that Cupid bare 
Were pierced hearts with tears besprent ; 
In silver and sable to declare 
The steadfast love he always meant. 



There might you see his band all drest 
In colours like to white and black; 
With powder and with pellets, prest 
To bring the fort to spoil and sack. 



Before i 557 .] F I R S T V E R S I O N OF C UPID 's ASSAULT. 75 

Good-will, the Master of the Shot, 
Stood in the rampire brave and proud ; 
For 'spense of powder, he spared not 
Assault ! Assault ! to cry aloud. 

There might you hear the cannons roar, 
Each piece discharged a lover's look, 
Which had the power to rent ; and tore 
In any place whereas it took. 

And even with the trumpets' sound, 
The scaling ladders were up set ; 
And Beauty walked up and down 
With bow in hand, and arrows whet. 

Then first Desire began to scale, 
And shrouded him under his targe ; 
As on the worthiest of them all, 
And aptest for to give the charge. 

Then pushed soldiers with their pikes, 
And halbardiers with handy strokes. 
The arquebuse in flesh it lights, 
And dims the air with misty smokes. 

And as it is the soldiers' use, 
When shot and powder 'gins to want ; 
I hanged up my flag of truce, 
And pleaded for my life's grant. 

When Fancy thus had made her breach, 
And Beauty entered with her band : 
With bag and baggage; silly wretch ! 
I yielded into Beauty's hand. 



76 First Version of Cupid s assault. [ Before ? I557 . 

Then Beauty bade to blow retreat, 
And every soldier to retire : 
And Mercy mild with speed to fet 
Me, captive bound as prisoner. 



" Madam/' quoth I, " since that this day 
Hath served you at all essays ; 
I yield to you without delay, 
Here of the fortress, all the keys." 



" And since that I have been the mark, 
At whom you shot at with your eye ; 
Needs must you with your handiwork, 
Or salve the sore or let me die." 



[Three imitations of this famous poem will be found at pp. 128, 460, 651]. 




THE 

GREAT FROST. 

Cold doings in London, except it be at the 

LOTTERY. 

With News out of the Country. 
A familiar talk between a Countryman and 

a Citizen touching this terrible Frost, and the Great 
Lottery, and the effects of them. 




Printed at London for Henry Gosson, and arc to be sold at the sign of the 
[The rest of the i/rpnrt is cut (ffinMr. Hut It's enpy.) 



78 




f^M A Tabic of the most special matters 

of note contained in this 

short Discourse. 

1. A description of the Thames being frozen over. 

2. The dangers that hath happened to some 
persons passing upon the Thames. 

3. The harms that this frost hath done to the 
City. 

4. The misery that the country people are driven 
into by the means of this frost. 

5. The frosts in other Kings' times compared with 
this. 

6. A description of the Lottery. 



$?$?5^ 




79 



^f&Niy! 



W^ 



wmSm &m M&£m& 



m^^kmsms^mi 



THE GREAT FROST. 

Cold doings in London. 
a Dialogue. 



THE SPEAKERS, 

A Citizen. 

A Countryman. 



Citizen. 




Ld Father, you are most heartily 
welcome to London ! 

Countryman. Sir, I give you 
most kind and hearty thanks : but 
you must pardon me, I am an old 
man and have those defects that 
go along with old age. I have 
both bad eyes to discern my friends 
and a weak memory to keep their names in mind. I have 
quite lost the remembrance of you. 

Cit. Nay, father, I am a mere stranger to you : but seeing 
white hairs to cover your head as well as mine own, I make 
bold to reach out my hand to you. There is honesty in your 
very looks ; and every honest man is worthy, and ought to be 
taken into acquaintance. 

Coun. I am beholden to you for this courtesy. You 
citizens are civil, and we poor country fellows are plain: but 
albeit I walk in russet and coarse grey, I have a true heart. 
What is your pleasure, Sir ? 



So T II E G R i: A T FROST O E J AN UA RY I 60 8. [ Jan . ? l6o8 . 

Cit. If your haste be no greater than mine — for blessed 
be GOD, we have now too many idle hours against our will 
— I would gladly confer with you of the state of the country; 
and if I can delight you with any city news, you shall have 
my bosom opened freely. 

Coim. The ploughman's hands, Sir, are now held in his 
pocket as well as the shopkeeper's. I have as little to do as 
you, and therefore an hour's chat shall please me well. We 
old men are old chronicles, and when our tongues go they 
are not clocks to tell only the time present, but large books 
unclasped ; and our speeches, like leaves turned over and 
over, discover wonders that are long since past. 

Cit. I am glad that I have met with an old man that hath 
not stood still all his life like a pool ; but like a river hath run 
through the world to get experience. But I pray you, of 
what country are you ? 

Coim. Of Ripon in Yorkshire. 

Cit. And, if it be not too much beyond the rule of good 
manners ; let me be bold to inquire what drew you, dwelling 
so far off, to travel to London ? 

Coim. Marry, Sir, I will tell you : even that drew me to 
London which draws you out of your houses ; that which 
makes you cry out in London " We have cold doings," and 
to leave your shops to catch your heat in the streets : nay, 
to leave your new beautiful walks in Moorfields — for those I 
have seen at my entering into the city — and to make newer 
and larger walks, though not so safe, upon a field of glass 
as it were. That slippery world, which I beheld, as I 
remember, in the fifth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth 
— or I am sure I am not much wide — do I come thus far to 
behold again in the fifth year of our good King James: and 
that is, in a few cold words, the Thames frozen over. 

Cit. Yea, father, and frozen over and over. 

Coun. I have but two ears, Sir — if I had more I were a 
monster : but those two ears bring me home a thousand tales 
in less than seven days. Some I hearken to, some I shake 
my head at, some I smile at, some I think true, some I know 
false. But because this world is like our millers in the 
country, knavish and hard to be trusted; though mine ears 
be mine own and good, yet I had rather give credit to mine 
eyes: although they see but badly, yet they will not cozen 



jan. loos.] T ii E g r e a t f r o s T of January 1608. 81 

me; they have not these fourscore years. And that is the 
reason I have made them my guides now in this journey: 
and they shall be my witnesses — when I get home again and 
sit, as I hope I shall, turning a crab by the fire — of what 
wonders I have been a beholder. 

Cit. In good sadness, father, I am proud that such a heap 
of years lying on your back, you stoop no lower for them. 
I come short of you by more than twenty ; and methinks I 
am both more unlusty and look more aged. 

Coun. Oh, Sir, riots ! riots ! surfeits ! surfeits stick 
white hairs upon young men's chins ; when sparing diets hold 
colour. Your crammed capons feed you fat here in London ; 
but our beef and bacon feed us strong in the country. Long 
sleeps and late watchings dry up your blood and wither your 
cheeks : we go to bed with the lamb and rise with the lark, 
which makes our blood healthful. You are still sending to 
the apothecaries and still crying out to " fetch Master Doctor 
to me : " but our apothecary's shop is our garden full of 
potherbs, and our doctor is a good clove of garlic. I am as 
lusty and sound at heart, I praise my GOD, as my yoke of 
bullocks that are the servants to my plough. 

Cit. Yet I wonder that having no more sand in the glass 
of your life — for young men may reckon years, but we old 
men must count upon minutes — I wonder, I say, how you 
durst set forth, and how you could come thus far. 

Coun. How I durst set forth ! If King Harry were now 
alive again, I durst and would, as old and stiff as I am, go 
with him to Boulogne. We have trees in our town that 
bear fruit in winter. I am one of those winter plums; and 
though I taste a little sour, yet I am sound at heart and 
shall not rot yet I hope, for all this frost. 

Cit. It were pity so reverend an oak should so soon be 
felled down. You may stand and grow yet many a year. 

Coun. Yes, Sir, downward. Downward you and I must 
grow, like ears of corn when they be ripe. But I beseech 
you tell me. Is that goodly river of yours — I call it yours 
because you are a citizen, and that river is the nurse that 
gives milk and honey to your city — but is that lady of fresh 
waters all covered over with ice ? 

Cit. All over, I assure you, father. The frost hath made 
a floor upon it, which shows like grey marble roughly hewn 

KNG. Gar. I. 6 



82 The great frost of January 1608. [ Jan . T l6o8 . 

out. It is a very pavement of glass, but that it is more 
strong. The Thames now lies in ; or rather is turned, as 
some think, bankrupt : and dares not show her head ; for 
all the water of it floats up and down like a spring in a cellar. 

Coun. GOD help the poor fishes ! It is a hard world with 
them, when their houses are taken over their heads. They 
use not [are not accustomed] to lie under such thick roofs. 
But I pray, Sir, are all the arches of your famous London 
Bridge so dammed up with ice that the flakes show like so 
many frozen gates shut up close ; and that nothing passes 
through them; nay, that a man cannot look through them as 
he had wont ? 

Cit. No such matter. The Thames with her ebbing and 
flowing, hath at sundry times brought down, aye winter 
castles of ice; which, jostling against the arches of the 
Bridge, and striving — like an unruly drunkard at a gate of 
tke city in the night time — to pass through, have there been 
stayed and lodged so long till they have lain in heaps, and 
got one upon another : but not so ambitiously as you speak 
of them. 

Coun. And do not the western barges come down upon 
certain artificial pulleys and engines, sliding on the ice ; to 
serve your city with fuel ? 

Cit. That were a wonder worth the seeing, and more strange 
than the rowing over steeples by land in a wherry. I assure 
you these stories shall never stand in our chronicles. There 
is no such motion. 

Coun. But I hope, Sir, you and I may drink a pint of 
sack in the tavern that runs upon wheels on the river, as well 
as a thousand have done besides, ma}- we not ? The motion 
of that wine cellar, I am sure is to be seen. Is it not ? 

Cit. The water cellar is, but the wine cellars have too 
good doings on the land to leave that, and to set up taverns 
on the river. You know more in the country I perceive than 
we do in the city of these matters. 

Coun. Nay, Sir, we hear more but know less. We hear 
the lies, and you know the truth. Why law you now, had 
not I made this journey to London, I had died in misbelief. 
Mine ens might thus have made me to have been called an 
old doting fool. For I. giving credit to report, should have 
uttered these lahles for truths : and I being an old man, should 



Jan.!**.] The great frost of January 1608. 83 

have been believed — for a white head ought not to hold a 
black tongue — and so my sons and daughters, taking a father's 
word, might peradventure forty years hence have been called 
clowns for justifying a lie so monstrous and incredible. 

Cit. Bar all these rumours hereafter out of your ears ; for 
they are false and deceitful, and fly up and down like 
lapwings ; their in times being there it is, when it is not. 

Coun. You, Sir, are a man, that by your head and beard, 
as well as myself, should be one of Time's sons, and should 
therefore love his daughter, Truth. Make me so much 
beholding to you, as to receive from you the right picture of 
all these your waterworks; how they began, how they have 
grown, and in what fashion have continued. 

Cit. Most gladly will I satisfy your request. You shall 
understand that the Thames began to put on his The Thames 
" freeze-coat," which he yet wears, about the week it°wasfh»en. 
before Christmas; and hath kept it on till now this latter end 
of January [1608]: how longtime soever besides to come 
none but GOD knows. 

Conn. Did it never thaw in these many weeks ? 

Cit. Only three days, or four at the most ; and that but 
weakly, to dissolve so great a hardness. The cakes of ice, 
great in quantity and in great numbers, were made and baked 
cold in the mouth of winter, at the least a fortnight or three 
weeks before they were crusted and cemented together ; but 
after they once joined their strengths into one, their backs 
held out and could not be broken. 

Coun. We may make this good use, even out of this 
watery and transformed element ; that London upholdeth a 
State : and again, that violent factions and combinations, 
albeit of the basest persons, in a commonwealth are not 
easily dissolved ; if once they be suffered to grow up to a head. 
On, Sir, I pray. 

Cit. This cold breakfast being given to the city, and the 
Thames growing more and more hard-hearted ; wild youths 
and boys were the first merchant-venturers that Hntgoingover 
set out to discover these cold islands of ice upon *" i^ a "out° n 
the river. And the first path that was beaten CoW II; » bour - 
forth to pass to the Bank Side, without going over [London] 
Bridge or by boat, was about Cold Harbour and in those 
places near the Bridge : for the tides still piling up the flakes 

6 i: 



84 The great frost of January 1608. [ Jan . ? l6o8 . 

of ice one upon another in those parts of the Thames ; it 
was held the best and the safest travelling into our new 
found Freeze-Land by those creeks. 

Coun. But this onset prospering and they coming off well 
heartened others to come on, Sir, did it not ? 

Cit. No soldiers more desperate in a skirmish. Speak it, 
father, from my mouth for an assured truth, that there was 
as it were ar. artificial bridge of ice reaching from one side of 
the river to the other, upon which infinite numbers of people 
passed to and fro, jostling one another in crowds : while the 
current of the water ran in sight, more than half the breadth 
of the Thames, on either side of that icy bridge ; the bridge 
itself being not above five yards broad, if so much. 

Coun. It was strange ! But it was said of you Londoners 
that when you strive to be kind, you turn into prodigals ; 
when you are cowards, you are arrant cowards ; and when 
you are bold, you are too desperately venturous. 

Cit. It appears so by this frost : for no danger could nip 
their bloods with fear; but over some went in shoals, when 
thousands stood gazing on and swore they would not follow 
their steps in that watery wilderness for many thousands of 
pounds. Nay, even many of those that were the discoverers 
and did first venture over, would never undertake the second 
voyage : but protested when they were half way the}- would 
have lost much to have been again on shore. 

Coiui. It is most likely : for perils that are not common 
make men foolhardy ; but being once tasted, they tremble 
to come near them. 

Cit. You say true, father : but the fear of this shipwreck 

and of tl>ese rocks <;rew every day less and less. As the ice 

increased in hardness, so men's hearts increased in hardiness: 

so that at the length — the frost knitting all his sinews 

together; and the inconstant water by that means, beine; of a 

lloating element, changed into a linn ground as it were — both 

men, women, and children walked over and up and 

down in such companies; that, I verily believe 

and I dare almost swear it, the one half, if not 

three parts of the people in the city have been seen going on 

the 'I ham is. The river showed not now, neither shows it yet, 

hi.'- a river, but like a field ; where archers shoot at pricks, 

Is] while others play at football. It is a place of mastery, 



Jan. ? i6o3.J T HE GREAT FROS T U F J A N UARY [ 6 O 8 . 85 

where some wrestle and some run ; and he that does best is 
aptest to take a fall. It is an alley to walk upon without dread, 
albeit under it be most assured danger. The gentlewomen 
that tremble to pass over a bridge in the field, do here walk 
boldly. The citizen's wife that looks pale when she sits in a 
boat for fear of drowning, thinks that here she treads as safe 
now as in her parlour. Of all ages, of both sexes, of all 
professions, this is the common path. It is the roadway 
between London and Westminster, and between Southwark 
and London. Would you drink a cup of sack, father ? here 
stand some with runlets to rill it out. 

Colin. Ah ha! that is the tavern then that is talked on. 

Cit. Thirst you for beer, ale, usquebaugh, cS:c. ; or for 
victuals ? There you may buy it, because [in Beer, aie, wine, 
order that] you may tell another day how you s^m^ 
dined upon the Thames. Are you cold with going Thanies - 
over? You shall ere you come to the midst of the river, spy 
some ready with pans of coals to warm your fingers. If you 
want fruit after you have dined, there stand costermongers 
to serve you at your call. And thus do people leave their 
houses and the streets ; turning the goodliest river in the 
whole kingdom into the broadest street to walk in. 

Coun. But tell me, I pray, Sir, if all the merchants that 
undertake this voyage to these your narrow seas ; are none 
undone ? Do none of your fresh-water soldiers miscarry, and 
drop down in these slippery marshes? 

Cit. Yes, Sir, I have heard of many and have been an 
eyewitness of some : of all whieh, I will be sparing in report, 
being rather willing to be reprehended for telling too little 
than for discovering too much. 

Coun. It is a modesty that well becomes any man, albeit 
nothing but truth sit upon his tongue. But I pray, sithence 
[since] you crack the shell, let us see what kernel there is 
within it : sithence you have bestowed the sweet, let me 
taste the sour. Let your news be as countryfolks bring fruit 
to your markets, the bad and good together. Say, have none 
gone " westward for smelts," as our proverbial phrase is ? 

Cit. Yes, it hath been a kind of battle for the time. For 
some have fallen in up to the knees, others to i!.!' v V!.!ii"-non U 
the middle, others to the armpits ; yea, and some several persons 
have been ducked over head and ears, yet have iiuunes. 



86 The great frost of January i 608. [ Jan . ? l6o8 . 

crawled out like drowned rats : while others have sunk to the 
bottom that never rose again to the top. They had a cold 
bed to lie in ! Amongst many other misfortunes that are to 
be pitied, this is one. A couple of friends shooting on the 
Thames with birding pieces, it happened they struck a sea- 
pie or some other fowl. They both ran to fetch it. The one 
stumbled forward, his head slipped into a deep hole, and there 
he was drowned : the other in his haste slipped backward, 
and by that means saved his life. 

A poor fellow likewise having heated his body with drink, 
thought belike to cool it on the water : but coming to walk 
on the ice, his head was too heavy for his heels ; so that 
down he fell, and there presently died. 

Coun. Let his fall give others warning how to stand. 
Your city cannot choose but to be much damnified [injured] 
by this strange congealing of the river. 

Cit. Exceeding much, father. Strangers may guess at our 
The hurt that harms : yet none can give the full number of them 
receded hy'this but we that are the inhabitants. For the City by 
frost. t hj s means i s cu t off from all commerce. Shop- 

keepers may sit and ask " What do you lack ? " when the 
passengers [passers by] may very well reply " What do you 
lack yourselves ? " They may sit and stare on men, but not 
sit and sell. It was, before, called " The dead term : " and 
now may we call this "The dead vacation," "The fro/en 
vacation," " The cold vacation." If it be a gentleman's life 
to live idly and do nothing, how many poor artificers and 
tradesmen have been made gentlemen then by this frost ? 
For a number of occupations — like the flakes of ice that lie 
in the Thames — are by this malice of Winter, trod clean 
under foot, and will not yet be able to stir. Alas, poor 
watermen ! you have had cold cheer at this banquet. You 
that live altogether upon water, can scarce get water to your 
hands. It is a hard thing now for you to earn your bread 
with the sweat of your brows. 

Coun. This beating may make them wise. The want that 
tins hard season drives them into, may teach them to play 
the ants ; and in summer to make a provision against the 
wrath of winter. There is no mischief born alone, I know. 
Calamities commonly are, by birth, twins. Methinks, there- 
fore, that this drying up of the waters should be a devourer up 



jan. ? .6o8.J ThE GREAT FROST OF JANUARY I 608. 87 

of wood. This cold ague of the earth must needs have warmth 
to help it. That warmth must come from fire, and that fire can- 
not be had without cost : howthen, I pray you, in this so general 
an affliction did poor people shift for fuel to comfort them ? 

Cit. Their care for fire was as great as for food. Nay, to 
want it was a worse torment than to be without meat. The 
belly was now pinched to have the body warmed : The want of 
and had not the provident Fathers of this city fire - 
[i. e. the Corporation] carefully, charitably and out of a good 
and godly zeal, dispersed a relief to the poor in several parts 
and places about the outer bounds of the City, where poverty 
most inhabiteth ; by storing them beforehand with sea coal 
and other firing at a reasonable rate, I verily persuade 
myself that the unconscionable and unmerciful raising of the 
prices of fuel by chandlers, woodmongers, &c. — who now 
meant to lay the poor on the rack— would have been the 
death of many a wretched creature through want of succour. 

Coun. Not unlikely, Sir. 

Cit. For neither could coal be brought up the river, 
neither could wood be sent down. The western barges 
might now wrap up their smoky sails ; for albeit they had 
never so lofty a gale, their voyage was spoiled : the winds 
were with them, but the tide was clean against them. And 
not only hath this frost nipped away those comforts that should 
revive the outward parts of the body ; but those also that 
should give strength and life to the inward. For Dearth of 
you of the country being not able to travel to the "duals. 
City with victuals, the pr.ce of victail must of necessity be 
enhanced ; and victail itself brought into a scarcity. And 
thus have I given you, according to your request, a true 
picture of our Thames frozen over; and withal have drawn 
in as lively colours as I can, to my skill, as it were in a little 
table \picturc], all the miseries, mischiefs and inconveniences, 
which this hard time hath thrown upon our City. 

Coun. Sir, you have satisfied me to the full ; and have 
given unto me so good a taste of your love, that if I should 
live double the years that are already scored on my head, I 
cannot ehoese but die indebted to your kindness. 

Cit. Not so, father, for you shall, if you please, come out 
of my debt presently; and your payment shall be in the self- 
same coin that you received of me, that is to say words. 



88 The great frost of January 1608. [ Jan . r l6o8 . 

Coun. I am glad, Sir, you will take a poor countryman's 
word for so round a sum as I acknowledge is owing to you 
You are a merciful creditor. GOD send me always to 
deal with such chapmen ! But how will you set down my 
payments ? 

(Cit. Marry thus, father. As I have discovered unto you 
what cold doings we have had during this frost in the city; 
so, I pray, let me understand from you what kind of world 
you have lived in, in the country. 

Conn. The world with us of the country runs upon the old 
rotten wheels. For all the northern cloth that is woven in 
News out of our country will scarce make a gown to keep Charity 
<he country warm ; sne goes so a-cold. Rich men had never more 
Tioney, andCovetousness had never less pity. There was never 
11 any age more money stirring, nor never more stir to get 
money. Farmers are now slaves to racking young prodigal 
landlords. Those landlords are more servile slaves to their own 
riots and luxury. But these are the common diseases of every 
kingdom, and therefore are but common news. The tunes 
of the nightingale are stale in the middle of summer, because 
we hear them at the coming in of the spring : and so these 
harsh notes which are sung in every country do by custom 
grow not to be regarded. But your desire, Sir, is to know 
how we spend the days of this our frozen age in the country. 

Cit. That I would hear indeed, father. 

Coun. Believe me, Sir, as wickedly you must think as 
you can hear in your City. It goes as hard with us as it doth 
The miseries with you. The same cold hand of Winter is thrust 
'ic'-iV mt0 oul " bosoms. The same sharp air strikes 
st - wounds into our bodies. The same sun shines 
upon us ; but the same sun doth not heat us any more than 
it doth you. The poor ploughman's children sit crying and 
blowing their nails, as lamentably as the children and 
servants of your poor artificers. Hunger pinches their cheeks, 
as deep into the flesh as it doth into yours here. You cry 
out here, you are undone for coals : and we complain, we 
shall die for want of wood. All your care is to provide for 
your wives, children, and servants in this time of sadness : but 
we go beyond you in cares. Not only our wives, our children 
and household servants are unto us a cause of sorrow: but 
we grieve as much to behold the misery of our poor cattle in 



Jan. T i6o8.] T II E GREAT FROST OF JANUARY I 608. 89 

this frozen-hearted season, as it doth to look upon our own 
affliction. Our beasts are our faithful servants; and do their 
labour truly when we set them to it. They are our nurses 
that give us milk, they are our guides in our journeys, they 
are our partners and help to enrich our state ; yea, they are 
the very upholders of a poor farmer's lands and living. 
Alas ! then, what master that loves his servant as he ought, 
but would almost break his own heartstrings with sighing; to 
see these pine and mourn as they do ? The ground is bare 
and not worth a poor handful of grass. The earth se ms 
barren and bears nothing : or if she doth most unnaturally 
she kills it presently [at once] or suffers it through cold to 
perish. By which means the lusty horse abates his flesh 
and hangs his head, feeling his strength go from him ; the 
ox stands bellowing, the ragged sheep bleating, the poor 
lamb shivering and starving to death. 

The poor cottager that hath but a cow to live upon must 
feed upon hungry meals, GOD knows ! when the beast herself 
hath but a bare commons. He that is not able to bid all 
his cattle home, and to feast them with fodder out of his 
barns ; will scarce have cattle at the end of summer to 
fetch home his harvest. Which charge of feeding so many 
beastly [beasts] mouths, is able to eat up a countryman's 
estate; if his providence before time hath not been the 
greater to meet and prevent such storms. Of necessity our 
sheep, oxen, &c, must be in danger of famishing; having 
nothing but what our old grandam the earth will allow them 
to live upon. Of necessity must they pine ; sithence [since] 
all the fruits that had wont to spring out of her fertile womb 
are now nipped in their birth, and likely never to prosper. 
And to prove that the ground hath her very heart as it were 
broken, and that she hath not lively sap enough in her veins 
left as yet to quicken her, and to raise her up to strength ; 
behold this one infallible token. The Leek, whose courage 
hath ever been so undaunted that he hath borne up his lusty 
head in all storms, and could never be compelled to shrink 
for hail, snow, frost or showers; is now by the violence and 
cruelty of this weather beaten into the earth, being rotted, 
dead, disgraced, and trod upon. 

And thus, Sir, if words may be taken for current payment 
to a creditor so worthy as yourself, have I tendered some 



90 T I IK G R E A T F R S T F J A N U ARV I 6 O 8 . [ Jan T 



an. 160S. 



part of my love in requital of yours. You gave unto me a 
map of your city as it stands now in the frost ; and I 
bestowed upon you a model of the country which I pray 
receive with as friendly a hand as that which offers it. 

Cit. I do, with millions of thanks. The story which you 
told, albeit it yet makes my heart bleed to think upon the 
calamities of my poor countrymen, yet was it uttered with so 
grave a judgment and in a time so well befitting your age 
that I kept mine ears open and my lips locked up; for I was 
loth to interrupt you till all was told : wherein you show 
yourself to be a careful and honest debtor in discharging 
your bond all at one sum, when you might have done it in 
several payments. 

But I pray you, father, what is your opinion of this strange 
winter ? I call you, father, albeit my own head be whitened 
by old age as well as yours ; and be not angry that I do so, 
it is an honourable title due unto your years. For as those 
that are young men to me, bestow that dignity upon my 
silver hairs, and I am proud to take it : so would I not have 
you disdain that attribute from my mouth, that am a young 
man to you ; sithence I do it out of love and the reverence I 
bear to my elders. Tell me therefore, I pray, your judgment 
of this frost ; and what, in the school of your experience you 
have read or can remember, may be the effects which it 
may produce or which, of consequence, are likely to follow 
upon it. 

Coun. I shall do my best to satisfy you. When these great 
,, s hills of ice shall be digged down and be made level 
i!lfeiy a to h bripg w ' t ' 1 tne waters; when these hard rocks shall melt 
withit. into soft rivers, and that a sudden thaw shall over- 

come this sharp frost, then is it to be feared that the swift, 
violent, and unresistible land currents will bear down bridges, 
beat down buildings, overflow our cornfields, overrun the 
pastures, drown our cattle, and endanger the lives both of 
man and beast travelling on their way. 

Cit. You say right. This prognostication which your 
judgment looks into did always fall out to be too true : but 
what other weather doth your calendar promise ? 

Coun. I will not hide within me from you that which time 
and observation have taught me. And albeit strange unto 
you that an old country penny-father, a plain Holland ruff 



Jan. ? .6o3.J The GREAT FROST OF JANUARY l6o8. 91 

and a kersey stocking, should talk thus of the change of 
season and the mutability of the world: yet, Sir, know, 
I beseech you, that my education was finer than my russet 
outside ; and that my parents did not only provide to leave 
me something, but took care, above that transitory blessing, 
that I should taste a little of the fruit of learning and 
knowledge. 

Cit. It will be a pleasing and profitable journey to our 
countrymen though a laborious voyage for you. 

Coun. I have read how in the reign of King William 
Rufus, in the fifth year [1091-92 A.D.] as I King 
remember, that rivers of this kingdom were so Ru/us. 
frozen over that carts and wains laden did without danger 
pass over them. 

In the sixth year of the reign of King John, a frost began 
upon the 13th of January [1205 A. d.] and continued King John. 
till the 22nd of March following : the earth by means of 
it being so hardened that the plough lay still and the ground 
could not be tilled. The wounds that this frost gave the 
commonwealth were for that present scarce felt ; they were 
not deep, they were not thought dangerous : but the summer 
following did they freshly begin to bleed ; for then a quarter 
of wheat was sold for a mark [13s. 4d. = £10 10s. in present 
value], which in the reign of Henry the Second (before 
him) was sold for no more than twelve pence. 

There was likewise so great a frost in the 53rd year of the 
reign of Henry the Third, that being at Saint King henrv. 
Andrew's tide [30 November 1268 A.D.] ; it continued till 
Candlemas [2 February 1269 a.d.] : so that men and beasts 
went over the Thames from Lambeth to Westminster; and 
the goods of merchants not being able to be transported bv 
water, were carried from Sandwich and other havens, and 
so brought to London by land. But no extraordinary or 
memorable accident following or going before this frost 
I will pass over it, and come to that frost season in the 
tenth year [1281-82 a.d.] of Edward the First, whose 
violent working was so cruel, and did build such KingEDWARo 
castles of ice upon the Thames and other rivers, the FlKST - 
that five arches of London bridge were borne down, and all 
Rochester bridge was carried clean away, with divers others. 

In the seven and thirtieth year of Edward the THIRD 



92 The great frost of January 1608. [ Jun ? 



a frost began in England about the midst of September 
King Edward [1363 A.D.] ; and thawed not till April "1364 a.d.] 
the third. following : so that it continued almost eight months. 
In the ninth year [1407-8 a.d.] of King Henry the 
King henry Fourth ; was there a frost that lasted fifteen 

the Fourth. V veeks. 

KidcEdward '1 he like happened in the fourth year 

the Fourth. [1464.-65 A.D. ] of EDWARD the FOURTH. 

In the ninth year [1517-18 a.d.] of King Henry the 
Eighth, the Thames was frozen over, that men with horses 
and carts passed upon it : and in the very next succeeding 
King henry year died multitudes of people by a strange disease 
tb e eighth. C3l \\q<\ the " sweating sickness. " 

There was one great frost more in England, in our memory, 
Queen an d tnat was in tne seventh year of Queen 

Elizabeth. Elizabeth : which began upon the 21st of 
December [1564 a.d.] and held on so extremely that upon 
New Year's Eve following people in multitudes went upon 
the Thames from London bridge to Westminster ; some — as 
you tell me, Sir, they do now — playing at football, others 
shooting- at pricks. This frost began to thaw upon the 
third day of January [1565 a.d.] at night, and on the fifth 
of the same month there was no ice to be seen between 
London bridge and Lambeth : which sudden thaw brought 
forth sudden harms. For houses and bridges were over- 
turned by the land floods; among which Owes [Ouse] bridge 
in Yorkshire was borne away; many numbers of people 
perishing likewise by those waters. 

Cit. You have a happy memory, father. Your head, I see, 
is a very storehouse of antiquity. You are of yourself, a 
whole volume of chronicles. Time hath well bestowed his 
lessons upon you ; for you are a ready scholar of his, and do 
repeat his stories by heart perfectly. 

Coun. And thus, as I said before, you may perceive that 
these extraordinary fevers have always other evils attending 
upon them. 

Cit. You have made it plain unto me : and I pray GOD - 

at whose command the sun sends forth his heat to comfort 

the earth, and the winds' hitter storms to deface the fruits 

of it— that in this last affliction of waters, which are hardened 

it US, all other miseries may be closed withal; and that 



? i6o8.] The great frost of January 1608. 93 



Jan. 160S 



the stripes of sundry plagues and calamities which for these 
many years have been seen sticking in our flesh, may work 
in our bodies such amendment, and in our souls such repent- 
ance, that the rod of the divine Justicer may be held back 
from scourging us any longer. 

Coun. I gladly and from my heart play the clerk, crying 
" Amen." I have been bold and troublesome to you, Sir. 

Cit. You teach me what language to speak to yourself in. 
I would neither of us both had ever spent an hour worse. 

Coun. Indeed, time is a jewel of incomparable value ; yet, 
as unthrifts do by their money, we are prodigal in wasting 
it; and never feel the true sweetness of enjoying it till we 
have lost all. But sithence I have waded thus far into 
conference with you, and that it is our agreement to barter 
awav news one with another, as merchants do their com- 
modities, I must request one kindness more at your hands. 

Cit. What is that, father ? I am now in your debt, and in 
conference I must see you satisfied. 

Coun. I hear, Sir, strange report of a certain lottery for 
plate of a great value here in London. Is it true ? 

Cit. It is true that there is a lottery, and it is set up by 
strangers. 

Coun. I remember that, as I take it, in the eleventh year 
[1568-69 a.d.] of Queen Elizabeth, a lottery began here in 
London ; in which, if my memory fail not, there were four 
hundred thousand lots to be drawn. 

Cit. You say right. So much still lies in my memory. 

Coun. Marry, that lottery was only for money, and every 
lot was ten shillings [ = £$ in present value]. It was held at 
the west door of Saint Paul's church. It began upon the 
nth of January [1569] and continued day and night till the 
6th of May following, which was almost four months: and 
the common burden of that song, when poor prizes were 
drawn, was Twopence halfpenny. 

Cit. That was a prize poor enough, I'll be sworn. Nay, 
father, then was there another gallant lottery about the eight 
and twentieth year of the same queen's reign, which began 
in the middle of summer [1586 a.d.] , and was for marvellously 
rich and costly armour, gilt and engraven. 

Coun. That lottery I heard of, but never saw it : for I was 
then in the country. 



94 The great frost of January i 608. [j an . ? l6 o8. 

Cit. To win that armour, all the Companies of the city 
ventured general sums of money [i.e. money belonging to their 
several Corporations]. But because you desire to hear some 
news of this last lottery that now tempteth the people 
together, I will tell you so much of it as I certainly know 
for truth ; referring your ear, if you would know more, to the 
great voice of the vulgar, of whom you may be sure to have 
more than willingly you will carry home. 

Coun. Oh, Sir, the wild beast with many heads must needs 
have as many tongues ; and it is not possible those tongues 
should go true, no more than all the clocks do. But, I pray 
you, speak on. 

Cit. This lottery, as I said before, consisteth all of plate. 
It is a goodly goldsmith's shop to come into : and to behold 
so many gilt spoons, cups, bowls, basons, ewers, &c, fairly 
graven and richly gilded, who would not be tempted to 
venture a shilling — for that is a stake for a lot — when for 
that shilling he may haply draw a piece of plate worth a 
hundred pounds [ = £1000 in present value], or a hundred and 
forty, fifty, or threescore pounds ; if he can catch it, which 
he ma}' if fortune favour him. 

Conn. Oh, Sir, that sound of a hundred pounds makes good 
music in the ear, and draws men to hearken to it. Those 
are the sweet baits ; but upon what hooks, I pray you, are 
those lickerish baits hung? 

Cit. Upon villanous long ones. For to every prize there 
are put in forty blanks ; so there are so many tricks to set a 
man beside the saddle, and but one to leap in. There are 
7,600 prizes and 42,000 blanks. A number of hard-choked 
pears must be swallowed before the delicate fruit can be 
tasted. 

Coun. And yet I hear that the people fly thither like wild 
geese. 

Cit. You may well say like wild geese : for some of them 
prove such goose caps by going thither, that they leave 
themselves no more leathers on their backs than a goose 
hath when she is plucked. I have sat there and beheld the 
faces of all suits of people that flock to this fair of silver 
household stuff. It is better than ten comedies to note 
their entrances into the place and their exits: and yet, in 
good truth, I have been heartily sorry to see what tragical 



jan. ? .6o8J T H E G RE AT FROST OF J ANU AR Y I 6 08 . 95 

ends have fallen upon some poor housekeepers that have 
come thither. About the doors, multitudes still are crowding ; 
above, the room is continually filled with people. Every 
mouth is bawling out for lots, and every hand thrust out to 
snatch them. Both hands are lifted up, the one to deliver 
the condemned shillings, the other to receive the papers of 
life and death. And when the papers, which are rolled up 
like wafers, are paid for ; lo ! what praying is there in every 
corner that GOD would, if it be His will, send them good 
fortune. How gingerly do they open their twelvepenny 
commodity ! How leisurely, with what gaping of the 
mouth, with what licking of the lips, as though they felt 
sweetness in it before they tasted it ! How the standers by 
encourage him that hath drawn to open boldly, as if it were 
to venture upon the mouth of a cannon : and with what 
strange passions and pantings does he turn over his waste 
papers? But when he finds within but a pale piece of 
paper, Lord ! how he swears at his own folly, curses the 
Frenchmen, and cries " A plague on the house " and wishes 
all the plate were molten and poured down the throats of 
them that own it. Yet when he hath emptied his bosom of 
all this bitterness, the very casting of his eye upon a goodly 
fair bason of silver so sweetens the remembrance of his lost 
money, that to it he falls again ; and never gives over so long 
as he can make any shift for the other shilling. And thus 
do a number of poor men labour with a kind of greediness to 
beggar themselves. 

Coun. But amongst all these land rovers, have none of 
them the luck of men of war to win rich prizes ? 

Cit. Yes, some do : and the making of one is the undoing 
of a hundred : for the sight of a standing bowl being borne 
openly away in triumph by some poor fellow, so sets all their 
teeth on edge that are the gazers on, that many are almost 
mad till they have sold their pewter, in hope to change it 
into a cupboard of silver plate. And so far does this frenzy 
lead some, especially the baser sort of people, that this man 
pawns his cloak ; that man his holiday breeches; this woman 
sell her brass; that gossip makes away with her linen : and 
all these streams meet in the end in one river. These do all 
suffer shipwreck, and the sea swallows the spoil. The one 
goes home crying and cursing, the other stands still tickling 



96 The great frost of January 1 608. [ JaIl T l6o8 . 

with laughter ; the one hugs himself for his good success, the 
other is ready to hang himself for his ill-fortune. Carmen 
sell their horses and give over drawing of loads to draw lots. 
There came a young wench in one day, a maid-servant, that 
had newly received her quarter's wages, and was going to 
buy clothes to her back : but this silver mine standing in 
her way, here she vowed to dig and to try if she could be 
made for ever. She ventured all her money, and lost all : 
but when she saw it gone, she sighed and swore that the loss 
of her maidenhead should never have grieved her so much 
as the loss of her wages. 

Couii. I believe her, Sir. 

Cit. Imagine how a vintner's boy, having received a 
reckoning of his master's guests, and they falling presently 
to dice ; if the drawer should set his master's money, and 
crying " at all," should lose it all : how would that fellow 
look ? even so looked that poor wench. 

Coun. Are there — think you, Sir — no deceits in this 
lottery to cozen and abuse the people ? 

Cit. Trust me, father, I dare accuse no man of any, 
because I know of none. Such actions as these — how 
warrantable soever, and strengthened by the best authorities 
who have wisdom to look through and through them — if 
there were any juggling conceit, notwithstanding stand 
from the stings of slander. If any villany be done, the 
people that swarm hither practise it one against another. 

Coun. And how, I pray you, Sir ? 

Cit. For I have been told that some one crafty knave 
Knavishtncks amongst the rest, taking upon him to play the good 
shepherd over the flock that stands about him, hath 
gathered money from several men or women, he himself 
likewise putting in his own ; and then keeping a crowding to 
pass through the press, he comes back and delivers so many 
blanks as he received shillings: which blanks were not of 
the lottery, but cunningly made up by himself and carried of 
purpose up and down by him in his pocket. 

Coun. They are worthily served that will be cheated by 
such a doctor in the art of knavery. If any man therefore 
will needs be, as the term is now, one of these " twelvepenny 
gulls," let him hereafter set his own lime twigs ; and then 
if he catch no bird, nobody else shall laugh at him. 



jan.Ieos.] The great frost of January 1608. 97 

Cit. Amongst many other things upon the frozen Thames 
that will, in times to follow, look to be remembered, this is 
one. That there were two barber's shops— in the fashion of 
booths, with signs and other properties of that trade belonging 
to them — fixed on the ice : to which man)' numbers of people 
resorted : and, albeit they wanted no shaving, yet would they 
here be trimmed, because [in order that] another day they 
might report that they lost their hair between Bank Side 
and London. Both these shops were still so full that the 
workmen thought every day had been a Saturday. Never 
had they more barberous doings for the time. There was 
both old polling and cold polling. And albeit the foundation 
of their houses stood altogether upon a watery ground, yet 
they that were doctors of the barber's chair feared no danger: 
for it was a hard matter almost now for a man to find water 
to drown himself, if he had been so desperate. 

Then had they other games of " nine holes " and " pigeon 
holes " in great numbers. And this, father, did I observe 
as worthy to be remembered, that when the watermen, who 
had cold doings for a long time, had by main labour cut 
down with axes and such like instruments a lane and open 
passage between Queenhithe and the further bank [in 
Southwark], so that boats went surely to and fro, yet were 
people in great multitudes running, walking, sliding, and 
playing at games and exercises as boldly as if they had been 
on firm land, the Thames running mainly [powerfully] between 
them ; and taking boats at Queenhithe or any other stairs. 
they would as fiercely leap upon the very brim of the caked 
ice as if it had been a strong wharf or the ground itself. 

And thus much, father, touching the great frost here about 
our city. Unto which, upon my conference with some 
merchants my friends here in London, and upon view of 
letters from several factors out of other countries beyond the 
seas, I add this further report : that this frost hath not only 
continued in this extremity here in England ; but all, or the 
greatest part of all, the kingdoms in Christendom have been 
pinched by the same. Amongst which those countries 
northward, as Russia, Moscovia, &c, which at these times of 
the year are commonly subject to sharp, bitter, and violent 
frosts, were now, this winter, more extremely and more 
extraordinarily afflicted than usually they have been in many 

Eng. Gar. I. . 7 



98 T HE G R E A I F R OST OF J A N LAKY I 6 O 8 . [ Jan _ ? lCo8 _ 

years before. So that the calamities that have fallen upon 
us bv this cruelty of the weather are so much to be endured 
with the greater patience and with more thanksgiving to 
GOD; localise His hand hath punished neighbours and other 
nations as heavily if not more severely than He hath us. 

Amongst all the serious accidents that have happened here 
upon our Thames, I will now, father, quicken your hearing 
with one a little more merry. It was merry to the beholders 
and strange : but I believe he found no great mirth in it that 
was the person that performed it. But thus it was. 

A citizen happened to venture with many others on the 
ice ; but he, with a couple of dogs that followed him, walked 
up and down so long till he was, in a manner, alone from the 
rest of the company. You must understand that this was 
now towards the end of the frost ; when it either began or 
was likely to thaw, so that the people were not so bold upon 
the ice, nor in such multitudes as they were before : but this 
citizen and his two dogs keeping, as I said, aloof from others; 
it fortuned that the flake of ice upon which he stood was in 
a moment sundered from the main body of the frozen Thames, 
like an arm of a tree cut from the bod}*. So that he stood, 
or rather swam as he stood, upon a floating island. The 
poor man, perceiving that his ground failed under him, began 
to faint in his heart, repenting now that he was so venturous 
or so foolish as to leave firm ground where he was safe and 
tn trust a floor that was so deceitful, was afraid to stir; and 
yet unless he did lustily stir for life, he was sure there was 
no way but one, and that was to be drowned. In this 
extremity and in this battle of comfort and despair, he had 
no means— albeit he was a fresh- water soldier — but to be 
constant in" courage to himself and to try all paths how to 
get from this apparent danger. From place to place therefore 
doth he softly run, his two dogs following him close and 
leaping upon him : but his thoughts were more busied how 
to save himself than to regard them following. He never 
hated going a-hawking with his dogs till this time. Now 
the sport was loathsome ; now was he weary of it. For in 
all his hunting with his hounds thus at his tail, he met one 

me that could make him weary : he jostled with other 
huge flakes of ice that encountered with that whereupon he 
stood ; and gladly would have leaped upon some one of them, 



Jan. ? i6o8.] The GREAT FROST OF J ANUARY l6o8. 99 

but to have done so, had been to have slipped out of one peril 
into another. Nothing was before his eyes but water mingled 
with huge cakes of ice. On every side of him was danger 
and death. 

Innumerable multitudes of people stood looking upon the 
shores ; but none were so hardy as to set out to his rescue. 
Being therefore thus round beset with the horrors of so 
present a wreck, he fell down on his knees, uttering such 
cold prayers as in this fear a man could deliver. His dogs, 
not understanding their master's danger nor their own, and 
not knowing why he kneeled, leaped ever and anon at his 
head and shoulders : but his mind being now more on his 
dying day than on his sports, he continued praying, till the 
flake of ice on which he kneeled was driven to the very 
Bridge. Which he perceiving, started up, and with a happy 
nimbleness leaped upon one of the arches ; his dogs leaping 
after as nimbly as the master : whilst the cake of ice passed 
away from him, and between the two arches was shivered all 
to little pieces. And thus did he escape. 

Coun. It was a miraculous deliverance. 

Cit. Other abuses are there daily among the worser 
ranks of people, put one upon another; which being but idle, 
ridiculous, and not worth rehearsing, I willingly am glad not 
to remember ; but only to content your longing, good old 
father, have I set thus much of our golden lottery before you. 

Coun. Sir, you bind me more and more to you for these 
kindnesses to me being a stranger and a person of so homely 
an outside from a citizen so grave as yourself seem to be. I 
will ever rest abundantly thankful. 



FINIS. 



[The style of this excessively rare tract remincjs one somewhat of 
T. DECKER. Its present reproduction is only one of the many favours of 
Mr. Henry Huth.] 



IOO 




LONDON. 

Printed for Henry 

Gosson, and are to be sold at 

his shop at London -Bridge. 

1608. 



IOI 



Rev. John Fox, the Martyrologist. 

A false fearful I?nagination of fire at 
Oxford U?iiversity. 

[Acts ami Monuments, 1576. The passages in brackets, from 1563 Edition.] 

A merry and pleasant Narration, touching a false fearful 
Imagination of Fire raised among the Doctors and 
Masters of Oxford in St. Mary's church, at the 
recantation of Master Malary, Master of Arts of 
Cambridge. 

Itherto, [gentle reader, we have remembered a 
great number of lamentable and bloody tragedies 
of such as have been slain through extreme cruelty : 
now I will here set before thee again a merry and 
comical spectacle, whereat thou mayest now laugh 
and refresh thyself, which, forasmuch as it did necessarily 
accord with our present enterprise, I have not thought it 
good to pass it over with silence.] 

There was one Master Malary, Master of Arts of 
Cambridge, Scholar of Christ's College, who, for the like 
opinions to those above rehearsed, holden contrary to the 
Catholic determination of holy mother Church of Rome; that 
is, for the right truth of Christ's gospel, was convented 
before the bishops: and, in the end, sent to Oxford, there 
openly to recant, and to b.ar his faggot; to the terror of the 
students of that University. The time and place were 
appointed that he should be brought solemnly into St. 
Mary's church upon a Sunday; where a great number of the 
head Doctors and Divines and others of the University were 




102 Mighty audience in St. Mary's church. [ Re ?; 6 J 3 J°l 

together assembled: besides a great multitude of citizens and 
town dwellers, who came to behold the sight. Furthermore, 
because that solemnity should not pass without some effectual 
sermon for the holding up of the mother Church of Rome, Dr. 
Smith, Reader then of the Divinity Lecture, was appointed 
to make the sermon at this recantation. Briefly, at the 
preaching of this sermon there was assembled a mighty 
audience of all sorts and degrees; as well of students as 
others. Few almost were absent who loved to hear or see 
any news ; insomuch that there was no place almost in the 
whole church, which was not fully replenished with concourse 
and throng of people. 

All things thus being prepared and set in readiness, cometh 
forth poor M alary with his faggot upon his shoulder. Not 
long after, also, proceedeth the Doctor into the pulpit to 
make his sermon; the purpose and argument whereof was 
wholly upon the sacrament : the which Doctor, for the 
more confirmation and credit to his words; had provided the 
holy catholic cake and the sacrament of the altar, there 
to hang by a string before him in the pulpit. Thus the 
Doctor, with his god-almighty, entering his godly sermon, 
had scarce proceeded into the midst thereof (the people 
giving great silence with all reverence unto his doctrine), 
but suddenly was heard in the church the voice of one 
crying in the street, " Fire ! fire ! " The party who thus 
cried first in the street, was called Heuster. 

[The occasion of this exclamation came by a chimney that 
was on fire in the town, wherein the fire, having taken hold 
of the soot and dry matter, burned out at the top of the 
chimney ; and so caused the neighbours to make an outer} - .! 

This HtusTER coming from Allhallows parish saw the 
chimney on fire, and so passing through the street by St. 
Mary's church, cried "Fire! fire!" as the fashion is ; meaning 
no hurt. 

Such is the order and manner amongst the Englishmen; 
much diverse and contrary to that which is used among the 
Germans. For whensoever any fire happeneth in Germany, by 
and by, the bells ringing in the steeples stir up the people to 
help. Who immediately are all ready in armour ; some go unto 
the walls, Others beset the ways, and the residue are appointed 
to quench the lire. The labour is diversely divided amongst 



Re i v 56 J 3_f 5 ° 7 6:j Fire! Fire! W ii e r e ! W 1 1 e r e ! 1 03 

them, for whilst some fetch water in leather buckets, other 
some cast on the water, some climb the houses, and some with 
hooks pull them down ; some again attend and keep watch 
without, riding about the fields : so that, by this means, there 
lacketh neither help within, neither safeguard without. But 
the like is not used here in England : for when any such 
thing happeneth, there is no public sign or token given ; but 
the outcry of the neighbours doth stir up all the others to 
help. There is no public or civil order in doing of things, 
neither any division of labour: but every man, running 
headlong together, catcheth whatsoever cometh next to hand 
to quench the fire.] 

This sound of fire being heard in the church, first of them 
that stood outermost next to the church door ; so increased 
and went from one to another: that at length it came unto 
the ears of the Doctors, and at last to the Preacher himself. 
Who, as soon as they heard the matter, being amazed with 
sudden fear, and marvelling what the matter should mean ; 
began to look up into the top of the church, and to behold 
the walls. The residue seeing them look up, looked up 
also. Then began they, in the midst of the audience, to cry 
out with a loud voice, "Fire! fire!" "Where?" saith 
one; "Where?" saith another. "In the church!" saith 
one. The mention of the church was scarcely pronounced, 
when, as in one moment, there was a common cry amongst 
them, " The church is on fire ! The church is set on fire 1 v 
heretics! " &c. And, albeit no man did see any fire at all; 
yet, forasmuch as all men cried out so, every man thought it 
true that they heard. Then was there such fear, concourse 
and tumult of people through the whole church, that it 
cannot be declared in words, as it was indeed. 

And as in a great fire (where fire is indeed), we see many 
times how one little spark giveth matter of a mighty flame, 
setting whole stacks and piles a burning : so here, upon a 
small occasion of one man's word, kindled first a general 
cry, then a strong opinion running in every man's head 
within the church, thinking the church to be on fire ; where 
no fire was at all. Thus it pleased Almighty GOD to delude 
these deluders : that is, that these great Doctors and wise 
men of the schools, who think themselves so wise in GOD's 
matters as though they could not err ; should see, by their 



io4 They were aee exceedingly amazed. [^£55 

own senses and judgments, how blinded and infatuated they 
were, in these so small matters and sensible trifles. 

Thus this strong imagination of fire being fixed in their 
heads, as nothing could remove them to think contrary; but 
that the church was on fire : so everything that they saw or 
heard increased this suspicion in them, to make it seem most 
true which was indeed most false. The first and chiefest 
occasion that augmented this suspicion, was the heretic 
there bearing his faggot: which gave them to imagine that all 
other heretics had conspired with him, to set the church 
on fire. 

After this, through the rage of the people, and running to 

and fro, the dust was so raised, that it showed as it had been 

the smoke of fire : which thing, together with the outcry of 

the people, made all men so afraid; that, leaving the sermon, 

they began all together to run away. But such was the press 

of the multitude running in heaps together; that the more 

they laboured, the less they could get out. For while they 

ran all headlong unto the doors, every man striving to get 

out first ; they thrust one another in such sort, and stuck so 

fast: that neither they that were without could get into the 

church again, neither they that were within could get out by 

any means. So then, one door being stopped, they ran to 

another little wicket on the north side, toward the college 

called Brasennose, thinking so to pass out. But there again 

was the like or greater throng. So the people, clustering and 

thronging together; it put many in danger, and brought many 

hurt unto their end, by bruising of their bones or sides. 

There was yet another door towards the West, 

which albeit it was shut and seldom opened; yet 

now ran they to it with such sway, that the great 

there™ 18 bar of iron (which is incredible to b : spoken) being 

; " 1 ' 57 '- 1 pulled out and broken by force of men's hands: 

the door, notwithstanding, could not be opened for the press 

or multitude of people. 

At last, when they were there also past all hope to get out, 
then they were all exceedingly amazed, and ran up and 
down : crying out upon the heretics who had conspired their 
death. The more they ran about and cried out, the more 
oke and dust rose in the church: even as though all things 
had now been on a flaming (ire. I think there was never 



Rev ;i' , Fo ,fi'l None cried more than Dr. Smith. 105 

1^03— 1,570. J ^ 

such a tumultuous hurlyburly rising so of nothing heard of 
before ; nor so great a fear where was no cause to fear, nor 
peril at all : so that if DEMOCRITUS, the merry philosopher, 
sitting in the top of the church, and seeing all things in such 
safety as they were, had looked down upon the multitude, 
and beholden so great a number, some howling and weeping, 
running up and down, and playing the mad men, now hither, 
now thither, as being tossed to and fro with waves or tempests ; 
trembling and quaking, raging and faring, without any 
manifest cause; especially if he had seen those great Rabbins, 
the Doctors laden with so many badges or cognisances of 
wisdom, so foolishly and ridicuously seeking holes and corners 
to hide themselves in ; gasping, breathing and sweating, and 
for very horror being almost beside themselves : I think he 
would have satisfied himself with this one laughter for all 
his lifetime ; or else rather would have laughed his heart out 
of his belly, whilst one said that he plainly heard the noise 
of the fire, another affirmed that he saw it with his eyes, 
and another sware that he felt the molten lead dropping 
down upon his head and shoulders. Such is the force of 
imagination, when it is once grafted in men's hearts through 
fear. 

In all the whole company, there was none that behaved 
himself more modestly than the heretic that was g^J*"* 
there to do penance ; who, casting his faggot off head was 

" 1,111 1 broken with 

from his shoulders upon a monk s head that stood the i. 

by, kept himself quiet, minding to take such part as the 

others did. 

All the others, being careful for themselves, never made an 
end of running up and down and crying out. None cried out 
more earnestly than the Doctor that preached (who was, as I 
said, Dr. Smith), who, in manner first of all, cried out in the 
pulpit, saying, " These are the trains and subtleties of the 
heretics against me : LORD have mercy upon me! LORD have 
mercy upon me ! " But might not GOD, as it had been (to 
speak with Job) out of a whirlwind, have answered Jobxi.6. 
again unto this preacher thus : " Thou dost now implore my 
mercy, but thou thyself showest no mercy unto thy fellows 
and brethren ! How doth thy flesh tremble now at the 
mention of fire ! But you think it a sport to burp other simple 
innocents, neither do ye anything at all regard it. If burning 



106 Terror of the melting of the lead. [""J^rSjE 

and to suffer a torment of fire seem so grievous a matter unto 
you, then you should also have the like consideration in other 
men's perils and dangers, when you do burn your fellows and 
brethren ! Or, if you think it but a light and trifling matter 
in them, go to now, do you also with like courage, contemn, 
and with like patience, suffer now the same torments 
yourselves. And if so be I should now suffer you with the 
whole church, to be burned to ashes, what other thing should 
I do unto you than you do daily unto your fellows and 
brethren ? Wherefore, since you so little esteem the death 
of others, be now content that other men should also little 
regard the death of you." With this, I say, or with some 
other like answer, if that either GOD, or human charity, or 
the common sense of nature would expostulate with them ; 
yea if there had been a fire indeed (as they were more feared 
than hurt), who would have doubted, but that it had happened 
unto them according to their deserts ? But now, worthy it 
is the noting, how the vain fear and folly of those Catholics 
either were deluded, or how their cruelty was reproved ; 
whereby they, being better taught by their own example, 
might hereafter learn what it is to put other poor men to the 
fire, which they themselves here so much abhorred. 

But to return again to the description of this pageant, 
wherein (as I said before) there was no danger at all ; yet 
were they all in such fear, as if present death had been over 
their heads. In all this great maze and garboil, there was 
nothing more feared than the melting of the lead, which 
many affirmed that they felt dropping upon their bodies. 
[For almost all the churches in England are covered with 
lead, like as in Germany they are for the most part tiled.] 

Now in this sudden terror and fear, which took from them 
all reason and counsel out of their minds, to behold what 
practices and sundry shifts every man made for himself it; 
would make not only Democritus, and Heraclitus also, to 
laugh, but rather a horse well near to break his halter. But 
none used themselves more ridiculously than such as seemed 
t wise men, saving that in one or two, peradventure, 
lewhat more quietness of mind appeared; among whom 
was one Claymund, President of Corpus Christi College 
(whom, for reverence and learning's sake, I do here name), 
and a few Other aged persons with him; who, lor their age 



itftSS ^ MONK STUCK FAST IN A WINDOW. 10 J 

and weakness, durst not thrust themselves into the throng 
amongst the rest, but kneeled down quietly before the high 
altar, committing themselves and their lives unto the 
Sacrament. 

The others, who were younger and stronger, ran up and 
down through the press, marvelling at the incivility of men; 
and waxed angry with the unmannerly multitude that would 
give no room unto the Doctors, Bachelors, Masters, and 
other Graduates and Regent Masters. But as the terror and 
fear was common unto all men, so was there no difference 
made of persons or degrees ; every man scrambling for 
himself. The violet cap, or purple gown, did there nothing 
avail the Doctor; neither the Master's hood, nor the monk's 
cowl, were there respected. Yea, if the King or Queen had 
been there at that present and in that perplexity; they had 
been no better than a common man. 

After they had long striven and essayed all manner of 
ways, and saw no remedy, neither by force nor authority 
to prevail : they fell to entreating and offering of rewards ; 
one offering twenty pounds [of good money], another his 
scarlet gown, so that any man would pull him out, though it 
were by the ears ! 

Some stood close unto the pillars, thinking themselves safe 
under the vaults of stone from the dropping of the lead : 
others, being without money, and unprovided of all shifts 
knew not which way to turn them. One, being a President 
of a certain College (whose name I need not here to utter), 
pulling a board out from the pews, covered his head and 
shoulders therewith against the scalding lead ; which they 
feared much more than the fall of the church. Now what a 
laughter would this have ministered unto Democritus 
amongst other things, to behold there a certain grand 
paunch ; who, seeing the doors stopped and every way dosed 
up, thought, by another compendious means, to get out through 
a glass window, if it might be by any shift ? But here the 
iron grates letted [hindered] him; notwithstanding his greedy 
mind would needs attempt, if he could haply bring his 
purpose to pass. When he had broken the glass, and was 
come to the space between the grates where he should creep 
out; first he thrust in his head with the one shoulder, and it 
went through well enough. Then he laboured to get the 



10S They all stick in the doors. J^-S: 

other shoulder after; hut there was a great labour about that* 
and long he stuck by the shoulders with much ado ; for what 
doth not importune labour overcome ? Thus far forth he 
was now gotten ; but, by what part of his body he did stick 
fast. I am not certain, neither may I feign : forasmuch as 
there be yet witnesses who did see these things, who would 
correct me, if I should do so. Notwithstanding, this is most 
certain, that he did stick fast between the grates, and could 
neither get out, nor in. 

Thus this good man, being indeed a monk, and having but 
short hose ; by the which way he supposed soonest to escape, 
by the same he fell into further inconvenience, making of one 
danger two. For, if the fire or lead had fallen on the outside, 
parts which did hang out of the window had been in 
danger; and, contrariwise, if the flame had raged within the 
church, all his other parts had lien open to the fire. And as 
this man did stick fast in the window, so did the rest stick as 
fast in the doors, that sooner they might have been burned, 
than they could once stir or move one foot. Through the 
which press, at last, there wao a way found, that some, going 
over their heads, gat out. 

Here also happened another pageant in a certain monk 

(if I be not misadvised) of Gloucester College, whereat 

CALPHURNIUS might well laugh with an open 

. mouth. So it happened, that there was a young 

lad in this tumult, who, seeing the doors fast stopped with 

the press or multitude, and that he had not way to get out, 

climbed up upon the door; and there, staying upon the top 

of the door, was forced to tarry still : for, to come clown into 

the church again he durst not for fear of the lire, and to leap 

down toward the street he could not without danger of 

falling. When he had tarried there awhile., he advised 

himself what to do ; neither did occasion want to serve his 

purpose: tor, by chance, amongst them that got out over 

men's heads, he saw a monk, coming towards him, who had 

it wide cowl hanging at his back. This the ho\ thought 

to be a good occasion for him to escape by. When the monk 

came near unto him, the boy, who was on the top of the door, 

came down, and prettily conveyed himself into the monk's 

cowl; thinking (as it came to pass indeed) that if the monk 

I hould ,1 get out with him. To be brief, .it 



■ ,' ; 



T HE BOY IX Til E MONK' S C I ) \Y L. 109 



last the monk gat out over men's heads, with the boy in his 
cowl, and, for a great while, felt no weight or burden. 

At the last, when he was somewhat more come to himself, 
and did shake his shoulders, feeling his cowl heavier than it 
was accustomed to be, and also hearing the voice of one 
speaking behind in his cowl ; he was more afraid than he was 
before when he was in the throng: thinking, in very deed, that 
the evil spirit which had set the church on fire had flown into 
his cowl. By and by he began to play the exorcist : " In the 
name of GOD," said he, " and all saints, I command thee to 
declare what thou art, that art behind at my back ! " To 
whom the boy answered, " I am Bertram's boy," said he; 
for that was his name. " But I," said the monk, " adjure 
thee, in the name of the unseparable Trinity, that thou, 
wicked spirit ! do tell me who thou art, from whence thou 
comest, and that thou get thee hence !" "I am Bertram's 
boy," said he, "Good Master! let me go!" and with that 
his cowl began, with the weight, to crack upon his shoulders. 
The monk when he perceived the matter; took the boy out, 
and discharged his cowl. The boy took to his legs, and ran 
away as fast as he could. 

Among others, one wiser than the rest ran with the church- 
door key, beating upon the stone walls; thinking therewith to 
break a hole through to escape out. 

In the meantime those that were in the street, looking 
diligently about them, and perceiving all things to be without 
fear; marvelled at this sudden outrage, and made signs and 
tokens to them that were in the church to keep themselves 
quiet, crying to them that there was no danger. 

But, forasmuch as no word could be heard by reason of the 
noise that was within the church, those signs made them 
much more afraid than they were before, interpreting the 
matter as though all had been on fire without the church ; 
and for the dropping of the lead and falling of other things, 
they should rather tarn- still within the church, and not to 
venture out. This trouble continued in this manner by the 
space of certain hours. 

The next day, and also the week following, there was an 
incredible number of bills written notices] set upon the church 
doors, to inquire for things that were lost in such variety 



no Master Malary completes his penance. [ Re j-J 3 -f 5 ° 7 6: 

and number, as Democritus might here again have had just 
cause to laugh. " If any man have found a pair of shoes 
yesterday in St. Mary's Church, or knoweth any man that 
hath found them, &c." Another bill was set up for a gown 
that was lost. Another entreated to have his cap restored. 
One lost his purse and girdle, with certain money ; another 
his sword. One inquireth for a ring; and one for one thing, 
another for another. To be short, there were few in this 
garboil ; but that either through negligence lost, or through 
oblivion left something behind them. 

Thus have you heard a tragical story of a terrible fire 
which did no hurt ; the description whereof, although it be 
not so perfectly expressed according to the worthiness of the 
matter, yet because it was not to be passed with silence, we 
have superficially set forth some shadow thereof: whereby the 
wise and discreet may sufficiently consider the rest, if any 
thing else be lacking in setting forth the full narration 
thereof. 

As touching the heretic, because he had not done his 
sufficient penance there by occasion of this hurlyburly; 
therefore the next day following he was reclaimed into the 
Church of St. Frideswide [Christ Church] ; where he supplied 
the rest that lacked of his plenary penance. 





1 1 1 



Sir V/alter Raleigh. 
The Infancy and Age of c Ti?ne, 

\History oj the World.} 

T may perchance seem strange to the reader that 
in all ancient stories, he finds one and the same 
beginning of nations after the Flood; and that the 
first planters of all parts of the world were said to 
be mightyand giant-like men; andthatas Phoenicia, 
Egypt, Lybia and Greece had Hercules, Orestes, Antveus, 
Typhon, and the like ; as Denmark had Starchaterus 
remembered by Saxo Grammaticus ; as Scythia, Bretagne 
and other regions had giants for their first inhabitants : so 
this island of Sicily had her Lestrigones and Cyclops. 

This discourse I could also reject for feigned and fabulous, 
did not Moses make us know that the Zamzummim, Emims, 
Anakim and Og of Bashan with others ; which sometime 
inhabited the mountains and deserts of Moab, Ammon, and 
Mount Seir, were men of exceeding strength and stature, and 
of the race of giants: and were it not that Tertullian, 
Saint Augustine, Nicephorus, Procopius, Isidore, Pliny, 
Diodorus, Herodotus, Solinus, Plutarch, and many 
other authors, have confirmed their opinion. Yea, Vesputius, 
in his Second Navigation into America, hath reported that 
he himself hath seen the like men in those parts. 

Again, whereas the selfsame is written of all nations that 
is written of one ; as touching their simplicity of life ; their 
mean fare ; their feeding on acorns and roots ; their poor 
cottages; the covering of their bodies with the skins of 
beasts ; their hunting ; their arms and weapons, and their 
warfare ; their first passages over great rivers and arms of 
the sea upon rafts of trees tied together ; and afterwards 
their making boats, first of twigs and leather, then of wood ; 
first with oars and then with sails ; that they esteemed as 
gods the first finders-out of arts, as of husbandry, of laws, 



ii2 The Infancy and Age of Time. [ SrW - Ra ^g: 

and of policy : it is a matter that makes neither to wonder at 
nor to doubt of it. 

For they all lived in the same newness of time, which 
we call " old Time ; " and had all the same want of his 
instruction, which (after the Creator of all things) hath by 
degrees taught all mankind. For other teaching had they 
none, that were removed far off from the Hebrews (who 
inherited the knowledge of the first patriarchs) than that 
from variable effects they began by time and degrees, to find 
out the causes : from whence came Natural Philosophy; as 
the Moral did from disorder and confusion, and the Law 
from cruelty and oppression. 

But it is certain that the Age of Time hath brought forth 
stranger and more incredible things than the Infancy. For 
we have now greater giants for vice and injustice; than the 
world had in those days for bodily strength. For cottages 
and houses of clay and timber ; we have raised palaces of 
stones : we carve them, we paint them, and adorn them with 
gold ; insomuch as men are rather known by their houses, 
than their houses by them. We are fallen from two dishes 
to two hundred ; from water, to wine and drunkenness ; from 
the covering of our bodies with the skins of beasts, not only 
to silk and gold, but to the very skins of men. 

But to conclude this digression, Time will also take 
revenge of the excess which it hath brought forth. Quam 
longa dies pepcrit, longiorque anxit, longissiuia subiuct. " Long 
time brought forth, longer time increased it, and a time 
longer than the rest, shall overthrow it." 




ejcpetttton in 
cotlanli, 




matie bg tfre lUng's 

^igftneas' armp, unoer tfje conduct 

of fte iRigirt honourable t&e 

OEarl of ^ertforo, t&e 

pear of our HHDED 

J 544- 



Londini. 

Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum. 



Eng. Gar. I 



H5 



The late Expedition in Scotland. 

Sent to the Right Honourable 
Lord Russell, Lord Privy Seal ; 
fro?n the Kings army there: 
by a friend of his. 




Fter long sojourning, my very good Lord ! 
of the King's Majesty's army at Newcastle, 
for lack of commodious winds, which long 
hath been at North East and East North 
East, much to our grief; as your Lordship, 
I doubt not, knoweth : the same — as God 
would, who doth all things for the best — 
the first of May [1544], the 36th year of 
His Majesty's most prosperous reign, veered to the South and 
South South West so apt and propice [propitious] for our 
journey ; being of every man so much desired, that there 
was no need to hasten them forwards. To be brief; such 
diligence was used that in two tides the whole fleet, being 
200 sail at the least, was out of the haven of Tynemouth 
towards our enterprise. 

The third day after, we arrived in the Firth of Forth, a 
notable river in Scotland ; having the entry between two 
islands, called the Bass and the May. The same day, we 
landed divers of our boats at a town named Saint Mynettes, 
on the north side of the Frith, which we burnt ; and brought 
from thence divers great boats, that served us afterwards to 
good purpose for our landing. 

That night, the whole fleet came to an anchor, under the 



ii6Tiie English army lands near Leitii. [ I5 * 4 . 

island called Inchkeith, three miles from the haven of Leith. 
The place where we anchored hath, of long time, been called 
the English road : the Scots now take the same to be a 
prophesy of the thing which has now happened. 

The next da)-, being the 4th day of May, the said army 
landed two miles by west of the town of Leith, at a place 
called Grantham Crag : every man being so prompt 
thereunto, that the whole army was landed in four hours. 
And, perceiving our landing to be so quiet, which we looked 
not for; having our guides ready, we put ourselves in good 
order of war marching forwards towards the town of Leith 
in three battles — whereof my Lord Admiral led the Vanguard, 
the Earl of Shrewsbury the Arrieregard ; and the Earl of 
Hertford being Lord Lieutenant, the Battle — having with 
us certain small pieces of artillery, which were drawn by 
force of men : which enterprise we thought necessary to 
be attempted first of all other, for the commodious lodging of 
our navy there, and the landing of our artillery and victail. 

And in a valley, upon the right hand, near unto the said 
town, the Scots were assembled to the number of 5,000 or 
6,000 horsemen, besides a good number of footmen ; to 
impeach [prevent] the passage of our said army : in which 
place, they had laid their artillery at two straits [passes] 
through which we must needs pass, if we minded to achieve 
our enterprise. And seeming, at the first, as though they 
would set upon the Vanguard : when they perceived our men 
so willing to encounter with them, namely, the Cardinal, 
who was there present, perceiving our devotion to see his 
holiness to be such as we were ready to wet our feet for that 
purpose, and to pass a ford which was between us and them; 
after certain shot of artillery on both sides : they made a 
sudden retreat; and leaving their artillery behind them, tied 
towards Edinburgh. The first man that fled was the holy 
Cardinal BEATON like a valiant champion ; and with him the 
Governor, the Earls of Huntley, Murray and Bothwell, 
with divers other great men of the realm. At this passage, 
were two Englishmen hurt with the shot of their artillery; 
and two Scottish men slain with our artillery. 

The Vanguard having thus put back the Scots, and eight 

pieces of their artillery brought away by our hackbutters 

luirquebussiers , who in this enterprise did very manfully 



IS4 J The army marches to Edinburgh. 117 

employ themselves; we marched directly towards the town 
of Leith ; which before we could come to, we must of force 
[necessity] pass another passage, which also was defended a 
while with certain ensigns [companies] of footmen and certain 
pieces of artillery ; who being sharply assailed, having three 
of the gunners slain with our archers, were fain to give 
place; leaving also their ordnance behind them, with which 
ordnance they slew only one of our men and hurt another. 

And in this brunt, the victory being earnestly followed ; 
the town of Leith was entered perforce and won with the 
loss only of two men of ours and hurt of three : where 
the Scots had cast great trenches and ditches purposely to 
have defended it. The same night, the army encamped in 
the said town of Leith ; and by reason of the said ditches 
and trenches, we made there a strong camp. 

The morrow, being the 5th of May, we caused our ships 
ladened with our great artillery and victuals to be brought 
into the haven ; where we discharged the same at our 
pleasure. In the said haven, we found many goodly ships, 
specially two of notable fairness : the one called the Salamander 
given by the French king at the marriage of his daughter 
into Scotland ; the other called the Unicorn, made by the 
late Scottish king [James V.] The town of Leith was found 
more full of riches than we thought to have found any 
Scottish town to have been. 

The next day, the 6th, the army went towards Edinburgh, 
leaving the Lord Sturton in Leith with 1,500 men, for 
the defence of the same. And the army being come near 
to Edinburgh ; the Provost accompanied with one or two 
burgesses and two or three Officers at Arms, desired to speak 
with the King's Lieutenant ; and — in the name of all the town 
— said, " that the keys of the town should be delivered unto 
his Lordship; conditionally, that they might go with bag 
and baggage, and the town to be saved from fire." Whereunto 
answer was made by the said Lord Lieutenant, " that whereas 
the Scots had so man}- ways fals ifiled their faiths; and so 
manifestly had broken their promises, confirmed by oaths and 
seals, and certified by their whole parliament, as is evidently 
known unto all the world : he was sent thither by the King's 
Highness to take vengeance of their detestable falsehood, to 
declare and show the force of His Highness' sword to all 



n8 The army captures & burns Edinburgh. 



Li544- 



such as should make any resistance unto His Grace's power 
sent thither for that purpose. And therefore being not sent 
to treat or capitulate with them, who had before time broken 
so many treaties : " he told them resolutely ; " that unless they 
would yield up their town unto him frankly, without condition, 
and cause man, woman, and child to issue into the fields, 
submitting themselves to his will and pleasure ; he would 
put them to the sword, and their town to the fire." The 
Provost answered, "that it were better for them to stand to 
their defence than to yield to that condition." This was 
rather a false practice of the Provost and the Heralds, thereby 
to espy the force and order of our camp, than for any zeal 
they had to yield their town ; as it appeared afterwards. 
Whereupon commandment was given to the said Provost 
and Officers at Arms, upon their peril, to depart. 

In the meantime, word was brought by a Herald of ours — 
whom the Lord Lieutenant had sent to summon the Castle 
— that the Earl Bothwell and the Lord Hume with the 
number of 2,000 horsemen were entered the town, and were 
determined to the defence thereof. Upon which knowledge, 
the Lord Lieutenant sent with diligence to the Vanward, that 
they should march towards the town. And Sir Christopher 
Morice, Lieutenant of the Ordnance, was commanded to 
approach the gate called the Cany gate [Ctmongate], with 
certain battery pieces : which gate lay so, that the ordnance 
must be brought up a broad street of the suburbs, directly 
against the said Cany gate ; which was the occasion of the 
loss of certain of our gunners. And before that any battery 
could be made by the said ordnance, divers of the captains 
of the Vanward — the better to comfort their soldiers — 
assailed the said gate with such courage, that they repulsed 
the Scottish gunners from the loupes [embrasures'] of the same, 
and there slew and hurt sundry of their gunners, and by force 
drew one piece of artillery out of one of the said loupes. 

Our archers and hackbutters shot so hotly to the 
battlements of the gate and wall, that no man durst show 
himself at the defence of the same: by reason whereof, our 
gunners had good leisure to bring a cannon hard to the gate, 
which, after three or four shots, made entry to our soldiers; 
who at their breaking in, slew 300 or 400 Scots of such as 
were found armed. In the meantime, the Earl BOTHWELL 



' 1 Holyrood Abbey and Palace burnt. 119 

1544. j 

and the Lord Hume with their company, fled, and saved 
themselves by another way issuing out towards the Castle 
of the said town. The situation whereof is of such strength 
that it cannot be approached, but by one way ; which is by 
the High Street of the town ; and the strongest part of the 
same Castle lieth to beat the said street : which was the 
loss of divers of our men with the shot of the ordnance out 
of the said Castle, which did continually beat along the 
said High Street. And considering the strength of the said 
Castle, with the situation thereof; it was concluded not to 
lose any time, nor to waste and consume our munition about 
the siege thereof. Albeit the same was courageously and 
dangerously attempted; till one of our pieces, with shot out 
of the said Castle, was struck and dismounted. 

And finally it was determined by the said Lord Lieutenant 
utterly to ruinate and destroy the said town with fire : which 
for that the night drew fast on, we omitted thoroughly to 
execute on that day ; but setting fire in three or four parts of 
the town, we repaired for that night unto our camp. 

And the next morning, very early, we began where we left 
off, and continued burning all that day and the two days 
next ensuing continually, so that neither within the walls 
nor in the suburbs was left any one house unburnt : besides 
the innumerable booty, spoil and pillage that our soldiers 
brought from thence ; notwithstanding the abundance which 
was consumed with fire. Also we burnt the Abbey called 
Holy Rood House, and the Palace adjoining the same. 

In the meantime, while we held the country thus occupied; 
there came unto us 4,000 of our light horsemen from the 
Borders, by the King's Majesty's appointment : who after 
their coming, did such exploits in riding and devastating the 
country that within seven miles every way of Edinburgh, 
they left neither pile, village, nor house standing unburnt, 
nor stacks of corn ; besides great numbers of cattle, which 
they brought daily in to the army, and met also with much 
good stuff which the inhabitants of Edinburgh had for the 
safety of the same, conveyed out of the town. 

In this mean season, Sir Nicholas Pointz, by order of 
my Lord Lieutenant, passed the river, and won by force the 
town of Kinghorn ; and burnt the same with certain other 
towns on that side. 



120 The English ravage the country. [ I5 ' 4 . 

After these exploits done at Edinburgh, and all the country 
thereabouts devastated ; the King's said Lieutenant thinking 
the Scots not to be condignly punished for their falsehood 
used to the King's Majesty, determined not to return without 
doing them more displeasure. He therefore gave orders 
to the said Sir Christopher Morice for the reshipping of 
the great artillery; reserving only certain small pieces to 
keep the field : giving also commandment to every captain 
to receive victuals out of the said ships for their companies 
for six days. And for the carriage of the same, caused one 
thousand of our worst horsemen to be set on foot ; and the 
same horses divided equally to every captain of hundreds, 
for the better carriage of their victuals. The men that rode 
upon the said horses being appointed to attend upon the said 
victuals. Which was done. Besides there were divers small 
carts, which we recovered [captured] in the country ; the 
which with such cattle as we had there, did great service in 
drawing of our victuals, tents, and other necessaries. 

These things being supplied, the 14th clay of May, we 
brake down the pier of the haven of Leith, and burnt every 
stick of it ; and took forth the two goodly ships, manned 
them, and put them in order to attend upon the King's 
Majesty's ships. Their ballast was cannon shot of iron ; 
which we found in the town to the number of 80,000. The 
rest of the Scottish ships meet to serve, we brought away : 
both they and our own being almost pestered [encumbered] 
with the spoil and booty of our soldiers and mariners. 

That done, we abandoned ourselves clearly from the ships: 
having firm intent to return home by land. Which we did. 
And to give them [the Scots] better occasion to show them- 
selves in the field against us ; we left neither pile, village, 
town, nor house in our way homewards, unburnt. 

In the meantime of the continuance of our army at Leith, 
as is aforesaid ; our ships upon the seas were not idle ; for they 
left neither ship, crayer, nor boat belonging to either village, 
town, creek or haven of either side of the Frith between 
Stirling and the mouth of the river, unburnt or not brought 
away ; which containeth in length fifty miles. Continuing 
of time, they also burnt a great number of towns and villages 
<>:i both sides the said water; and won a fortress situated on 
1 Btrong i .land called Inehgarve, which they razed and 
d troyed. 



IS JJ March homeward; massacring & desolating. 121 

The 15th of May, we dislodged our camp out of the town of 
Leith ; and set fire in every house, and burnt it to the ground. 

The same night, we encamped at a town of the Lord 
Seaton's where we burnt and razed his chief castle, called 
Seaton, which was right fair; and destroyed his orchards 
and gardens, which were the fairest and best in order that 
we saw in all that country. We did him the more despite, 
because he was the chief labourer to help their Cardinal out 
of prison : who was the only [sole] author of their calamity. 

The same day, we burnt a fair town of the Earl Bothwell, 
called Haddington, wi.h a great nunnery and a house of friars. 

The next night after, we encamped besides Dunbar, and 
there the Scots gave a small alarm to our camp; but our 
watches were in such a readiness that they had no vantage 
there, but were fain to recoil without doing any harm. 

That night, they looked for us to have burnt the town 
of Dunbar ; which we deferred till the morning, at the 
dislodging of our camp: which we executed by 500 of our 
hackbutters. being backed with 500 horsemen. And by 
reason that we took them in the morning — who, having 
watched all night for our coming, and perceiving our army to 
dislodge and depart, thought themselves safe of us, were newly 
gone to their beds: and in their first sleeps closed in with fire 
— the men, women and children were suffocated and burnt. 

That morning [the 17th] being very misty and foggy, we 
had perfect knowledge by our espials, that the Scots had 
assembled a great power, in a strait [pass] called "the 
Pease." The chiefs of this assembly were the Lords Seaton, 
Hume and Buccleuch : and with them the whole power 
of the [Scotch] Marches and Teviotdale. This day in our 
marching, divers of their prickers [scouts] by reason of the 
said mist gave us alarm, and came so far within our army, 
that they unhorsed one between the Vanward and the Battle; 
being within two hundred feet of the Lord Lieutenant. At 
that alarm, one of their best prickers, called Jock Holly 
BURTON was taken : who confessed that the said Scottish 
lords were ready at the passage [pass with the number of 
10,000 good men. And forasmuch as the mist yet continued 
and did not break, being past noon, the Vanward being 
within a mile of the said passage, entering into dangerous 
ways for an army to march in such weather that one could 



122 The army returns to Berwick. V 44 . 

not descry another twenty yards off: we concluded if the 
weather did not break up, to have encamped ourselves upon 
the same ground ; where we did remain for the space of two 
hours. And about two of the clock at afternoon, the sun 
brake out, the fog went away, and a clear day was left us : 
whereof every man received as it were a new courage, 
longing to see the enemy ; who, being ready for us at the 
said passage, and seeing us come in good order of battle, as 
men determined to pass through them or to leave our bones 
with them, abode us but two shots of a falcon, but scaled 
every man his way to the high mountains, which were hard 
at their hands, and covered with flocks of their people. The 
passage was such, that having no let [impediment ; it was 
three hours before all the army could pass it. 

The same night, the army encamped at a pile called 
Ranton, eight miles from our borders: which pile was a 
very ill neighbour to the garrison of Berwick. The same 
we razed and threw down to the ground. 

The next day, being the 18th of May, the whole army 
entered into Berwick, and ended this voyage ; with the 
loss unneth [of scarcely] forty of the King's Majesty's people, 
thanks be to our Lord. 

The same day, at the same instant, that the army entered 
into Berwick, our whole fleet and navy of ships, which we 
sent from us at Leith, arrived before Berwick : as GOD would 
be known to favour our master's cause. Who ever preserve 
his most royal Majesty with long and prosperous life, and 
many years to reign in the imperial seat of the monarchy of 
all Britain. 

C The names of the chief burghs, castles and towns burnt 
and desolated by the King's army, being lately in Scot- 
land : besides a great number of villages, piles, and 
home steads which I cannot name. 

Hi-: burgh and town of Edinburgh, with the Abbey 
called Holy Rood House, and the King's Palace 
adjoining to the same. 
The town of Leith burnt, and the haven and 
pier destroyed. 




*] Results of the Expedition. 123 



The castle and village of Craigmillar. 
The Abbey of New Battell. 

Part of Musselburgh town, with the Chapel of our Lady 
of Lawret [Loretto]. 

Preston town and castle. 

Haddington town, with the friary and nunnery. 
A castle of Oliver Sanckler's [S/.vcl.-i/x's]. 
The town of Dunbar. 



Lawreston, with the grange. 
Drylawe. 
Wester Craig. 
Enderleigh, the pile and 

the town. 
Broughton. 
Thester Felles. 
Crawnend. 
Duddingstone. 
Stanhows. 
The Ficket. 
Beverton. 
Tranent. 
Shenstone. 



Mirkle. 

r \ iapren. 

Kirkland hill. 

Hatherwike. 

Belton. 

East Barnes. 

Bowland. 

Butterden. 

Quickwod. 

Blackborne. 

Raunton. 

Byldy, and the tower. 



<T Towns and villages burnt by the fleet, upon the seaside ; 
with a great number of piles and villages which I 
cannot name nor rehearse, which be all devastated and 
laid desolate. 



Kinkorne. 

S. Minetes. 

The Queen's ferry. 



Part of Petynwaynes 

[Pittcnwccm.\ 
The Burnt Island. 




124 Lord Eure's raid into Scotland. [ 15 ; 4 . 



Other new and prosperous adventures 
of late against the Scots, 

Fter the time that the Earl of Hertford, 
Lieutenant to the King's Majesty in the North 
parts of the realm, had dissolved the army, which 
lately had been within Scotland ; and repaired 
to the- King's Highness: the Lord Eure, with many 
other valiant wise gentlemen — abiding in the Marches 
of the North part — intending not by idleness to surcease in 
occasions convenient, but to prove whether the Scots had yet 
learned by their importable 'unbearable] losses lately chanced 
to them, to tender their own weals by true and reasonable 
uniting and adjoining themselves to the King's Majesty's 
loving liege people — took consultation by the advice of Sir 
Ralph Eure his son, and other sage forward gentlemen ; 
upon the 9th day of June [1544] , at a place named Mylnefeld ; 
from whence by common agreement, the said lord with a good 
number of men, made such haste into Scotland, that by 
four of the clock after the next midnight, he had marched 
within a half mile of the town whereunto they tended, named 
Jedworth [Jedburgh]." 

After their coming, a messenger was sent unto the Provost 
of the said town, letting him to know " that the Lord Eure 
was come-before the town to take it into the King's allegiance, 
by means of peace if thereunto the Scots would truly agree, 
or else by force of arms to sack the same if therein resistance 
were found." Whereunto the Provost — even like to prove 
himself a Scot— answered by way of request, "thatthey might 
be respected upon their answer until the noontide or else to 
maintain their town with defence : " having hope that in 
trading [treating] and driving off time they might work some 
old cowardly subtilty. But upon his declaration made, the 
snake crawling under the flowers easily appeared to them, 
which had experience : knowledge also being had, that the 



I544- ] The sack of Jedburgh. 125 

townsmen had bent seven or eight pieces of ordnance in the 
market-stead. Wherefore the Lord Eure — part of his 
company being into three bands divided, and abiding at three 
several coasts of the same town, to the end that there might 
be three entries at one time made into the town — appointed 
and devised that the gunners, which had battered certain 
places plain and open, should enter in one side, and the kernes 
on another side, and Sir Ralph Eure's, of the third side. 
But it fortuned that, even upon the approachment of the 
men to their entries, the Scots fled from their ordnance, 
leaving them unshot, into the woods thereabout, with all 
other people in the same town. In which flight was slain 
above the number of 160 Scots, having for that recompense 
thereof, the loss of six Englishmen only. The people thus 
fled, and the town given to Englishmen by chance of war : 
the gunners burned the Abbey, the Grey Friars, and divers 
bastel and fortified houses, whereof there were many in that 
town : the goods of the same town being first spoiled, which 
laded, at their departing, 500 horses ; besides seven pieces 
of ordnance. 

In their return likewise, as they passed, burning divers 
places, towers and castles : as the Tower of Calling Craige, 
the Castle of Sesforth, Otterburn, Cowboge, Marbottle 
church, with many other like ; until they came to a place 
called Kirkyettham, being ten miles from certain villages 
within English ground, named Hetton, Tylmouth and 
Twysell, which appeared to them burning. For the which 
cause Sir Ralph Eure and the Captain of Norham, 
accompanied with 500 horsemen, rode in such haste towards 
the fire, that at what time the said Sir Ralph did set upon 
the Scots which had burned the village, he had not with him 
above 200 horsemen. Nevertheless the Scots, upon the only 
sight of the standards, used for their defence their light feet, 
and fled in so much haste that divers English horses were 
tired in the pursuit : but overtaken there was a great number, 
whereof many were slain, partly by the fierceness of the 
Englishmen, partly by the guilty cowardice of the Scots. 
And truly to speak in a few words ; in this act doing, reas >n 
will scarcely suffice to persuade the truth : insomuch that 
there were divers Englishmen whereof every man had eight 
or nine prisoners, besides siuh as were slain whose number 



126 Other raids over the Border. [,.' 44 . 

is certainly known to have been a hundred or more. And 
yet in this skirmish, not one Englishman taken, neither 
slain : thanks be to GOD ! Also further here is to be 
remembered that the Englishmen in their return from the 
sack of Jedworth, drave and brought out of Scotland into 
England, a great number of cattle, both note [neat] and sheep. 



Furthermore to the apparent continuance of GOD's favour 
unto the purposes of the Englishmen, it is to be certainly 
known, that on the 15th day of June [1544] there was another 
raid made by divers Englishmen to a town called Synlawes, 
whereas divers bastel houses were destroyed, eight Scots 
taken, and 60 oxen brought away. For the return [recovery] 
whereof, a number of Scottish men pursued very earnestly ; 
who for their coming, lost six of their lives, and fifty of their 
horsemen [prisoners]. 

And upon the Tuesday next following, Sir George 
Bowes, Sir John Witherington, Henry Eure, and 
Lionel Graye rode to the Abbey of Coldingham, and 
demanded the same ; but it was denied earnestly, insomuch 
that after an assault made for five hours, it was burnt all 
saving the church, which having fire in the one end smoked 
so by the drift of the wind towards the Englishmen that 
it could not be conveniently then be burned. The store of 
the cattle and of the other goods there, served well for the 
spoil of the soldiers. In this Abbey were slain one monk and 
three other Scots. And amongst the English was one only 
gunner slain by a piece of ordnance shot out of the steeple. 

Since this journey, the 20th of June [1544], a company of 
Tynedale -and Redesdale with other valiant men, ventured 
upon the greatest town in all Teviotdale, named Skraysburgh, 
a town of the Lord Hunthill's ; whereas besides rich spoils 
and great plenty of note [neat] and sheep, 38 persons were 
taken. Adding thereunto, that which is a marvellous truth, 
that is to say, these prisoners being taken, three Scots being 
slain, with divers wounded: not one Englishmen was either 
hurt or wounded. 

In these victories, who is to be most highest lauded but 
GOD? by whose goodness the Englishmen hath had of a 



544-] Ascription of praise. 



127 



great season notable victories and matters worthy of 
triumphs. And for the continuance of GOD's favour toward 
us, let us pray for the prosperous estate of our noble good 
and victorious Lord Governor and King &c. : for whose sake 
doubtless, GOD hath spreaded his blessing over us, in peace 
to have mirth, and in wars to have victory. 



Jmprinten at Lontion in Paul's 

Cfjurcf) gam, tip iRcpnold 

ftcIMf ; at tfje sign of tbe 

lBra^en Serpent. 

anno 1544. 



Cum privilegio ad imprimcndum solum. 



123 




Anonymous. 
Beauty's fort. 

{MS. in possession of J. P. COLLIER, Esq., F.S.A.] 

Hen raging Love, with fierce assault, 
Strikes at fair Beauty's gate ; 

What army hath she to resist 
And keep her court and state ? 

She calleth first on Chastity 

To lend her help in time ; 
And Prudence no less summons she, 

To meet her foe so brim. 

And female Courage she alway 

Doth bring unto the wall ; 
To blow the trump in her dismay, 

Fearing her fort may fall. 

On force of words she much relies, 

Her foe without to keep ; 
And parleyeth with her two bright eyes, 

When they her dyke would leap. 

Yet natheless the more she strives, 
The less she keeps him out ; 

For she hath traitors in her camp, 
That keep her still in doubt. 



.en, unt.] Second version ofC units a ss a ul t. 129 

The first and worst of these the Flesh, 

Then woman's Vanity 
That still is caught within the mesh 

Of guileful Flattery. 

These traitors ope the gate at length ; 

And in, with sword in hand, 
Came raging Love; and all her strength 

No longer can withstand. 

Prudence and Chastity both too 

Submit unto the foe : 
And female Courage nought can do, 

But down her walls must go. 

She needs must yield her castle strong, 
And Love triumphs once more : 

'Tis only what the boy hath done 
A thousand times before. 



None may resist his mighty powe; 

And though a boy, and blind, 
He knows to chose a happy hour 

When maidens must be kind. 




Bno. Gar. I. 



T iO 



Thomas Stevens, an English Jesuit. 

The first Englishman known to have 

reached the continent of India by 

the Cape of Good Hope. 

[Hakluvt, Voyages, 1589.] 

A Letter written from Goa, the principal [Portuguese] city 
of all the East Indies, by one Thomas Stevens an 
Englishman ; and sent to his father, Master Thomas 
Stevens. Anno 1579. 

Fter most humble commendations : these shall be 
to crave your daily blessing, with like commenda- 
tions unto my mother ; and withal to certify you 
of my being, according to your will and my duty. 
I wrote unto you, taking my journey from Italy to 
Portugal, which letters I think are come to your hands: so 
that presuming thereupon, I think I have the less need at 
this time to tell you the cause of my departing ; which 
nevertheless in one word I may conclude, if I do but name 
Obedience. 

I came to Lisbon towards the end [i.e. the 26th] of March 
eight days before the departure of the ships, so late that if they 
had not been stayed about some weighty matters, they had 
been long gone before our coming : insomuch that there were 
others ordained to go in our places that the King's provision 
and ours also might not be in vain. Nevertheless our sudden 
coming took place, and the 4th of April five ships departed 
for Goa, wherein, besides shipmen and soldiers, there were a 
great number of children which in the seas bear out better 




io Nov, 



Solemn setting forth of tiif caracks. 131 



than men, and no marvel, when that many women also pass 
[the seas] very well. The setting forth from the port, I need 
not to tell how solemn it is, with trumpets and shooting of 
ordnance. You may easily imagine it, considering that they 
go in the manner of war. 

The tenth of the aforesaid month, we came to the sight 
of Porto Santo, near unto Madeira; where an English ship 
set upon ours (which was then also alone) with a few shots, 
which did no harm ; but after that our ship had laid out her 
greatest ordnance, they straight departed as they came. The 
English ship was very fair and great, which I was sorry to 
see so ill occupied ; for she went roving about, so that we 
saw her again at the Canary Isles : unto the which we came 
the 13th of the said month, and good leisure we had to 
wonder at the high mountain of the island of Teneriffe ; 
for we wandered between that and the Great Canary four 
days by reason of contrary winds. And briefly, such evil 
weather we had until the 14th of May, that they despaired 
to compass the Cape of Good Hope that year. 

Nevertheless taking our voyage between Guinea and the 
islands of Cape Verde, without seeing any land at all, we 
arrived at length unto the coast of Guinea, which the Portu- 
guese so call chiefly that part of the burning zone which is 
from the sixth degree unto the equinoctial ; in which parts 
they suffered so many inconveniences of heat and lack 
of winds, that they think themselves happy when they have 
passed it. For sometimes the ship standeth there almost by 
the space of many days ; sometimes she goeth but in such 
order that it were almost as good to stand still. And the 
greatest part of this coast is not clear but thick and cloudy ; 
full of thunder and lightning, and rain so unwholesome that 
if the water stand a little while, all is full of worms: and falling 
on the meat which is hung up, it maketh it straight full of 
worms. Along all that coast we oftentimes saw a thing 
swimming upon the water like a cock's comb (which they 
call a Ship of Guinea) [a Nautilus] but the colour much fairer ; 
which comb standeth upon a thing almost like the swimmer 
[bladder] of a fish in colour and bigness, and beareth under 
the water, strings ; which saveth it from turning over. This 
thing is so poisonous that a man cannot touch it without 
great peril. In this coast, that is to say, from the 6th degree 

• 



132 The variation of the compass. J s ^ e ^. 

[North] unto the equinoctial, we spent no less than thirty 
days, partly with contrary winds, partly with calm. 

The 30th of May we passed the equinoctial with conten- 
tation, directing our course, as well as we could to pass 
the promontory : but in all that gulf, and in all the way 
besides, we found so often calms that the expertest mariners 
wondered at it. And in places where are always wont to be 
most horrible tempests, we found most quiet calms, which 
were very troublesome to those ships [the caracks] ; which be 
the greatest of all other and cannot go without good winds. 
Insomuch that when it is a tempest almost intolerable for 
other ships, and maketh them main [furl] all their sails; these 
hoist up theirs, and sail excellently well; unless the waters 
be too furious, which seldom happeneth in our navigation. 
You shall understand, that being passed the line, they can- 
not straightway go the next way to the promontory ; but 
according to the wind, they draw always as near south as 
they can put themselves in the latitude of the point, which 
is 35° 30' [South] and then chey take their course towards 
the east, and so compass the point. But the wind served 
us so, that at 30 [South] we did direct our course toward 
the point or promontory of Good Hope. 

You know that it is hard to sail from East to West, 
because there is no fixed point in all the sky, whereby they 
may direct their course: wherefore I shall tell you what 
helps God provided for these men. There is not a fowl that 
appeareth, or sign in the air or in the sea ; which they have 
not written which have made the voyages heretofore. 
Wherefore partly by their own experience, and pondering 
withal what space the ship is able to make with such a wind 
and such a direction, and partly by the experience of others, 
whose books and navigations they have, they guess where- 
abouts they be touching degrees of longitude. For of lati- 
tude they be always sure. But the greatest and best industry 
of all is to mark the variation of the needle or compass 
which in the meridian of the island of Saint Michael, which 
is one of the Azores, in the latitude of Lisbon, is just north, 
and thence swerveth towards the east so much that be- 
twixt the meridian aforesaid and the point of Africa [i.e. 
the Cape <>f Good Hope it carrieth three or four quarters of 
thirty two or m modern language, the magnetic variation at the 



fo Nov. e iw 9 ] T IIE WONDERS OF THE TROPICAL OCEAN. I 33 

Cape was at that time from 30 to 45 East.] And again in 
the point of Africa, a little beyond the Point, that is called 
Cape das Agulias (in English The Needles) it returneth again 
unto the north ; and that place passed, it swerveth again 
toward the west, as it did before proportionably. 

As touching our first signs, the nearer we came to the 
people of Africa, the more strange kinds of fowls [birds] ap- 
peared : insomuch that when we came within no less than 
thirty leagues (almost an hundred miles) and six hundred 
miles as we thought from any island, as good as 3,000 
fowls of sundry kinds followed our ship, some of them so 
great that their wings, being opened from one point to the 
other, contained seven spans, as the mariners said. A mar- 
vellous thing to see how GOD provided so that in so wide a 
sea these fowls are all fat and nothing wanteth them. The 
Portuguese have named them all according to some property 
which they have. Some they call Rush-tails because their 
tails be not proportionable to their bodies, but long and 
small like a rush. Some Forked-tails because they be very 
broad and forked. Some Velvet-sleeves, because they have 
wings of the colour of velvet, and boweth [bendeth] them as 
a man boweth his elbow. This bird is always welcome, for 
he appeareth nearest the Cape. I should never end if I 
should tell all particulars; but it shall suffice briefly to touch 
a few, which yet shall be sufficient, if you mark them, to give 
occasion to glorify GOD in his wonderful works and such 
variety in His creatures. 

And to speak somewhat of fishes in all places of calm, 
especially in the burning zone [i.e. the Tropics] . Near the 
line (for without [the Tropics] we never saw any) there 
waited on our ship fishes as long as a man, which they call 
Tuberones [the aboriginal West Indian name for sharks] . They 
come to eat such things as from the ship fall into the sea, 
not refusing men themselves if they light upon them : and 
if they find any meat tied in the sea, they take it for theirs. 
These have waiting on them six or seven small fishes 
(which never depart) with gards blue and green round about 
their bellies, like comely serving men, and they go two 
or three before him and some on every side. Moreover 
they have other fishes which cleave always unto their body 
and seem to take such superfluities as grow about them, and 



i34 Carack nearly wrecked off the Cape. , .,' Nl ^" 



T. Stevens. 

1579- 



they are said to enter into their bodies also to purge them if 
they need. The mariners in time past have eaten of them, 
but since they have seen them eat men, their stomachs abhor 
them : nevertheless they draw them up with great hooks, 
and kill of them as many as they can, thinking that they 
have made a great revenge. 

There is another kind of fish [the flying-fish] as big 
almost as a herring, which hath wings and ilieth, and they 
are together in great number. These have two enemies : 
the one in the sea, and the other in the air. In the sea, the 
fish which is called the Albacore [the Portuguese for Dolphin] 
as big as a salmon followeth them with great swiftness to 
take them. This poor fish not being able to swim fast, for 
he hath no fins but swimmeth with the moving of his tail, 
shutting his wings, lifteth himself above the water, and 
ilieth not very high. The Albacore seeing that, although he 
have no wings, yet giveth he a great leap out of the water, 
and sometimes catcheth him ; or else he keepeth himself 
under the water, going that way as fast as he flieth. And 
when the fish being weary of the air or thinking himself out 
of danger, returneth into the water, the Albacore meeteth 
with him : but sometimes his other enemy, the Sea Crow 
catcheth him before he falleth. 

With these and like sights, but always making our suppli- 
cations to GOD for good weather and salvation of the ship; 
we came at length unto the Point, so famous and feared of 
all men. But we found there no tempest, only great waves. 
Where our pilot was a little overseen. For whereas com- 
monly all other never come within sight of land, but seeing 
signs ordinary and finding bottom, go their way sure and safe ; 
he thinking himself to have wind at will, shot [steered] so nigh 
the land, that the wind turning to the south and the waves 
being exceeding great rolled us so near the land, that the 
ship stood in less than fourteen fathoms of water, no more 
than six miles from the Cape, which is called Las Agulias ; 
and there we stood as utterly cast away. For under us were 
of main stone so sharp and cutting that no anchor 
could hold the ship, the shore so evil that nothing could take 
land, and the land itself so full of tigers and people that are 
e and killers of all strangers, that we had no hope 
of life or comfort but only in GOD and a good conscience. 



io 1 ^^- TlIE CARACK GOES OUTSIDE MADAGASCAR. 1 35 

Notwithstanding after we had lost anchors, hoisting up the 
sails for to get the ship a coast [to the coast] in some safer 
place or when it should please GOD : it pleased His mercy 
suddenly, where no man looked for help, to fill our sails with 
wind from the land, and so we escaped, thanks be to GOD ! 
And the day following, being in the place where they are 
always wont to catch fish, we also fell a fishing, and so 
many they took, that they served all the ship for that day 
and part of the next. And one of them pulled up a coral of 
great bigness and price. For there they say (as we saw by 
experience) that the coral grows in the manner of stalks 
upon the rocks in the bottom, and waxes hard and red. The 
day of peril was the 29th of July, 1579. 

And you shall understand that the Cape passed ; there be 
two ways to India, one within the Isle of Saint Lawrence 
[Madagascar], which they take willingly, because they refresh 
themselves at Mozambique a fortnight or a month, not with- 
out great need ; and thence in a month more, land at Goa. 
The other is without the Isle of St. Lawrence, which they take 
when they set forth so late and come so late to the Point that 
the)- have no time to take the foresaid Mozambique : and then 
they go heavily [sadly] because in this way they take no port, 
and by reason of the long navigation, and want of food and 
water, they fall into sundry diseases ; their gums wax great 
and swell, and they are fain to cut them away ; their legs 
swell and all the body becometh sore and so benumbed that 
they cannot stir hand nor foot, and so they die for weakness, 
others fall into fluxes [diarrhoea] and agues and die thereby. 

And this way it was our chance to make, yet though we 
had more than one hundred and fifty sick, there died not 
past twenty-seven ; which loss they esteemed not much, in 
respect of other times [i.e. voyages] . Though some of ours 
[i.e. the company of Jesuits of whom Stevsns was one were 
diseased in this sort ; yet thanks be to GOD, I had my health 
all the way, contrary to the expectation of many. GOD send 
me my health so well in the land, if it may be, to His honour 
and service ! 

This way is full of privy rocks and quicksands, so that 
sometimes we durst not sail by night ; but by the providence 
of GOD we saw nothing nor never found bottom until we came 
to the coast of India. When we had passed again the line 



136 Are driven as far north as Socotra. [^0^679. 

and were come again to the third degree [north] or somewhat 
more, we saw crabs swimming on the water as though they 
had been sodden [boiled], but this was no sign of land. After, 
about the eleventh degree, for the space of many days, more 
than ten thousand fishes by estimation followed round about 
our ship ; whereof we caught so many, that for fifteen days 
we did eat nothing else, and they served our turn very well : 
for at this time we had neither meat nor almost any thing 
else to eat, our navigation growing so long that it drew near 
to seven months, whereas commonly they go it in five ; I 
mean when they sail the inner way [through the Mozambique 
Channel]. But these fishes were not sign of land, but rather 
of deep sea. 

At length we took a couple of birds, which were a kind of 
hawks ; whereof they joyed much, thinking that they had been 
of India, but indeed they were of Arabia, as we found after- 
wards. And we that thought we had been near India, were 
in the same latitude near Socotra, an isle in the mouth of 
the Red Sea. But there GOD sent us great winds from the 
north-east or north-north-east, whereupon unwillingly they 
bare up toward the east, and thus we went ten days without 
seeing sign of land, whereby they perceived their error : for 
they had directed their course before, always north-east, 
coveting to multiply [pass over] degrees of latitude ; but partly 
the difference [variation] of the needle, and most of all the 
running seas currents], which at that time ran north-west, 
had drawn us to this new danger, had not GOD sent us this 
wind, which at once waxed larger [veered] and restored us 
to our right course. 

These running seas [currents' be so perilous that they de- 
ceive the most part of the Governors [pilots of the caracks] and 
some be so little curious, contenting themselves with ordinary 
experience that they care not to seek out any means to know 
when they swerve, neither by the compass nor by any other 
trial. 

The first sign of land was certain fowls [birds] which they 
knew to be of India. The second was boughs of palms and 
sedges. The third, snakes swimming on the water, and a 
substance which they call by the name of a coin of money, 
as broad and as round as a groat, wonderfully printed and 
nilied of Nature like unto some coin. And "these two last 



loNovHsraJ Welcomed at Goa, with great charity. 137 

signs be so certain that the next day after, if the wind serve, 
they see land, which we did to our great joy; when all our 
water (for you know they make no beer in those parts) and 
victuals began to fail us. And to Goa we came the 24th of 
October 1570; there being received with surpassing great 
charity. 

The people be tawny, but not disfigured in their lips and 
noses as the Moors and Kaffirs of Ethiopia. They that be 
not of reputation, or at least the most part, go naked, save 
an apron of a span long and as much in breadth before them, 
and a lace two fingers broad before them, girded about with 
a string, and no more : and thus they think themselves as 
well as we with all our trimming. 

Of the fruits and the trees that be here I cannot now 
speak, for I should make another letter as long as this. For 
hitherto I have not seen any tree here, whose like I have 
seen in Europe ; the vine excepted, which nevertheless here 
is to no purpose, so that all the wines are brought out of 
Portugal. The drink of the country is good water, or wine of 
the palm tree or of a fruit called cocoas. 

And this should suffice for this time. If GOD send me my 
health, I shall have opportunity to write to you once again. 
Now the length of my letter compelleth me to take my leave, 
and thus I wish your most prosperous health. 

From Goa, the tenth of November 1579. 

Your loving Son, 

Thomas Stevens. 





133 

The Life of Man 

William Shakespeare. 

[As you like it.] 

acques. All the world's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances, 
And one man in his time plays many parts ; 
His acts being seven ages. At first the Infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
Then the whining School Boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face ; creeping like snail, 
Unwillingly to school. Then the Lover 
Sighing like a furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a Soldier 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the 'paid ; 
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble Reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut ; 
Full of wise saws and modern instances : 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered Pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose (well saved) a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank : and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
I Second Childishness and mere Oblivion : 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 



£<J rS 



139 

described by 

Sir Walter Raleigh. 

[History of the World.] 

N this also is the little World of Man compared 
and made more like the Universal. . . in that the 
four Complexions resemble the four Elements; 
and the seven Ages of man, the seven Planets. 
Whereof our Infancy is compared to the Moon ; 
in which we seem only to live and grow, as plants. 

The second Age, to Mercury ; wherein we are taught and 
instructed. 

Our third Age, to Venus ; the days of Love, Desire and 
Vanity. 

The fourth, to the Sun; the strong, flourishing and beautiful 
Age of man's life. 

The fifth, to Mars ; in which we seek honour and victory, 
and in which our thoughts travel to ambitious ends. 

The sixth Age is ascribed to Jupiter; in which we begin to 
take account of our times, judge of ourselves, and grow to 
the perfection of our understanding. 

The last and seventh, to Saturn ; wherein our days are sad 
and overcast : and in which we find by dear and lamentable 
experience, and by the loss which can never be repaired ; 
that, of all our vain passions and affections past, the sorrow 
only abideth. Our attendants are Sicknesses and Variable 
Infirmities : and by how much the more we are accompanied 
with plenty, by so much the more greedily is our end desired. 
Whom, when Time hath made unsociable to others; we 
become a burden to ourselves : being of no other use than to 
hold the riches we have from our successors. In this time 
it is, when we, for the most part (and never before) prepare 
for our Eternal Habitation ; which we pass on unto with many 
sighs, groans and sad thoughts: and in the end (by the work- 
manship of DEATH) finish the sorrowful business of a wretched 
life. Towards which we always travel, both sleeping and 
waking. Neither have those beloved companions of Honour 
and Riches any power at all to hold us any one day by the 
glorious promise of entertainments : but by what crooked path 
soever we walk; the same leadeth on directly to the House 
of DEATH, whose doors lie open at all hours, and to all persons. 




140 

J. D. Esquire. 
The Secrets of Angli?ig. 

With the exception of J. D.'s verses, who is the laureate of the craft, angling, as practised in 
England, sadly wants a sacred bard. Why does no fisherman hamis ct reti potens, as familiar 
with all the finny tribes as was Glaucus of old after tasting grass, cut himself a reed from the 
margin of his loved trout stream, and pipe a strain worthy of the subject? — Quarterly Rez'icw, 
Oct. 1875, p. 358. 

j]UR attention was drawn to this tract by the charming article 
on the literature and mysteries of Trout and Trout Fishings 
from which we have made the above quotation. The original 
edition of 161 3 is of extraordinary rarity. Only two copies 
are known. One of these is in the Bodleian ; the other in the superb 
collection of Mr. Henry Huth, who kindly lent it for the present 
reproduction. 

In addition to the original impression, we have given at pages 191-19831! 
the additional Note and Comment which WILLIAM LAUSON added to the 
second impression of 1653. 

Isaak Walton quotes from this poetical work in his Conipleat Angler 
first published in 1653, assigning by a marginal note, the authorship to 
J. Da.; but the following entry in the Stationers' Registers definitely 
iixes the name of the Writer, who was apparently a Somersetshire man. 

Master Roger Entred for his copie vnder th[e hjands of 
Master Mason and Warden Hooper A 
booke called The secretes of Angling teaching 
the Choysest tools bates ami seasons for the 
taking of any fish in pond or River practised 
and opened in three bookes by John Dennys 
Esquier vjd. 

As it appears from the Publisher's Epistle at p. 143 that the work 
appeared posthumously, the date of its composition can but approximately 
be fixed as " Before 161 3." 

We think that to not a few Anglers, the poem will prove a very pleasant 
surprise; and we imagine that this is the second printed book in our 
Literature specially devoted to stream fishing with the rod; JULIANA 
BARN] >' treatise of Fysshynge with an angle at the end of the 1496 edition 
of her hook of The manere of hawkynge and huntynge &•»<:., being the first. 

Though the tract lias several times been reprinted; lastly in (8ll: 
we feel sure we arc but expressing the feeling of all Anglers in thanking 
Mr. Ill ill for his generous in making it now perpelualh 

iible to all lovers of the gentle craft. 



THE 



Secrets of Angling: 

TEACHING, 

The choicest Tools, Baits and Seasons, for the 

taking of any Fish in Pond or River: 

practised and familiarly opened 

in three Books. 

By I. D. Esquire. 




Printed at London, for Roger yackson, and are to be sold 
at his shop near Fleet Street conduit, 1 613. 



143 







TO THE WORTHY, AND 

MY MUCH RESPECTED FRIEND, 

Master John Harbor ne of Tackley in the 

County of Oxford, Esquire. 

Wortht S/r, 

His Poem being sent unto me to be printed after the 
death of the author; who intended to have done it in 
his life; but was prevented by death : I could not among 
my good friends, bethink me of any one to whom I might more 
fitly dedicate it— as well for the nature of the subject in which you 
delight, as to express my love— than to yourself. 

I find it not only savouring of Art and Honesty, two things now 
strangers unto many authors, but alsoMth pleasant and profitable; 
and being loth to sec a thing of such value lie hidden in obscurity, 
whilst matters of no moment pester the stalls of every stationer, I 
therefore make bold to publish it for the benefit and delight of all, 
trusting that I shall neither thereby disparage the author, nor 
dislike them. 

I need not, I think, apologize for cither the use of the subject 
or for that it is reduced into the nature of a poem : for as touch- 
ing the last, in that it is in verse, some count it by so much the 



144 The Epistle. k - J:ic ^; 

more delightful; and I hold it every way as Jit a subject for poetry 
as Husbandry. And touching the first, if Hunting and Hawking 
have been thought worthy delights and arts to be instructed in, I 
make not doubt but that this art of Angling is much more worthy 
practice and approbation : for it is a sport every way as pleasant, 
less chargeable, more profitable, and nothing so much subject to 
choler or impatience as those are. You shall find it more 
briefly, pleasantly, and more exactly performed than any of this 
kind heretofore. Therefore I refer you. to the perusing thereof; 
and myself to your good opinion, which I tender as that I hold 
most dear. 

Ever remaining at 

Your gentle command, 

R. I. [i.e., Roger Jackson.] 



Qg££>_ 




H5 




In due praise of this praiseworthy 
Skill and Work. 






N skills that all do seek, but few do find 
Both gain and game; (like Sun and Moon, do shine) 
Then th'Art of Fishing thus is of that kind; 
The Angler taketh both with hook and line, 

And as with lines, both these he takes ; this takes, 

With many a line well made, both ears and hearts; 

And by this skill, the skilless skilful makes : 

The corps whereof dissected so he parts ; 

Upon an humble subject never lay 

More proud, yet plainer lines, the plain to lead, 

This plainer Art with pleasure to survey, 

To purchase it with profit by that deed : 

Who think this skill's too low, then for the high 
This Angler read and they'll be ta'en thereby. 

Io[hn] Davies. 




Eng. Gar. I 



146 



THE CONTENTS. 



The First Book convaineth these three heads, 




HE antiquity of Angling, with the Art of Fishing, 
and of Fish in general. 

2 The lawfulness, pleasure and profit thereof; with 

all objections against it answered. 

3 To know the season and times how to provide the 

tools, and how to choose the best, and the manner 
how to make them fit to take each several fish. 



The Second Book containeth 



j^\ r 



HE Angler's experience, how to use his tools and baits, 
to make profit by his game. 

2 What fish are not taken with angle, and what 

are ; and which are best for health. 

3 In what waters and rivers to find each fish. 



The Third Book containeth 




BE twelve virtues and qualities which ought to be in 
every Angler. 

2 What weather, seasons and times of tlic year are 

best and worst ; and what hours of the day are 
best for sport. 

3 Toknow each fish's haunt, and the times to take them. 



Also, an obscure secret of an approved bail lending thereunto. 



147 



THE 



SECRETS 

of Angling. 



The First Book. 




F Angling and the Art thereof I sing, 
What kind of tools it doth behove to have; 
And with what pleasing bait a man may 

bring 
The fish to bite within the wat'ry wave. 
A work of thanks to such as in a thing 
Of harmless pleasure, have regard to save 
Their dearest souls from sin; and may 

intend 
Of precious time, some part thereon to 
spend. 

10* 



[48 Tin: First Book [ J t^ 



You Nymphs that in the springs and waters sweet, 
Your dwelling have, of every hill and dale; 
And oft amidst the meadows green do meet 
To sport and play, and hear the nightingale; 
And in the rivers fresh, do wash your feet, 
While Progne's sister tells her woeful tale : 
Such aid and power unto my verses lend 
As may suffice this little work to end. 

And thou sweet Boyd * that with thy wat'ry sway 
Dost wash the cliffs of Deington and of Week; 
And through their rocks with crooked winding way 
Thy mother Avon runnest soft to seek; 
In whose fair streams the speckled trout doth play, 
The roach, the dace, the gudgeon and the bleek : 
Teach me the skill with slender line and hook 
To take each fish of river, pond and brook. 

* The name trf a brook. 



The Time for providing Angle Rods. 

Irst, when the sun beginneth to decline 
Southward his course, with his fair chariot bright ; 
And passed hath of heaven the middle line 
That makes of equal length both day and night ; 
And left behind his back the dreadful sign 
Of cruel Centaur, slain in drunken fight; [song, 
When beasts do mourn and birds forsake their 
And every creature thinks the night too long. 

And blust'ring Boreas with his chilling cold, 
Unclothed hath the trees of summer's green ; 
And woods and groves are naked to behold, 
Of leaves and branches now despoiled clean ; 




J Before""^!" J of the S e c r e t s of Angling, i 49 

So that their fruitful stocks they do unfold, 
And lay abroad their offspring to be seen : 

Where Nature shows her great increase of kind 
To such as seek their tender shoots to find. 



Then go into some great Arcadian wood 
Where store of ancient hazels do abound ; 
And seek amongst their springs and tender brood 
Such shoots as are the straightest, long and round : 
And of them all (store up what you think good) 
But fairest choose, the smoothest and most sound ; 
So that they do not two years' growth exceed, 
In shape and beauty like the Belgick reed. 



These prune and cleanse of every leaf and spray, 
Yet leave the tender top remaining still ; [i.p.192] 

Then home with thee go bear them safe away, 
But perish not the rine and utter pill ; [*] [•Mndand 
And on some even boarded floor them lay, «*»■/"£] 
Where they may dry and season at their fill ; [ z - p- ^-i 
And place upon their crooked parts some weight 
To press them down, and keep them plain and straight. 

So shalt thou have always in store the best 

And fittest rods to serve thy turn aright : 

For not the brittle cane, nor all the rest, 

I like so well, though it be long and light ; 

Since that the fish are frighted with the least 

Aspect of any glittering thing, or white ; [3. p. 19^] 

Nor doth it by one half so well incline 

As doth the pliant rod, to save the line. u-p-i^-] 



i5o 



The First Book 



Tjohn Dennys. 
L Before 1613. 



EjfV ~jl 


M 



To make the Line. 

Hen get good hair, so that it be not black, 
Neither of mare nor gelding let it be; 
Nor of the tireling jade that bears the pack ; 
But of some lusty horse or courser free, 
Whose bushy tail upon the ground doth track 
Like blazing comet that sometimes we see : 
From out the midst thereof the longest take 
At leisure best your links and lines to make. 



Then twist them finely as you think most meet, 
By skill or practice easy to be found ; 
As doth Arachne with her slender feet, fs-p- 192] 

Draw forth her little thread along the ground : 
But not too hard or slack, the mean is sweet ; 
Lest slack, they snarl; or hard, they prove unsound: 
And intermix with silver, silk or gold, i 6 -p- *9*J 

The tender hairs, the better so to hold. 



Then end to end, as falleth to their lot, 
Let all your links, in order as they lie, 
Be knit together with that fisher's knot 
That will not slip nor with the wet untie; 
And at the lowest end forget it not 
To leave a bout or compass like an eye, li-v> 

The link that holds your hook to hang upon, 
When you think good to take it off and on. 



192.] 



Which link must neither be so great nor strong, 
Nor like of colour as the others were ; is. p. 192.1 

Scant half so big, so that it be as long, 
Of greyest hue and of the soundest hair; 



J fc « e ™i3.] 0F THE Secrets of Angling 



151 



(Kf ]J 


m 



~^est whiles it hangs the liquid waves among 
The sight thereof, the wary fish should fear : 

And at one end a loop or compass fine, 

To fasten to the other of your line. 

Cork. 

Hen take good cork, so much as shall suffice, 
For every line to make his swimmer fit ; te-p- 192-1 
And where the midst and thickest parts doth rise, 
There burn a round small hole quite through it ; 
And put therein a quill of equal size, 
But take good heed the cork you do not slit; 
Then round or square with razor pare it near 
Pyramidwise, or like a slender pear. 

The smaller end doth serve to sink more light 
Into the water with the plummet's sway; 
The greater swims aloft and stands upright, 
To keep the line and bait at even stay ; 
That when the fish begin to nib and bite, 
The moving of the float doth them bewray : 
These may you place upon your lines at will, 
And stop them with a white and handsome quill. 




Hooks. 

Hen buy your hooks the finest and the best 
That may be had of such as use to sell, [io.p.199.1 

And from the greatest to the very least 
Of every sort pick out and choose them well ; 
Such as in shape and making pass the rest, 
And do for strength and soundness most excel : 
Then in a little box of driest wood 
From rust and canker keep them fair and good. 



152 The First Book [ J ftSS5 

That hook I love that is in compass round, 
Like to the print that Pegasus did make [n.p.193] 

With horned hoof upon Thessalian ground ; 
From whence forthwith Parnassus' spring outbroke, 
That doth in pleasant waters so abound, 
And of the Muses oft the thirst doth slake; 
Who on his fruitful banks do sit and sing, 
That all the world of their sweet tunes doth ring. 

Or as Thaumantis, when she list to shroud 
Herself against the parching sunny ray, 
Under the mantle of some stormy cloud 
Where she her sundry colours doth display; 
Like Juno's bird : of her fair garments proud, 
That Phcebus gave her on her marriage day, 
Shows forth her goodly circle far and wide 
To mortal wights that wonder at her pride. 



His shank should neither be too short nor long; [12. p. 193] 

His point not over sharp nor yet too dull ; 

The substance good that may endure from wrong : 

His needle slender, yet both round and full, 

Made of the right Iberian metal strong 

That will not stretch nor break at every pull ; 

Wrought smooth and clean without one crack or knot, 

And bearded like the wild Arabian goat. 

Then let your hook be sure and strongly plaste 

Unto your lowest link, with silk or hair; 

Which you may do with often overcast 

So that you draw the bouts together near : 

And with both ends make all the other fast, 

That no bare place or rising knot appear ; 
Then on that link hang leads of even weight, 
To raise your tloat and carry clown your bait. 



John Dennys. ~| „ _ c 

Before ,6, 3 . J OF TH E b ECRETS OF A NGLING . I 53 

Thus have your rod, line, float and hook ; 

The rod to strike, when you shall think it fit ; 

The line to lead the fish with wary skill ; 

The float and quill to warn you of the bit ; 

The hook to hold him by the chap or gill : 

Hook, line and rod all guided to your wit. 
Yet there remain of fishing tools to tell 
Some other sorts that you must have as well. 



Other Fishing Tools. 

Little board, the lightest you can find, b 3 . p- 193 i 
But not so thin that it will break or bend ; 
Of cypress sweet or of some other kind, 
That like a trencher shall itself extend ; 
Made smooth and plain, your lines thereon to wind, 
With battlements at every other end ; 
Like to the bulwark of some ancient town 
As well-walled Silchester, now razed down. 

A shoe to bear the crawling worms therein, 
With hole above to hang it by your side. U+ P . .93.] 

A hollow cane that must be light and thin, 
Wherein the " Bobb " and " Palmer " shall abide ; 
Which must be stopped with an handsome pin 
Lest out again your baits do hap to slide. 

A little box that covered close shall lie, 

To keep therein the busy winged fly. 




Then must you have a plummet formed round 
Like to the pellet of a birding bow; 
Wherewith you may the secret'st waters sound, 
And set your float thereafter high or low 



[iS- P- I93-' 



i 5 4 The First Book PS&5 

Till you the depth thereof have truly found ; 
And on the same a twisted thread bestow 

At your own will, to hang it on your hook, 

And so to let it down into the brook. 



Of lead likewise, yet must you have a ring, 

Whose whole diameter in length contains de.p. 193] 

Three inches full, and fastened to a string 

That must be long and sure, if need constrains ; 

Through whose round hole you shall your Angle bring, 

And let it fall into the wat'ry plain 

Until he come the weeds and sticks unto ; 

From whence your hook it serveth to undo. 



Have tools good store to serve your turn withal, 
Lest that you happen some to lose or break ; 
As in great waters oft it doth befall 
When that the hook is naught or line too weak : 
And waxed thread, or silk, so it be small, 
To set them on, that if you list to wreak 

Your former loss, you may supply the place ; 

And not return with sorrow and disgrace. 



Have twist likewise, so that it be not white, t^P-w-l 

Your rod to mend, or broken top to tie ; 

For all white colours do the fishes fright 

And make them from the bait away to fly : 

A file to mend your hooks, both small and light ; 

A good sharp knife, your girdle hanging by ; 

A pouch with many parts and purses thin, 

To carry all your tools and trinkets in. 



J lKfaS8H 0F THE Secrets of Angling. 155 

Yet must you have a little rip beside 
Of willow twigs, the finest you can wish ; 
Which shall be made so handsome and so wide 
As may contain good store of sundry fish ; 
And yet with ease be hanged by your side, 
To bring them home the better to your dish. 
A little net that on a pole shall stand, 
The mighty pike or heavy carp to land. 



His several Tools and zuhat Garment is fittest. 

Nd let your garments russet be or gray 
Of colour dark and hardest to descry, 
That with the rain or weather will away 
And least offend the fearful fish's eye: 
For neither scarlet nor rich cloth of 'ray 
Nor colours dipt in fresh Assyrian dye, 
Nor tender silks of purple, paul or gold 
Will serve so well to keep off wet or cold. 




In this array the Angler good shall go 
Unto the brook to find his wished game ; 
Like old Menalcus wandring to and fro 
Until he chance to light upon the same ; 
And here his art and cunning shall bestow 
For every fish his bait so well to frame. 
That long ere Phcebus set in western foam 
He shall return well laden to his home. 




Objection. 

Ome youthful gallant here perhaps will say 
" This is no pastime for a gentleman. 
It were more fit at cards and dice to play, 
To use both fence and dancing now and then, 



i 5 6 The First Book PfflSB 

Or walk the streets in nice and strange array, 
Or with coy phrases court his mistress' fan ; 
A poor delight with toil and painful watch 
With loss of time a sillv fish to catch ! " 



" What pleasure can it be to walk about 
The fields and meads in heat or pinching cold ; 
And stand all day to catch a silly trout 
That is not worth a tester to be sold ? 
And peradventure sometimes go without, 
Besides the toils and troubles manifold ? 
And to be washt with many a shower of rain 
Before he can return from thence again ? " 

" More ease it were, and more delight I trow 
In some sweet house to pass the time away 
Among the best, with brave and gallant show ; 
And with fair dames to dance, to sport and play ; 
And on the board, the nimble dice to throw 
That brings in gain, and helps the shot to pay; 
And with good wine and store of dainty fare 
To feed at will and take but little care." 



The Answer. 

Mean not here men's errors to reprove, 
Nor do envy their seeming happy state; 
But rather marvel why they do not love 
An honest sport that is without debate; 
Since their abused pastimes often move 
Their minds to anger and to mortal hate; 
And as in bad delights their time they spend, 
So oft it brings them to no better end. 




'wbKffi 0F THE Secrets of Angling. 157 

Indeed it is a life of lesser pain 
To sit at play from noon till it be night; 
And then from night till it be noon again; 
With damned oaths, pronounced in despite, 
For little cause and every trifling vein : 
To curse, to brawl, to quarrel and to fight ; 

To pack the cards, and with some coz'ning trick, 
His fellow's purse of all his coin to pick. 

Or to beguile another of his wife, 

As did iEGisTus, Agamemnon serve ; 

Or as that Roman * monarch led a life ; *nero. 

To spoil and spend while others pine and starve ; 

And to compel their friends with foolish strife, 

To take more drink than will their health preserve ; 
And to conclude, for debt or just desert 
In baser tune to sing the " Counter" part. 

O let me rather on the pleasant brink 
Of Tyne and Trent possess some dwelling-place ; 
Where I may see my quill and cork down sink 
With eager bite of barbel, bleek or dace : 
And on the world and his Creator think, 
While they, proud Thais' painted sheet embrace ; 
And with the fume of strong tobacco's smoke, 
All quaffing round, are ready for to choke. 

Let them that list these pastimes then pursue 
And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill ; 
So I the fields and meadows green may view, 
And by the rivers fresh may walk at will 
Among the daisies and the violets blue, 
Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil, 

Purple narcissus like the morning rays, 
Pale ganderglass and azure culverkeys. 



158 The First Book PbSSTSS 

I count it better pleasure to behold 
The goodly compass of the lofty sky ; 
And in the midst thereof like burning gold, 
The flaming chariot of the world's great Eye; 
The wat'ry clouds that in the air uprolled 
With sundry kinds of painted colours fly ; 
And fair Aurora lifting up her head, 
All blushing rise from old Tithonus' bed. 



The hills and mountains raised from the plains, 
The plains extended level with the ground, 
The ground divided into sundry veins, 
The veins inclosed with running rivers round, 
The rivers making way through Nature's chain, 
With headlong course into the sea profound, 
The surging sea beneath the valleys low, 
The valleys sweet, and lakes that lovely flow. 

The lofty woods, the forests wide and long, 
Adorned with leaves and branches fresh and green ; 
In whose cool bowers the birds with chanting song 
Do welcome with their quire, the Summer's Queen : 
The meadows fair where Flora's gifts among, 
Are intermixt the verdant grass between ; 
The silver-scaled fish that softly swim 
Within the brooks and crystal wat'ry brim. 

All these and many more of His creation 
That made the heavens, the Angler oft doth see ; 
And takes therein no little delectation 
To think how strange and wonderful they be ; 
Framing thereof an inward contemplation 
To set his thoughts from other fancies free. 
And whiles he looks on these with joyful eye, 
His mind is rapt above the starry sky. 



John Dennys. 
llefore 1613. 



of the Secrets of Angling. 159 




The Author of Angling. 

Ut how this Art of Angling did begin ? 
\nd who the use and practice found ? 
How many times and ages since have bin 
Wherein the sun hath daily compast round 
The circle that the signs twice six are in 
And yielded yearly comfort to the ground ? 
It were too hard for me to bring about ; 
Since Ovid wrote not all that story out. 



Yet to content the willing reader's ear, 

I will not spare the sad report to tell. 

When good Deucalion and his Pyrrha dear 

Were only left upon the earth to dwell, 

Of all the rest that overwhelmed were 

With that great flood, that in their days befell ; 
Wherein the compass of the world so round 
Both man and beast with waters deep were drowned. 



Between themselves they wept, and made great moan 
How to repair again the woeful fall 
Of all mankind, whereof they two alone 
The remnant were ; and wretched portion small : 
But any means or hope in them was none, 
That might restore so great a loss withal; 
Since they were aged, and in years so run, 
That now almost their thread of life was spun. 



160 The First Book PfflSS 

Until at last they saw where as there stood 
An ancient temple wasted and forlorn, 
Whose holy fires and sundry offerings good 
The late outrageous waves away had borne ; 
But when at length down fallen was the flood, 
The waters low, it proudly 'gan to scorn : 
Unto that place they thought it best to go, 
The counsel of the goddess there to know. 



For long before that fearful deluge great, 

The universal earth had overflown ; 

A heavenly power there placed had her seat, 

And answers gave of hidden things unknown. 

Thither they went her favour to entreat 

Whose fame throughout that coast abroad was blown ; 
By her advice some way or mean to find, 
How to renew the race of human kind. 

Prostrate they fell upon the sacred ground^ 
Kissing the stones and shedding many a tear; 
And lowly bent their aged bodies down 
Unto the earth, with sad and heavy cheer; 
Praying the saint with soft and doleful sound, 
That she vouchsafe their humble suit to hear. 
The goddess heard : and bade them go and take 
Their mother's bones, and throw behind their back. 

This oracle obscure and dark of sense, 
Amazed much their minds with fear and doubt, 
What kind of meaning might be drawn from thence ; 
And how to understand and find it out. 
How with so great a sin they might dispense 
Their parent's bones to cast and throw about ? 
Thus when they had long time in study spent 
Out of the church with careful thought t'ney went. 



J BdbS5] of the Secrets of Angling. 161 

And now beholding better every place, 

Each hill and dale, each river, rock and tree; 

And musing thereupon a little space, 

They thought the Earth their mother well might be ; 

And that the stones that lay before their face 

To be her bones did nothing disagree : 

Wherefore to prove if it were false or true, 

The scattered stones behind their backs they threw. 

Forthwith the stones (a wondrous thing to hear) 
Began to move as they had life conceived; 
And waxed greater than at first they were, 
And more and more the shape of man received ; 
Till every part most plainly did appear 
That neither eye nor sense could be deceived : 

They heard, they spake, they went and walked too 

As other living men are wont to do. 

Thus was the earth replenished anew 

With people strange, sprung up with little pain ; 

Of whose increase, the progeny that grew 

Did soon supply the empty world again : 

But now a greater care there did ensue 

How such a mighty number to maintain ; 
Since food there was not any to be found, 
For that great flood had all destroyed and drowned. 

Then did Deucalion first the Art invent 
Of Angling, and his people taught the same ; 
And to the woods and groves with them he went 
Fit tools to find for this most needful game. 
There from the trees the longest rinds they rent, 
Wherewith strong lines they roughly twist and frame, 
And of each crook of hardest bush and brake, 
They made them hooks the hungry fish to take. 

Eng. Car. [. II 



1 62 The First Book [ J fco«X 3 s 

And to entice them to the eager bit, 
Dead frogs and flies of sundry sorts he took ; 
And snails and worms such as he found most fit 
Wherein to hide the close and deadly hook ; 
And thus with practice and inventive wit, 
He found the means in every lake and brook 
Such store of fish to take with little pain 
As did long time this people new, sustain. 

In this rude sort began this simple Art 
And so remained in that first age of old 
When Saturn did Amalthea's horn impart 
Unto the world, that then was all of gold : 
The fish as yet had felt but little smart 
And were to bite more eager, apt and bold ; 
And plenty still supplied the place again 
Of woeful want, whereof we now complain. 

But when in time the fear and dread of man 
Fell more and more on every living thing, 
And all the creatures of the world began 
To stand in awe of this usurping king ; 
Whose tyranny so far extended then 
That earth and seas it did in thraldom bring : 
It was a work of greater pain and skill, 
The wary fish in lake or brook to kill. 

So worse and worse two ages more did pass, 
Yet still this Art more perfect daily grew : 
For then the slender rod invented was, 
Of finer sort than former ages knew : 
And hooks were made of silver and of brass, 
And lines of hemp and flax were framed new ; 
And sundry baits experience found out more 
Than elder times did know or try before. 



j b2£S85"J of tiie Secrets of Angling. 16 

But at the last the Iron Age drew near, 
Of all the rest the hardest and most scant : 
Then lines were made of silk and subtle hair ; 
And rods of lightest cane and hazel plant ; 
And hooks of hardest steel invented were, 
That neither skill nor workmanship did want ; 
And so this Art did in the end attain 
Unto that state where now it doth remain. 



But here my weary Muse awhile must rest 
That is not used to so long a way ; 
And breathe or pause a little at the least 
At this land's end, until another day : 
And then again, if so she think it best 
Our taken-task afresh we will assay ; 
And forward go as first we did intend 
Till that we come unto our journey's end. 



The end of the First Book, 



j 




IT 



164 



["John Dennv*. 
^ Before 1 13 



mtmi^m^w^w^ww^wmi^mmm}^ 



The Second Book. 




Efore, I taught what kind of tools were fit 
For him to have, that would an Angler be ; 
And how he should with practice and with 

wit 
Provide himself thereof in best degree : 
Now doth remain to show how to the bit 
The fishes may be brought, that erst were 
free ; 
And with what pleasing baits enticed 

they are, 
To swallow down the hidden hook 
un'ware. 




Baits. 

T were not meet to send a huntsman out 
Into the woods with net, with gin or hay ; 
To trace the brakes and bushes all about 
The stag, the fox or badger to betray ; 
If having found his game, he stand in doubt 
Which way to pitch, or where his snares to lay 
And with what train he may entice withal, 
The fearful beast into his trap to fall. 



John Dennys 
Hefore 



1613.J l he Second Book. 



16' 



So though the Angler have good store of tools, 
And them with skill in finest sort can frame • 

if?w i n I 16 comes t0 rivers ' Iakes and p°°^, 

a J 1 W not how t0 use the same 

And with what baits to make the fishes fools- 
He may go home as wise as out he came, 
And of his coming boast himself as well 
As he that from his father's chariot fell. 

Not that I take upon me to impart 
More than by others hath before been told, 
Or that the hidden secrets of this Art 
I would unto the vulgar sort unfold • 
Who peradventure for my pains' desert 
Would count me worthy Balaam's horse to hold • 
But only to the willing learner show 
So much thereof as may suffice to know. 

But here, O Neptune ! that with triple mace 

Dost rule the raging of the ocean wide ; 

I meddle not with thy deformed race 

Of monsters huge, that in those waves abide • 

With that feat whale, that by three whole days' space 

1 he man of GOD did in his belly hide, 

And cast him out upon the Euxine shore 

As safe and sound as he had been before. 

Nor with that Ork, that on Cephas strand 

Would have devoured Andromeda the fair- 

Whom Perseus slew with strong and valiant hand, 

Delivering her from danger and despair- 

The Hurlepool [? whir1j>ooT\ huge that higher than the land 

Whole streams of water spouteth in the air • 

The porpoise large that playing swims on'high 

Portending storms or other tempest nigh. 



1 66 The Second Book PIKfaSS 

Nor that admirer of sweet music's sound 
That on his back Arion bore away 
And brought to shore out of the seas profound ; 
The hippotame that like an horse doth neigh, 
The morse that from the rocks enrolled round 
Within his teeth himself doth safe convey ; 
The tortoise covered with his target hard, 
The tuberon attended with his guard. 

Nor with that fish that beareth in his snout 
A ragged sword, his foes to spoil and kill ; 
Nor that fierce thrasher that doth fling about 
His nimble flail and handles him at will ; 
The ravenous shark that with the sweepings out 
And filth of ships doth oft his belly fill ; 
The albacore that followeth night and day 
The flying fish, and takes them for his prey. 

The crocodile that weeps when he doth wrong, 
The halibut that hurts the appetite, 
The turbot broad, the seal, the sturgeon strong, 
The cod and cozze that greedy are to bite, 
The hake, the haddock, and conger long, 
The yellow ling, the milwell fair and white, 
The spreading ray, the thornback thin and flat, 
The boisterous base, the hoggish tunny fat. 

These kinds of fish that are so large of size, 
And many more that here I leave untold, 
Shall go for me, and all the rest likewise 
That are the flock of Proteus' wat'ry fold ; 
For well I think my hooks would not suffice, 
Nor slender lines, the least of these to hold. 
I leave them therefore to the surging seas: 
In that huge depth, to wander at their ease. 



^i^'foVe'iei]:] of the Sec r e t s of Angling. 167 

And speak of such as in the fresh are found, 
The little roach, the menise biting fast, 
The slimy tench, the slender smelt and round, 
The umber sweet, the grayling good of taste, 
The wholesome ruff, the barbel not so sound, 
The perch and pike that all the rest do waste, 
The bream, the carp, the chub and chavender, 
And many more that in fresh waters are. 

Sit then Thalia on some pleasant bank, 
Among so many as fair Avon hath ! 
And mark the anglers how they march in rank, 
Some out of Bristol, some from healthful Bath ; 
How all the river's sides along they flank, 
And through the meadows make their wonted path : 
See how their wit and cunning they apply 
To catch the fish that in the waters lie ! 

For the Gudgeon. [i8. P . i 94 i 

in a little boat where one doth stand, 
That to a willow bough the while is tied ; 
And with a pole doth stir and raise the sand, 
Where as the gentle stream doth softly slide : 
And then with slender line and rod in hand, 
The eager bite not long he doth abide. 

Well leaded in his line, his hook but small, 
A good big cork to bear the stream withal. 

His bait the least red worm that may be found, 

And at the bottom it doth always lie ; 

Whereat the greedy gudgeon bites so sound 

That hook and all he swalloweth by and by. 

See how he strikes, and pulls them up as round 

As if new store the play did still supply ! 

And when the bite doth die or bad doth prove, 
Then to another place he doth remove. 



SB/-" • 



J 

S ! 



1 68 The Second Book PtSSS 

This fish the fittest for a learner is 
That in this Art delights to take some pain ; 
For as high-flying hawks that often miss 
The swifter fowls, are eased with a train ; 
So to a young beginner yieldeth this, 
Such ready sport as makes him prove again ; 
And leads him on with hope and glad desire, 
To greater skill and cunning to aspire. 



For the Roach. 

Hen see on yonder side where one doth sit, 
With line well twisted and his hook but small ; 
His cork not big, his plummets round and fit, 
His paste of finest paste, a little ball ; to- p- »94-l 

Wherewith he doth entice unto the bit 
The careless roach, that soon is caught withal : 
Within a foot the same doth reach the ground, 
And with least touch the float straight sinketh down. 

And as a skilful fowler that doth use 
The flying birds of any kind to take, 
The fittest and the best doth always choose 
Of many sorts a pleasing stale to make ; 
Which if he doth perceive they do refuse 
And of mislike abandon and forsake, 

To win their love again, and get their grace, 

Forthwith doth put another in the place. 

So for the roach more baits he hath beside ; 
As of a sheep, the thick congealed blood, 
Which oil a board he useth to divide 
In portions small to make them lit and good, 



Jo Be n fo?e e "6o.'] of the Secrets of Angling. 169 

That better on his hook they may abide ; 
And of the wasp the white and tender brood ; 

And worms that breed on every herb and tree ; 

And sundry flies that quick and lively be. 



For the Dace. 

Hen look where as that poplar gray doth grow, 
Hard by the same where one doth closely stand 
And with the wind his hook and bait doth throw 
Amid the stream with slender hazel wand, 
Where as he sees the dace themselves do show. 
His eye is quick and ready is his hand 

And when the fish doth rise to catch the bait, 
He presently doth strike, and takes her straight. 



H.jj 



O world's deceit ! how are we thralled by thee. 
Thou dost thy gall in sweetest pleasures hide ! 
When most we think in happiest state to be, 
Then do we soonest into danger slide. 
Behold the fish, that even now was free, 
Unto the deadly hook how he is tied ! 
So vain delights allure us to the snare, 
Wherein un'wares we fast entangled are. 



For the Carp. 

Ut now again see where another stands 
And strains his rod that double seems to bend ! 
Lo how he leads and guides him with his hands 
Lest that his line should break or angle rend ; 
Then with a net, see how at last he lands 
A mighty carp, and has him in the end ! 
So large he is of body, scale and bone 
That rod and all had like to have been gone. 




i;o The Second Book PSCSt 

Mark what a line he hath, well made and strong, 
Of Bucephal or Bayard's strongest hair 
Twisted with green or watchet silk among 
Like hardest twine that holds th'entangled deer ; 
Not any force of fish will do it wrong 
In Tyne or Trent or Thames he needs not fear : 
The knots of every link are knit so sure 
That many a pluck and pull they may endure. 



His cork is large, made handsome smooth and fine, 
The leads according, close, and fit thereto ; 
A good round hook set on with silken twine 
That will not slip nor easily undo : 
His bait great worms that long in moss have been, 
Which by his side he beareth in a shoe ; 
Or paste wherewith he feeds him oft before, 
That at the bottom lies a foot or more. 



For the Chub and Trout. 

IEe where another hides himself as sly 
As did Action or the fearful deer, 
Behind a withy, and with watchful eye 
Attends the bite within the water clear, 
And on the top thereof doth move his fly 
With skilful hand, as if he living were, [ 2 o. P . 194] 

Lo how the chub, the roach, the dace and trout, 
To catch thereat do gaze and swim about. 



1 1 is rod or cane, made dark for being seen 
The less to fear the wary fish withal ; 
The line well twisted is, and wrought so clean 
That being strong yet doth it show but small; 




Jo Before en i6r] o F T H E Secrets of Angling. 171 



His hook not great, nor little, but between, 
That light upon the wat'ry brim may fall ; 
The line in length scant half the rod exceeds, 
And neither cork nor lead it needs. 



[21. p. I94 ] 




For the Trout and Eel. 

Ow see some standing where the stream doth fall 
With headlong course behind the sturdy weir, 
That overthwart the river like a wall, [22. P . 195] 

The water stops, and strongly up doth bear ; 
And at the tails of mills and arches small, 
Where as the shoot is swift and not too clear ; 
Their lines in length not twice above an ell, 
But with good store of lead, and twisted well. 

Round handsome hooks that will not break nor bend, 

The big red worm well scoured is their bait, 

Which down unto the bottom doth descend, 

Where as the trout and eel doth lie in wait, 

And to their feeding busily intend ; 

Which when they see, they snatch and swallow straight. 

Upon their lines are neither cork nor quill ; 

But when they feel them pluck, then strike they still. 



For the Sezvant and Flounder. 

Ehold some others ranged all along, 
To take the sewant, yea, the flounder sweet ; 
That to the bank in deepest places throng 
To shun the swifter stream that runs so fleet ; 
And lie and feed the brackish waves among, 
Where as the waters fresh and salt do meet. 

And there the eel and shad sometimes are caught, 
That with the tide into the brooks are brought. 




172 The Second Book [ j b3£T35 



But by the way it shall not be amiss 
To understand that in the waters gray, 
Of floating fish, two sundry kinds there is; 
The one that lives by raven and by prey, 
And of the weaker sort, now that, now this, 
He bites and spoils, and kills and bears away, 

And in his greedy gullet doth devour ; 

As Scylla's gulf a ship within his power. 

And these have wider mouths to catch and take 
Their flying prey, whom swiftly they pursue; 
And rows of teeth like to a saw or rake 
Wherewith their gotten game they bite and chew; 
And greater speed within the waters make 
To set upon the other simple crew; 

And as the greyhound steals upon the hare, 
So do they use to rush on them un'ware. 

Unequal fate ! that some are born to be 
Fearful and mild, and for the rest a prey ; 
And others are ordained to live more free 
Without control or danger any way: 
So doth the fox, the lamb destroy we see ; 
The lion fierce, the beaver roe or grey ; 

The hawk, the fowl ; the greater wrong the less ; 

The lofty proud the lowly poor oppress. 



For the Pike or Perch. 

Ow for to take these kinds of fish withal, [ 23 . P . i 9 6] 
It shall be needful to have still in store 
Some living baits, as bleeks and roaches small, 
Gudgeon, or loach, not taken long before, 




^Before*™!*] ° F T H E SECRETS OF ANGLING. I /3 

Or yellow frogs that in the waters crawl; 

But all alive they must be evermore, 

For as for baits that dead and dull do lie, 
They least esteem, and set but little by. 



But take good heed your line be sure and strong. 
The knots well knit and of the soundest hair, 
Twisted with some well-coloured silk among ; 
And that you have no need your rod to fear : 
For these great fish will strive and struggle long, 
Rod line and all, into the stream to bear. 

And that your hook be not too small and weak, 
Lest that it chance to stretch or hap to break. 



And as in Arden, or the mountains hoar 
Of Appennine, or craggy Alps among; 
The mastiffs fierce that hunt the bristled boar, 
Are harnessed with curats light and strong; 
So for these fish, your line a foot or more 
Must armed be with thinnest plate along ; 
Or slender wire well fasten'd thereunto, 
That will not slip nor easily undo. 



The other kind that are unlike to these, 

Do live by corn or any other seed ; 

Sometimes by crumbs of bread, of paste or cheese ; 

Or grasshoppers that in green meadows breed ; 

With brood of wasps, of hornets, doars, or bees, 

Lip berries from the briar bush or weed, 

Blood worms and snails, or crawling gentles small, 
And buzzing flies that on the waters fall. 



174 The Second Book PftbSSj: 

All these are good, and many others more, 
To make fit baits to take these kinds of fish ; 
So that some fair deep place you feed before 
A day or two, with pail, with bowl, or dish ; 
And of these meats do use to throw in store : 
Then shall you have them bite as you would wish ; 

And ready sport to take your pleasure still, 

Of any sort that best you like to kill. 

Thus serving them as often as you may, 
But once a week at least it must be done ; 
If that to bite they make too long delay 
As by your sport may be perceived soon : 
Then some great fish doth fear the rest away, 
Whose fellowship and company they shun ; 
Who neither in the bait doth take delight, 
Nor yet will suffer them that would to bite. 

For this you must a remedy provide ; 

Some roach or bleek, as I have showed before ; 

Beneath whose upper fin you close shall hide 

Of all your hook the better half and more ; 

And though the point appear or may be spied 

It makes not matter any whit therefore ; 
But let him fall into the wat'ry brim, 
And down unto the bottom softly swim. 

And when you see your cork begin to move, 
And round about to soar and fetch a ring ; 
Sometimes to sink, and sometimes swim above, 
As doth the duck within the wat'ry spring : 
Yet make no haste your present hap to prove, 
Till with your float at last away he fling ; 

Then may you safely strike and hold him short, 
And at your will prolong or end your sport. 



J a3bESS] OF TIIE Secrets of Angling. 175 

But every fish loves not each bait alike, 
Although sometimes they feed upon the same ; 
But some do one, and some another seek, 
As best unto their appetite doth frame ; 
The roach, the bream, the carp, the chub, and bleek, 
With paste or corn their greedy hunger tame ; 
The dace, the ruff, the gudgeon and the rest, 
The smaller sort of crawling worms love best. 

The chavender and chub do more delight [Seep. i 97 ] 

To feed on tender cheese or cherries red ; 

Black snails, their bellies slit to show their white ; 

Or grasshoppers that skip in every mead : 

The perch, the tench and eel do rather bite 

At great red worms, in field or garden bred ; 

That have been scoured in moss or fennel rough, 
To rid their filth, and make them hard and tough. 

And with this bait hath often taken bin 
The salmon fair, of river fish the best ; 
The shad that in the springtime cometh in ; 
The suant swift, that is not set by least ; 
The bocher sweet, the pleasant flounder thin ; 
The peel, the tweat, the botling, and the rest, 

With many more, that in the deep doth lie 

Of Avon, Usk, of Severn and of Wye. 

Alike they bite, alike they pull down low 
The sinking cork that strives to rise again ; 
And when they feel the sudden deadly blow, 
Alike they shun the danger and the pain ; 
And as an arrow from the Scythian bow, 
All flee alike into the stream amain ; 

Until the angler by his wary skill, 

There tires them out, and brings them up at will. 



176 The Second Book PfflSSJ 

Yet furthermore it doth behove to know 
That for the most part fish do seek their food 
Upon the ground, or deepest bottom low, 
Or at the top of water, stream or flood ; 
And so you must your hook and bait bestow, 
For in the midst you shall do little good : 
For heavy things down to the bottom fall, 
And light do swim, and seldom sink at all. 

All summer long aloft the fishes swim, 
Delighted with fair Phcebus' shining ray, 
And lie in wait within the waters dim 
For flies and gnats that on the top do play; 
Then half a yard beneath the upper brim, 
It shall be best your baited hook to lay, 
With gnat or fly of any sort or kind, 
That every month on leaves or trees you find. 

But then your line must have no lead at all, 
And but a slender cork or little quill 
To stay the bait that down it does not fall, 
But hang a link within the water still ; 
Or else upon the top thereof you shall 
With quicker hand and with more ready skill 
Let fall your fly, and now and then remove, 
Which soon the fish will find and better love. 

And in the stream likewise they use to be 

At tails of floodgates, or at arches wide ; 

Or shallow flats where as the waters free 

With fresher springs and swifter course do slide : 

And then of wasp the brood that cannot fly, 

Upon a tile-stone first a little dried; 

Or yellow " bobs " turned up before the plough 
Are chiefest baits ; with cork and lead enough. 



J °Behr!"T 3 : J of the Secrets of Angling. 177 

But when the golden chariot of the sun, 
Departing from our northern countries far 
Beyond the Balance, now his course hath run 
And goes to warm the cold Antarctic star ; 
And summer's heat is almost spent and done : 
With new approach of winter's dreadful war; 
Then do the fish withdraw into the deep, 
And low from sight and cold more close do keep. 



Then on your lines you may have store of lead 
And bigger corks of any size you will, 
And where the fish are used to be fed 
There shall you lay upon the bottom still : 
And whether that your bait be corn or bread 
Or worms or paste, it doth not greatly skill ; 
For these alone are to be used then 
Until the spring or summer come again, 

Thus have I showed how fish of divers kind 
Best taken are, and how their baits to know : 
But Phcebus now beyond the western Ind, 
Beginneth to descend and draweth low ; 
And well the weather serves, and gentle wind. 
Down with the tide and pleasant stream to row 
Unto some place where we may rest us in, 
Until we shall another time begin. 



The end of the Second Book. 



E.XG. GAR. I. 12 



T* 






The Third Book. 




Ow falls it out in order to declare 
What time is best to angle in aright ; 
And when the chief and fittest seasons are 
Wherein the fish are most disposed to bite ; 
What wind doth make, and which again 

doth mar 
The Angler's sport wherein he takes 
delight ; 
And how he may with pleasure best 

aspire 
Unto the wished end of his desire. 



For there are times in which they will not bite, 
But do forbear, and from their food refrain ; 
And days there are wherein they more delight 
To labour for the same and bite amain : 
So he that can those seasons find aright 
Shall not repent his travail spent in vain, 
To walk a mile or two amidst the fields 
Reaping the fruit this harmless pleasure yields. 



'mSX] The Third Book. 179 

And as a ship in safe and quiet road 
Under some hill or harbour doth abide, 
With all her freight, her tackling and her load, 
Attending still the wind and wished tide ; 
Which when it serves, no longer makes abode, 
But forth into the wat'ry deep doth slide, 

And through the waves divides her fairest way 
Unto the place where she intends to stay. 

So must the Angler be provided still 
Of divers tools and sundry baits in store, 
And all things else pertaining to his skill 
Which he shall get and lay up long before ; 
That when the weather frameth to his will 
He may be well appointed evermore 

To take fit time when it is offered ever : 

For time in one estate abideth never. 

The Qualities of an Angler. 

Ut ere I further go, it shall behove 
To show what gifts and qualities of mind 
Belong to him that doth the pastime love ; 
And what the virtues are of every kind 
Without the which it were in vain to prove 
Or to expect the pleasure he should find : 
No more than he that having store of meat 
Hath lost all lust and appetite to eat. 

For what avails to brook or lake to go, 

With handsome rods and hooks of divers sort, 

Well-twisted lines, and many trinkets moe 

To find the fish within their wat'ry fort : 

If that the mind be not contented so 

But wants those gifts, that should the rest support. 

And make his pleasure to his thoughts agree. 

With these therefore he must endued be. 
[2 : 




iSo The Third Book [ J fi£?X 

The first is Faith, not wavering and unstable ; 

But such as had that holy patriarch old, 

That to the Highest was so acceptable 

As his increase and offspring manifold, 

Exceeded far the stars innumerable : 

So must he still a firm persuasion hold, 

That where as waters, brooks and lakes are found, 
There store of fish without all doubt abound. 

For Nature, that hath made no empty thing, 
But all her works doth well and wisely frame ; 
Hath filled each brook, each river, lake and spring 
With creatures, apt to live amidst the same ; 
Even as the earth, the air and seas do bring 
Forth beasts and birds of sundry sort and name, 
And given them shape, ability and sense 
To live and dwell therein without offence. 

The second gift and quality is Hope, 
The anchor hold of every hard desire ; 
That having of the day so large a scope 
He shall in time to wished hap aspire, 
And ere the sun hath left the heav'nly cope 
Obtain the sport and game he doth desire ; 

And that the fish, though sometimes slow to bite, 
Will recompense delay with more delight. 

The third is Love and liking to the game, 

And to his friend and neighbour dwelling by ; 

For greedy pleasure not to spoil the same, 

Nor of his fish some portion to deny 

To any that are sickly, weak or lame ; 

But rather with his line and angle try 
In pond or brook, to do what in him lies 
To take such store for them as may suffice. 



J bS<5?3S] OF THE SECRETS OF ANGLING. 

Then followeth Patience, that the furious flame 
Of Choler cools, and Passion puts to flight ; 
As doth a skilful rider break and tame 
The courser wild, and teach him tread aright: 
So patience doth the mind dispose and frame 
To take mishaps in worth and count them light ; 
As loss of fish, line, hook or lead, or all, 
Or other chance that often may befall. 

The fifth good gift is low Humility ; 
As when a lion coucheth for his prey, 
So must he stoop or kneel upon his knee 
To save his line or put the weeds away ; 
Or lie along sometimes if need there be 
For any let or chance that happen may : 
And not to scorn to take a little pain 
To serve his turn, his pleasure to obtain. 

The sixth is painful Strength and Courage good, 
The greatest to encounter in the brook, 
If that he happen in his angry mood 
To snatch your bait and bear away your hook. 
With wary skill to rule him in the flood 
Until more quiet, tame and mild he look : 
And all adventures constantly to bear, 
That may betide, without mistrust or fear. 

Next unto this is Liberality, 

Feeding them oft with full and plenteous hand 

Of all the rest a needful quality 

To draw them near the place where you will stand 

Like to the ancient hospitality, 

That sometime dwelt in Albion's fertile land ; 
But now is sent away into exile 
Beyond the bounds of Isabella's isle. 



1S1 



1 82 The Third Book [ j £S£8 

The eighth is Knowledge, how to find the way 
To make them bite when they are dull and slow ; 
And what doth let the same and breeds delay ; 
And every like impediment to know, 
That keeps them from their food and wonted prey 
Within the stream or standing waters low ; 

And with Experience skilfully to prove, 

All other faults to mend or to remove. 

The ninth is Placability of mind, 
Contented with a reasonable dish ; 
Yea though sometimes no sport at all he find 
Or that the weather prove not to his wish. 
The tenth is Thanks to that GOD, of each kind, 
To net and bait, doth send both fowl and fish ; 
And still reserve enough in secret store 
To please the rich and to relieve the poor. 

Th'eleventh good gift and hardest to endure, 
Is Fasting long from all superfluous fare ; 
Unto the which he must himself inure 
By exercise and use of diet spare : 
And with the liquor of the waters pure 
Acquaint himself if he cannot forbear ; 

And never on his greedy belly think. 

From rising sun until alow he sink. 

The twelfth and last of all is Memory, 
Remembering well before he setteth out, 
Each needful thing that he must occupy; 
And not to stand of any want in doubt 
Or leave something behind forgetfully : 
When he hath walked the fields and brooks about. 
It were a grief back to return again, 
For things forgot that should his sport maintain. 




J b2£*S] OF THE Secrets of Angling. 183 

Here then you see what kind of qualities 

An Angler should endued be withal ; 

Besides his skill and other properties 

To serve his turn, as to his lot doth fall : 

But now what season for this exercise 

The fittest is, and which doth serve but small : 

My Muse ! vouchsafe some little aid to lend 

To bring this also to the wished end. 

Season and Time not to An^le. 

Irst, if the weather be too dry and hot, 
And scalds with scorching heat the lowly plain ; 
As if that youthful Phaeton had got 
The guiding of his father's car again ; 
Or that it seemed Apollo had forgot 
His light-foot steeds to rule with steadfast rain : 
It is not good with any line or hook, 
To angle then in river, pond or brook. 

Or when cold Boreas with his frosty beard, 
Looks out from underneath the " lesser bear ; " 
And makes the weary traveller afeard 
To see the valleys covered everywhere 
With ice and snow, that late so green appeared : 
The waters stand as if of steel they were ; 
And hoary frosts do hang on every bough, 
Where freshest leaves of summer late did grow. 

So neither if Don ^Eolus lets go [24. P . i 9 6.j 

His blust'ring winds out of the hollow deep ; 
Where he their strife and struggling to and fro, 
With triple fork doth still in order keep : 
They rushing forth do rage with tempests so 
As if they would the world together sweep ; 
And ruffling so with sturdy blasts the\ blow, 
That tree and house sometimes they overthrow. 



1 8 4 The Third Book PfiSS 

Besides, when shepherds and the swains prepare, 

Unto the brooks withal, their flocks of sheep ; 

To wash their fleeces, and to make them fair [ SS . p- xge-j 

In every pool and running water deep : 

The savour of the wool doth so impair 

The pleasant streams, and plunging that they keep, 

As if that Lethe-flood ran everywhere 

Or bitter Doris intermingled were. 

Or when land floods through long and sudden rain, 
Descending from the hills and higher ground, 
The sand and mud the crystal streams do stain, 
And make them rise above their wonted bound, 
To overflow the fields and neighbour plain : 
The fruitful soil and meadows fair are drowned ; 

The husbandman doth leese his grass and hay ; 

The banks, their trees ; and bridges borne away. 

So when the leaves begin to fall apace 
And bough and branch are naked to be seen ; 
While Nature doth her former work deface, 
Unclothing bush and tree of summer's green ; 
Whose scattered spoils lie thick in every place 
As sands on shore or stars the poles between, 

And top and bottom of the rivers fill : 

To Angle-then I also think it ill. 

All winds are hurtful, if too hard they blow : [-.-6. P . i 9 6.] 

The worst of all is that out of the East, 

Whose nature makes the fish to biting slow 

And lets the pastime most of all the rest; 

The next that comes from countries clad with snow 

And Arctic pole, is not offensive least; 

The Southern wind is counted best of all ; 

Then that which riseth whe.re the sun doth fall. 



John Dennys. 
Lefore 1613. 



of the Secrets of Angling 



Best Times and Season to Angle. 

Ut if the weather steadfast be and clear, [ 27 . P . i 9 6.] 
Or overcast with clouds, so it be dry ; 
And that no sign nor token there appear 
Of threat'ning storm through all the empty sky; 
But that the air is calm and void of fear 
Of ruffling winds o» raging tempests high ; 
Or that with mild and gentle gale they blow ; 
Then it is good Unto the brook to go. 




And when the floods are fall'n and past away, 
And carried have the dregs into the deep ; 
And that the waters wax more thin and grey 
And leave their banks above them high and steep ; 
The milder stream of colour like to whey 
Within his bounds his wonted course doth keep ; 
And that the wind South or else by-West : 
To angle then is time and seasons best. 



When fair Aurora rising early shows 
Her blushing face among the Eastern hills, 
And dyes the heavenly vault with purple rows 
That far abroad the world with brightness fills; 
The meadows green are hoar with silver dews 
That on the earth the sable night distils, 

And chanting birds with merry notes bewray 
The near approaching of the cheerful day: 



[28. p. 196] 



Then let him go to river, brook or lake, 
That loves the sport, where store of fish abound ; 
And through the pleasant fields his journey make, 
Amidst sweet pastures, meadows fresh and sound ; 




1 86 The Third Book pBefo^e"^: 

Where he may best his choice of pastime take, 
While swift Hyperion runs his circle round : 
And as the place shall to his liking prove, 
There still remain or further else remove. 



To know each FisJis Haunt. 

Ow that the Angler may the better know 
Where he may find each fish he doth require ; 
Since some delight in waters still and slow, 
And some do love the mud and slimy mire ; 
Some others where the stream doth swifter flow ; 
Some stony ground, and gravel some desire : 
Here shall he learn how every sort do seek 
To haunt the lair that doth his nature like. 

Carp, eel and tench do love a muddy ground ; 
Eels under stones or hollow roots do lie, 
The tench among thick weeds is soonest found, 
The fearful carp into the deep doth fly : 
Bream, chub and pike, where clay and sand abound, 
Pike love great pools and places full of fry, 
The chub delight in stream or shady tree, 
And tender bream in broadest lake to be. 

The salmon swift the rivers sweet doth like, 

Where largest streams into the sea are led ; 

The spotted trout, the smaller brooks doth seek, 

And in the deepest hole there hides his head ; 

The prickled perch, in every hollow creek b 9 . p. 197.] 

Hard by the bank and sandy shore is fed: 

Perch, trout and salmon love clear waters all, 
Green weedy roeks and stony gravel small. 



j b5JSS] OF the Secrets of Angling. 187 

So doth the bullhead, gudgeon and the loach, 
Who most in shallow brooks delight to be : 
The ruff, the dace, the barbel and the roach, 
Gravel and sand do love in less degree ; 
But to the deep and shade do more approach, 
And overhead some covert love to see, 
Of spreading poplar, oak or willow green, 
Where underneath they lurk for being seen. 

The mighty luce great waters haunts alway, [See P . , 97 .j 
And in the stillest place thereof doth lie, 
Save when he rangeth forth to seek his prey, 
And swift among the fearful fish doth fly. 
The dainty umber loves the marly clay 
And clearest streams of champaign country high ; 
And in the chiefest pools thereof doth rest, 
Where he is soonest found and taken best. 

The chavender amidst the waters fair, 

The swiftest streams doth most himself bestow : 

The shad and tweat do rather like the lair 

Of brackish waves, where it doth ebb and flow ; 

And thither also doth the flock repair, 

And flat upon the bottom lieth low, 

The peel, the mullet and the suant good 

Do like the same, and therein seek their food. 

But here experience doth my skill exceed, 
Since divers countries divers rivers have; 
And divers rivers change of waters breed, 
And change of waters sundry fish doth crave, 
And sundry fish in divers places feed, 
As best doth like them in the liquid wave. 
So that by use and practice may be known 
More than by art or skill can well be shown. 



1 38 The Third Book ftSl 




So then it shall be needless to declare 
What sundry kinds there lie in secret store ; 
And where they do resort and what they are, 
That may be still discovered more and more. 
Let him that list, no pain or travail spare 
To seek them out, as I have done before ; 
And then it shall not discontent his mind, 
New choice of place, and change of game to find. 



The best Hours of the Day to Angle. 

Rom first appearing of the rising sun 
Till nine of clock, low under water best, 
The fish will bite; and then from nine to noon, 
From noon to four they do refrain and rest: 
From four again till Phcebus swift hath run 
His daily course, and setteth in the West. 
But at the fly aloft they use to bite, 
All summer long, from nine till it be night. 



Now lest the Angler leave his tools behind, 
For lack of heed or haste of his desire ; 
And so enforced with unwilling mind 
Must leave* his game and back again retire, 
Such things to fetch as there he cannot find, 
To serve his turn when need shall most require: 
Here shall he have to help his memory, 
A lesson short of every want's supply. 

Light rod to strike, long line to reach withal, 
Strong hook to hold the fish he haps to hit, 
Spare lines and hooks whatever chance do fall, 
i quick and dead to bring them to the bit, 



BefoS" 1 ^] 0F TIIE Secrets oe Angling. 

Fine lead and quills, with corks both great and small, 
Knife, file and thread, and little basket fit, 

Plummets to sound the depth of clay and sand, 
With pole and net to bring them safe to land. 



189 



And now we are arrived at the last 
In wished harbour, where we mean to rest, 
And make an end of this our journey past : 
Here then in quiet road I think it best 
We strike our sails and steadfast anchor cast, 
For now the sun low setteth in the West. 
And ye boatswains ! a merry carol sing 
To Him that safely did us hither bring. 

FINIS. 




190 



^S6&&£&*SSS6&*££9C&&£&& 












r//J 









Wouldst thou catch fish ? 
Then here's thy wish ; 
Take this receipt 
To anoint thy bait. 

Hou that desir'st to fish with line and hook, 
Be it in pool, in river, or in brook, 
To bless thy bait and make the fish to bite, 
Lo, here's a means ! if thou canst hit it right : 
Take gum of life, fine beat, and laid in soak[ 3 o. P . i 97 .] 
In oil well drawn from that which kills the oak. 
Fish where thou wilt, thou shalt have sport thy fill ; 
When twenty fail, thou shalt be sure to kill. [31. p. 197.] 

Probation. 

If 's perfect and good, 
If well understood ; 
Else not to be told 



For silver or gold. 



FINIS. 



B. R. 



& i $ &•&■& 4 # 4 ■•$ 4 4 4 $M 



I9i 



William Lauson. 
Comments on The Secrets of Angli?ig. 



[Second Edition, Augmented with many approved experiments] 







To the Reader. 

T may seem in me presumption to add this little 
Comment to the work of so worthy an Author. 

But Master Harrison the Stationer's request 
and desire to give his country satisfaction ; must 
be satisfied, and in it I myself rest excused. 

What mine observations are, I refer to censure. Assuredly, 
the truth stands on so well-grounded experience ; that but my 
haste, nothing can do them injury. What to me is doubtful ; 
I have, as I can, explained. What wants, in my judgment, 
I have supplied as the time would suffer ; what I pass by, I 
approve. 

The Author by verse hath expressed much Learning, and 
by his Answer to the Objection shows himself to have been 
virtuous. The subject itself is honest and pleasant ; and 
sometimes profitable. 

Use it ! and give GOD all glory. Amen. 

W. Lauson. 



192 Comments on The Secrets of Angling. [ w>1 



1^53- 



i [p. 149]. Death [bathe] them a little, except the top, all 
in a furnace : they will be lighter and not top heavy; which 
is a great fault in a rod. 

2 [p. 149]. Tie them together at every bout, and they 
will keep one another straight. 

3 [p. 149]. White or gray are likest the sky, and therefore 
of all colours offend the least. 

4 [p. 149]. Besides the fish discerns it, and is put away 
with the stiffness of the rod : whereas on the contrary the 
weak rod yields liberty to the fish without suspicion, to run 
away with the bait at his pleasure. 

5 [p. 150]. Knit the hair you mean to put in one link at 
the rod's end, and divide them as equally as you can : put 
your three lowest fingers betwixt, and twine the knot ; and 
your link shall be equally twist. If you wet your hair, it 
will twine better. A nimble hand, a weak and light rod that 
may be easily guided with one hand, needs but four or five 
hairs at the most for the greatest river fish, though a salmon 
or a luce, so you have length enough : and except the luce 
and salmon, three will suffice. 

6 [p. 150]. Intermixing with silver or gold is not good : 
because: First, the thread and hair are not of equal reach. 
Secondly, the colours differing from the hairs or fly, affright the 
fish. Thirdly, they will not bejn]d and twist with the hairs. 

7 [p. 150]. An upper end also, to put it to and fro the 
rod. 

8 [p. 150]. The same colour, to wit, grey like the sky; the 
like bigness and strength : is good for all the line, and every 
link thereof. Weight is hurtful; so unequal strength causeth 
the weakest to break. 

9 [?• I 5 1 ]- I utterly dislike your Southern corks. First, 
for they affright the fish in the bite and sight ; and because 
they follow not so kindly the nimble rod and hand. Secondly, 
they breed weight to the line ; which puts it in danger, 
hinders the nimble jerk of the rod, and loads the arm. A 
good eye and hand may easily discern the bite. 

10 [p. 151]. I use [am accustomed] to make mine own 
hooks ; so that I shall have them of the best Spanish and 
Milan needles of what si^e, bent or sharpness as I like and 
need. Soften your needles in an hot lire, in a chafer. 



W. Lauson 



g] Comments on The Secrets of Angling, 193 

The Instruments. 

First. An holdfast. 

Secondly. A hammer to flatten the place or the 
beard. 

Thirdly. A file to make the beard, and sharpen the 

point. 
Fourthly. A bender, viz. a pin bended, and put in the 
end of a stick, an handful long, thus, r __ _ Hj 
When they are made, lap them in the end of a wire- beat 
them again, and temper them in oil or butter. 

11 [p. 152]. The best form for ready striking and sure 
holding and strength, is a straight and somewhat long shank 
and st raight n ibbed ; with a little compass : not round in any 
wise, — ^J for it neither strikes surely nor readily ; but is 
weak, as having to o grea t a compass. Some use to batter 
the upper end thus ^ ^J to hold the faster: but good thread 
or silk, good baud [? band] may make it fast enough. It is 
botcherly, hinders the biting, and sometimes cuts the line. 

12 [p. 152]. He means the hook may be too weak at the 
point. It cannot be too sharp, if the metal be good steel. 

J 3 [p. I53]- Or wind them on two or three of your fingers, 
like an Orph-Arion's string. 

x 4 [P- I53]- Worm poke of cloth, or boxes. 

J 5 [p- I53]- A plummet you need not ; for your line being 
well leaded and without a float, will try your depths. When 
the lead above your hook comes to the"earth, the line will 
leave sinking. 

16 [P- I54]- That is good : but a forked rod about two yards 
long is better. When your hook is fastened in the water, 
take a rod thus fashioned 



and put the line in the fork, and so follow down to your hook. 
So letting your line be somewhat slack, move your fork to and 
fro, especially downwards ; and so shall your hook be loosed. 
J 7 [p- I54]- White and grey are good, answering to the 
colours of the sky. 

18 [p. 167]. The Gudgeon hath his teeth in his throat (as 
r i^ 



194 Comments on The Secrets of Angling. [ w - La "^"; 

also the Chub) and lives by much sucking. He is a dainty 
fish, like or nearly as good as the Sparling. 

19 [p. 168'. The Roach is one of the meanest. 

20 [p. 170]. Diversely. For theTrout is a ravening fish, and 
at that time of the day comes from his hole, if he come at all. 

21 'p. 171]. The Trout makes the Angler the most 
gentlemanly and readiest sport of all other fishes : if you 
angle with a made fly, and a line twice your rod's length or 
more, of three hairs, in a plain water without wood, in a dark 
windy day from mid-afternoon, and have learned the cast of 
the fly. 

Your fly must counterfeit the May Fly, which is bred of 
the cad bait ; and is called the Water Fly. You must change 
his colour every month ; beginning with a dark white and so 
grow to a yellow. The form cannot so well be put on a 
paper, as it may be taught by slight [? sight] : yet it will be like 
this form. 




The head is of black silk or hair; the wings of a feather 
of a mallard, teal, or pickled hen's wing ; the body of crewel, 
according to the month for colour, and run about with a black 
hair: all fastened at the tail with the thread that fastened 
the hook. You must fish in or by the stream, and have a 
quick hand, a ready eye and a nimble rod. Strike with him ! 
or you lose him. 

If the wind be rough, and trouble the crust of the water: 
he will take it in the plain deeps: and then and there 
commonly the greatest will rise. When you have hi 
him, give him leave ! keeping your line straight. Hold him 
from the roots, and he will tire himself. This is the chief 
pleasure of Angling. 

This 11)', and two links, among wood or close by a bush, 
moved in the crust of the water ; is deadly in an evening, if 
you come close [hidden . This is called " Busking for 
Trout." 

Cad bait is a worm bred under stones in a shallow river : 

or in some out-runner of the river, where the streams run 

trongly, in a black shale. They stiek by heaps on the 

low side of a grt it tone, it being hollow. They be ripe in 



W ' ^65":] COMMENTS ON Tl/E SECRETS OF A A'GLLYG. I 95 

the beginning of May : they are past with July. They be 
yellow when they be ripe, and have a black head. This is a 
deadly bait for a Trout, either aloft [on the surface] or at the 
ground ; if your tools be fine and you come close : for the 
Trout of all other fish, is most affrighted with sight. And 
indeed it should be considered that fish are afraid of any 
extraordinary motion or sight of whatsoever colour : except 
the Pike ; which will be open to your sight on a sunshiny 
day, till you halter him. 

The Trout will take also the worm, menise or any bait : so 
will the Pike, save that he will not take the fly. 

22 [p. 171]. There be divers ways to catch the wrinkling 
Eel. Your line must be stronger — six or seven hails — and 
your hook accordingly : for she must upon the hooking 
presently [immediately] be drawn forth with force : otherwise 
she fastens herself with her tail about a root or stone or such 
like ; and so you lose your labour, your hook, and the fish. 
The worm or menise are her common bait. 

There is a way to catch Eels by " Braggling: " thus. Take 
a rod, small and tough, of sallow, hazel or such like, a yard 
long, as big as a beanstalk. In the small end thereof, make 
a nick or cleft with a knife ; in which nick put your strong 
but little hook baited with a red worm ; and made sure to 
a line of ten or twelve good hairs, but easily that the Eels 
may pull it out. 

Go into some shallow place of the river among the great 
stones, and braggle up and down till you find holes under the 
stones. There put in your hook so baited at your rod's end, 
and the Eel under the stone will not fail to take it. Give her 
time to put it over; and then, if your strength will serve, she 
is your own. 

There is a third usual way to catch Eels, called " Bobbing." 
Upon a long and double strong thread, two yards long or 
thereabouts, spit some many great red worms — gotten in a 
summer's evening with a candle — as the thread will hold 
lengthways through the midst, and link them about your 
hand like a rope, thus 




13 ' 



196 Comments on The Secrets of Angling. [ w - ^Ts": 

And fasten these to a long goad's end with a cord as long as 
your rod ; and a great plummet of lead, a handful above the 

" Bob " 

In a troubled or flooded river, in a deep tun, or by a stream 
side- let it fall within a handbreadth of the ground : and 
then' shall you sensibly feel a multitude of Eels, all in that 
nit like so many dogs at a carrion ; tug and pull. Now at 
your good time, when you think that every Eel hath got a 
'ink and swallowed it up— like so many ducks the entrails ot 
a p U Het— draw up very easily, and they will follow working 
and pulling ; till you have them near the crust : and then 
amain hoist them to land. This is the readiest way where 
Eels are plentiful, to catch many. 

For the Trout, you shall find in the root of a great dock ; 
a white worm with a red head. With this, fish for a 1 rout 

at the ground. . ..... , 

23 [p. I72 ]. A young whelp, kitling, or such like; is good 

bait for a Luce. . „ , , u-a 

24 Tp 183]. The stronger the wind blows, so you may abide 
it and guide your tools; and the colder the summer days are: 
the better will they bite, and the closer [nearer] shall you 
come to them. . . 

2^ Tp 184I. I rather think the kades and other filth that 
fall from sheep do so glut the fish ; that they will not take 
any artificial bait. The same is the reason of the flood ; 
washing down worms, flies, frog-clocks, &c. 

26 [p 184]. I find no difference of winds; except too cold 
or too hot : which is not the wind, but the season. 

27 [p. 185]. Clear cannot be good, by reason ol the offensive 

">!s'|n i8<1. The morning can no way be good because the 
fish have been at relief all the night, as all other wild 
creatures : and in the day they rest or sport. In the evening 
is the fittest. Then hunger begins to bite. . 

29 [p. 186]. The Trout lies in the deep ; but feeds in the 
stream, under a bush, bray, loam, &c. 

■*o \v iQol. I have heard much ol an ointment that Will 
presently [immediately] cause any fish to bite; but I could 
Sever attain the knowledge thereof. The nearest in mine 
opinion — except this Probatum — is the oil of an Osprey, 

which is called Aquila Manna, the Sea Eagle. She is ol 



w,La "S Comments cm The Secrets of Angling. 197 

body near the bigness of a goose ; one of her feet is webbed 
to swim withal, the other hath talons to catch fish. It seems 
the fish come up to her : for she cannot dive. 

Some likelihood there is also in a paste made of Coccuhts 
Lidice, Assafcetida, Honey, and Wheat-flour. 

But I never tried them. Therefore I cannot prescribe. 

31 [p. 190]. That which kills the oak, I conjecture to b2 
Ivy : till I change my mind. 

This excellent receipt, divers anglers can tell you where 
3*011 may buy it. 

[Surely this must have been a standing juke among the practitioners of the 
Art.— E. A.] 

Certain Observations Forgotten. 
Chevan and chub are one. 



The 



'Shotrell, 1 year\ 



Pickerel, 2 year 

3 )' ear 



0:1 rare one. 

rike, 3 year 



\Luce, 4 year J 

The Summer — May, June and July — are fittest for Angling. 

Fish are the fattest in July. 

Fish commonly spawn at Michael's tide [29th September], 
After spawning ; they be kipper, and out of season. 

They thrust up little brooks to spawn. The Trout and 
Salmon will have lying on their backs. 

All the summer time, great fish go downwards to deeps. 

Bar netting and night hooking ; where you love Angling. 

When you are angling at the ground : your line must be 
no longer than your rod. 

He that is more greedy of fish than sport : let him have 
three or four angles fitted and baited : and laid in several 
pools. You shall sometimes have them all sped at once. 

If you go forth in or immediately after a shower, and take 
the water in the first rising; and fish in the stream at the 
ground with a red worm : you may load yourself, if there be 
store. Thus may any botcher kill fish. 

For want of a pannier : spit your fish by the gills on a 
small wicker or such like. 

I use a pouch of parchment, with many several places to 
put my hooks and lines in. 



198 Comments on The Secrets gf Angling. [ w ^"l™; 

I use a rod of two parts, to join in the midst when I come 
to the river : with two pins and a little hemp waxed. Thus 
the pins join it, and the hemp fastens it firmly. 



J74F 



A whale bone made round, no bigger than a wheat straw 
at the top; yields well, and strikes well. 

Let your rod be without knots. They are dangerous for 
breaking, and bouts are troublesome. 

Keep your rod neither too dry nor too moist ; lest they 
grow brittle or rotten. 

When you angle in [a time of] drought, wet your rod. It 
will not break so soon. 

You shall hardly get a rod of one piece, but either crooked 
or top heavy or unequally grown. 

Enterprise no man's ground without leave. Break no 
man's hedge to his loss. 

Pray to GOD with your heart to bless your lawful 
exercise. 

FINIS. 




199 




Sir Walter Raleigh. 

The last refuges of the Devil to 
maintain his kingdom, 

\Ilnto>y oj lit U'orid.'] 

Ow THE Devil because he cannot play upon the 
open stage of thi > world, as in those days ; and 
being still as industrious as ever, finds it more 
for his advantage to creep into the minds of men ; 
and inhabiting the temples of their hearts, works 
them to a more effectual adoration of himself than ever. 

For whereas he first taught them to sacriru e to monsters ; 
to dead stones cut into faces of beasts, birds, and other 
mixed natures : he now sets before them the high and shining 
idol of Glory, the all-commanding image of bright Gold. 

He tells them that Truth is the goddess of dangers and 
oppressions: that Chastity is the enemy of Nature: and lastly, 
that as all Virtue, in general, is without taste ; so Pleasure 
satisfieth and delighteth every sense. For true wisdom 
(saith he) is exercised in nothing else than in the obtaining 
of power, to oppress ; and of riches, to maintain plentifully 
our worldly delights. 

And if this arch-politician finds in his pupils any remorse, 
any feeling or fear of GOD's future judgments; he persuades 
them that GOD hath so great need of men's souls, that He 
will accept them at any time, and upon any condition : 
interrupting by his vigilant endeavours, all offer of timeful 
return towards GOD ; by laying those great blocks of 
Rugged Poverty and Despised Contempt in the narrow 
passage leading to His divine presence. 

Hut as the mind of man hath two ports [gales] — the one 
always frequented by the entrance of manifold vanities ; 
the other desolate and overgrown with grass, by which enter 
our charitable thoughts and divine contemplations: so hath 



200 The double gate of death. [ Sir 



Before 1611. 



that of Death a double and twofold opening ; worldly misery 
passing by the one, worldly prosperity by the other. 

At the entrance of the one, we find our sufferings and patience 
to attend us ; all which have gone before us, to prepare our 
joys : at the other, our cruelties, covetousness, licentiousness, 
injustice and oppressions — the harbingers of most fearful 
and terrible sorrow ; staying for us. 

And as the Devil, our most industrious enemy, was ever 
most diligent; so is he now more laborious than ever : the 
long Day of mankind drawing fast to an evening ; and the 
World's Tragedy and Time near at an end. 




201 



A[nthony] M[unday]. 

Captivity of John Fox of Woodbridge, 

Gunner of the Three Half Moons, 

by the Turks ; and of his 

wonderful escape from 

Alexandria, 

[Hakluyt, Voyages, 1589.] 

The worthy enterprise of John Fox an Englishman, in 
delivering 266 Christians out of the captivity of the 
Turks at Alexandria, the 3rd of January, 1577. 

Mong our merchants here in England, it is a 
common voyage to traffic into Spain. Whereunto 
a ship, being called the Three Half Moons, manned 
with eight and thirty men, and well fenced with 
munitions the better to encounter their enemies 
withal ; having wind and tide, set forth from Portsmouth in 
the year 1563, and bent her journey towards Seville, a city 
in Spain : intending there to traffic with them. 

And falling near the Straits of Gibraltar; they perceived 
themselves to be beset round about with eight galleys of 
the Turks, in such wise that there was no way for them 
to fly or escape away : but that either they must yield 
or else be sunk. Which the Owner perceiving, manfully 
encouraged his company; exhorting them "valiantly to 
show their manhood, showing them that GOD was their 
GOD and not their enemy's, requesting them also not to 
faint in seeing such a heap of their enemies ready to devour 
them:" putting them in mind also "that if it were GOD's 




202 Eight Turkish galleys capture the ship. r -S*}" n , l i-Ji', 

L July I579 J 

pleasure to give them into their enemies' hands: it was not 
they that ought to show one displeasant look or countenance 
there against : but to take it patiently and not to prescribe 
a day and time for their deliverance as the citizens of 
Bethuliah did [Judith, v. 24] ; but to put themselves 
under His mercy." And again, "if it were His mind and 
goodwill to show His mighty power by them; if their enemies 
were ten times so many, they were not able to stand in their 
hands." Putting them likewise in mind of "the old and 
ancient worthiness of their countrymen: who in the hardest 
extremities have always most prevailed ; and gone away 
conquerors, yea, and where it hath been almost impossible." 
" Such," quoth he, " hath been the valiantness of our 
countrymen ; and such hath been the mighty power of our 
GOD." 

With such other like encouragements, exhorting them to 
behave themselves manfully ; they fell all on their knees 
making their prayers briefly unto GOD : who being all risen 
up again, perceived their enemies by their signs and defiances 
bent to the spoil, whose mercy was nothing else but cruelty. 
Whereupon every man took him to his weapon. 

Then stood up one Grove the Master, being a comely 
man, with his sword and target ; holding them up in defiance 
against his enemies. So likewise stood up the Owner, the 
Master's Mate, Boatswain, Purser, and every man well 
appointed. Now likewise sounded up the drums, trumpets, 
and flutes, which would have encouraged any man ; had he 
never so little heart or courage in him. 

Then taketh him to his charge, John Fox the Gunner, in 
the disposing -of his pieces in order to the best effect : and 
sending his bullets towards the Turks; who likewise bestowed 
their pieces thrice as fast towards the Christians. But shortly 
the} drew near, so that the bowmen fell to their charge in 
sending forth their arrows so thick amongst the galleys ; and 
also in doubling their shot so sore ■ upon the galleys, that 
there were twice so many of the Turks slain as the number 
of the Christians were in all. But the Turks discharged 
twice as fast against the Christians, and so long: that the 
ship was very sore stricken and bruised under water. 
Which the Turks perceiving, made the more haste to come 
aboard the ship; which ere they could do, many a Turk 



A 'juiy n i d 579.'] The crew are made galley slaves. 203 

bought it dearly with the loss of his life. Yet was all in vain, 
and boarded they were : where they found so hot a skirmish, 
that it had been better they had not meddled with the feast. 
For the Englishmen showed themselves men. indeed, in 
working manfully with their brown bills and halberds ; where 
the Owner, Master, Boatswain, and their company stood to 
it so lustily, that the Turks were half dismayed. But chiefly 
the Boatswain showed himself valiant above the rest, for he 
fared [went] among the Turks like a wood [enraged] lion ; for 
there were none of them that either could or durst stand in 
his face : till at the last there came a shot from the Turks, 
which brake his whistle asunder and smote him on the breast, 
so that he fell down ; bidding them farewell and to be of good 
comfort, encouraging them likewise to win praise by death 
rather than to live captives in misery and shame. Which 
they hearing, indeed intended to have done, as it appeared by 
their skirmish; but the press and store [number] of the Turks 
was so great, that they were not long able to endure it : but 
were so overpressed, that they could not wield their weapons. 
By reason whereof, they must needs be taken; which none of 
them intended to have been, but rather to have died : except 
only the Master's Mate, who shrank from the skirmish like a 
notable coward ; esteeming neither the valour of his name, 
nor accounting the present example of his fellows, nor having 
respect to the miseries whereunto he should be put. But in 
fine, so it was ; that the Turks were victors : whereof they 
had no great cause to rejoice or triumph. 

Then would it have grieved any hard heart to see these 
infidels so violently intreating the Christians, not having any 
respect unto their manhood which they had tasted of; nor yet 
respecting their own state, how they might have met with such 
a booty [prey] as might have given them the overthrow : but 
no remorse hereof, or any thing else doth bridle their fierce 
and tyrannous dealing, but that the Christians must needs 
go to the galleys to serve in new offices. And they were no 
sooner in them, but their garments were pulled over their ears 
and torn from their backs : and they set to the oars. 

I will make no mention of their miseries, being now under 
their enemies' raging stripes. I think there is no man will 
judge their fare good, or that bodies unladen with stripes, 
and not pestered with too much heat and also with too much 



204 The slave prison at Alexandria. [ a - jjyjjj 

cold : but I will go to my purpose, which is to show the end of 
those who, being in mere [utter] misery, continually do call 
on GOD with a steadfast hope that He will deliver them; and 
with a sure faith that He can do it. 

Nigh to the city of Alexandria, being a haven town, and 
under the dominion of the Turks ; there is a road, being made 
very fencible with strong walls : whereinto the Turks do 
customably bring their galleys on shore every year in the 
winter season, and there do trim them and lay them up 
against the spring time. In which road, there is a prison 
wherein the captives, and such prisoners as serve in the 
galleys are put for all that time, until the seas be calm and 
passable for the galleys : every prisoner being most 
grievously ladened with irons on their legs to their great 
pain, and sore disabling of them to taking any labour. Into 
which prison were these Christians put ; and fast warded all 
the winter season. But ere it was long, the Master and the 
Owner, by means of friends were redeemed. The rest 
abiding still by the misery; while that they were all, through 
reason of their ill-usage and worse fare, miserably starved : 
saving one John Fox, who — as some men can abide harder 
and more misery than some others can ; so can some likewise 
make more shift and work more devices to help their state 
and living than some others can do — being somewhat skilful 
in the craft of a barber, by reason thereof made great shift in 
helping his fare now and then with a good meal. Insomuch, 
till at the last, GOD sent him favour in the sight of the 
Keeper of the prison; so that he had leave to go in and out 
to the road at his pleasure, paying a certain stipend unto the 
Keeper, and wearing a lock about his leg. Which liberty like- 
wise six more had upon like sufferance; who — by reason of 
their long imprisonment, not being feared or suspected to 
start aside, or that they would work the Turks any mischief — 
had liberty to go in and out of the said road in such manner 
as this John Fox did ; with irons on their legs, and to 
return again at night. 

In the year of our Lord 1577, in the winter season, the 
galleys happily coming to their accustomed harbour, and 
being discharged of their masts, sails, and other such furniture 
as unto galleys do appertain ; and all the masters and mariners 
of them being then nested in their own homes : there 



A 'july U i d 5 ^9.] FOX & UNTICARO PLAN THE ESCAPE. 205 

remained in the prison of the said road two hundred three- 
score and eight Christian prisoners, who had been taken by 
the Turks' force ; and were of sixteen sundry nations. Among 
which, there were three Englishmen, whereof one was named 
John Fox of Woodbridge in Suffolk; the other William 
Wickney of Portsmouth in the county of Southampton, and 
the third Robert Moore of Harwich in the county of Essex. 
Which John Fox having been thirteen or fourteen years under 
their gentle entreatance, and being too too weary thereof, 
minding his escape ; weighed with himself by what means it 
might be brought to pass ; and continually pondering with 
himself; thereof took a great heart unto him, in hope that 
GOD would not be always scourging His children, and never 
ceasing to pray Him to further his pretended [intended] 
enterprise, if that it should redound to His glory. 

Not far from the road, and somewhat from thence at one 
side of the city, there was a certain victualling house ; which 
one Peter Unticaro had hired, paying also a certain fee 
unto the Keeper of the road. This Peter Unticaro was a 
Spaniard born, and a Christian, and had been prisoner above 
thirty years ; and never practised any means to escape, but 
kept himself quiet without touch or suspect of any conspiracy: 
until that now this John Fox using much thither ; they 
brake one to another their minds, concerning the restraint 
of their liberty and imprisonment. So that this John Fox 
at length opening unto this Unticaro the device which he 
would fain put in practice, made privy one more to this their 
intent. Which three debated of this matter at such times 
as they could compass to meet together; insomuch, that at 
seven weeks' end they had sufficiently concluded how the 
matter should be, if it pleased GOD to further them thereto. 
Who making five more privy to this their device, whom 
they might safely trust ; determined in three nights after to 
accomplish their deliberate purpose. 

Whereupon the said John Fox and Peter Unticaro and 
the other six appointed to meet all together in the prison the 
next day, being the last clay of December [1576 A.D.] ; where 
John Fox certified the rest of the prisoners what their 
intent and device was, and how and when they minded to 
bring their purpose to pass: who thereunto persuaded them 
without much ado to further their device. Which the same 



206 FOX'S OLD RUSTY SWORD BLADE. [^jS^SZ 



579- 



John Fox seeing, delivered unto them a sort [number] of 
files, which he had gathered together for this purpose, by 
the means of Peter Unticaro: charging them that every 
man should be ready discharged of his irons by eight o'clock 
on the next day at night. 

On the next day at night, this said John Fox and his six 
other companions, being all come to the house of Petkr 
Unticaro ; passed the time away in mirth for fear of suspect 
till the night came on, so that it was time for them to put in 
practice their device : sent Peter Unticaro to the Master 
of the Road, in the name of one of the Masters of the city 
with whom this Keeper was acquainted and at whose request 
he also would come at the first ; who desired him to take the 
pains to meet him there, promising him that he would bring 
him back again. The Keeper agreed to go with him, willing 
the warders not to bar the gate ; saying, " that he would not 
stay long, but would come again with all speed." 

In the mean season, the other seven had provided them of 
such weapons as they could get in that house : and John 
Fox took him to an old rusty sword blade, without either 
hilt or pommel ; which he made to serve his turn, in bending 
the hand end of the sword, instead of a pommel : and the 
others had got such spits and glaives as they found in the 
house. 

The Keeper now being come into the house, and perceiving 
no light, nor hearing any noise ; straightway suspected the 
matter: and returning backward, John Fox, standing behind 
the corner of the house, stepped forth unto him ; who 
perceiving it to be John Fox s;dd, "0 Fox! what have I 
deserved of thee, that thou shouldest seek my death ? " 
" Thou villain," quoth Fox, " hast been a bloodsucker of many 
a Christian's blood ; and now thou shalt know what thou 
hast deserved at my hands." Wherewith he lifted up his 
bright shining sword of ten years' rust, and stroke him so 
main a blow, as therewithal his head clave asunder; so 
that he fell stark dead to the ground. Whereupon Peter 
Unticaro went in and certified the rest how the case stood 
with the Keeper; who came presently forth and some with 
their spits ran him through, and the other with their glaives 
hewed him asunder, cut off his head, and mangled him so, 
that no man should discern what he \v;is. 



A "/Jiy" d sre'.] Unticaro, laden with money, ls killed. 207 

Then marched they toward the road, whereinto they 
entered softly ; where were six warders : one of whom asked, 
saying "Who was there?" Quoth Fox and his company 
"All friends." Which when they were all within proved 
contrary; for, quoth Fox, " My masters, here is not to every 
man, a man ; wherefore look you play your parts." Who 
so behaved themselves indeed, that they had despatched 
these six quickly. Then John Fox, intending not to be 
barred of his enterprise, and minding to work surely in that 
which he went about ; barred the gate surely, and planted a 
cannon against it. 

Then entered they into the Gaoler's lodge, where they 
found the keys of the fortress and prison by his bedside ; and 
there had they all better weapons. In this chamber was a 
chest, wherein was a rich treasure, and all in ducats ; which 
this Peter Unticaro and two more, opening, stuffed them- 
selves so full as they could between their shirts and their 
skin : which John Fox would not once touch, and said, " that 
it was his and their liberty whether he sought for, to the 
honour of his GOD ; and not to make a mart of the wicked 
treasure of the infidels." Yet did these words sink nothing 
into their stomachs, " they did it for a good intent ; " so did 
Saul save the fattest oxen to offer unto the LORD, and they 
to serve their own turn. But neither did Saul escape the 
wrath of GOD therefore ; neither had these that thing which 
they desired so, and did thirst after. Such is GOD's justice. 
He that they put their trust in to deliver them from the 
tyrannous hands of their enemies; He, I say, could supply 
their want of necessaries. 

Now these eight being armed with such weapons as they 
thought well of; thinking themselves sufficient champions 
to encounter a stronger enemy, and coming unto the prison, 
Fox opened the gates and doors thereof, and called forth all 
the prisoners : whom he set, some to ramming up the gate, 
some to the dressing up of a certain galley, which was the 
best in all the road, and was called the Captain of Alexandria ; 
whereinto some carried masts, sails, oars, and other such 
furniture as doth belong to a galley. 

At the prison, were certain warders; whom John Fox and 
his company slew. In the killing of whom, there were eight 
more of theTurks which perceived them, and got themselves to 



2o8 They float a galley, & pass the forts. [^1""?^': 

the top of the prison ; unto whom John Fox and his company 
were fain to come by ladders, where they found a hot 
skirmish. For some of them were slain, some wounded, and 
some but scared and not hurt. As John Fox was thrice 
shot through his apparel and not hurt; Peter Unticaro 
and the other two that had armed themselves with ducats 
were slain, as not able to wield themselves, being so pestered 
with the weight and uneasy carrying of the wicked and 
profane treasure ; and also divers Christians were as well 
hurt about that skirmish as Turks slain. 

Amongst the Turks, was one thrust through, who (let us 
not say it was ill fortune) fell off from the top of the prison 
wall, and made such a lowing ; that the inhabitants there- 
about, as here and there scattering stood a house or two, 
came and dawed [aroused] him : so that they understood the 
case, how that the prisoners were paying their ransoms : 
wherewith they raised both Alexandria, which lay on 
the west side of the road, and a castle at the city's end 
next to the road, and also another fortress which lay 
on the north side of the road : so that now they had no 
way to escape but one, which by man's reason (the two 
holds lying so upon the mouth of the road) might seem 
impossible to be a way for them. So was the Red Sea 
impossible for the Israelites to pass through, the hills and 
rocks lay so on the one side, and their enemies compassed 
them on the other. So was it impossible that the walls 
of Jericho should fall down ; being neither undermined nor 
yet rammed at with engines, nor yet any man's wisdom, 
policy, or help set or put thereunto. Such impossibilities can 
our GOD make possible. He that held the lions' jaws from 
rending Daniel asunder, yea, or yet from once touching him 
to his hurt : cannot He hold the roaring cannons of this 
hellish force ? He that kept the fierce rage in the hot 
burning oven from the three children that praised His name : 
cannot He keep the fierce flaming blasts from among his elect ? 

Now is the road fraught [filled] with lusty soldiers, 
labourers, and mariners, who are fain to stand to their 
tackling ; in setting to every man his hand : some to the 
carrying in of victuals, some of munition, some of oars, and 
seme one thing and some another: but most are keeping 
their enemy from the wall of the road. But to be short, 



A 'juiy'i L 579-J Twenty-nine days without a compass. 209 

there was no time misspent, no man idle, nor any man's 
labour ill-bestowed or in vain. So that in short time this 
galley was ready trimmed up. Whereinto every man leaped 
with haste, hoisting up the sails lustily : yielding themselves 
to His mercy in whose hands are both wind and weather. 

Now is this galley afloat, and out of the safety of the road. 
Now have the two castles full power upon the galley. Now 
is there no remedy but sink. How can it be avoided ? The 
cannons let fly from both sides ; and the galley is even in the 
midst, and between them both. What man can devise to 
save it ? There is no man, but would think it must needs 
be sunk. 

There was not one of them that feared the shots ; which 
went thundering round about their ears : nor yet were once 
scarred or touched with five and forty shots which came from 
the castles. Here did GOD hold forth His buckler"! He 
shieldeth now this galley, and hath tried their faith to the 
uttermost. Now cometh His special help, yea, even when 
man thinks them past all help, then cometh He himself down 
from heaven with His mighty power; then is His present 
remedy, most ready pressed. For they sail away, being not 
once touched with the glance of a shot, and are quickly out 
of the Turkish cannons' reach. 

Then might they see them coming down by heaps to the 
waterside, in companies like unto swarms of bees, making 
show to come after them with galleys : in bustling themselves 
to dress up the galleys ; which would be a swift piece of work 
for them to do, for that they had neither oars, masts, sails, 
cables, nor anything else ready in any galley. But yet they 
are carrying them into them, some into one galley and some 
into another; so that, being such a confusion amongst them, 
without any certain guide, it were a thing impossible to 
overtake them. Besides that, there was no man that would 
take charge of a galley ; the weather was so rough, and 
there was such an amazedness amongst them. And verily I 
think their god was amazed thereat, it could not be but he 
must blush for shame ; he can speak never a word for dulness, 
much less can he help them in such an extremity. Well, 
howsoever it is, he is very much to blame to suffer them to 
receive such a gibe. But howsoever their god behaved 
himself, our GOD showed Himself a GOD indeed, and that 

ENG. Gar. I. 14 



2 I O S T A R V I N G, T 11 E Y R E A C II C A N D I A. [^jjjj^jjj 

He was the only living GOD ; for the seas were swift under 
His faithful ones, which mude the enemies aghast to behold 
them ; a skilful pilot leads them, and their mariners bestir 
them lustily : but the Turks had neither mariners, pilots, nor 
any skilful Master that was in readiness at this pinch. 

When the Christians were safe out of the enemy's coast, 
John Fox called to them all, willing them to be thankful 
unto Almighty GOD for their delivery ; and most humbly 
to fall down upon their knees, beseeching Him to aid them 
unto their friends' land and not to bring them into another 
danger; since He had most mightily delivered them from so 
great a thraldom and bondage. 

Then when every man had made his petition, they fell 
straightway to their labour with the oars, in helping one 
another when they were wearied ; and with great labour 
striving to come to some Christian land, as near as they 
could guess by the stars. But the winds were so diverse, 
one while driving them this way, another while that way ; 
that they were now in a new maze, thinking that GOD 
had forsaken them, and left them to a greater danger. And 
forasmuch as there were no victuals now left in the galley, 
it might have been cause to them (if they had been the 
Israelites) to have murmured against their GOD ; but they 
knew how that their GOD who had delivered them out of 
Egypt, was such a loving and merciful GOD, as that He 
would not suffer them to be confounded, in whom He had 
wrought so great a wonder. But what calamity soever they 
sustained, they knew that it was but for their further trial ; 
and also (in putting them in mind of their farther misery) 
to cause them not to triumph and glory in themselves 
therefore. Having, I say, no victuals in the galley ; it might 
seem one misery continually to fall upon another's neck. 
But to be brief, the famine grew to be so great, that in 
twenty-eight days wherein they were on the sea, there died 
eight persons ; to the astonishment of all the rest. 

So it fell out, that upon the twenty-ninth day after they had 
set out from Alexandria, they fell on the island of Candia, and 
landed at Gallipoli : where they were much made of by the 
Abbot and monks there; who caused them to stay there, 
while they were well refreshed and eased. They kept there 
the sword wherewith John Fox had killed the Keeper; 



^j5fy n i579-] ^OX AT LENGTH REACHES ENGLAND. 211 

esteeming it as a most precious jewel, and hanged it up for 
a monument. 

When they thought good, having leave to depart from 
thence ; they sailed along the coast, till they arrived at 
Tarento : where they sold their galley ; and divided it, every 
man having a part thereof. 

The Turks receiving so shameful a foil at their hands, 
pursued the Christians ; and scoured the seas, where they 
could imagine that they had bent their course. And the 
Christians [in their galley] had departed from thence 
[? Gallipoli' on the one day in the morning ; and seven galleys 
of the Turks came thither that night : as it was certified by 
those who followed Fox and his company ; fearing lest he 
should have been met with. 

And then, they came afoot to Naples ; where they departed 
asunder : every man taking him to his next way home. 

From whence, John Fox took his journey unto Rome, 
where he was well entertained of an Englishman, who 
presented his worthy deed unto the Pope : who rewarded him 
liberally, and gave him his letters to the King of Spain ; 
where he was very well entertained of him there [in Spain , 
who for this his most worthy enterprise, gave him twenty 
pence a day. 

From whence, being desirous to come into his own country ; 
he came thither at such time as he conveniently could, which 
was in the year of our LORD GOD, 1579. Who being come 
into England, went into the Court ; and showed all his travel 
unto the Council : who considering the state of this man, in 
that he had spent and lost a great part of his youth in 
thraldom and bondage, extended to him their liberality; to 
help maintain him now in age : to their right honour, and to 
the encouragement of all true-hearted Christians. 

The copy of the certificate for John Fox and his company, 
made by the Prior and the brethren of Gallipoli ; 
where they first landed. 
XTinfZi the Prior and Fathers of the Convent of the 
iVAttM ^" lcy(!iltcs > "f tllc c 'ty °f Gallipoli, of the Order of 
1 Preachers ; do testify that upon the 29th of January last 
past, 1577, there came into the said city a certain galley 



212 The Pope's letters on behalf of Fox. [^jJ^JS 

from Alexandria, taken from the Turks, with two hundred and 
fifty and eight Christians : whereof was principal, master Jons 
Fox, an Englishman, Gunner ; and one of the chicfest that did 
accomplish that great work, whereby so many Christians have 
recovered their liberties. In token and remembrance whereof, upon 
our earnest request to the same John Fox, lie hath left an old 
sword wherewith he slew the Keeper of the prison : which sword 
we do as a monument and memorial of so worthy a deed, hang up 
in the chief place of our Convent house. And for because all tilings 
aforesaid are such as we will testify to be true, as they are orderly 
passed and have therefore good credit, that so much as is above 
expressed is true ; and for the more faith thereof t we the Prior and 
Fathers aforesaid have ratified and subscribed these presents. 
Given in Gallipoli the third of February, 1577. 

/ Friar Vincent Barba, Prior of the same place, confirm the 
premises, as they are above written. 

I Friar Albert Damaro of Gallipoli, Sub-Prior, confirm as 
much. 

I Friar Anthony Cellarer of Gallipoli, confirm as aforesaid. 

I Friar Bartholomew of Gallipoli, confirm as above said. 

I Friar Francis of Gallipoli, confirm as much. 



The Bishop of Rome's letters in behalf of 
John Fox. 




E it known unto all men to whom this writing shall 
come, that the bringcr hereof, John Fox, Englishman, 
a Gunner, after lie had served captive in the Turks' 
galleys by the space of fourteen years, at length, through 
GOD's help, taking good opportunity, the third of January last 
bast, slew the Keeper of the prison (whom he first struck on the face) ; 
together with four and twenty other Turks, by the assistance of his 
fellow-prisoners: and with 266 Christians (of whose liberty he 
ivas the author) launched from Alexandria, and from thence 
arrived first at Gallipoli in Caudia, and afterwards at Tareuto 
in Apulia : the written testimony and credit of which things, as 
also <f others, the same John Fox hath in public tables from 
Naples. 

Upon Easter Eve 129/A March, 1577', he came to Rome, and is 
now determined to take his journey to the Spanish Court ; hoping 



tuiy 1 "^ 5 '] King Philip makes him a gunner. 213 

there to obtain some relief towards his living : wherefore the poor 
distressed man humbly beseccheth ; and we, in his behalf, do in the 
bowels of Christ, desire you that taking compassion of his former 
captivity and present penury, you do not only suffer him freely to 
pass through all your cities and towns, but also succour him with 
your charitable alms, the reward whereof you shall hereafter most 
assuredly receive: which we hope you will afford to him, whom 
with tender affection of pity, we commend unto you: At Rome, 
the 20th of April, 1577. 

Thomas Grolos, Englishman, Bishop of Astraphan. 

Richard Silleun, Prior Anglice. 

Andreas Ludovicus. Registrar to our sovereign Lord the 
Pope : which for the greater credit of the premisses, have set my 
seal to these presents. At Rome, the day and year above written. 

Mauricius Clement. The Governor and Keeper of the 
English Hospital in the city. 



The King of Spain's letters to the Lieutenant, for placing 
of John Fox in the office of a Gunner, &c. 

the illustrious Prince, Vespasian Gox/.aga Colpxxa, 
our Lieutenant and Captain General of our Realm of 
Valencia. Having consideration that John Fox, 
Englishman, hath served us, and was one of the most 
principal which took away from the Turks a certain galley. 
which they have brought to Tarento, wherein were two hundred, 
fifty and eight Christian captives : We license him to practise, 
and give him the office of a Gunner, and have ordained that he go 
to our said Realm, there to serve in the said office in the galleys. 
which by our commandment are lately made. And we do command 
that you cause to be paid to him eight ducats pay a month, for the 
time that he shall serve in the said galleys as a gunner, or till we 
can otherwise provide for him : the said eight ducats monthly of the 
money which is already of OUT provision present and to come, and 
to have regard of those which come with him. 
Prom Escurial the tenth of August, 1577. 
/ the A' ixc 

I 1 \ \ DEL GODA. 

And under that a confirmation of the Council. 




2 14 A. M un day's Poem on the Story. [ A /uiy'S 



[The following lines by Anthony Munday are omitted by Hakluyt 
in his reprint of this little book in his Principal English Voyages, ii. 136. 
Ed. 1589-1600.] 

Verses written by A. M. To the courteous Readers, who was 

present at Rome, when John Fox received 

his letters of the Pope. 




Eaving at large all fables vainly used, 

all trifling toys that do no truth import ; 
Lo here, how the end (at length) though long diffused, 
unfoldeth plain a rare and true report : 
To glad those minds, who seek their country's wealth 

by proffered pains t'enlarge its happy health. iwasatRome 
At Rome I was, when Fox did there arrive ; h"use, w£Li s 

, , r T /./-. . . , Fox was there 

therefore I may sufficiently express and received 

What gallant joy his deeds did there revive 

in the hearts of those which heard his valiantness. 
And how the Pope did recompense his pains, 

and letters gave to move his greater gains. 
But yet I know that many do misdoubt 

that those his pains are fables and untrue : 
Not only I in this, will bear him out ; 

but divers more that did his Patents view. 
And unto those so boldly I dare say 

that nought but truth John Fox doth here bewray. 
Besides there's one was slave with him in thrall 

lately returned into our native land ; 
This witness can this matter perfect all : 

what needeth more ? for witness he may stand. 
And thus I end, unfolding what I know; 

the other man more larger proof can show. 

Honos alii artes. 

A.M. 



2 *5 



Charles Cotton. 
Winter. 



[Poems on sere nil occasions.] 






Ark ! hark ! I hear the north wind roar. 
See how he riots on the shore ! 
And with expanded wings outstretcht, 
Ruffles the billows on the beach. 

Hark ! how the routed waves complain, 
And call for succour to the main ; 
Flying the storm as if they meant 
To creep into the continent. 

Surely all ^Eol's huffing brood 
Are met to war against the flood ; 
Which seems surprised, and has not yet 
Had time his levies to complete. 

The beaten bark, her rudder lost, 

Is on the rolling billows tost; 

Her keel now ploughs the ooze, and soon 

Her topmast tilts against the moon. 

'Tis strange the pilot keeps his seat, 
His bounding ship does so curvet : 
Whilst the poor passengers are found 
In their own fears, already drowned. 



2i6 Winter. [ CCo r 9 

Now fins do serve for wings, and bear 
Their scaly squadrons through the air ; 
Whilst the air's inhabitants do stain 
Their gaudy plumage in the main. 

Now stars concealed in clouds, do peep 
Into the secrets of the deep : 
And lobsters spued from the brine, 
With Cancer's constellations, shine. 

Sure Neptune's watery kingdoms yet, 
Since first their coral graves were wet ; 
Were ne'er disturbed with such alarms, 
Nor had such trial of their arms. 

See where a liquid mountain rides, 
Made up of innumerable tides ; 
And tumbles headlong on the strand : 
As if the sea would come to land. 

A sail ! a sail ! I plainly spy 
Betwixt the ocean and the sky ; 
An argosy, a tall built ship, 
With all her pregnant sails atrip. 

Nearer and nearer she makes way, 
With canvas wings, into the bay ; 
And now upon the deck appears 
A crowd of busy mariners. 

Methinks, I hear the cordage crack, 
With furrowing Neptune's foaming back; 
Who wounded and revengeful, roars 
His fury to the neighbouring shores. 



c - Co X'l Winter. 



1689.J 



21 



With massy trident high, he heaves 
Her sliding keel above the waves ; 
Opening his liquid arms to take 
The bold invader in his wreck. 

See how she dives into his chest ! 
Whilst raising up his floating breast, 
To clasp her in ; he makes her rise 
Out of the reach of his surprise. 

Nearer she comes, and still doth sweep 
The azure surface of the deep ; 
And now at last the waves have thrown 
Their rider on our Albion. 

Under the black cliff's spumy base, 
The sea-sick hulk her freight displays ; 
And as she walloweth on the sand, 
Vomits her burden to the land. 

With heads erect and plying oar, 
The shipwrecked mates make to the shore ; 
And dreadless of their danger, climb 
The floating mountains of the brine. 

Hark ! hark ! the noise their echo makes, 
The islands, silver waves to shake ; 
Sure with these throws the labouring main 
Is delivered of a hurricane. 



And see the seas becalmed behind, 
Not crispt with any breeze of wind ; 
The tempest has forsook the waves, 
And on land begins his braves. 



2 i S Winter. 

Hark ! hark ! their voices higher rise, 
They tear the welkin with their cries. 
The very rocks their fury feel, 
And like sick drunkards nod and reel. 

Louder and louder, still they come 
Nile's cataracts to these are dumb. 
The Cyclops to these blades, are still ; 
Whose anvils shake the burning hill. 

Were all the stars enlightened skies, 
As full of ears as sparkling eyes ; 
This rattle in the crystal hall, 
Would be enough to deaf them all. 

What monstrous race is hither tost, 
Thus to alarm our British coast 
With outcries ; such as never yet 
War or confusion could beget. 

Oh ! now I know them, let us home. 
Our mortal enemy is come. 
Winter and all his blust'ring train 
Have made a voyage o'er the main. 

Banisht the countries of the sun, 
The fugitive is hither run ; 
To ravish from our fruitful fields 
All that the teeming season yields. 

Like an invader, not a guest ; 
He comes to riot, not to feast : 
And in wild fury overthrows 
Whatever does his march oppose. 



rC. Cotton. 



C Co I u 6 ° 8 y \V INTER. 219 

With bleak and with congealing winds, 
The earth in shining chains he binds; 
And still as he doth further pass, 
Quarries his way with liquid glass. 



Hark ! how the blusterers of the Bear, 
Their gibbous cheeks in triumph tear; 
And with continued shouts do ring 
The entry of their palsied King. 

The squadron nearest to your eye 

Is his Forlorn of infantry ; 

Bowmen of unrelenting minds, 

Whose shafts are feathered with the winds. 

Now you may see his Vanguard rise 
Above the earthly precipice ; 
Bold horse, on bleakest mountains bred, 
With hail instead of provend fed. 

Their lances are the pointed locks, 
Torn from the brows of frozen rocks ; 
Their shields are crystals, as their swords, 
The steel the rusted rock affords. 

See the Main body now appears ! 
And hark ! the yEolian trumpeters, 
By their hoarse levets, do declare 
That the bold General rides there. 

And look where mantled up in white 
He sleds it like the Muscovite. 
I know him by the port he bears, 
And his life-guards of mountaineers. 



220 Winter. [ c ' c °S 

Their caps are furred with hoary frost. 
The bravery their cold kingdom boasts ; 
Their spongy plaids are milk-white frieze 
Spun from the snowy mountains' fleece. 



Their partisans are fine carved glass, 
Fringed with the morning's spangled grass; 
And pendant by their brawny thighs, 
Hang scimitars of burnisht ice. 

See ! see! the Rearward now has won 
The promontory's trembling crown ; 
Whilst at their numerous spurs, the ground 
Groans out a hollow murmuring sound. 

The Forlorn now halts for the Van, 
The Rearguard draws up to the Main ; 
And now they altogether crowd 
Their troops into a threatening cloud. 

Fly ! fly ! the foe advances fast. 
Into our fortress, let us haste ; 
Where all the roarers of the north 
Can neither storm, nor starve us forth. 

There underground a magazine 
Of sovereign juice is collared in, 
Liquor that will the siege maintain 
Should Phoebus ne'er return again. 

'Tis that, that gives the poet rage, 
And thaws the jellied blood of age ; 
Matures the young, restores the old, 
And makes the fainting coward bold. 



CCo S:] Winter. 

Then let the chill Sirocco blow, 

And gird us round with hills of snow ; 

Or else go whistle to the shore 

And make the hollow mountains roar. 



While we together jovial sit 
Careless, and crowned with mirth and wit ; 
Where though bleak winds confine us home, 
Our fancies round the world shall roam. 

We think of all the friends we know, 
And drink to all worth drinking to ; 
When having drunk all thine and mine, 
We rather shall want health than wine. 

But where friends fail us, we'll supply 
Our friendships with our charity ; 
Men that remote in sorrows live, 
Shall by our lusty brimmers thrive. 

We'll drink the wanting into wealth, 
And those that languish into health, 
The afflicted into joy, th'opprest 
Into security and rest. 

The worthy in disgrace shall find 
Favour return again more kind ; 
And in restraint who stifled lie, 
Shall taste the air of liberty. 

The brave shall triumph in success, 
The lovers shall have mistresses, 
Poor unregarded virtue, praise; 
And the neglected poet, bays. 



221 



222 



,, T rC. Cotton. 

Winter. L ussg. 

Thus shall our healths do others good, 
Whilst we ourselves do. all we would ; 
For freed from envy and from care, 
What would we be ? but what we are. 

'Tis the plump grape's immortal juice 
That does this happiness p'roduce ; 
And will preserve us free together, 
Maugre mischance or wind and weather. 

Then let Old Winter take his course, 
And roar abroad till he be hoarse ; 
And his lungs crack with ruthless ire ; 
It shall but serve to blow our fire. 

Let him our little castle ply 
With all his loud artillery : 
Whilst Sack and Claret man the fort, 
His fury shall become our sport. 




THE 

Carriers' Cosmography: 

or 

A Brief Relation 

of 

The Inns, Ordinaries, Hostelries, 

and other lodgings in and near London; where the 
Carriers, Waggons, Foot-posts and Higglers 
do usually come from any parts, towns, 
shires and countries of the Kingdoms of Eng- 
land, Principality of Wales ; as also from the 
Kingdoms of Scotland and Ireland. 

With nomination of what days of 

the week they do come to London, and on 
what days they return: whereby all sorts of 

people may find direction how to receive or send 

goods or letters unto such places as their 

occasions may require. 

As also, 

Where the Ships, Hoys, Barks, 

Tiltboats, Barges and Wherries, do usually attend 

to carry Passengers and Goods to the coast towns 

of England, Scotland, Ireland, or the Netherlands; 

and where the Barges and Boats are ordinarily 

to be had, that go up the River of Thames 

westward from London. 

By lohn Taylor. 
London Printed by A.G. 1637. 



225 




To all whom it may concern ; with my 

kind remembrance to the Posts, Carriers, 

Waggoners and Higglers. 




F any man or woman whomsoever hath either occasion 

or patience to read this following description, it is no 

doubt but they shall find full satisfaction for as much 

as they laid out for the book : if not, it is against 

my will ; and my good intentions are lost and frustrate. 

I wrote it for three causes. First, for a general and necessary 
good use for the whole commonwealth. Secondly, to express my 
grateful duty to all those who have honestly paid me my money 
which they owed me for my books of The collection of Taverns 
in London and Westminster, and ten shires or counties next 
round about London; and I do also thank all such as do purpose 
to pay me hereafter. Thirdly, for the third sort, that can pay me 
and will not; I write this as a document : I am well pleased to 
leave them to the hangman's tuition, as being past any other man's 
mending, for I would hare them to know, that I am sensible of 

Bng. Gar. I. j - 



2 26 A DIRECTION TO THE READER. [{faJrfS. 1 

the too much loss that I do suffer by their pride or cousenagc; their 
number being so many arid my charge so great, which I paid for 
paper and printing of those books, that the base dealing of those 
sharks is insupportable. But the tedious toil that I had in this 
collection, and the harsh and unsavoury answers that I ivas fain 
to take patiently, from Hostlers, Carriers, and Porters, may move 
any man that thinks himself mortal to pity me. 

In some places, I was suspected for a Projector ; or one that had 
devised some trick to bring the Carriers under some new taxation ; 
and sometimes I was held to have been a Man-taker, a Sergeant, or 
Bailiff to arrest or attach men's goods or beasts. Indeed I was 
scarce taken for an honest man amongst the most of them. All 
which suppositions I was enforced oftentimes to wash away with 
two or three jugs of beer, at most of the Inns I came to. In some 
Inns or Hostelries, I coidd get no certain intelligence, so that I 
did take instructions at the next Inn unto it ; which I did 
oftentimes take upon trust though I doubted [feared] it was indirect 
and imperfect. 

Had the Carriers, Hostlers, and others known my harmless and 
honest intendments, I do think this following relation had been 
more large and useful : but if there be any thing left out in this 
first impression, it shall be with diligence inserted hereafter, when 
the Carriers and I shall be more familiarly acquainted ; and they, 
with the Hostlers, shall be pleased in their generosity, to afford me 
more ample directions. In the mean space, I hope I shall give 
none of my readers cause to curse the Carrier that brought me to 
town. 

Some may object that the Carriers do often change and shift 
from one Inn or Lodging to another, whereby this following 
direction may be hereafter untrue. To them I answer, that I am 
not bound to bind them or to stay them in one place; but if they 
do remove, tiny may be inquired for at the place which tlicy have 



May^.'J A direction to the Reader. 227 

left or forsaken ; and it is an easy matter to find them by the 
learned intelligence of some other Carriers, an Hostler, or an 
understanding Porter. 

Others may object and say that I have not named all the towns 
and places that Carriers do go unto in England and Wales. To 
whom I yield; but yet I answer, that if a Carrier of York hath a 
letter or goods to deliver at any town in his way thither, he serves 
the turn icell enough : and there are Carriers and Messengers from 
York to carry such goods and letters as are to be passed any ways 
north, broad and wide as far or farther than Berwick. So he that 
sends to Lancaster may from thence have what he sends conveyed 
to Kendal or Cockermouth ; and what a man sends to Hereford 
may from thence be passed to St. Davids in Wales. The 
Worcester Carriers can convey anything as far as Cacrmarthen ; 
and those that go to Chester may send to Caernarvon. The 
Carriers or Posts that go to Exeter may send daily to Plymouth, 
or to the Mount in Cornwall. Mixficld, Chippenham, Hunger- 
ford, Newberry, and all those towns between London and Bristol ; 
the Bristol Carriers do carry letters unto them : so likewise all the 
towns and places are served, which are betwixt London and 
Lincoln, or Boston, Yarmouth, Oxford, Cambridge, Walsingham, 
Dover, Rye, or any place of the Kitig's dominions, with safe and 
true carriage of goods and letters; as by this little book's directions 
may be perceived. 

Besides, if a man at Constantinople or some other remote part 
or region shall chance to send a letter to his parents, master, or 
friends that dwell at Nottingham, Derby, Shrewsbury, Exeter, or 
any other town in England; then this book will give instructions 
where the Carriers do lodge that mat/ convey the said letter, which 
could not easily be done without it ; for there are not many that by 
heart or memory can tell suddenly where and when every Carrier is 
to be found. 

15 



2 28 A DIRECTION TO THE READER. [W&£ 

I have (for the ease of the reader and the speedier finding out of 
every town's name, to which any one would send, or from whence 
they woidd receive) set them down by way of Alphabet; and thus 
Reader if thou becst pleased, I am satisfied; if thou beest 
contented, I am paid; if thou becst angry, I care not for it. 




229 




A. 

He Carriers of Saint Albans do come every 
Friday to the sign of the Peacock in 
Aldersgate street : on which days also 
cometh a coach from Saint Albans, to the 
Bell in the same street. The like Coach 
is also there for the carriage of passengers 
every Tuesday. 

The Carriers of Abingdon do lodge at 
the George in Bread street. They do come on Wednesdays, 
and go away on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire do lodge 
at the George near Holborn Bridge, at the Swan in the Strand, 
at the Angel behind St. Clement's church, and at the Bell in 
Holborn. They are at one of these places every other day. 

The Carriers of Ashbury do lodge at the Castle in Great 
Wood street. They are to be found there on Thursdays, 
Fridays and Saturdays. 




B. 



• 



He Carriers of Blanville in Dorsetshire do lodge at 
the Chequer near Charing Cross. They do come 
thither every second Thursday. Also there cometh 
Carriers from Blandford, to the sign of the Rost 



near Holborn Bridge. 



23O A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS, [{fay^] 

The Carriers of Braintree and Booking in Essex do lodge 
at the sign of the Tabard in Gracious [Gracechurch] street, 
near the Conduit. They do come on Thursdays, and go away 
on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Bath do lodge at the Three Cups in Bread 
street. They come on Fridays, and go on Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Bristol do lodge at the Three Clips in Bread 
street ; and likewise from Bristol on Thursdays, a Carrier 
which lodgeth at the Swan near to Holborn Bridge. 

The Carriers of Bruton in Dorsetshire do lodge at the Rose 
near Holborn Bridge. They come on Thursdays, and go 
away on Fridays. 

The Carriers from divers parts of Buckinghamshire and 
Bedfordshire are almost every day to be had at the sign of 
the Saracen's Head without Newgate. 

The Carriers of Broomsbury do lodge at the sign of the 
Maidenhead in Cateaton street, near the Guildhall in London. 
They come on Thursdays, and go away on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Bingham in Nottinghamshire do lodge at 
the Black Bull in Smithfield. They come on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Bramley in Staffordshire do lodge at the 
Castle near Smithfield-bars. They come on Thursdays, and 
go away on Fridays or Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Burford in Oxfordshire do lodge at the 
Bell in Friday street. They come on Thursdays, and go away 
on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Buckingham do lodge at the King's Head 
in the Old Change. They come Wednesdays and Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Buckingham do lodge at the Saracen's 
Head in Qarter lane. They come and go Fridays and 
Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Bewdley in Worcestershire do lodge at the 
Castle in Wood street. They come and go Thursdays, 
Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Buckingham do lodge at the George near 
Holborn Bridge. They come and go on Wednesdays, 
Thuisdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Brackley in Northamptonshire do lodge 
at the George near Holborn Bridge. They come and go on 
Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Banbury in Oxfordshire do lodge at the 



Ly^S ^ WAY T0 FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 231 

George near Holborn Bridge. They go and come Wednesdays, 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Bedford do lodge at the Three Horseshoes in 
Aldersgate street. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Bridgnorth do lodge at the Maidenhead in 
Cateaton street, near the Guildhall. 

The Carriers of Bury, or St. Edmund's Bury, in Suffolk, do 
lodge at the Dolphin without Bishopsgate street. They come 
on Thursdays. 

The Waggons of Bury, or Berry, in Suffolk, do come every 
Thursday to the sign of the Four Swans in Bishopsgate 
street. 

A Foot Post doth come from the said Bury every Wednes- 
day to the Green Dragon in Bishopsgate street ; by whom 
letters may be conveyed to and fro. 

The Carriers of Barnstaple in Devonshire do lodge at the 
Star in Bread street. They come on Fridays, and return on 
Saturdays or Mondays. 

The Carriers of Bampton do lodge at the Mermaid in 
Carter lane ; and there also lodge the carriers of Buckland. 
They are there on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Brill in Buckinghamshire do lodge at the 
sign of Saint Paul's Head in Carter lane. They come on 
Tuesdays and Wednesdays. 

The Carriers of Bampton in Lancashire do lodge at the 
Bear at Bassishaw. They are there to be had on Thursdays 
and Fridays. Also thither cometh Carriers from other parts 
in the said county of Lancashire. 

The Carriers of Batcombe in Somersetshire do lodge at 
the Crown or JarrcVs Hall at the end of Basing lane, near 
Bread street. They come every Friday. 

The Carriers of Broughton in Leicestershire do lodge at 
the sign of the Axe in Aldermanbury. They are there every 
Friday. 

c. 

He Carriers of Colchester do lodge at the Cross 
Keys in Gracious street. They come on the 
Thursdays, and go away on the Fridays. 

The Carrier of Chesham in Buckinghamshire 




232 A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [LyTe'^". 

doth come twice every week to the sign of the White Hart 
in High Holborn, at the end of Drury lane. 

The Carrier of Coggeshall in Suffolk doth lodge at the 
Spread Eagle in Gracious street. He comes and goes on 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Waggons from Chippenganger [Chipping Ongar] in 
Essex do come every Wednesday to the Crown without 
Aldgate. 

The Waggons from Chelmsford in Essex come on Wednes- 
days to the sign of the Blue Boar without Aldgate. 

The Carriers of Cheltenham in Gloucestershire do lodge 
at the Three Cups in Bread street. They do come on Fridays, 
and go away on Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Camden in Gloucestershire, and of 
Chipping Norton, do lodge at the Three Cups in Bread street. 
They come and go Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Chester do lodge at the Castle in Wood 
street. They are there to be had on Thursdays, Fridays and 
Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Chard in Dorsetshire do lodge at the 
Queen's Arms near Holborn Bridge. They are there to be 
had on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Chard do lodge at the George in Bread street. 

The Carriers of Chester do lodge at Blossom's or Bosom's 
Inn in St. Laurance lane, near Cheapside : every Thursday. 

The Carriers of Coleashby in Northamptonshire do lodge 
at the sign of the Ball in Smithfield. Also there do lodge 
Carriers of divers parts of that country [county] at the Bell, 
in Smithfield. They do come on the Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Crawley in Bedfordshire do lodge at the 
Bear and Ragged Staff in Smithfield. They come on the 
Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Coventry in Warwickshire, do lodge at 
the Ram in Smithfield. They come on Wednesdays and 
Thursdays. 

There are other Carriers from Coventry that do, on 
Thursdays and Fridays, come to the Rose in Smithfield. 

The Carrier of Creete in Leicestershire doth lodge at the 
Rose in Smithfield. 

The Waggons or Coaches from Cambridge do come every 
Thursday and Friday to the Black Bull in Bishopsgate street. 




tJ^SJ A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 233 

The Carriers of Coventry do lodge at the sign of the Axe 
in Saint Mary Axe in Aldermanbury. They are there 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Cambridge do lodge at the Bell in 
Coleman street. They come every Thursday. 

The Foot Post of Canterbury doth come every Wednesday 
and Saturday to the sign of the Tivo-ncckcd [i.e. nicked] Swan 
at Sommers Key, near Billingsgate. 

The Carriers of Crookehorne in Devonshire do lodge at 
the Queen's Arms near Holborn Bridge. They come on 
Thursdays. 

D. 

He Carriers of Dunmow in Essex do lodge at the 
Saracen's Head in Gracious street. They come and 
go on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Waggons from Dunmow do come every 
Wednesday to the Crown without Aldgate. 

The Carriers of Ditmarsh in Berkshire do lodge at the 
George in Bread street. 

The Carriers ot Doncaster in Yorkshire, and many other 
parts in that country, do lodge at the Bell, or Belle Sauvage, 
without Ludgate. They do come on Fridays, and go a\\a\ 
on Saturdays or Mondays. 

The Carriers of Dorchester do lodge at the Rose ne 
Holborn Bridge. They come and go on Thursdays and 
Fridays. 

The Carriers of Denbigh in Wales do lodge at Boso>n'<> 
Inn every Thursday. Also other Carriers do come to the 
said Inn from other parts of that country. 

The Carrier of Daintree doth lodge every Friday night at 
the Crass- Keys in Saint John's street. 

The Carriers from Duneehanger, and other places neai 
Stony Stratford, do lodge at the Three Cups in Saint John's 
street. 

The Carriers of Derby, and other parts of Derbyshire, do 
lodge at the Axe in Saint Mary Axe, near Aldermanbury. 
They are to be heard of there on Fridays.. 

The Carriers of Derby do lodge at the Castle in Wood 
street every week, on Thursdays or Fridays. 



234 A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 



[J. Taylor. 
LMay 1637. 




E. 

He Carrier of Epping in Essex doth lodge at the 
Prince's Arms in Leadenhall street. He comes on 
Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Exeter do lodge at the Star in 
Bread street. They come on Fridays, and go away on 
Saturdays or Mondays. 

The Carriers of Exeter do lodge at the Rose near Holborn 
Bridge. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Evesham in Worcestershire do lodge at 
the Castle in Wood street. They come thither on Fridays. 

F. 

He Carriers of Feckingham-forest in Worcestershire 

do lodge at the Crown in High Holborn, and at the 

Queen's Head at Saint Giles in the fields. There is 

also another Carrier from the same place. 

The Carriers of Farringdon in Berkshire do lodge at the 



• 



Saint Paul's Head in Carter lane, 
and go away on Wednesdays. 

G. 



They come on Tuesdays, 




Arriers from Grindon Under Wood in Buckingham- 
shire do lodge at the Saint Paul's Head in Carter 
lane. They are to be found there on Tuesdays and 
Wednesdays. 

The Carriers of Gloucester do come to the Saracen's Head 
without Newgate, on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Gloucester do lodge at the Saracen's Head 
in Carter lane. They come on Fridays. 

Clothiers do come every week out of divers parts of 
Gloucestershire to the Saracen's Head in Friday street. 

The Wains or Waggons do come every week from sundry 
places in Gloucestershire, and are to be had at the Swan 
near Holborn Bridge. 

There are Carriers of some places in Gloucestershire that 
do lodge at the Mermaid in Carter lane. 




Ly a i637.] A WAY T0 FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 235 



H. 

Arriers from Hadley in Suffolk do lodge at the 
George in Lombard street. They come on Thursdays. 
The Carriers of Huntingdon do lodge at the 
White Hind without Cripplegate. They come upon 
Thursdays, and go away on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Hereford do lodge at the King's Head in 
the Old Change. They do come on Fridays, and go on 
Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Halifax in Yorkshire do lodge at the 
Greyhound in Smithfield. They do come but once every 
month. 

The Carriers of Halifax are every Wednesday to be had at 
the Bear at Bassishaw. 

The Carriers of Halifax do likewise lodge at the Axe in 
[Saint Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. 

The Carriers of Halifax do likewise lodge at the White 
Hart in Coleman street. 

The Carriers of Hatfield in Hertfordshire do lodge at the 
Bell in Saint John's street. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Harding in Hertfordshire do lodge at the 
Cock in Aldersgate street. They come on Tuesdays, 
Wednesdays, and Thursdays. 

The Carrier or Waggon of Hadham in Hertfordshire do 
lodge at the Bull in Bishopsgate street. They do come and 
go on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Waggon or Coach from Hertford town doth come 
every Friday to the Four Swans without Bishopsgate street. 

The Waggon or Coach of Hatfield doth come every 
Friday to the Bell in Aldersgate street. 

I. 

He Carriers of Ipswich in Suffolk do lodge at the 
sign of the George in Lombard street. They do 
come on Thursdays. 

The Post of Ipswich doth lodge at the Cross Keys 

in Gracious street. He comes on Thursdays, and goes on 

Fridays. 




236 A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [fcJSS 

The Wains of Ingarstone in Essex do come every 
Wednesday to the King's Arms in Leadenhall street. 

The Carriers of Ivell in Dorsetshire do lodge at Jarrefs 
Hall or the Crown in Basing lane, near Bread street. 



K. 

He Carriers of Keinton in Oxfordshire do lodge at 
the Bell in Friday street. They are there to be had 
on Thursdays and Fridays. 
The Post of the Town of Kingston upon Hull, 
commonly called Hull, doth lodge at the sign of the Bull over 
against Leadenhall. 





L. 

He Carrier of Lincoln do lodge at the White Horse 
without Cripplegate. He cometh every second 
Friday. 

The Carriers of Leighton Beudesart, corruptly 
culled Leighton Buzzard, in Bedfordshire ; do lodge at the 
Hart's Horns in Smithtield. They come on Mondays and 
Tuesdays. 

The Carriers of Leicester do lodge at the Saracen's Head 
without Newgate. They come on Tuesdays. 

The Carriers of Leicester do also lodge at the Castle near 
Smithfield-bars. They do come on Thursdays. 

There be Carriers that do pass to and through sundry 
parts of Leicestershire ; which do lodge at the Ram in 
Smithfield. 

The like Carriers are weekly to be had at the Rose in 
Smithfield, that come and go through other parts of Leices- 
tershire. 

The Carriers of Lewton [Luton] in Hertfordshire do lodge 
at the Cock in Aldersgate street. They are there Tuesdays 
and Wednesdays. 

The Carriers of Leeds in Yorkshire do lodge at the Beat 
in Bassishaw. They come every Wednesday. 

The Carriers of Leeds do also lodge at the Axe in [Saint 
Mar\ Axe Aldei manlun \ . 




!.;] A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 237 

The Carriers of Leicester do lodge at the Axe in [Saint 
Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. 

The Carriers of Loughborough in Leicestershire do lodge 
at the Axe in [Saint Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. Also other 
Carriers do lodge there which do pass through Leicestershire, 
and through divers places of Lancashire. 

M. 

He Carriers of Maiden in Essex do lodge at the 
Cross Keys in Gracious street. They come on 
Thursdays, and go on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Monmouth in Wales, and some 
parts of Monmouthshire; do lodge at the [Saint] Paul's Head 
in Carter lane. They do come to London on Fridays. 

The Carriers of Marlborough do lodge at the sign of the 
Swan near Holborn Bridge. They do come on Thursdays. 

There doth come from Great Marlow in Buckinghamshire 
some higglers or demi-carriers. They do lodge at the Swan 
in the Strand, and they come every Tuesday. 

The Carriers of Manchester do lodge at the Bear in 
Bassishaw. They do come on Thursdays or Fridays. 

The Carriers of Manchester do likewise lodge at the sign 
of the Axe in "Saint Mary Axe~ Aldeimanburv. 

The Carriers of Manchester do also lodge at the Two- 
necked Swan in Lad lane ; between Great Wood street and 
Milk-street end. They come every second Thursday. Also 
there do lodge Carriers that do pass through divers other 
parts of Lancashire. 

The Carriers of Melford in Suffolk do lodge at the Spread 
Eagle in Gracious street. They come and go on Thursdays 
and Fridays. 

N. 




jArriers from New-Elme in Berkshire do lodge at 
the George in Bread street. They come on Wednes- 



1 
days and Thursdays. 
The Carriers of N 



etherley in Staffordshire do 
lodge at the Beat and Ragged Staff in Smithfield. They do 
come on Thursdays. 



238 A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [&J"$JJ 

The Carriers of Northampton, and from other parts of that 
country there about ; are almost every day in the week to be 
had at the Ram in Smithfield. 

There doth come also Carriers to the Rose in Smithfield, 
daily ; which do pass to or through many parts of North- 
amptonshire. 

The Carrier of Nottingham doth lodge at the Cross Keys in 
Saint John's street. He cometh every second Saturday. 

There is also a Foot Post that doth come every second 
Thursday from Nottingham. He lodgeth at the Swan in St. 
John's street. 

The Carriers of Norwich do lodge at the Dolphin without 
Bishopsgate. They are to be found there on Mondays and 
Tuesdays. 

The Carriers of Newport Pannel [Pagnell] in Bucking- 
hamshire do lodge at the Peacock in Aldersgate street. They 
do come on Mondays and Tuesdays. 

The Carriers at Nantwich do lodge at the Axe in [Saint 
Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. They are there Wednesdays, 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Nuneaton in Warwickshire do lodge at the 
Axe in [Saint Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. They come on 
Fridays. 

o. 



He Carriers of Oxford do lodge at the Saracen's 
Head without Newgate, near Saint Sepulchre's 
Church. They are there on Wednesdays, or almost 
any day. 

The Carriers of Olney in Buckinghamshire do lodge at the 
Cock in Aldersgate street, at the Long lane end. They do 
come on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. 



P. 



He Carriers of Preston in Lancashire do lodge at 
the Bell in Friday street. They are there on 
Fridays. 




lllylelj.} A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 239 

R. 

He Carriers of Reading in Berkshire do lodge at 
the George in Bread street. They are there on 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers from Rutland and Rutlandshire, 
and other parts of Yorkshire, do lodge at the Ram in 
Smithfield. They come weekly ; but their days of coming 
are not certain. 



j 



s. 




He Carriers of Sudbury in Suffolk do lodge at the 
Saracen's Head in Gracious street. They do come 
and go on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Sawbridgeworth in Hertfordshire 
do lodge at the Prince's Arms in Leadenhall street. They 
come on Thursdays. 

The Wains from Stock in Essex do come every Wednesday 
to the King's Arms in Leadenhall street. 

The Carriers from Stroodwater in Gloucestershire do 
lodge at the Bell in Friday street. They do come on 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Sisham in Northamptonshire do lodge at 
the Saracen's Head in Carter lane. They come on Friday, 
and return on Saturday. 

The Carriers from Sheffield in Yorkshire do lodge at the 
Castle in Wood street. They are there to be found on 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers from Salisbury do lodge at the Queen's Arms 
near Holborn Bridge. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Shrewsbury do lodge at the Maidenhead 
in Cateaton street, near Guildhall. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Shrewsbury do also lodge at Bosom's Inn. 
They do come on Thursdays. And there do lodge Carriers 
that do travel divers parts of the county of Shropshire and 
places adjoining. 

The Carrier from Stony Stratford doth lodge at the Rose and 
11 in Saint John's street. He cometh every Tuesday. 

There doth come from Saffron Market in Norfolk a Foot 
Post who lodgeth at the Chequer in Holborn. 



24O A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [fcX'S? 



The Carriers of Stamford do lodge at the Bell in Aldersgate 
street. They do come on Wednesdays and Thursdays. 

The Waggon from Saffron Walden in Essex doth come to 
the Bull in Bishopsgate street. It is to be had there on 
Tuesdays and Wednesdays. 

The Carriers of Shaftesbury, and from Sherborne in 
Dorsetshire, do lodge at the Crown or J arret' s Hall in Basing 
lane near Bread street. They come on Fridays. 

The Carriers from Stopford in Cheshire do lodge at the 
Axe in [Saint Mary Axe] Aldermanbury. Also there are 
Carriers to other parts of Cheshire. 

The Carriers of Stafford and other parts of that county, 
do lodge at the Swan with two Necks in Lad lane. They come 
on Thursdays. 

T. 

]Arriers from Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire do lodge 
at the Three Cups in Bread street. They come and 
go on Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Tiverton in Devonshire do lodge 
at the Star in Bread street. They come on Fridays, and 
return on Saturdays or Mondays. 

The Carriers of Thame in Oxfordshire do lodge at the 
Saracen's Head in Carterlane. The)' come and go on Fridays 
and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Torcester in Northamptonshire do lodge 
at the Castle near Smithfield-bars. They come on Thursdays. 

V. 

Arriers from Vies or the De-vises [Devizes] in 

Wiltshire, do lodge at the sign of the Swan near 
Holborn Bridge. They come on Thursdays, and go 
away on Fridays. 

w. 





He Carrier from Wendover in Buckinghamshire 
doth lodge at the Black Swan in Holborn, and is 
there every Tuesday and Wednesday. 

The Carrier of Witham in Essex doth lodge 
at the Cross Keys in Gracious street every Thursday and 
Friday. 




ftSfe] A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 24I 

The Carriers of Wallingfield in Suffolk do lodge at the 
Spread Eagle in Gracious street. They come and go on 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers from Wallingford in Berkshire do lodge at 
the George in* Bread street. Their days are Wednesdays, 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Winchcombe in Gloucestershire do lodge 
at the Three Cups in Bread street. They come and go on 
Fridays and Saturdays. 

The clothiers of sundry parts of Wiltshire do weekly come 
and lodge at the Saracen's Head in Friday street. 

The Carriers of Warwick do lodge at the Bell in Friday 
street. They are there on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Woodstock in Oxfordshire do lodge at the 
Mermaid in Carter lane on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers of Wantage in Berkshire do lodge at the 
Mermaid in Carter lane. Their days are Thursdays and 
Fridays. 

The Carriers of Worcester do lodge at the Castle in Wood 
street. Their days are Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Winslow in Buckinghamshire do lodge at 
the George near Holborn Bridge ; Wednesdays, Thursdays 
and Fridays. 

The Waggon from Watford in Middlesex [or rather 
Hertfordshire] doth come to the Swan near Holborn Bridge 
on Thursdays. 

The Carriers from Wells in Somersetshire do lodge at the 
Rose near HolbOrn Bridge. They come on Thursdays, and 
on Fridays. 

The Carriers from Witney in Oxfordshire do lodge at the 
sign of the Saracen's Head without Newgate. They come on 
Wednesdays. 

There cometh a Waggon from Winchester every Thursday 
to the Swan in the Strand : and some Carriers come thither 
from divers parts of Buckinghamshire ; but the days of their 
coming are not certain. 

The Carriers of Worcester do lodge at the Maidenhead in 
Cateaton street, near Guildhall. They come on Thursdays. 

The Carriers from many parts of Worcestershire and 
Warwickshire do lodge at the Rose and Crown in High 
Holborn ; but they keep no certain days. 
Eng. Gar. 1. 16 



242 A WAV TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [&3"55 

The Carrier of Warwick doth come to the Queen's Head 
near Saint Giles in the Fields, on Thursdays. 

The Carrier of Walsingham in Norfolk doth lodge at the 
Chequer in Holborn. He cometh every second Thursday. 

The Carriers of Wendover in Buckinghamshire do lodge at 
the Bell in Holborn. 

There doth a Post come every second Thursday from 
Walsingham to the Bell in Holborn. 

The Carrier of Ware in Hertfordshire doth lodge at the 
Dolphin without Bishopsgate : and is there on Mondays and 
Tuesdays. 

There is a Foot Post from Walsingham that doth come to 
the Cross-keys in Holborn every second Thursday. 

There are Carriers from divers parts of Warwickshire that 
do come weekly to the Castle near Smithfield-bars : but their 
days of coming are variable. 

There is a Waggon from Ware at the Vine in Bishopsgate 
street every Friday and Saturday. 

The Carriers of Wakefield in Yorkshire do lodge at the 
Bear in Bassishaw. They do come on Wednesdays. 

The Carriers of Wells in Somersetshire do lodge at the 
Crown in Basing lane near Bread street. They come and 
go on Fridays and Saturdays. 

The Carriers of Wakefield, and some other parts of 
Yorkshire, do lodge at the A xc in [St. Mary Axe 1 Aldermanbury. 
They are to be had there on Thursdays. 

The Carriers of Wakefield, and some other parts of 
Yorkshire, do also ledge at the White Hart in Coleman 
street. They come every second Thursday. 

Y. 



He Carriers of York, with some other parts near 

York within that county, do lodge at the sign of the 

Bell or Bell Savage without Ludgate. They come 

every Friday, and go away on Saturday or Monday. 

A Foot Post from York doth come every second Thursday 

to the Rose and Crown in St. John's street. 




fcaSrtH A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 243 



For Scotland. 

Hose that will send any letter to Edinburgh, that 
so they may be conveyed to and fro to any parts 
of the kingdom of Scotland, the Post doth lodge 
at the sign of the King's Arms (or the Cradle) at 
the upper end of Cheapside : from whence, every 
Monday, any that have occasion may send. 



A 1 It 




The Inns and Lodgings of the Carriers 
which come into the Borough of South- 
wark out of the countries of Kent, 
Sussex and Surrey. 

Carrier from Reigate in Surrey doth come every 
Thursday (or oftener) to theFa/co;un Southwark. 
The Carriers of Tunbridge, of Sevenoaks, of 
Faut and Staplehurst in Kent, do lodge at the 
Katharine Wheel. They do come on Thursdays 
and go away on Fridays. Also on the same days, do come 
hither the Carriers of Marden and Penbree, and from 
Warbleton in Sussex. 

On Thursdays the Carriers of Hanckhurst and Blenchley in 
Kent, and from Dorking and Leatherhead in Surrey ; do come 
to the Greyhound in Southwark. 

The Carriers of Tenterden and Penshurst in Kent, and the 
Carriers from Battle in Sussex, do lodge at the sign of the 
Spur in Southwark. They come on Thursdays, and go away 
on Fridays. 

To the Queen's Head in Southwark do come, on Wednesdays 
and Thursdays, the Carriers from Portsmouth in Hampshire; 
and from Chichester, Havant, Arundel, Billingshurst, Rye, 

16* 



244 A WAY T0 FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [{iJyS^'. 

Lamberhurst, and Wadhurst, in Sussex: also from Godstone 
and Linvill in Surrey. They are there to be had Wednesdays, 
Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carriers from Cranbroke, and Bevenden in Kent ; and 
from Lewes, Petworth, Uckfield and Cuckfield in Sussex : do 
lodge at the Tabard or Talbot in Southwark. They are 
there on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. 

To the George in Southwark, come every Thursday the 
Carriers from Guildford, Wonersh,Goudhurst, and Chiddington 
in Surrey. Also thither come out of Sussex, on the same days 
weekly, the Carriers of Battle, Sindrich, and Hastings. 

The Carriers from these places undernamed out of Kent, 
Sussex and Surrey, are every week to be had on Thursdays 
at the White Hart in the Borough of Southwark ; namely, 
Dover, Sandwich, Canterbury, Biddenden, Mayfield, Eden 
(or Eaten Bridge), Hebsome, Wimbledon, Godaliman, 
(corruptly called Godly Man) Withernam, Shoreham, Enfield, 
Horsham, Haslemere. And from many other places far and 
wide in the said Counties; Carriers are to be had almost daily 
at the said inn, but especially on Thursdays and Fridays. 

The Carrier from Chiltington, Westrum, Penborough, 
Slenge, Wrotham, and other parts of Kent, Sussex, and 
Surrey, do lodge at the King's Head in Southwark. They do 
come on Thursdays, and they go on Fridays. 

Every week there cometh and goeth from Tunbridge in 
Kent a Carrier that lodgeth at the Green Dragon in Fowl 
lane in Southwark, near the Meal Market. 




J. Taylor. | 
May 1637. J 



A WAV TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. 245 



Here followeth certain directions for to find 

out Ships, Barks, Hoys and Passage Boats 

that do come to London, from the most 

parts and places by sea, within the 

King's dominions ; either of 

England, Scotland or 

Ireland. 




Hoy doth come from Colchester in Essex to Smart's 
Key near Billingsgate ; by which goods may be 
carried from London to Colchester weekly. 

He that will send to Ipswich in Suffolk, or Lynn 
in Norfolk ; let him go to Dice Key, and there his 
turn may be served. 

The ships from Kingston upon Hull (or Hull) in Yorkshire 
do come to Ralph's Key, and to Porter's Key. 

At Galley Key, passage for men and carriage for goods 
may be had from London to Berwick. 

At Chester's Key, shipping may be had from Ireland, from 
Poole, from Plymouth, from Dartmouth and Weymouth. 

At Sabb's Docks, a Hoy or Bark is to be had from Sandwich 
or Dover in Kent. 

A Hoy from Rochester, Margate in Kent or Feversham 
and Maidstone doth come to Saint {Catherine's Dock. 

Shipping from Scotland is to be found at the Armitage or 
Hermitage below Saint Katherine's. 

From Dunkirk, at the Custom House Key. 
From most parts of Holland or Zealand, pinks or shipping 
may be had at the brewhouses in Saint Katherine's. 

At Lion Key, twice almost in every twenty-four hours, or 
continually, are Tide boats or Whcnies ; that pass to and 
fro betwixt London and the towns of Deptford, Greenwich, 



246 A WAY TO FIND OUT ALL CARRIERS. [jLy'^S'. 

Woolwich, Erith, and Greenhithe in Kent ; and also boats 
are to be had that every tide do carry goods and passengers 
betwixt London and Rainham, Purfleet, and Grayes in Essex. 
At Billingsgate are, every tide, to be had Barges, Light 
horsemen, Tiltboats and Wherries, from London to the towns 
of Gravesend and Milton in Kent, or to any other place 
within the said bounds ; and as weather and occasions may 
serve, beyond or further. 



1H 5 



Passage Boats and Wherries that do carry 

passengers and goods from London, 

and back again thither East or 

West above London Bridge. 

O Bull Wharf, near Queenhithe, there doth come 
and go great boats twice or thrice every week, 
which boats do carry goods betwixt London and 
Kingston upon Thames. Also thither doth often 
come a boat from Colebrooke; which serveth those 
parts for such purposes. 

Great Boats that do carry and recarry passengers and 
goods to and fro betwixt London and the towns of Maidenhead, 
Windsor, Staines, Chertsey, with other parts in the counties 
of Surrey, Berkshire, Middlesex and Buckinghamshire ; do 
come every Monday and Thursday to Queenhithe ; and they 
do go away upon Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

The Reading Boat is to be had at Queenhithe weekly. 
All those that will send letters to the most parts of the 
habitable world, or to any parts of our King of Great 
Britain's Dominions ; let them repair to the General Post 
Master Thomas Withering at his house in Sherburne lane, 
near Abchurch. 



F 1 N I S. 




2 4 7 



[Edmund Spenser, the Countess of 
Pe m b roke .] 

ASTROPHEL. 

{.Colin Clout's &•«•.] 
His Collection of Elegies must be regarded as a literary- 
monument raised by the family and friends of Sir Philip 
Sidney to his perpetual remembrance and fame. Our main 
purpose in inserting it, is on account of the information it 
affords in regard to the relations between Sir Philip and his only love; 
which he has himself immortalized in his Sonnets entitled Astro/'// el 
and Stella : which constitute the gem of this First Volume, and will be 
found at pages 467-600. 

The Elegies, with much poetic setting, comprise three biographies of 
him ; by E. Spenser at pages 252-255, by M. Roydon at pages 284- 
287, and by an anonymous writer at pages 292-293 : together with 
analyses or summaries of his life and character from other pens. 

We would simply note here their testimony to Sidney's own self: 
merely pointing out, in passing, how appropriately his sister under the 
name of Clorinda, makes no allusion to Stella. Her praises are sung 
only by the stronger sex. 

Note Spenser's remark of him — 

In one thing only failing of the best ; 
That he was not so happy as the rest. 

And then his further testimony to his personal attractiveness- 
He grew up fast in goodness and in grace ; 
And doubly fair wox both in mind and face. 
Which daily more and more he did augment 
With gentle usage and demeanour mild ; 
That all men's hearts with secret nuishment 
lie stole away. 



248 Intr oduc tion t o Astropiiel. 

This testimony M. Roydon repeats in another form — 

" The Muses met him ever\ day ; 

That taught him sing, to write, and say." 

"When he descended down the mount, 
His personage seemed most divine ; 
A thousand graces one might count 
Upon his lovely cheerful eyen : 

To hear him speak, and sweetly smile ; 

You were in Paradise the while." 

" A sweet attractive kind of grace ; 

A full assurance given by looks ; 

Continual comfort in a face, 

The lineaments of Gospel books. 

I trow that countenance cannot lie, 
Whose thoughts are legible in the eye." 

" Was ever eye did see such face ; 

Was never ear did hear that tongue ; 

Was never mind did mind his grace ; 

That ever thought the travail long: 

But eyes and ears and every thought, 
Were with his sweet perfections caught." 

Can we wonder, then, as stated at p. 294 — 
Young sighs, sweet sighs, sage sighs, bewailed his fall. 







ASTROPHEL. 
A Pastoral Elegy upon 

the death of the most noble 
and valorous Knight, 
Sir Philip Sidney. 

Dedicated 

to the most beautiful a?id virtuous Lady 

the Countess of Essex. 

[By Edmund Spenser, the Countess 
of Pembroke, and others.] 



[Printed as an Appendix to Colin Clout's come home agamy first printed in 1595 ; 
but the epistle of which is dated "From my house of Kilcolman, the 27 of 
December, 1591."] 






250 







Astrophel. 

%Hepheeds that wont, on pipes of oaten reed, 
Ofttimes to plain your love's concealed smart; 
And with your piteous lays have learned to breed 
Compassion in a country lass's heart. 
Hearken, ye gentle shcplierds, to my song ! 
And place my doleful plaint, your plaints emong. 



To you alone, I sing this mournful verse, 
The moumfuVst verse that ever man heard tell 
To you whose softened hearts it may empierce 
With dolour's dart, for death of Astrophel. 
To you I sing, and to none other wight, 
For well I wot my rhymes been rudely dight. 

Yet as they been, if any nicer wit 

Shall hap to hear, or covet them to read : 

Think he, that such are for such ones most fit, 

Made not to please the living but the dead : 

And if in him, found pity ever place ; 

Let him be moved to pity such a case. 



r^i*}»rSxti>&tx£<xS>rfi^ 






251 




ASTROPHEL. 

A Pastoral Elegy upon the death of 

the most noble and valorous Knight, 

Sir Philip Sidney. 




Gentle shepherd born in Arcady, 

Of gentlest race that ever shepherd bore ; 

About the grassy banks of Hcemony, 

Did keep his sheep, his little stock and store. 

Full carefully he kept them day and night 

In fairest fields ; and Astrophel he hight. 



Young Astrophel ! the pride of shepherds' praise. 

Young Astrophel ! the rustic lasses' love. 

Far passing all the pastors of his days 

In all that seemly shepherd might behove. 

In one thing only failing of the best ; 

That he was not so happy as the rest. 



252 As tkopii e z, a Pastoral El egy. [ e - Sf ?T^; 



For from the time that first the nymph his mother 

Him forth did bring; and taught, her lambs to feed: 

A slender swain, excelling far each other 

In comely shape, like her that did him breed : 

He grew up fast in goodness and in grace ; 

And doubly fair wox both in mind and face. 

Which daily more and more he did augment 
With gentle usage and demeanour mild ; 
That all men's hearts with secret ravishment 
He stole away, and wittingly beguiled. 
Ne Spite itself — that all good things doth spill — 
Found ought in him, that she could say was ill. 

His sports were fair, his joyance innocent, 
Sweet without sour, and honey without gall ; 
And he himself seemed made for merriment, 
Merrily masking both in bower and hall. 
There was no pleasure nor delightful play 
When Astrophel so ever was away. 

For he could pipe, and dance, and carol sweet ; 
Emongst the shepherds in their shearing feast : 
As summer's lark that with her song doth greet 
The dawning day, forth coming from the East. 
And lays of love he also would compose. 
Thrice happy she ! whom he to praise did choose. 







irlwfia^!w!«!^)u&iutf^w!«! 



e. spenser.j Astro p ii e l, a Pastoral Elegy. 253 




Full many maidens often did him woo, 

Them to vouchsafe, emongst his rhymes to name ; 

Or make for them, as he was wont to do, 

For her that did his heart with love inflame ; 

For which they promised to dight for him, 

Gay chaplets of flowers and garlands trim. 

And many a nymph, both of the wood and brook, 

Soon as his oaten pipe began to shrill ; 

Both crystal wells and shady groves forsook, 

To hear the charms of his enchanting skill : 

And brought him presents ; flowers, if it were prime ; 

Or mellow fruit, if it were harvest time. 

But he for none of them did care a whit ; 
Yet wood-gods for them oft sighed sore : 
Ne for their gifts unworthy of his wit, 
Yet not unworthy of the country's store. 
For One alone he cared, for One he sighed 
His life's treasure, and his dear love's delight. 

Stella the fair ! the fairest star in sky : 

As fair as Venus, or the fairest fair. 

A fairer star saw never living eye, 

Shot her sharp pointed beams through purest air. 

Her, he did love ; her, he alone he did honour ; 

His thoughts, his rhymes, his songs were all upon her. 



254 As troth el, a Pastoral E l e g y. [ E - Sl f 



nser. 
1591. 




To her, he vowed the service of his days ; 
On her, he spent the riches of his wit ; 
For her, he made hymns of immortal praise : 
Of only her ; he sang, he thought, he writ. 
Her, and but her, of love he worthy deemed : 
For all the rest, but little he esteemed. 



Ne her with idle words alone he vowed, 
And verses vain — yet verses are not vain : 
But with brave deeds, to her sole service vowed ; 
And bold achievements, her did entertain. 
For both in deeds and words he nurtured was. 
Both wise and hardy — too hardy, alas ! 

In wrestling, nimble ; and in running, swift ; 
In shooting, steady ; and in swimming, strong : 
Well made to strike, to throw, to leap, to lift, 
And all the sports that shepherds are emong. 
In every one, he vanquished every one, 
He vanquished all, and vanquished was of none. 

Besides, in hunting such felicity 

Or rather infelicity, he found ; 

That every field and forest far away 

He sought, where savage beasts do most abound. 

No beast so savage, but he could it kill : 

No chase so hard, but he therein had skill. 



S f"^ r J ASTROPHEL, A P/VSTORAL ELEGY. 255 




Such skill, matched with such courage as he had, 
Did prick him forth with proud desire of praise ; 
To seek abroad, of danger nought y'drad, 
His mistress' name and his own fame to raise. 
What need, peril to be sought abroad ? 
Since round about us, it doth make abode. 

It fortuned as he, that perilous game 
In foreign soil pursued, far away; 
Into a forest wide and waste, he came, 
Where store he heard to be of savage prey. 
So wide a forest and so waste as this, 
Nor famous Ardenne, nor foul Arlo is. 

There his well-woven toils and subtle trains 
He laid, the brutish nation to enwrap : 
So well he wrought with practice and with pains, 
That he of them, great troops did soon entrap. 
Full happy man ! misweening much, was he ; 
So rich a spoil within his power to see. 

Eftsoons, all heedless of his dearest hale, 

Full greedily into the herd he thrust 

To slaughter them and work their final bale, 

Lest that his toil should of their troops be burst. 

Wide wounds emongst them, many one he made ; 

Now with his sharp boar spear, now with his blade. 







256 A s trophel, a Pastoral Elegy. [ e,s ?^; 




His care was all, how he them all might kill ; 

That none might 'scape, so partial unto none. 

Ill mind ! so much to mind another's ill, 

As to become unmindful of his own. 

But pardon that unto the cruel skies, 

That from himself to them, withdrew his eyes. 

So as he raged emongst that beastly rout * 

A cruel beast of most accursed brood, 

Upon him turned — despair makes cowards stout ; 

And with fell tooth, accustomed to blood, 

Launched his thigh with so mischievous might, 

That it both bone and muscle rived quite. 

So deadly was the dint, and deep the wound, 
And so huge streams of blood thereout did flow ; 
That he endured not the direful stound 
But on the cold dear earth, himself did throw. 
The whiles the captive herd his nets did rend, 
And having none to let ; to wood did wend. 

Ah, where were ye this while, his shepherd peers ? 
To whom alive was nought so dear as he. 
And ye fair maids, the matches of his years ! 
Which in his grace, did boast you most to be ? 
And where were ye, when he of you had need, 
To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed ? 



E - s ^'.l Astropiiel, \ Pastoral Elegy. 257 




Ah, wretched boy ! the shape of drearihead ! 
And sad ensample of man's sudden end ! 
Full little faileth, but thou shalt be dead ; 
Unpitied, unplained of foe or friend : 
Whilst none is nigh, thine eyelids up to close ; 
And kiss thy lips like faded leaves of rose. 

A sort of shepherds suing of the chase, 
As they the forest ranged on a day ; 
By fate or fortune came unto the place, 
Whereas the luckless boy yet bleeding lay. 
Yet bleeding lay, and yet would still have bled, 
Had not good hap those shepherds thither led. 

They stopped his wound — too late to stop, it was, 
And in their arms then softly did him rear : 
Tho, as he willed, unto his loved lass, 
His dearest love, him dolefully did bear. 
The doleful'st bier that ever man did see 
Was Astrophel, but dearest unto me. 

She, when she saw her love in such a plight, 
With curdled blood and filthy gore deformed ; 
That wont to be with flowers and garlands dight, 
And her dear favours dearly well adorned. 
Her face, the fairest face that eye might see, 
She likewise did deform, like him to be. 




Eng. Gar. I 



2^8 ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. [ E * a f^ 




Her yellow locks that shone so bright and long, 
As sunny beams in fairest summer's day ; 
She fiercely tore : and with outrageous wrong, 
From her red cheeks, the roses rent away. 
And her fair breast, the treasury of joy ; 
She spoiled thereof, and filled with annoy. 

His pallid face, impictured with death ; 

She bathed oft with tears and dried oft : 

And with sweet kisses, sucked the wasting breath 

Out of his lips, like lilies pale and soft. 

And oft she called to him, who answered nought ; 

But only by his looks did tell his thought. 

The rest of her impatient regret 
And piteous moan, the which she for him made; 
No tongue can tell, nor any forth can set : 
But he whose heart, like sorrow did invade. 
At last, when pain his vital powers had spent, 
His wasted life her weary lodge forewent. 

Which when she saw, she stayed not a whit, 
But after him, did make untimely haste : 
Forthwith her ghost out of her corps did flit, 
And followed her mate, like turtle chaste. 
To prove that death, their hearts cannot divide; 
Which living were in love so firmly tied. 





E ' S ^Tsgi.] ASTROPITEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. 259 

m 

The gods, which all things see, this same beheld. 
And pitying this pair of lovers true ; 
Transformed them, there lying on the field, 
Into one flower that is both red and blue. 
It first grows red, and then to blue doth fade ; 
Like Astrophel, which thereinto was made. 

And in the midst thereof a star appears, 
As fairly formed as any star in sky : 
Resembling Stella in her freshest years, 
Forth darting beams of beauty from her eyes : 
And all the day it standeth full of dew, 
Which is the tears that from her eyes did flow. 

That herb of some, " Starlight " is called by name ; 

Of others Penthia, though not so well : 

But thou wherever thou dost find the same, 

From this day forth do call it Astrophel. 

And whensoever thou it up dost take ; 

Do pluck it softly, for that shepherd's sake. 

Hereof when tidings far abroad did pass, 
The shepherds all which loved him full dear — 
And sure, full dear of all he loved was — 
Did thither flock to see what they did hear. 
And when that piteous spectacle they viewed, 
The same with bitter tears they all bedewed. 






260 A S TROPHEL, A PASTOR A L ELEGY. [ E> Sj f Jgj 




And every one did make exceeding moan, 
With inward anguish and great grief opprest ; 
And every one did weep and wail and moan, 
And means devised to show his sorrow best. 
That from that hour since first on grassy green, 
Shepherds kept sheep ; was not like mourning seen. 

But first his sister that Clorinda hight, 
The gentlest shepherdess that lives this day ; 
And most resembling both in shape and sprite, 
Her brother dear, began this doleful lay. 
Which lest I mar the sweetness of the verse, 
In sort as she it sung, I will rehearse. 

Ye me ! to whom shall I, my case complain, 
That may compassion my impatient grief? 
Or where shall I unfold my inward pain 
That my enriven heart may find relief? 
Shall I unto the heavenly powers it show, 
Or unto earthly men that dwell below ? " 

" To heavens ! Ah, they, alas, the authors were 
And workers of my unremedied woe ; 
For they foresee what to us happens here, 
And they foresaw, yet suffered this be so. 

From them comes good, from them comes also ill ; 

That which they made, who can them warn to spill ? " 







riJottixixiJiiH 



Lady Pembroke."] ^ s TK0PIIEL f A PASTORAL E LE G Y. 2 6 I 



"To men ! Ah, they, alas, like wretched be 
And subject to the heaven's ordinance ; 
Bound to abide whatever they decree, 
Their best redress, is their best sufferance. 

How then can they, like wretched, comfort me ? 

The which no less, need comforted to be." 

" Then to myself, will I my sorrow mourn, 

Sith none alive like sorrowful remains ; 

And to myself, my plaints shall back return, 

To pay their usury with doubled pains. 

The woods, the hills, the rivers shall resound 
The mournful accent of my sorrow's ground." 

" Woods, hills and rivers now are desolate ; 

Sith he is gone the which them all did grace : 

And all the fields do wail their widow-state; 

Sith death, their fairest flower did late deface. 
The fairest flower in field that ever grew, 
Was Astrophel: that 'was,' we all may rue." 

" What cruel hand of cursed foe unknown, 

Hath cropped the stalk which bore so fair a flower ? 

Untimely cropped, before it well were grown, 

And clean defaced in untimely hour. 
Great loss to all that ever him see, 
Great loss to all, but greatest loss to me." 



K^owftx&cfca&Wtiwfc^^ 



262 ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL ElEGV. [ LadyPB '" K " 5 k 9 " 




" Break now your garlands, O ye shepherds' lasses ! 
Sith the fair flower, which them adorned, is gone: 
The flower, which them adorned, is gone to ashes, 
Never again let lass put garland on. 

Instead of garland, wear sad cypress now ; 

And bitter elder, broken from the bough." 

" Ne ever sing the love-lays which he made ; 

Whoever made such lays of love as he ? 

Ne ever read the riddles, which he said 

Unto yourselves, to make you merry glee. 
Your merry glee is now laid all abed, 
Your merry-maker now, alas ! is dead." 

" Death ! the devourer of all world's delight, 
Hath robbed you, and reft from me my joy; 
Both you and me and all the world, he quite 
Hath robbed of joyance ; and left sad annoy. 

Joy of the world ! and shepherds' pride was he : 
Shepherds hope never, like again to see." 

" Oh, Death ! that hast us of such riches reft, 

Tell us.at least, What hast thou with it done ? 

What is become of him, whose flower here left ; 

Is but the shadow of his likeness gone. 

Scarce like the shadow of that which he was : 
Nought like, but that he, like a shade, did pass." 




LadyVuu ^l]AsTA'OP//£L, a Pastoral Elegy. 263 




" But that immortal spirit, which was deckt 
With all the dowries of celestial grace ; 
By sovereign choice from th' heavenly quires select, 
And lineally derived from angels' race : 

O what is now of it become aread ? 

Aye me ! can so divine a thing be dead ? " 

" Ah, no ! It is not dead, nor can it die ; 
But lives for aye in blissful Paradise : 
Where like a new-born babe it soft doth lie 
In bed of lilies, wrapped in tender wise : 

And compassed all about with roses sweet, 
And dainty violets from head to feet." 

"There, thousand birds, all of celestial brood, 

To him do sweetly carol day and night ; 

And with strange notes, of him well understood, 

Lull him asleep in angelic delight : 

Whilst in sweet dream, to him presented be 
Immortal beauties, which no eye may see." 

" But he them sees, and takes exceeding pleasure 
Of their divine aspects, appearing plain ; 
And kindling love in him above all measure 
Sweet love, still joyous, never feeling pain. 

For what so goodly form he there doth see, 
He may enjoy, from jealous rancour free." 






264 ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL E LEGY. [ Latly Pem ™™ e 




" There liveth he in everlasting bliss, 
Sweet spirit ! never fearing more to die : 
Ne dreading harm from any foes of his, 
Ne fearing savage beast's more cruelty. 

Whilst we here, wretches ! wail his private lack ; 

And with vain vows do often call him back." 

" But live thou there still happy, happy spirit ! 

And give us leave, thee here thus to lament : 

Not thee, that dost thy heaven's joy inherit ; 

But our own selves, that here in dole are drent. 
Thus do we weep and wail, and wear our eyes, 
Mourning in others, our own miseries." 



Which when she ended had, another swain, 
Of gentle wit and dainty sweet device; 
Whom Astrophel full dear did entertain 
Whilst here he lived, and held in passing price : 
Hight Thestylis, began his mournful tourn, 
And made the Muses in his song to mourn. 

And after him, full many other moe, 
As every one in order loved him best ; 




LB Tj?";] Asjropiiel, a Pastoral Elegy. 26; 



xfiixSiK5«5«;w1*K5ixSxwx1»x^ 

'Gan dight themselves t'express their inward woe 

With doleful lays unto the tune addrest. 

The which I here in order will rehearse, 

As fittest flowers to deck his mournful hearse. 




The mourning ^Mzise ^/"Thestylis. 

Ome forth ye nymphs! come forth ! forsake your 
watery bowers ! 

Forsake your mossy caves ; and help me to lament. 

Help me to tune my doleful notes to gurgling sound 
Of Liffey's tumbling streams. Come let salt tears of ours, 
Mix with his waters fresh. O come let one consent 
Join us to mourn with wailful plaints the deadly wound 
Which fatal clap hath made, decreed by higher powers ; 
The dreary day in which they have from us yrent 
The noblest plant that might from East to West be found. 
Mourn! mourn great Philip's fall ! mourn we his woeful end, 
Whom spiteful death hath plucked untimely from the tree ; 
While yet his years in flower did promise worthy fruit. 
Ah, dreadful Mars ! why didst thou not thy knight defend ? 
What wrathful mood, what fault of ours hath moved thee. 
Of such a shining light to leave us destitute ? 
Thou with benign aspect sometime didst us behold. 
Thou hast in Britons' valour ta'en delight of old, 





266 Astropjiel, a Pastoral Elegy. [*" "fl^"; 

And with thy presence oft vouchsafed to attribute 

Fame and renown to us, for glorious martial deeds : 

But now their ireful beams have chilled our hearts with cold. 

Thou hast estranged thyself and deignest not our land : 

Far off to others now, thy favour, honour breeds ; 

And high disdain doth cause thee shun our clime, I fear. 

For hadst thou not been wroth, or that time near at hand ; 

Thou wouldst have heard the cry that woeful England made : 

Eke Zealand's piteous plaints, and Holland's toren hair 

Would haply have appeased thy divine angry mind. 

Thou shouldst have seen the trees refuse to yield their shad 

And wailing to let fall the honour of their head, 

And birds in mournful tunes lamenting in their kind. 

Up from his tomb, the mighty Corineus rose, 

Who cursing oft the fates that this mishap had bred, 

His hoary locks he tare, calling the heavens unkind. 

The Thames was heard to roar, the Rhine, and eke the Meuse, 

The Scheldt, the Danow self this great mischance did rue : 

With torment and with grief, their fountains pure and clear 

Were troubled ; and with swelling floods declared their woes. 

The Muses comfortless, the nymphs with pallid hue; 

The sylvan gods likewise came running far and near; 

And all, with hearts bedewed, and eyes cast up on high, 

" O help ! O help, ye gods ! " they ghastly 'gan to cry, 

" O change the cruel fate of this so rare a wight 

And grant that nature's course may measure out his age ! " 

The beasts their food forsook, and trembling fearfully, 



l. Bry^ctt.j Astropiiel, a Pastoral Elegy. 267 



B«BMjBm«»Sg^ 



Each sought his cave or den. This cry did them so fright. 
Out from amid the waves, by storm then stirred to rage, 
This cry did cause to rise th'old father Ocean hoar, 
Who grave with eld, and full of majesty in sight, 
Spake in this wise, "Refrain," quoth he, "your tears and 

plaints ! 
Cease these your idle words ! Make vain requests no more ! 
No humble speech nor moan may move the fixed stint 
Of destiny or death. Such is His will that paints 
The earth with colours fresh, the darkest skies with store 
Of starry lights : and though your tears a heart of flint 
Might tender make ; yet nought herein will they prevail." 
Whiles thus he said, the noble Knight, who 'gan to feel 
His vital force to faint, and death with cruel dint 
Of direful dart his mortal body to assail : 
With eyes lift up to heaven, and courage frank as steel ; 
With cheerful face where valour lively was exprest, 
But humble mind, he said, " O LORD ! if ought this frail 
And earthly carcass have Thy service sought t'advance ; 
If my desire have been still to relieve th'opprest ; 
If Justice to maintain, that valour I have spent 
Which Thou me gav'st ; or if henceforth I might advance 
Thy name, Thy truth: then spare me, LORD! if Thou 

think best ; 
Forbear thes-j unripe years ! But if Thy will be bent, 
If that prefixed time be come which Thou hast set : 
Through pure and fervent faith. I hope now to be placed 




268 AsTPOPHEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. [ L " ^S'. 



In th'everlasting bliss ; which with Thy precious blood 

Thou purchase didst for us." With that a sigh he fet, 

And straight a cloudy mist his senses overcast. 

His lips waxed pale and wan, like damask rose's bud 

Cast from the stalk ; or like in field to purple flower 

Which languisheth, being shred by culter as it past. 

A trembling chilly cold ran through their veins, which were 

With eyes brimful of tears to see his fatal hour : 

Whose blustering sighs at first their sorrow did declare ; 

Next, murmuring ensued ; at last they not forbear 

Plain outcries ; all against the heavens that enviously 

Deprived us of a sprite so perfect and so rare. 

The sun his lightsome beams did shroud, and hide his face 

For grief ; whereby the earth feared night eternally : 

The mountains eachwhere shook, the rivers turned their 

streams ; 
And th'air 'gan winter-like to rage and fret apace : 
And grisly ghosts by night were seen ; and fiery gleams 
Amid the clouds with claps of thunder, that did seem 
To rent the skies ; and made both man- and beast afraid : 
The birds of ill presage this luckless chance foretold 
By dernful noise ; and dogs with howling made man deem 
Some mischief was at hand : for such they do esteem 
As tokens of mishap ; and so have done of old. 

Ah, that thou hadst but heard his lovely Stella plain 
Her grievous loss, or seen her heavy mourning cheer; 
Whilst she, with woe oppressed, her sorrows did unfold. 



WW® 

tow V V¥ v i 3 V W v ¥ V V WW W ¥ W V V V ¥ W ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 

KuBf.»C.)uC.xx.«iWf!«oufiXX.)ur 



L. r.ry ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. 269 



Her hair hung loose neglect about her shoulders twain : 
And from those two bright stars to him sometime so dear, 
Her heart sent drops of pearl ; which fell in foison down 
'Twixt lily and the rose. She wrung her hands with pain 
And piteously 'gan say, " My true and faithful pheer! 
Alas, and woe is me! why should my fortune frown 
On me thus frowardly to rob me of my joy ? 
What cruel envious hand hath taken thee away ; 
And with thee, my content, my comfort and my stay ? 
Thou only wast the ease of trouble and annoy : 
When they did me assail, in thee my hopes did rest. 
Alas, what now is left but grief that night and day 
Afflicts this woeful life, and with continual rage 
Torments ten thousand ways my miserable breast ? 

greedy envious heaven ! what needed thee to have 
Enriched with such a jewel this unhappy age ; 

To take it back again so soon ? Alas, when shall 

Mine eyes see ought that may content them, since thy grave 

My only treasure hides, the joy of my poor heart ? 

As here with thee on earth I lived, even so equal 

Methinks it were, with thee in heaven I did abide : 

And as our troubles all, we here on earth did part ; 

So reason would that there, of thy most happy state 

1 had my share. Alas, if thou my trusty guide 

Were wont to be : how canst thou leave me thus alone 
In darkness and astray ; weak, weary, desolate, 
Plunged in a world of woe — refusing for to take 



27O ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL ElEGY. [ L< B T I k '"'. 






Me with thee, to the place of rest where thou art gone ? " 
This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tied her tongue : 
And instead of more words, seemed that her eyes a lake 
Of tears had been, they flowed so plenteously therefrom : 
And with her sobs and sighs th'air round about her rung. 

If Venus when she wailed her dear Adonis slain, 
Ought moved in thy fierce heart, compassion of her woe : 
His noble sister's plaints, her sighs and tears emong; 
Would sure have made thee mild, and inly rue her pain. 
Aurora half so fair, herself did never show ; 
When from old Tithon's bed, she weeping did arise. 
The blinded archer-boy, like lark in shower of rain, 
Sat bathing of his wings, and glad the time did spend 
Under those crystal drops which fell from her fair eyes ; 
And at their brightest beams him proined in lovely wise. 
Yet sorry for her grief, which he could not amend ; 
The gentle boy 'gan wipe her eyes, and clear those lights : 
Those lights through which his glory and his conquests shine. 
The Graces tuckt her hair, which hung like threads of gold 
Along her ivory breast, the treasure of delights. 
All things with her to weep, it seemed did incline ; 
The trees, the hills, the dales, the caves, the stones so cold. 
The air did help them mourn, with dark clouds, rain and 

mist ; 
Forbearing many a day to clear itself again : 
Which made them eftsoons fear the days of Pyrrha should 
Of creatures spoil the earth, their fatal threads untwist. 




JHHSSBBBBI 




I.. F.ryskett. 
? 1591. 



ASTROPHEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. 




For Phcebus' gladsome rays were wished for in vain, 
And with her quivering light Latona's daughter fair ; 
And Charles' Wain eke refused to be the shipman's guide. 
On Neptune, war was made by ^Eolus and his train. 
Who letting loose the winds, tost and tormented th'air, 
So that on every coast, men shipwreck did abide, 
Or else were swallowed up in open sea with waves : 
And such as came to shore were beaten with despair. 
The Medway's silver streams that wont so still to slide, 
Were troubled now and wroth ; whose hidden hollow caves 
Along his banks, with fog then shrouded from man's eye, 
Aye "Philip " did resound, aye " Philip " they did cry. 
His nymphs were seen no more, though custom still it 

craves, 
With hair spread to the wind, themselves to bathe or sport ; 
Or with the hook or net, barefooted wantonly 
The pleasant dainty fish to entangle or deceive. 
The shepherds left their wonted places of resort, 
Their bagpipes now were still, their lovely merry lays 
Were quite forgot ; and now their flocks, men might perceive 
To wander and to stray, all carelessly neglect : 
And in the stead of mirth and pleasure, nights and days 
Nought else was to be heard, but woes, complaints and 

moan. 
But thou, O blessed soul ! dost haj^ly not respect 
These tears we shed, though full of loving pure affect ; 
Having affixt thine eyes on that most glorious throne, 



272 A.STROPHEL, A PASTORAL ELEGY. [ 



L. Bryskett 

? 1591. 




Where full of majesty, the high Creator reigns. 
In whose bright shining face thy joys are all complete, 
Whose love kindles thy sprite, where happy always one, 
Thou liv'st in bliss that earthly passion never stains ; 
Where from the purest spring the sacred nectar sweet 
Is thy continual drink : where thou dost gather now 
Of well-employed life, th'estimable gains. 
There Venus on thee smiles, ApoLLO gives thee place ; 
And Mars in reverent wise doth to thy virtue bow,. 
And decks his fiery sphere, to do thee honour most. 
In highest part whereof, thy valour for to grace, 
A chair of gold he sets to thee, and there doth tell 
Thy noble acts arew ; whereby even they that boast 
Themselves of ancient fame, as Pyrrhus, Hannibal, 
Scipio and CiESAR, with the rest that did excel 
In martial prowess ; high thy glory do admire. 

All hail ! therefore, O worthy Philip immortal ! 
The flower of Sidney's race, the honour of thy name. 
Whose worthy praise to sing, my Muses not aspire. 
But sorrowful and sad these tears to thee let fall : 
Yet wish their verses might so far and wide thy fame 
Extend, that Envy's rage nor time might end the same. 



V- i : I i :■ £H * iT v> S^i * t :-i M ^1 r- PEST* ©^#£2S^S3©E3©EmSk ©KsKsSsfist?^ 




L,B TSH A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P.Sidney. 273 




A pastoral Eclogue upon the death of Sir 
Philip Sidney, Knight, &*c. 



Lycon. 



Colin. 




Lycon. I^^S^^IOlin ! well fits thy sad cheer this sad 

stound, 
This woeful stound, wherein all things 

complain 
This great mishap, this grievous loss of ours. 
Hear'st thou the Orown ? How with hollow sound 
He slides away, and murmuring doth plain, 
And seems to say unto the fading flowers 
Along his banks, unto the bared trees ; 
Phillisides is dead. Up, jolly swain ! 
Thou that with skill canst tune a doleful lay ; 
Help him to mourn ! My heart with grief doth freeze ; 
Hoarse is my voice with crying, else a part 
Sure would I bear, though rude : but as I may, 
With sobs and sighs I second will thy song ; 
And so express the sorrows of my heart. 




EA'G. 



274 A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P. Sidney. [ L,Br ?^; 






Colin. Ah Lycon ! Lycon ! what need skill to teach 
A grieved mind pour forth his plaints ? How long 
Hath the poor turtle gone to school, weenest thou, 
To learn to mourn her lost make ? No, no, each 
Creature by nature can tell how to wail. 
Seest not these flocks ; how sad they wander now ? 
Seemeth their leader's bell, their bleating tunes 
In doleful sound. Like him, not one doth fail, 
With hanging head to show a heavy cheer. 
What bird, I pray thee, hast thou seen that prunes 
Himself of late ? Did any cheerful note 
Come to thine ears, or gladsome sight appear 
Unto thine eyes, since that same fatal hour ? 
Hath not the air put on his mourning coat, 
And testified his grief with flowing tears ? 
Sith then, it seemeth each thing to his power, 
Doth us invite to make a sad consort : 
Come let us join our mournful song with theirs ! 
Grief will indite, and sorrow will enforce 
Thy voice ; and Echo will our words report. 

Lycon. Though my rude rhymes, ill with thy verses 
That othqrs far excel : yet will I force frame, 

Myself to answer thee the best I can ; 
And honour my base words with his high name. 
Hut if my plaints annoy thee where thou sit 
In secret shade or cave ; vouchsafe, O Pan ! 



8S5S 




LB 7jJ] A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P. Sidney. 275 



To pardon me ; and hear this hard constraint 
With patience, while I sing; and pity it. 
And eke ye rural Muses, that do dwell 
In these wild woods : if ever piteous plaint 
We did indite, or taught a woeful mind 
With words of pure affect, his grief to tell ; 
Instruct me now ! Now Colin then go on ; 
And I will follow thee, though far behind. 

Colin. Phillisides is dead ! O harmful death ! 
O deadly harm ! Unhappy Albion ! 
When shalt thou see emong thy shepherds all 
Any so sage, so perfect ? Whom uneath 
Envy could touch for virtuous life and skill ; 
Courteous, valiant, and liberal. 
Behold the sacred Pales ! where with hair 
Untrusst, she sits in shade of yonder hill ; 
And her fair face bent sadly down, doth send 
A flood of tears to bathe the earth : and there 
Doth call the heavens despiteful, envious ; 
Cruel his fate, that made so short an end 
Of that same life, well worthy to have been 
Prolonged with many years, happy and famous. 
The Nymphs and Oreades her round about 
Do sit lamenting on the grassy green ; 
And with shrill cries, beating their whitest breasts, 
Accuse the direful dart that Death sent out 






276 A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P.Sidney. [ l - ^fj^"; 




To give the fatal stroke. The stars they blame ; 
That deaf or careless seem at their request. 
The pleasant shade of stately groves they shun. 
They leave their crystal springs, where they wont frame 
Sweet bowers of myrtle twigs and laurel fair ; 
To sport themselves free from the scorching sun. 
And now the hollow caves, where Horror dark 
Doth dwell, whence banished is the gladsome air 
They seek ; and there in mourning spend their time 
With wailful tunes ; whiles wolves do howl and bark, 
And seem to bear a bourdon to their plaint. 

Lycon. Phillisides is dead ! O doleful rhyme ! 
Why should my tongue express thee ? Who is left 
Now to uphold thy hopes, when they do faint ; 
Lycon unfortunate ? What spiteful fate ? 
What luckless destiny hath thee bereft 
Of thy chief comfort, of thy only stay ? 
Where is become thy wonted happy state ? 
Alas, wherein through many a hill and dale, 
Through pleasant woods, and many an unknown way, 
Along the banks of many silver streams, 
Thou with him yodest ; and with him did scale 
The craggy rocks of th'Alps and Appennine ? 
Still with the Muses sporting, while those beams 
Of virtue kindled in his noble breast ; 
Which after did so gloriously forth shine ? 






W^^^?HJi^?i^r:^i^i^i^i^i^i^^^^^^^ 









<!>*!yx!«!>x!)*!5)f!«!>>f!>if!>!cl« 



L. Eryskett.j ^ PaSTORAL ECLOGUE ON SlR P. SlDNEY 



z ll 




But, woe is me, they now yquenched are 

All suddenly, and death hath them oppressed, 

Lo, father Neptune ! with sad countenance, 

How he sits mourning on the strond now bare 

Yonder ; where th'OcEAN with his rolling waves 

The white feet washeth, wailing this mischance, 

Of Dover cliffs. His sacred skirt about 

The sea gods all are set ; from their moist caves, 

All for his comfort gathered there they be. 

The Thamis rich, the Humber rough and stout, 

The fruitful Severn, with the rest ; are come 

To help their lord to mourn, and eke to see 

The doleful sight, and sad pomp funeral 

Of the dead corps passing through his kingdom ; 

And all their heads with cypress garlands crowned : 

With woeful shrieks salute him, great and small. 

Eke wailful Echo, forgetting her dear 

Narcissus, their last accents doth resound. 

Colin. Phillisides is dead ! O luckless age ! 
O widow world ! O brooks and fountains clear ! 
O hills ! O dales ! O woods that oft have rung 
With his sweet carolling, which could assuage 
The fiercest wrath of tiger or of bear ! 
Ye sylvans, fawns and satyrs, that emong 
These thickets oft have danced after his pipe ! 
Ye Nymphs and Naiads with golden hair 






iS xx SS&SfiS 



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278 A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P.Sidney. [ l,b T£i 




That oft have left your purest crystal springs 
To hearken to his lays, that coulden wipe 
Away all grief and sorrow from your hearts ! 
Alas ! who now is left that like him sings ? 
When shall you hear again like harmony ? 
So sweet a sound, who to you now imparts? 
Lo where engraved by his hand yet lives 
The name of Stella in yonder bay tree. 
Happy name ! happy tree ! Fair may you grow 
And spread your sacred branch, which honour gives, 
To famous emperors ; and poets crown. 
Unhappy flock ! that wander scattered now. 
What marvel if through grief, ye woxen lean, 
Forsake your food, and hang your heads adown ? 
For such a shepherd never shall you guide ; 
Whose parting, hath of weal bereft you clean. 

Lycon. Phillisides is dead ! O happy sprite ! 
That now in heaven with blessed souls dost bide. 
Look down awhile from where thou sitt'st above, 
And see how busy shepherds be to indite 
Sad songs of grief, their sorrows to declare ; 
And grateful memory of their kind love. 
Heboid myself with Colin gentle swain, 
Whose learned Muse thou cherisht most whilere, 
Where we thy name recording, seek to ease 
The inward torment and tormenting pain 






L. r.ryskett.l 
? IS9I-J 



A Pastoral Eclogue on Sir P. Sidney. 279 






That thy departure to us both hath bred ; 

Ne can each other's sorrow yet appease. 

Behold the fountains now left desolate, 

And withered grass with cypress boughs bespread ! 

Behold these flowers which on thy grave we strew! 

Which faded, show the givers' faded state ; 

(Though eke they show their fervent zeal and pure) 

Whose only comfort on thy welfare grew. 

Whose prayers importune shall the heavens for aye. 

That to thy ashes, rest they may assure ; 

That learnedst shepherds honour may thy name 

With yearly praises ; and the nymphs alway, 

Thy tomb may deck with fresh and sweetest flowers ; 

And that for ever may endure thy fame. 

Colin. The sun, lo, hastened hath his face to steep 
In western waves, and th'air with stormy showers, 
Warns us to drive homewards our silly sheep. 
Lycon ! let's rise, and take of them good keep. 



Virtutc summa ; cestera fortuna. 



L. B. 



An Elegy, or Friend's Passion 

for his Astrophil. 

Written upon the death of the Right 

Honourable Sir Philip S id net, 

Knight , Lord Governor 

of Flushing. 



S then, no wind at all there blew, 
No swelling cloud accloyed the air, 
The sky, like grass of watchet hue, 
Reflected Phcebus' golden hair; 

The garnished tree no pendant stirred, 
No voice was heard of any bird. 



There might you see the burly bear, 

The lion king, the elephant. 

The maiden unicorn was there, 

So was Action's horned plant : 

And what of wild or tame are found, 
Were couched in order on the ground. 




M. K.v ' .. j{ x E L E G Y F R ASTROPHIL. 2 S I 



h ^H ^ *iP Si- Si- c >- *i£ *W SW t> CC cu, CC tjl C>, II, C .u, C ^^£yCyw\w\wy>' 



Alcides' speckled poplar tree ; 

The palm that monarchs do obtain; 

With love juice stained, the mulberry, 

The fruit that dews the poet's brain ; 
And Phillis' filbert there away 
Compared with myrtle and the bay : 

The tree that coffins doth adorn, 
With stately height threat'ning the sky, 
And for the bed of love forlorn, 
The black and doleful ebony : 

All in a circle compassed were 

Like to an amphitheatre. 

Upon the branches of those trees, 

The air-winged people sat, 

Distinguished in odd degrees; 

One sort is this, another that. 

Here Philomel that knows full well 
What force and wit in love doth dwell. 

The sky-bred eagle, royal bird, 
Perched there upon an oak above ; 
The turtle by him never stirred, 
Example of immortal love. 

The swan that sings about to die ; 

Leaving Meander, stood thereby. 




g g iggllij^ 



282 An Elegy for A strophil. 



1591 




And that which was of wonder most, 

The Phoenix left sweet Araby ; 

And on a cedar in this coast, 

Built up her tomb of spicery. 

As I conjecture by the same, 
Prepared to take her dying flame. 

In midst and centre of this plot, 

I saw one grovelling on the grass; 

A man or stone, I knew not what. 

No stone ; of man, the figure was. 

And yet I could not count him one, 
More than the image made of stone. 

At length I might perceive him rear 
His body on his elbows' end : 
Earthly and pale with ghastly cheer, 
Upon his knees he upward tend ; 

Seeming like one in uncouth stound, 
To be ascending out the ground. 

A grievous sigh forthwith he throws, 
As might have torn the vital strings ; 
Then down his cheeks the tears so flows 
As doth the stream of many springs. 

So thunder rends the cloud in twain, 
And makes a passage for the rain. 




I -ft H d j[ ii ii ^3 S KM aJ 8$ 8S 8' aeaHBKsKaS 8* SSsfiSKbcia 




M. Roydon.l j± N E LEGY FOR A STR PH I L. 28l 



1591. 






Incontinent with trembling sound, 

He woefully 'gan to complain ; 

Such were the accents as might wound, 

And tear a diamond rock in twain. 

After his throbs did somewhat stay, 
Thus heavily he 'gan to say. 

" O sun ! " said he, seeing the sun, 
" On wretched me, why dost thou shine ? 
My star is fallen, my comfort done ; 
Out is the apple of my eyen. 

Shine upon those possess delight, 
And let me live in endless night ! " 

" O grief! that liest upon my soul, 
As heavy as a mount of lead; 
The remnant of my life control, 
Consort me quickly with the dead! 

Half of this heart, this sprite and will, 
Died in the breast of Astrophil." 

" And you compassionate of my woe, 
Gentle birds, beasts, and shady trees ! 
I am assured ye long to know 
What be the sorrows me aggrieves ; 
Listen ye then to what ensu'th, 
And hear a tale of tears and ruth." 



284 An El e g y f o 11 A s tr opiiil. [ m - R ? 5 ; d ™; 




" You knew, who knew not Astrophil ? 
(That I should live to say I knew, 
And have not in possession still !) 
Things known, permit me to renew : 
Of him you know, his merit such, 
I cannot say, you hear too much." 

" Within these woods of Arcady, 
His chief delight and pleasure took : 
And on the mountain Partheny, 
Upon the crystal liquid brook, 

The Muses met him every day; 

That taught him sing, to write, and say. 

" When he descended down the mount, 
His personage seemed most divine; 
A thousand graces one might count 
Upon his lovely cheerful eyen : 

To hear him speak, and sweetly smile ; 

You were in Paradise the while." 

" A sweet attractive kind of grace ; 
A full assurance given by looks ; 
Continual comfort in a face, 
The lineaments of Gospel books. 

I trow that countenance cannot lie, 
Whose thoughts are legible in the eye." 






ic!^>x&lJ^x^&^^^^!>x&!^>x!^tt!i^ 



M. Roydon."] 

'/ I"QI. ] 



An Elegy for A stropuil. 285 



*S£?«3*2S«?«3Stt?tt 






fcxS>xi>xfexJ>xi>!f!>i I 



" Was ever eye did see that face ; 

Was never ear did hear that tongue ; 

Was never mind did mind his grace ; 

That ever thought the travail long : 

But eyes and ears and every thought, 
Were with his sweet perfections caught.'* 

" O GOD ! that such a worthy man, 
In whom so rare deserts did reign ; 
Desired thus, must leave us then : 
And we to wish for him in vain. 

O could the stars that bred that wit, 

In force no longer fixed sit." 

" Then being filled with learned dew, 
The Muses willed him to love : 
That instrument can aptly show, 
How finely our conceits will move. 

As Bacchus opes dissembled hearts, 
So Love sets out our better parts." 



" Stella, a nymph within this wood, 
Most rare, and rich of heavenly bliss ; 
The highest in his fancy stood, 
And she could well demerit this. 

'Tis likely, they acquainted soon : 
He was a sun, and she a moon." 



286 An Elegy for Astro p/i/l . [ M - *?*£[ 




" Our Astrophil did Stella love. 
O Stella ! vaunt of Astrophil ! 
Albeit thy graces gods may move ; 
Where wilt thou find an Astrophil ? 

The rose and lily have their prime ; 

And so hath beauty but a time," 

"Although thy beauty do exceed 
In common sight of every eye; 
Yet in his poesies when we read, 
It is apparent more thereby. 

He that hath love and judgment too, 
Sees more than any others do." 

" Then Astrophil hath honoured thee. 
For when thy body is extinct, 
Thy graces shall eternal be. 
And live by virtue of his ink. 

For by his verses he doth give 
To shortlived beauty aye to live." 

" Above all others this is he, 
Which erst approved in his song 
That love and honour might agree, 
And that pure love will do no wrong. 
Sweet saints! it is no sin nor blame 
To love a man of virtuous name." 



rf>>cKx!>x!5x}>x}>x!>x!5>c!>>H>x!>x!>x!>x^x!yx^^ 



M. Royd hi. 

? IS9X-J 



An Elegy for Astrophil. 287 




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xSafiafiixfiixfiixtxcfiixfiixSi * 



" Did never love so sweetly breathe 
In any mortal breast before ? 
Did never Muse inspire beneath, 
A poet's brain with finer store ? 

He wrote of love with high conceit ; 
And beauty reared above her height." 

" Then Pallas afterward attired 
Our Astrophil with her device, 
Whom in his armour heaven admired, 
As of the nation of the skies : 

He sparkled in his arms afar, 

As he were dight with fiery stars." 

" The blaze whereof, when Mars beheld 
(An envious eye doth see afar) 
* Such majesty,' quoth he, ' is seld. 
Such majesty, my mart may mar. 
Perhaps this may a suitor be 
To set Mars by his deity.' " 

" In this surmise, he made with speed 
An iron can, wherein he put 
The thunders that in clouds do breed ; 
The flame and bolt together shut, 

With privy force burst out again ; 

And so our Astrophil was slain.'* 



288 An Elegy for A strophil. 



M. Roydon. 




His word, " was slain," straightway did move, 

And Nature's inward life-strings twitch, 

The sky immediately above, 

Was dimmed with hideous clouds of pitch. 

The wrastling winds, from out the ground 
Filled all the air with rattling sound. 

The bending trees expressed a groan, 

And sighed the sorrow of his fall ; 

The forest beasts made ruthful moan ; 

The birds did tune their mourning call, 
And Philomel for Astrophil, 
Unto her notes, annexed a " phil." 

The turtle dove with tones of ruth, 

Showed feeling passion of his death ; 

Methought she said " I tell thee truth, 

Was never he that drew in breath, 
Unto his love more trusty found, 
Than he for whom our griefs abound.'* 

The swan that was in presence here, 

Began his funeral dirge to sing ; 

" Good things," quoth he, " may scarce appear; 

But pass away with speedy wing. 

This mortal life as death is tried, 
And death gives life, and so he died." 




ISSHwS^ 






M. Roydon. 
? i S9 i. 



An Elegy for Astropiul. 289 




The general sorrow that was made 

Among the creatures of kind, 

Fired the Phoenix where she laid, 

Her ashes flying with the wind. 
So as I might with reason see 
That such a Phoenix ne'er should be. 

Haply, the cinders driven about, 
May breed an offspring near that kind ; 
But hardly a peer to that, I doubt : 
It cannot sink into my mind 

That under branches e'er can be, 

Of worth and value as the tree. 

The eagle marked with piercing sight 
The mournful habit of the place ; 
And parted thence with mounting flight, 
To signify to Jove the case : 

What sorrow Nature doth sustain, 

For Astrophil, by Envy slain. 

And while I followed with mine eye 

The flight the eagle upward took ; 

All things did vanish by and by, 

And disappeared from my look. 

The trees, beasts, birds and grove were gone 
So was the friend that made this moan. 



290 



An Elegy for Astropiiil 



'M. Roydon. 
? 1591. 



This spectacle had firmly wrought 
A deep compassion in my sprite ; 
My molten heart issued, methought, 
In streams forth at mine eyes aright: 

And here my pen is forced to shrink ; 

My tears discolour so mine ink. 




"W 



? iS9 



An Epitaph upon Sir P. Sidney. 291 




Kfiixi> icfioc&xiick >ci>K&Xi>x£ i& JrK j^>^>^xiJx{i!xl«R>jrf«rfii 



An Epitaph upon the Right Honourable 

Sir P 11 1 lip Sidney, Knight ^ Lord 

Governor of Flushing. 



la 



O praise thy life or wail thy worthy death ; 
And want thy wit, thy wit pure, high, divine : 
Is far beyond the power of mortal line, 
Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath. 



Yet rich in zeal, though poor in learning's lore ; 
And friendly care obscured in secret breast, 
And love that envy in thy life supprest, 
Thy dear life done, and death hath doubled more. 



And I, that in thy time and living state, 
Did only praise thy virtues in my thought ; 
As one that seld the rising sun hath sought : 
With words and tears now wail thy timeless fate. 



292 An Epitaph upon Sir P. Sidney. [ ? ; 55I ., 

Drawn was thy race aright from princely line, 
Nor less than such (by gifts that Nature gave, 
The common mother that all creatures have) 
Doth virtue show, and princely lineage shine. 



A King gave thee thy name ; a kingly mind 
That GOD thee gave : who found it now too dear 
For this base world ; and hath resumed it near, 
To sit in skies, and 'sort with powers divine. 

Kent, thy birthdays ; and Oxford held thy youth. 

The heavens made haste, and stayed nor years nor time ; 

The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime : 

Thy will, thy words ; thy words, the seals of truth. 

Great gifts and wisdom rare employed thee thence, 
To treat from kings, with those more great than kings. 
Such hope men had to lay the highest things 
On thy wise youth, to be transported thence. 



Whence to sharp wars, sweet Honour did thee call, 
Thy country's love, religion, and thy friends : 
Of worthy men, the marks, the lives and ends ; 
And her defence, for whom we labour all. 



? '59i- 



An Epitaph upon Sir P. Sidney. 293 




These didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age, 
Grief, sorrow, sickness and base fortune's might. 
Thy rising day saw never woeful night, 
But passed with praise from off this worldly stage. 

Back to the camp, by thee that day was brought 
First, thine own death ; and after, thy long fame ; 
Tears to the soldiers ; the proud Castilians' shame ; 
Virtue expressed ; and honour truly taught. 

What hath he lost ? that such great grace hath won. 
Young years, for endless years ; and hope unsure 
Of fortune's gifts, for wealth that still shall 'dure. 
O happy race ! with so great praises run. 

England doth hold thy limbs, that bred the same ; 
Flanders, thy valour ;. where it last was tried. 
The camp, thy sorrow ; where thy body died. 
Thy friends, thy want ; the world, thy virtue's fame. 



Nations, thy wit ; our minds lay up thy love. 
Letters, thy learning ; thy loss, years long to come. 
In worthy hearts, sorrow hath made thy tomb ; 
Thy soul and sprite enrich the heavens above. 




294 An Epitaph upon Sir P. Sidney. [ ? ; 59I . 

Thy liberal heart embalmed in grateful tears, 
Young sighs, sweet sighs, sage sighs bewail thy fall. 
Envy, her sting ; and Spite, hath left her gall. 
Malice herself, a mourning garment wears. 

That day their Hannibal died, our Scipio fell : 
Scipio, Cicero, and Petrarch of our time : 
Whose virtues, wounded by my worthless rhyme, 
Let angels speak ; and heaven, thy praises tell. 



Another of the same. 




Ilence augmenteth grief! writing increaseth rage ! 
Staid are my thoughts, which loved and lost the 

wonder of our age. 
Yet quickened now with fire, though dead with frost 

ere now, 
Enraged I write, I know not what. Dead, quick, 

I know not how. 



Hard-hearted minds relent, and Rigour's tears abound, 
And Envy strangely rues his end, in whom no fault she 
found ; 



? F. Grev 



jy Another Epitaph on Sir P. Sidney. 295 




Knowledge her light hath lost ; Valour hath slain her 

Knight : 
Sidney is dead ! Dead is my friend ! Dead is the world's 

delight. 

Place pensive wails his fall, whose presence was her pride. 
Time crieth out "my ebb is come; his life was my springtide." 
Fame mourns in that she lost the ground of her reports. 
Each living wight laments his lack, and all in sundry sorts. 

He was (woe worth that word !) to each well-thinking mind, 
A spotless friend, a matchless man, whose virtue ever shined: 
Declaring in his thoughts, his life, and that he writ ; 
Highest conceits, longest foresights, and deepest works of 
wit. 

He only like himself, was second unto none, 

Whose death (though life) we rue, and wrong, and all in 

vain do moan. 
Their loss, not him ; wail they, that fill the world with cries. 
Death slew not him ; but he made death his ladder to the 

skies. 

Now sink of sorrow I, who live, the more the wrong, 

Who wishing death, whom death denies, whose thread is all 

too long; 
Who tied to wretched life, who looks for no relief, 
Must spend my ever-dying days in never-ending grief. 



? F. Greville. 
? 'S9I- 



296 Another Epitaph on Sir P. Sidney. 



Heartsease and only I like parallels run on, 

Whose equal length keep equal breadth, and never meet in 

one : 
Yet for not wronging him, my thoughts, my sorrows' cell, 
Shall not run out; though leak they will, for liking him so 

well. 

Farewell to you ! my hopes, my wonted waking dreams. 
Farewell sometimes enjoyed joy ! Eclipsed are thy beams. 
Farewell self-pleasing thoughts! which quietness brings 

forth. 
And farewell friendship's sacred league ! uniting minds of 

worth. 

And farewell, merry heart ! the gift of guiltless minds ; 
And all sports ! which for life's restore, variety assigns. 
Let all that sweet is, void ! In me no mirth may dwell. 
Philip, the cause of all this woe, my life's content, farewell ! 

Now rhyme, the son of rage, which art no kin to skill ; 
And endless grief which deads my life, yet knows not how 

to kill : 
Go, seek that hapless tomb ! which if ye hap to find ; 
Salute the stones that keep the limbs that held so good a 

mind. 

FINIS. 



BimamqmHaBamHamHiagaH^^ 



297 



Sir Thomas More. 

Letter to his wife Alice on the 
burni?ig of his barns, 

[Works. 1557.] 

Sir Thomas More was made Lord Chancellor of England 
in Michaelmas Term in the year of our Lord 1529, and 
in the 21st year of King Henry the Eighth. And in 
the latter end of the harvest then next before, Sir 
Thomas More then Chancellor of the Duchy of 
Lancaster being returned from Cambray in Flanders 
(where he had been Ambassador for the King), rode 
immediately to the King at the Court at Woodstock : 
and while he was there with the King, part of his 
own dwelling house at Chelsea and all his barns 
there full of corn, suddenly fell on fire and were 
burnt and all the corn therein, by the negligence of 
one of his neighbour's carts that carried the corn ; 
and by occasion thereof, were divers of his next 
neighbours' barns burnt also. Upon which news 
brought unto him to the Court, he wrote to the Lady 
his wife the letter following-. 



C A Copy of the Letter. 

I stress Alice, in my most hearty wise I recommend 
me to you. And whereas I am informed by my son 
Heron of the loss of our barns and our neigh- 
bours' also, with all the corn that was therein : 
albeit (saving GOD's pleasure) it is great pity of 
so much good corn lost, yet since it hath liked Him to send us 
such a chance, we must and are bounden not only to be 




298 The burning of his barns at Chelsea, [f §™ 



Sir T. More. 
529. 



content but also to be glad of His visitation. He sent us all 
that we have lost : and since he hath by such a chance, taken 
it away again, His pleasure be fulfilled. Let us never grudge 
thereat, but take it in good worth; and heartily thank Him, as 
well for adversity as prosperity. And peradventure we have 
more cause to thank Him for our loss than for our winning. 
For His wisdom better seeth what is good for us than we do 
ourselves. 

Therefore I pray you to be of good cheer, and take all the 
household with you to church, and there thank GOD: both for 
that He hath given us and for that He hath taken from us, 
and for that He hath left us ; which if it please Him, He can 
increase when He will. And if it please Him to leave us 
yet less, at His pleasure be it. 

I pray you make some good ensearch what my poor 
neighbours have lost, and bid them take no thought therefore : 
for and I should not leave myself a spoon, there shall no poor 
neighbour of mine, bear no loss by any chance happened in 
my house. 

I pray you be with my children and your household merry 
in GOD. And devise somewhat with your friends, what way 
were best to take for provision to be made for corn for your 
household, and for seed this year coming ; if you think it good 
that we keep the ground still in our hands. And whether ye 
think it good that we so shall do or not, yet I think it were 
not best suddenly thus to leave it all up; and to put away our 
folk off the farm, till we have somewhat advised us thereon. 
Howbeit if we have more now than ye shall need, and which 
can get other masters ; ye may then discharge us of them. 
But I would not that any man were suddenly sent away, we 
wot [knew] nere whither. 

At my coming hither, I perceived none other, but that I 
should tarry still with the King's Grace. But now I shall 
(I think) because of this chance, get leave this next week to 
come home and see you ; and then shall we further devise 
together upon all things, what order shall be best to take. 

And thus heartily fare you well with all our children, as ye 
can wish. At Woodstock the third of September [1529], by 
the hand of 

Your loving husband 

Thomas More, Knight. 



299 



The Privy Council. 

A brief note of the be?iefits that grow to 

this Rea/m, by the observation of Fish 

Days : with a reason and cause 

wherefore the law in that 

behalf made^ is ordained. 

Very necessary to be placed in the houses of all 
men, especially common Victuallers. 

]Here heretofore, by the Queen's most excellent 
Majesty, of her clemency and care conceived, for 
divers private benefits that might grow to her 
loving subjects, specially for the bettermaintenance 
of the Navy of this land ; hath with the consent 
of the whole state of her realm, caused to be made and 
published sundry statute laws and proclamations for the 
expense [consumption] of fish and observation of Fish Days, 
with great penalties to be laid on the offenders ; that by the 
certain observation thereof, fishermen, the chiefest nurse for 
mariners, might the more be increased and maintained. 

The common sort of people contemning this Observation, to 
avoid the ceremony in times past therein used, and not 
certainly knowing the benefits thereby growing to the realm, 
nor remembering the penalties by the same laws appointed : 
do not only fall into the danger of the said laws : but the same 
hath caused a great decay to fishing; whereby groweth many 
other great detriments to the commonwealth of this realm. 
For the better instruction therefore of such persons as for the 
benefit of \heir country will be persuaded; in this brief Table 





300 Penalties for not keeping Fish Days. RJ]i£r3i 

is set down the punishment appointed for the offenders, the 
discommodities that happen to the realm bythe said contempt, 
and the great benefit that might grow to the people by the 
observation hereof; with the opinion that oughtto be conceived 
in the eating of fish at the days and times prescribed : being 
briefly set down as hereafter followeth. 



The Branches of the Statute. 

N the fifth year of Her Majesty's most gracious 
reign, it was ordained that it should not be lawful 
for any person within this realm to eat any flesh 
upon any days then usually observed as Fish Days ; 
upon pain to forfeit £3 [ = £30 of present money] for every time 
he offended, or suffer three months of imprisonment without 
bail or mainprize. 

And every person within whose house any such offence 
shall be done, being privy and knowing thereof and not 
effectually punishing or disclosing the same to some public 
officer having authority to punish the same ; to forfeit for 
every such offence forty shillings. 

The said penalty being great, and many of the poor estate 
favoured by reason thereof; but the offence thought necessary 
not to be left unpunished : the Queen's Majesty, of her great 
clemency, in the Parliament holden in the 34th year of her 
most gracious reign, hath caused the forfeiture for the eater 
to be but twenty shillings; and for him in whose house it is 
eaten, but 13s. 4d. — which being executed, will prove very 
damageable to the offenders. 

In the 27th year of Her Highness's reign, it was further 
ordained and remaineth still in force ; that no innholder, 
vintner, alehouse-keeper, common victualler, common cook, 
or common table-keeper shall utter or put to sale upon any 
Friday, Saturday or other days appointed to be Fish Days, 
or any day in time of Lent, any kind of flesh victuals; upon 
pain of forfeiture of £5; and shall suffer ten days' imprisonment 
without bail, mainprize, or remove, forever)' time so offending. 




^oliSTsSG The reasons for these penalties 301 



The Cause and Reason. 

Irst forasmuch as our country is for the most part, 
compassed with the seas; and the greatest force for 
defence thereof, under GOD, is the Queen Majesty's 
11 Navy of ships : for maintenance and increase of the 
said Navy, this law for abstinence hath been most carefully 
ordained, that by the certain expense [consumption] of fish, 
fishing and fishermen might be the more increased and the 
better maintained ; for that the said trade is the chiefest 
nurse not only for the bringing up of youth for shipping; 
but great numbers of ships therein are used, furnished with 
sufficient mariners, men at all times in a readiness for Her 
Majesty's service in those affairs. 

The second cause is, for that many towns and villages 
upon the sea coasts are, of late years, wonderfully decayed, 
and some wonderfully depopulated ; which in times past, were 
replenished not only with fishermen andgreat store of shipping, 
but sundry other artificers, as shipwrights, smiths, rope- 
makers, net-makers, sail-makers, weavers, dressers, carriers, 
and utterers of fish, maintained chiefly by fishing: that they 
hereby again might be renewed, the want whereof is and hath 
been the cause of great numbers of idle persons, with whom 
the realm is greatly damaged ; and this happeneth by reason 
of the uncertainty of the sale of fish and the contempt which 
in the eating of fish is conceived. 

Furthermore, it is considered that the trade for grazing 
of cattle through the unlawful expense of flesh, is so much 
increased ; that many farmhouses and villages wherein were 
maintained great numbers of people, and by them the markets 
plentifully served with corn and other victuals : are now 
utterly decayed and put down: for the feeding or grassing 
[grazing] of beefs [oxen] and muttons [sheep] only. By means 
whereof the people which in such places were maintained, 
are not only made vagrant ; but also calves, hogs, pigs, geese, 
hens, chickens, capons, eggs, butter, cheese, and such like 
things, do become exceedingly scarce and dear ; by want of 



302 The reasons enforced by Scripture. KXfi'lJJjJ;. 

their increase in those places, so that the markets are not, 
nor cannot be served, as in times past it hath been done. 

Many other things for confirmation hereof might be spoken, 
as the great number of ships decayed which have been 
maintained by fishing ; the wealth and commodity that 
fishing bringeth to this realm ; the cause that certain days 
and times for expense of fish must of necessity be observed, 
grown by reason of the provision of flesh for the people's 
diet must be certainly provided: whereof the gentle reader 
shall be more at large instructed in a little book published 
to that effect, with sundry other arguments which for brevity 
are omitted. In hope the consideration hereof will be sufficient 
to persuade such persons as esteem more the benefit of their 
country than their own lust or appetite ; setting before 
their eyes the fear of GOD in obedience to the Prince's 
commandment : especially in such things as concern the 
benefit of a commonwealth, considering Saint Paul saith, 
"There is no power but of GOD. The powers," saith he, 
" that be, are ordained of GOD : and those that resist 
these powers, resist the ordinance of GOD." 

It is further to be considered that there is no conscience 
to be made in the kind or nature of the meat being flesh or 
fish, as in times past a feigned ceremony therein was used; 
neither is the meat concerning itself unlawful to be eaten at 
any time : but the use thereof is unlawful, being forbidden to 
eat by the Prince having power and authority from GOD, and 
done by the consent of the whole estate for a commonwealth; 
wherein obedience ought to be showed, not for fear of 
punishment only, as Saint Paul saith, but for conscience' 
sake, not esteeming the meat or the day but obedience 
to the law and benefit to our country and poor brethren. 
Remembering that the magistrate beareth not the sword 
for nought, but to take vengeance upon them that do evil. 
For Saint Paul saith further, "He that will live without fear 
of punishment must do well, and so shall he have praise for 
the same." 

And although fear of punishment will not reform such 
persons, as by affection conceived hath been addicted from 
the expense of fish and the observation of fish days : yet 
the foresaid things considered, let obedience to their Prince 
and benefit to their country persuade them to bridle their 



PrivyGoundl.1 QxEN KILLED YEARLY IN LONDON. 303 

10 Mar. 1594.J 

affectioned lust for a small time ; so shall they both see 
and feel the great benefits thereby growing, and escape the 
punishment for the offence appointed. 

And for that the commodities may in some part more 
plainly appear, hereafter followeth an estimate of the beefs 
[oxen] that were killed and uttered in the City of London 
and its suburbs for a year; and what number of them 
might be spared in the said year, by one day's abstinence 
[from flesh] in a week : by which also may be conjectured, 
what may be spared in the whole realm. 



An estimate of what beefs [oxen] might 
be spared in a year, in the City of 
London , by o?te days absti?tence 
[ from flesfi\ in a week. 

Irst. In the year are 52 weeks, for every week, 
seven days : in all, 365. The Lent, with Friday and 
Saturday in every week, and the other accustomed 
Fish Days, being collected together, extend to 153. 
So in the year there are 153 fish days and 211 flesh days, 
that is 58 flesh days more than fish days. 

So the year, being 52 weeks ; abate 7 for the time of Lent, 
wherein no beefs [oxen] ought to be killed : and there 
remaineth but 45 weeks. 

Then let us say there be threescore Butchers, that be 
freemen within the City ; and every Butcher to kill weekly, 
the one with the other, five beefs [oxen] apiece : the same 
amounteth to 13,500 beefs. 

The foreigners in the suburbs, and such as come out of 
the country to serve the markets in the City; as it is credibly 
affirmed, kill and utter [sell] in the City weekly, four times so 
many as the freemen : which amounteth to 54,000. 

So joining the beefs uttered by the freemen and foreigners 
&c. together; they extend to 67,500. 




304 Advantages of observing Fish Davs. KYi^""^; 

If we will now know what number of beefs might be spared 
in a year, by one day's abstinence in a week: let us say that 
in the week are five days accustomably served with flesh — 
for that Friday and Saturday by the law are days of abstinence 
— whereof one being taken away, the rest are but four. In 
like case, divide the said 67,500 into five parts ; and the fifth 
part spared by the fifth day's abstinence is 13,500. 



By this it is not meant that any more fish days should 
be ordained than there already are ; but that Friday and 
Saturday might in better sort be observed : forthat flesh victuals 
on those days, in most places, are as commonly spent as on 
flesh days ; and therefore may well be accounted for the 
expense of one flesh day. The due observation whereof 
would spare the number of beefs aforesaid or more ; besides 
those things sold by the Poulterers; and other small cattle, 
as calves, sheep and lambs innumerable, killed by the 
Butcher. 

Seen and allowed by the most Honourable Privy 
Council in the year of our Lord GOD 
1593 [i.e. 1594]. The 20th of March. 

AT LONDON. 

Printed for Henry Gosson and Francis Coules. 




;o5 



Sir Philip Sidney. 

Letter to his brother Robert, then in 
Germany, 18 October 1580. 

Sir Philip Sidney to his brother, Robert Sidney, 

who was the first Earl of Leicester of that 

familiar name. 

[A. Collins Letters &'c.'] 
This gossippy letter, dashed off in the greatest hurry, is a remarkable 
testimony to the breadth and depth of the writer's natural and 
acquired attainments ; and to his most loving heart. " Lord ! how I 
have babbled ! " Especially note his saying, " 1 write this to you as 
one that, for myself have given over the delight in the world;" yet 
see how (like a true man) merry and loving is he to his only brother. 

My dear Brother, 

Or the money you have received, assure yourself 
(for it is true) there is nothing I spend so pleaseth 
me ; as that which is for you. If ever I have 
ability, you shall find it so : if not, yet shall not 
any brother living be betterbeloved than you, of me. 
I cannot write now to N. White. Do you excuse me ! 
For his nephew, they are but passions in my father; which 
we must bear with reverence : but I am sorry he should 
return till he had the circuit of his travel ; for you shall 
never have such a servant, as he would prove. Use your own 
discretion ! 

For your countenance, I would (for no cause) have it 
diminished in Germany. In Italy, your greatest expense 
must be upon worthy men, and not upon householding. 
Look to your diet, sweet Robin ! and hold up your heart in 
courage and virtue. Truly, great part of my comfort is in 
you ! I know not myself what I meant by bravery in you ; 
so greatly you may see I condemn you. Be careful of 
yourself, and I shall never have cares. 

I have written to Master Savell. I wish you kept still 
together. He is an excellent man. And there may, if you 

Eng. Car. I. 20 




306 A history, either a Story or Treatise. pSoJtftE 

list, pass good exercises betwixt you and Master Nevell. 
There is great expectation of you both. 

For method of writing history, Boden hath written at 
large. You may read him, and gather out of many words, 
some matter. 

This I think, in haste. A Story is either to be considered 
as a Story ; or as a Treatise, which, besides that, addeth 
many things for profit and ornament. As a Story, he is 
nothing, but a narration of things done, with the begin- 
nings, causes, and appendices thereof. In that kind, your 
method must be to have seriem temporum very exactly, which 
the chronologies of Melancthon, Tarchagnora, Languet 
and such others will help you to. 

Then to consider by that .... as you note yourself, 
Xenophon to follow Thucydides, so doth Thucydides follow 
Herodotus, and Diodorus Siculus follow Xenophon. So 
generally, do the Roman stories follow the Greek ; and the 
particular stories of the present monarchies follow the 
Roman. 

In that kind, you have principally to note the examples of 
virtue and vice, with their good or evil success ; the 
establishment or ruins of great Estates, with the causes, the 
time, and circumstances of the laws then written of; the 
enterings and endings of wars; and therein, the stratagems 
against the enemy, and the discipline upon the soldier. 

And thus much as a very historiographer. 

Besides this, the Historian makes himself a Discourser for 
profit ; and an -Orator, yea, a Poet sometimes, for ornament. 
An Orator ; in making excellent orations, e re nata, which 
are to be marked, but marked with the note of rhetorical 
remembrances : a Poet ; in painting for the effects, the 
motions, the whisperings of the people, which though in 
disputation, one might say were true — yet who will mark 
them well shall find them taste of a poetical vein, and in that 
kind are gallantly to be marked — for though perchance, 
they were not so, yet it is enough they might be so. The 
last point which tends to teach profit, is of a Discourser; 
which name I give to whosoever speaks non simplicilcr de 
facto, sal de qualitatibus et circumstantiis facti: and that is it 



s i r 80c? < S'.] Qualifications of a Historian. 307 

which makes me and many others, rather note much with 
our pen than with our mind. 

Because we leave all these discourses to the confused trust 
of our memory ; because they be not tied to the tenour of a 
question : as Philosophers use sometimes, places; the Divine, 
in telling his opinion and reasons in religion; sometimes the 
Lawyer, in showing the causes and benefits of laws; some- 
times a Natural Philosopher, in setting down the causes of 
any strange thing which the Story binds him to speak of; 
but most commonly a Moral Philosopher, either in the 
ethic part, where he sets forth virtues or vices and the 
natures of passions; or in the politic, when he doth (as 
often he doth) meddle sententiously with matters of Estate. 
Again, sometimes he gives precept of war, both offensive 
and defensive. And so, lastly, not professing any art as 
his matter leads him, he deals with all arts ; which — because 
it carrieth the life of a lively example — it is wonderful 
what light it gives to the arts themselves ; so as the great 
Civilians help themselves with the discourses of the Historians. 
So do Soldiers ; and even Philosophers and Astronomers. 

But that I wish herein is this, that when you read any 
such thing, you straight bring it to his head, not only of 
what art ; but by your logical subdivisions to the next member 
and parcel of the art. And so — as in a table — be it witty 
words, of which Tacitus is full ; sentences, of which Livy ; 
or similitudes, whereof Plutarch : straight to lay it up in 
the right place of his storehouse — as either military, or more 
specially defensive military, or more particularly, defensive 
by fortification — and so lay it up. So likewise in politic 
matters. And such a little table you may easily make 
wherewith I would have you ever join the historical part; 
which is only the example of some stratagem, or good 
counsel, or such like. 

This write I to you, in great haste, of method, without 
method : but, with more leisure and study — if I do not find 
some book that satisfies — I will venture to write more largely 
of it unto you. 

Master Savell will, with ease, help you to set down such 
a table of remembrance to yourself; and for your sake I 
perceive he will do much ; and if ever I be able, I will 
deserve it of him. One only thing, as it comes into my 

20 * 



308 Keep and increase your music! [^oc?^ 

mind, let me remember you of, that you consider wherein the 
Historian excelleth, and that to note : as Dion Nic^eus in 
the searching the secrets of government ; Tacitus, in the 
pithy opening of the venom of wickedness ; and so of the 
rest. 

My time — exceedingly short — will suffer me to write no 
more leisurely. Stephen can tell you who stands with me, 
while I am writing. 

Now, dear brother! take delight likewise in the mathe- 
maticals. Master Savell is excellent in them. I think you 
understand the sphere. If you do, I care little for any more 
astronomy in you. Arithmetic and Geometry, I would wish 
you well seen in : so as both in matter of number and 
measure, you might have a feeling and active judgment. I 
would you did bear the mechanical instruments, wherein the 
Dutch excel. 

I write this to you as one, that for myself have given over 
the delight in the world ; but wish to you as much, if not 
more, than to myself. 

So you can speak and write Latin, not barbarously ; I 
never require great study in Ciceronian ism, the chief abuse 
of Oxford, qui dum verba sectantur, res ipsas negligunt. 

My toyful books I will send — with GOD's help — by 
February [1581] ; at which time you shall have your money. 
And for £200 [nearly £2,000 at the present day] a year, 
assure yourself! If the estates of England remain, you shall 
not fail of it. Use it to your best profit! 

My Lord of LEICESTER sends you £40, as I understand, by 
STEPHEN ; and promiseth he will continue that stipend 
yearly at the least. Then that is above commons. In any 
case, write largely and diligently unto him : for, in truth, I 
have good proof that he means to be every way good unto 
you. The odd £30 shall come with the £100, or else my 
father and I will jarle. 

Now, sweet Brother, take a delight to keep and increase 
your music. You will not believe what a want I find of it, 
in my melancholy times. 

At horsemanship ; when you exercise it, read Ckison 
Claudio, and a book that is called La Gloria de V Cavallo 
withal : that you may join the thorough contemplation of it 



s i r 80c?! d is8o:] Sir F. Drake's return home, rich. 309 

with the exercise : and so shall you profit more in a month, 
than others in a year. And mark the bitting, saddling, and 
cur[ry]ing of horses. 

I would, by the way, your Worship would learn a better 
hand. You write worse than I : and I write evil enough. 
Once again, have a care of your diet ; and consequently of 
your complexion. Remember gratior est vcnicns in pulchro 
corpore virtus. 

Now, Sir, for news ; I refer myself to this bearer. He can 
tell you how idly we look on our neighbour's fires : and 
nothing is happened notable at home; save only Drake's 
return. Of which yet, I know not the secret points : but 
about the world he hath been, and rich he is returned. 
Portugal, we say, is lost. And to conclude, my eyes are 
almost closed up, overwatched with tedious business. 

God bless you, sweet Boy ! and accomplish the joyful hope 
I conceive of you. Once again commend me to Master 
Nevell, Master Savell, and honest Harry White, and 
bid him be merry. 

When you play at weapons ; I would have you get thick 
caps and bracers [gloves], and play out your play lustily; for 
indeed, ticks and dalliances are nothing in earnest : for the 
time of the one and the other greatly differs. And use as 
well the blow as the thrust. It is good in itself; and besides 
increaseth your breath and strength, and will make you a 
strong man at the tourney and barriers. First, in any case, 
practise the single sword ; and then, with the dagger. Let 
no day pass without an hour or two of such exercise. The 
rest, study; or confer diligently : and so shall you come home 
to my comfort and credit. 

Lord ! how I have babbled ! Once again, farewell, dearest 
Brother ! 

Your most loving and careful brother 

Philip Sidney. 

At Leicester House 

this iSth of October 1580. 



IO 



Vice - Admiral Sir John Mennis 



or 




Rev. James Smith. 
Phillada flouts me. 



H ! what a pain is love, 
How shall I bear it ? 
She will inconstant prove, 
I greatly fear it. 
She so torments my mind, 
That my strength faileth ; 
And wavers with the wind, 
As a ship that saileth. 
Please her the best I may, 
She looks another way 
Alack and well a day ! 
Phillada flouts me. 



[H'/t Restored.] 



All the fair, yesterday, 
She did pass by me ; 
"She lookt another way, 
And would not spy me. 
I wooed her for to dine, 
But could not get her. 
Will had her to the wine ; 
He might entreat her. 
With Daniel she did dance, 
On me she lookt askance. 
O thrice unhappy chance ! 

Phillada flouts me. 



J sS ] Phillada flouts me. 311 

Fair maid ! be not so coy. 
Do not disdain me ! 
I am my mother's joy. 
Sweet ! entertain me. 
She'll give me, when she dies, 
All that is fitting : 
Her poultry and her bees, 
And her geese sitting ; 
A pair of mattress beds, 
And a bag full of shreds. 
And yet for all these goods ; 
Phillada flouts me. 



She hath a clout of mine, 
Wrought with good Coventry; 
Which she keeps for a sign 
Of my fidelity. 
But i' faith, if she flinch, 
She shall not wear it : 
To Tibb my t'other wench, 
I mean to bear it. 
And yet it grieves my heart, 
So soon from her to part ; 
Death strikes me with his dart. 
Phillada flouts me. 



Thou shalt eat curds and cream 

All the year lasting ; 

And drink the crystal stream 

Pleasant in tasting. 

Wig and whey whilst thou burst, 

And ramble berry ; 

Pie-lid and pasty crust, 

Pears, plums and cherry. 



312 



P H I L L A U A KLOU T S M E. [,638 

Thy raiment shall be thin, 
Made of a weaver's skin ! 
Yet all's not worth a pin. 
Phillada flouts me. 



Fair maiden ! have a care 
And in time take me. 
I can have those as fair; 
If you forsake me. 
For Doll the dairymaid 
Laught on me lately : 
And wanton Winifrid 
Favours me greatly. 
One throws milk on my clothes ; 
T'other plays with my nose. 
What wanton signs are those ! 
Phillada flouts me. 



I cannot work and sleep 
All at a season ; 
Love wounds my heart so deep, 
Without all reason. 
I 'gin to pine away 
With grief and sorrow ; 
Like to a fatted beast 
Penned in a meadow. 
I shall be dead, I fear, 
Within this thousand year; 
And all for very fear 
Phillada flouts me. 



A 

NARRATIVE 

OF ALL THE 

Proceedings in the Draining of the 

GREAT LEVEL of the 

FENS, 

Extending into the Counties of 

Northampton, Lincoln, Norfolk, Suffolk, 

Cambridge, and Huntingdon; and the 

ISLE of ELY: 

From the time of Queen ELIZABETH, 

until this present MAT, 1661. 

For the Information of all concerned. 

BY N. N. 
LONDON, 

Printed by A. IV. for the use of the Author, 1 66 1 , 



3i5 





A Narrative of all the proceedings in the 
Draining of the Great Level, &c. 

N the 43rd year of Queen Elizabeth — an Act 
was made to encourage any that 43 ^'*- 
would undertake the draining of the said Great 
Level : which was attempted in several parts ; 
by Carril for the draining of Thorney, by 
Cocking and others for Londoners' Fens — 
which were both gained, and lost again. 

In the third year of King James — the whole 
was attempted to be drained by Sir John Popham Knight, 
Chief Justice ; Sir Thomas Fleming, Chief Baron ; 3 Jac. 
Sir William Rumney, Knight and Alderman of London ; 
and John Eldred citizen of London ; who were to have had 
for their recompense 130,000 acres : who did proceed, but 
could not effect that work. 

In the 16th year of King James — Sir William Ayloffe 
Knight and Anthony Thomas Esquire became ^ 7<v- 
Undertakers to drain the said Level, and were to have had 
two thirds of some, and one half of other grounds for their 
recompense : but this draining was without success. 

Afterwards — King James himself, by a Law of Sewers 
was declared Undertaker for the draining the Cambridge 
whole ; and was to have had for his recompense !^|? eb- 
120,000 acres: but this attempt likewise failed. ig^ac. 
In the 6th year of King Charles the First (of blessed 



3 1 6 The Indenture of 27TH February 1632. 3 Iay ? l66l . 

memory) — the Commissioners of Sewers for the said Great 
Sept. 6. Level and parts adjacent; did agree with Sir 

car. 1. Cornelius Vermuyden to undertake the draining 

the said Level ; who was to have had for his recompense 
95,000 acres : but nothing was done ; in respect of his being 
an alien. 

After in the said 6th year of King Charles — the then 
Commissioners of Sewers for the said Great Level and parts 
j.m. 6. adjacent; did make it their request to Francis, 

car. 1. t j len jr ar i f Bedford to undertake the said work: 

who was to have for his recompense 95,000 acres; whereof 
the said King was to have 12,000 acres for his Royal assent 
to that law, and concurrence to an Act of Parliament. 

In pursuance whereof, the said Earl undertook this great 
and hazardous work: and for his assistance therein, and by 
an Indenture consisting of fourteen parts; Dated 27 February 
[1632] 7 Car. i° he took in divers Adventurers and Par- 
ticipants with him ; who adventured for these several shares 
following, viz. 

The said Francis, Earl of Bedford ; for three whole 
shares or lots, of 4,000 acres to each lot. 

Oliver, Earl of Bolingbroke; for one lot, of 4,0)0 
acres. 

Edward, Lord Gorges ; for one. 

Sir Robert Heath Knight, for one. 

Sir Miles Sandys Knight and Baronet, for two. 

Sir William Russell Knight and Baronet, for two. 

Sir Robert Bevill Knight, for one. 

Sir Thomas Terringham Knight, for two. 

Sir PHILIBERT Peenatt, for one. 

William Sams, Doctor at Law, for one. 

Anthony Hamond Esq., for two. 

Samuel Spalding Gent., for one. 

Andrew Burwell Gent., for one. 

Sir Robert Lovet Knight, for one. 

In all twenty lots, each of 4,000 acres, divided between the 
said fourteen parties. 



May 1 66 



J The Great Level first drained in 1636. 317 



In and by which said Indenture, amongst other things, it 
is agreed as followeth. 

That if any one of the aforesaid parties or their assigns, 
after notice, should fail in the payment of such money as 
from time to time should be imposed on them in pursuance 
of the said Indenture for the carrying on the said work ; 
that then it should be lawful to and for the rest of the said 
parties or their assigns to supply the same, or to admit 
some other person or persons to have the share of such 
default lire, paying the sum [then] imposed on the said 
share : and that all such parties as aforesaid by himself 
or his assigns so failing; shall be wholly excluded and for 
ever debarred from demanding or receiving all or any 
such sum or sums of money, as any such person or persons 
had formerly disbursed for and towards the said work. 
After the executing of the said fourteen-part Indenture ; 
divers of those Participants did assign and conveyed unto 
other persons several proportions of their Shares and Ad- 
ventures, by them undertaken by the said Indenture. 

By virtue of this Agreement, the said Adventurers and 
their assigns proceeded so far in this hazardous adventure ; 
that after an expense of £100,000 therein, it was ™car. 
[in 1636] adjudged drained, at Peterborough. 

And in October [1637], in the 13th year of the said King 
Charles — by a Law of Sewers made at Saint Ives, '3 Car. 
the said 95,000 acres were set out by description and 
boundaries therein mentioned: where and how this 95,000 
acres should be taken out of each parish or landowner's land 
in the whole Level ; according to which setting forth, the 
whole 95,000 was thus divided and allotted. 

First, 12,000 acres thereof, for the said late King 

Charles. 
And 80,000 acres thereof, were divided into twenty lots, 
each lot containing 4,000 acres ; which were divided 
amongst the aforesaid parties to the fourteen-part 
Deed and their assigns, as aforesaid. 
And 3,000 acres did remain to be disposed of at the 
pleasure of the Adventurers. 



3 1 S The Level again drowned in 1641. [ May ? l66l . 

In pursuance of this Law, a great part of the 95,000 acres 
was divided from the country : and some of the said 
Adventurers had possession of some parts of their several 
proportions ; but had no conveyances of the same and 
received but little rent. 

For that by a Law of Sewers made at Huntingdon in [1638] 
i 4 Car. the 14th year of the said King Charles ; upon 
complaint that the said Level was not perfectly drained — 
The said King Charles (of happy memory) was declared 
Undertaker to drain the same, inter alia, and to have for his 
recompense, not only the 95,000 acres set out unto the said 
Earl, but also 57,000 acres more out of the same lands and 
parishes within the said Level : and the said Earl and his 
Participants were to have had 40,000 acres of the said 95,000 
acres freed from taxes for their charges expended ; which 
would have been of more advantage to them than the whole 
95,000 acres on the terms they have it. 

After which Law, the inhabitants of the country did 
re-enter upon the said 80,000 acres and 3,000 acres ; part of 
the said 95,000 acres : and the said King continued in the 
possession of the said 12,000 acres. 

But about the year 1641, his Majesty gave over his 
1641. Undertaking : and soon after the whole Level 

became drowned : and then the country entered upon the 
said 12,000 acres also, and kept the whole in their own 
possession. 

In this condition, the said Level returned to be as badly 
drowned as ever before: with the loss of £100,000 to the said 
Earl and his Participants. 

Afterwards a Parliament having been called in the year 
1640 — the said Bar] and his Participants or their Assigns did 
petition the said Parliament : that they would empower the 
said Earl to go on and perfect the aforesaid work ; and in 
1 f > i r , their case was committed [referred to a Committee . 
But the said Earl dying about the said year, and the late 
unhappy wars being then begun; there was for some time a 
stop to the prosecution of the said Act, till about 1646. 
When William, now Earl of Bicdi-ord, son and heir of the 
said Francis; the Honourables John and Edward Russi 1 1 , 
brothers to the said William, Earl of Bedford : Sir Miles 
Sandys, Sir John Marsham; Anthony Hamond; and 



May ? i66i] Second Draining of the Level, 1649-53. 319 

Robert Henley Esquires, and others, in numbers and 
interest the greatest part concerned in the said 83,000 acres ; 
did address themselves to the Parliament then sitting, that 
they might be empowered by an Act to prosecute the said 
work of Draining, for the recovery of that vast and lost 
country : which Act — after several hearings of all parties 
before a Committee — was ready to be presented to the House 
of Lords ; but the late unhappy differences prevented for 
that time its further progress. 

Afterwards, about the year 1648— the said William, Earl 
of Bedford, by the assistance of Sir Miles Sandys, Robert 
Henley Esquire, and divers others his said Participants ; did 
prosecute the obtaining of an Act of that pretended Parlia- 
ment, in order to the draining of the aforesaid Level. And 
after several hearings of all parties both of the Country and 
Adventurers before the Committee ; an Act passed in the 
said pretended Parliament in May 1649. 

By colour of which pretended Act, the said Earl and his 
Participants did meet together in the prosecution of the 
aforesaid fourteen-part Indenture. Accordingly the Earl of 
Arundel, under whom Sir William Playter claims; Colonel 
John Russell and Edward Russell Esquires, brothers to 
the said Earl of Bedford ; Sir Miles Sandys, under whom 
Colonel Samuel Sandys claims; Sir John Hewett ; Sir 
William Terringham ; William Dodson ; Sir John 
Marsham; ANTHONYHAMONDand Robert Henley Esquires, 
and divers others interested in the said work of Draining; 
who had seven parts out of eight in the said 83,000 acres : 
finding themselves out of possession, did in June following 
resolve to raise money for carrying on the said work in 
prosecuting of the aforesaid fourteen-part Indenture; being 
enabled thereto — as the times then were — by the said 
pretended Act. 

But several persons failing in the due payment of their 
money, as aforesaid : the said Earl with the residue of his 
said Participants were necessitated about November [1649] 
following; either to admit some other persons in the room of 
those who failed to supply the payment of such money as 
was raised according to the said Agreement, or otherwise 
to lose the whole. 

By which means, money being raised, the said work was 



320 The nature of the Drainage works. [ May ? l6<ix . 

carried on till Lady Day 1653 ; and then the whole Level 
being adjudged drained, possession of the said 95,000 acres 
was given to them accordingly : and by virtue of an Act 
made in the Parliament begun the 25th of April 1660, it still 
continues. 

There are several banks, which together are above two 
hundred miles in length : seventy miles whereof are generally 
nine feet high and sixty feet wide at the seat or bottom; 
the rest generally five feet high and twenty-four feet wide at 
the seat. Besides, they have cut one navigable river twenty 
one miles long and one hundred feet broad : besides divers 
sewers and drains, altogether above four hundred miles in 
length, some forty feet, some thirty, some twenty, and none 
under twelve feet wide. Besides, they have made divers 
great and navigable sasses and sluices, and bridges. 

For the doing whereof, and in other expenses and build- 
ings, and improving the said Level ; the said Earl and his 
Participants have expended at least £500,000 ; and it will 
yearly cost great sums to maintain it. 

This being the true state of the Case — as indifferent to all 
interests, and as an affectionate friend to the whole — I 
heartily wish and advise that all parties herein concerned, 
would so far recede from their own opinions and private 
interests, and — for the preservation of the whole — unani- 
mously submit all differences to the determination of the 
Parliament, or to such persons as they, in their wisdom, shall 
think fit : whereby the whole may be preserved, and all 
particular interests may receive justice according to the 
equity of their cause. 

FINIS. 




NINETEEN YEARS' 



CAPTIVITY 



IN THE 



Kingdom of Conde Uda 



IN THE 



^tgijlantis of Ceplon, 



SUSTAINED BY 



Captain ROBERT KNOX; 



BETWEEN 



March 1660 @f October 1679: 
^Eogettjcc toitlj tjt'0 

SINGULAR DELIVERANCE 

FROM THAT 

STRANGE AND PAGAN LAND. 

[From An Historical Relation &*c. t i63i. fid.] 
ENG. CAR. I. 21 



323 






To the Right Worshipful Sir William Thomson 
Knight, Governor ; Thomas Papillon Esquire, 
Deputy ; and the 24 " Committees " of the 
Honourable East India Company hereunder 
specified, viz : — 



The Rt. Hon. George, Earl 

of Berkley. 
The Rt. Hon. James, Lord 

Chandos. 
Sir Matthew Andrews 

Knight. 
Sir John Banks Baronet. 
Sir Samuel Barnardiston 

Baronet 
Mr. Christopher Boone. 
John Bathurst Esquire. 
Sir Josiah Child Baronet. 
Mr. Thomas Canham. 
Colonel John Clerk. 
Sir James Edwards Knight. 



Mr. Joseph Herne. 
Richard Hutchinson 

Esquire. 
James Hublon Esquire. 
Sir John Lethieullier 

Knight. 
Mr. Nathaniel Petton. 
Sir John Moor Knight. 
Samuel Moyer Esquire. 
Mr. John Morden. 
Mr. John Paige. 
Edward Rudge Esquire. 
Daniel Sheldon Esquire. 
Mr. Jeremy Sambrook. 
Robert Thomson Esquire. 



Right Worshipful^ 

Inch my return home to my native country of England, 

after a long and disconsolate captivity ; my friends 

and acquaintance, in our converse together, have been 

inquisitive into the state of that land in which I was 
21* 




324 Dedication of manuscript. [^L^iS: 

captivated : whose curiosity I endeavoured to satisfy. But my 
relations and accounts of things in those parts were so strange and 
uncouth, and so different from those in the Western nations ; and 
withal, my discourses seeming so delightful and acceptable unto 
them : they very frequently called upon me to write what I knew of 
that island of Ceylon, and to digest it into a discourse, and 
■make it more public. Unto which motion, I was not much un- 
willing ; partly that I might comply with the desires and counsels of 
my friends; and chiefly, that I might publish and declare the great 
mercy of GOD to me, and commemorate, before all men, my singular 
deliverance out of that strange and pagan land : which — as often 
as I think of, or mention — / cannot but admire, and adore the 
goodness of GOD towards me ; there being in it, so many notable 
footsteps of His signal providence. 

I had then by me several papers, which — during my voyage 
homewards from Bantam, at leisure times — I wrote concerning 
the King and the country ; and concerning the English there ; and 
of my escape : which papers I forthwith set myself to peruse and 
draw into a method; and to add what more might occur to my 
thoughts of these matters. Which, at length, I have finished ; 
contriving what I had to relate, under four heads. The first, 
concerning the country, and products of it. The second, concerning 
the King and his government. The third, concerning the inhabitants, 
and their religion and customs. And the last, concerning our 
surprise, detainment, and escape. In all which, I take leave to 
declare that I have written nothing but cither what I am assured 
tf by my own personal knowledge to be true, and wherein I have 
borne a great, and a sad share : or what I have received from the 
inhabitants themselves, of such things as are commonly known to be 
true among them. 

The book being tlius perfected ; it required no long meditation 
unto "whom to present it. It could be to none but yourselves, my 



Cap March K i68i.] Dedication of manuscript. 325 

honoured Masters, by whose wisdom and success the East Indian 
parts of the world are now nearly as well known as the countries 
next adjacent to us. So that by your means, not only the wealth, 
but the knowledge of those Indies is brought home to us. 

Unto your favour and patronage, therefore, Right Worshipful, 
I humbly presume to recommend these papers and the author of 
them ; who rejoiceth at this opportunity to acknowledge the favours 
you have already conferred on him; and to profess that — next unto 
GOD — on you depend his future hopes and expectations. Being 
Right Worshipful, 

Your most obliged, and most humble 
and devoted servant to be commanded, 

Robert Knox. 
London. 

itith March 1681. 



To the Right Worshipful the Governor, the Deputy 
Governor, and Four and Twenty " Committees " 
of the Honourable the East India Company, viz : 

Sir Josiah Child Baronet, Governor. 
Thomas Papilion Esquire, Deputy. 
The Rt. Hon. George, Earl Colonel John Clerke. 
of Berkley. Mr. John Cudworth. 

Sir Joseph Ashe Baronet. John Dubois Esquire. 

Sir Samuel Barnardiston Sir James Edwards Knight 

Baronet. and Alderman. 

Mr. Christopher Boone. Richard Hutchinson 

Mr. Thomas Canham. Esquire. 



326 Dedication of printed work. [ Ca Au g R ust K X' 



Mr. Joseph Herne. 

Mr. William Hedges. 

Sir John Lawrence Knight 

and Alderman. 
Mr. Nathaniel Letton. 
Sir John Moore Knight and 

Alderman. 
Samuel Moyer Esquire. 



Mr. John Morden. 
Mr. John Paige. 
Edward Rudge Esquire. 
Mr. Jeremy Sambrooke. 
Mr. William Sedgwick. 
Robert Thomson Esquire. 
Samuel Thomson Esquire. 
James Ward Esquire. 




Right Worshipful, 

HA T I formerly presented you in writing, having in 
pursuance of your commands now somewhat dressed by 
the help of the Graver and the Printer ; I a second time 
humbly tender to you. 'Tis,I confess, at best too mean 
a return for your great kindness to me. Yet I hope you will not 
deny it a favourable acceptance ; since it is the whole return I 
made from the Indies after twenty years' stay there : having brought 
home nothing else but 

(icho is also wholly at your service and command) 

Robert Knox. 

London, 

ist of August 1681. 




3?7 



Nineteen Years' Captivity 



In the Kingdom of Conde Uda. 




Captain Robert Knox. 

Preliminary Chapter I . 

A general description of the Island. 

Ow this island lies with respect unto the 
neighbouring coasts, I shall not speak at all, 
that being to be seen in our ordinary sea 
cards [charts] which describe those parts) ; 
and but little concerning the maritime 
parts of it, now under the jurisdiction of 
the Dutch : my design being to relate such 
things only that are new and unknown unto 
these European nations. It is the inland country therefore 
I chiefly intend to write of: which is yet a hidden land; 
even to the Dutch themselves that inhabit upon the island. 
For I have seen among them a fair large map of this place ; 
the best I believe extant, yet very faulty. The ordinary 
maps in use among us are much more so. I have procured 
a new one to be drawn with as much truth and exactness as 
I could : and his judgment will not be deemed altogether 
inconsiderable, who had for twenty years travelled about the 
island, and knew almost every step of those parts : especially 
those that most want describing. 

I begin with the sea coasts : of all which the Hollander 
is master. On the north end ; the chief places are Jaffhapatam 
and the island of Manaar. On the east side, Trincomalee 
and Batticalloe. To the south, is the city of Point de 
Galle. On the west, the city of Colombo ; so called from 
a tree, the natives call ambo (which bears the mango fruit) 
growing in that place, which never bare fruit but only 
leaves, which in their language is cola ; ,and hence they 







28 The former Provinces of Ceylon. ftS; 



called the tree Colambo : which the Christians, in honour 
of Columbus, turned to Colombo. It is the chief city on 
the sea coasts, where the Dutch Governor hath his residence. 
On this west side also are Negombo and Calpentyn. All 
these already mentioned are strong fortified places. There 
are besides many other smaller forts and fortifications : all 
which, with considerable territories ; to wit, all round 
bordering upon the sea coasts, belong to the Dutch nation. 

I proceed to the inland country, being that that is now 
under the King of Kandy. It is convenient that we first 
understand that this land is divided into greater or lesser 
shares or parts. The greater divisions give me leave to 
call Provinces, and the lesser, Counties ; as resembling ours 
in England, though not altogether so big. 

On the north parts, lie the Province of Nuwerakalawe, 
consisting of five lesser divisions or counties : the Province 
also of Hotkorle, signifying " Seven Counties ; " it contains 
seven counties. 

On the eastward, is Matella, containing three counties. 
There are also lying on that side Tammaukadua, Bintenne, 
Vellas, Panowa. These are single counties. Oowah also, 
containing three counties : in this province are two and 
thirty of the King's captains dwelling, with their soldiers. 

In the mid-land, within those already mentioned, lie 
Wallaponahoy, it signifies " Fifty holes or vales," which 
describe the nature of it, being nothing but hills and valleys 
— Poncipot, signifying "Five hundred soldiers" — Godda- 
ponahoy, signifying " Fifty pieces of dry land " — Hevoi- 
hattay, signifying " Sixty soldiers" — Kottemalle — Horsepot 
[? Harasia Pattbo], "Four hundred soldiers" — Tunponahoy 
[? Tumpanc], " Three fifties" — Oodanowera, it signifies " The 
Upper City;" where I lived last, and had land — Yattenowera, 
" The Lower City," in which stands the royal and chief city 
Kandy. 

These two counties I last named, have the pre-eminence 
of all the rest in the land. They are most populous and 
fruitful. The inhabitants thereof are the chief and principal 
men : insomuch that it is a usual saying among them, that 
'•il they want a king, they may take any man of either of 
these two counties from the plough, and wash the dirt off 



^ p M*dS*:] Ceylon full of hills, rivers & woods. 329 

him ; and he — by reason of his quality and descent — is fit to 
be a king." And they have this peculiar privilege ; that none 
may be their Governor, but one born in their own country. 

These that follow, lie to the westward. Ooddaboolat — 
Dollosbage — Hotterakorle, containing four counties — Porta- 
loon — Tunkorle, containing three counties — Kottiaar. Which 
last, together with Batticalloe and a part of Tunkorle ; the 
Hollander took from the king, during my being there. 

There are about ten or twelve more unnamed ; next 
bordering on the coast ; which are under the Hollander. 

All these Provinces and Counties, excepting six — Tam- 
mankadua, Vellas, Panowa, Hotterakorle, Hotkurle, and 
Nuwerakalawe — lie upon hills, fruitful and well watered : 
and therefore are they called in one word, Conde Uda ; 
which signifies, " On top of the hills ; " and the king is 
styled, the King of Conde Uda. 

All these counties are divided, each from other, by great 
woods ; which none may fell, being preserved for fortifications. 
In most of them are Watches kept constantly ; but in 
troublesome times, in all. 

The land is full of hills, but exceedingly well watered ; 
there being many pure and clear rivers running through 
them : which falling down about their lands is a very great 
benefit for the country; in respect to their rice, their chief 
substance. These rivers are generally very rocky, and so 
unnavigable. In them are great quantities of fish ; and the 
greater, for want of skill in the people to catch them. 

The main river of all is called Mahavilla Ganga; which 
proceeds out of the mountain called Adam's Peak (of which 
afterwards). It. runs through the whole land northward, and 
falls into the sea at Trincomalee. It may be an arrow's 
flight over in breadth ; but not navigable, by reason of the 
many rocks and great falls in it. Towards the sea, it is full 
of alligators ; but among the mountains there are none at 
all. It is so deep that, except it be mighty dry weather, a 
man cannot wade over it ; unless towards the head of it. 
They use little canoes to pass over it : but there are no 
bridges built over it, it being so broad, and the stream in the 
time of rains — which in this country are very great — runs so 
high ; that they cannot make them ; neither if they could, 



330 CONDE U DA FORTIFIED BY NATURE, [ & %Jd»*68*! 

would it be permitted. For the King careth not to make his 
country easy to travel in ; but desires to keep it intricate. 
This river runs within a mile or less of the city of Kandy. 
In some places of it, it is full of rocks; in others, clear for 
three or four miles. 

There is another large river [Kottemalle Oya] running 
through Kottemalle ; and falls into that before mentioned. 
There are divers other brave rivers that water the country ; 
though none navigable, for the cause above said. 

The land is generally covered with woods ; excepting the 
kingdom of Oowah, and the counties of Ooddaboolat and 
Dollosbage, which are, naturally, somewhat clear of them. 

It is most populous about the middle; least near about by 
the sea. How it is with those parts under the Hollander, I 
know not. The northern parts are somewhat sickly by 
reason of bad water. The rest are very healthful. 

The valleys between their hills are, many of them, 
quagmires : and most of them full of brave springs of pure 
water : which watery valleys are the best sort of land for 
their corn, as requiring much moisture. 

On the south side of Conde Uda is a hill, supposed to be 
highest on the island, called in the Cingalese language 
Hamalell ; but by the Portuguese and the European nations, 
Adam's Peak. It is sharp like a sugar loaf ; and has on the 
top a flat stone with the print of a foot, like a man's but far 
biggtr, being about two feet long. The people of the land 
count it meritorious to go and worship this impression : and 
generally about their new year, which is in March; they — 
men, women, and children — go up this vast and high 
mountain to worship. 

Out of this " mountain arise many fine rivers, which 
run through the land ; some to the westward, some to the 
southward, and the main river — the Mahavilla Ganga before 
mentioned — to the northward. 

This kingdom of Conde Uda is strongly fortified by nature. 
For which way soever you enter into it ; you must ascend 
vast and high mountains, and descend little or nothing. 
The ways are many ; but very narrow, so that but one can 
go abreast. The hills are covered with woods and great 
rocks, so that it is scarcely possible to get up anywhere, but 
only in the paths. In all of which, there are Gates made of 
thorns — the one at the bottom, the other at the top of the 



Ca March K i6ih:] HARVEST THERE ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 33 I 

hills — and two or three men always set to watch: who are to 
examine all that come and go, and see what they carry ; 
that letters may not be conveyed, nor prisoners or other 
slaves run away. These Watches, in case of opposition, are 
to call out to the towns near; who are to assist them. They 
oftentimes have no arms, for they are people of the next 
towns : but their weapons to stop people, are to charge 
them in the King's name ; which being disobeyed, is so 
severely punished, that none dare resist. These Watches 
are but as sentinels to give notice ; for in case of war and 
danger, the King sends commanders and soldiers to lie here. 

The one part of this island differs very much from the 
other, both in respect of the seasons and the soil. For 
when the westwardly winds [the S.-W. monsoon) blow, then 
it rains on the west side of the island; and that is the 
season for them to till their grounds : and at the same time, 
on the east side is very fair and dry weather, and the time 
of their harvest. On the contrary, when the east winds 
[the N.-E. monsoon] blow, it is tilling time for those that 
inhabit the east parts, and harvest to those on the west. 
So harvest is there, in one part or other, all the year long. 
These rains and this dry weather do part themselves about 
the middle of the land ; as oftentimes I have seen: there being 
on the one side of a mountain called Cauragas Hing, rainy 
and wet weather : and as soon as I came on the other side, 
dry and so exceeding hot, that I could scarcely walk on the 
ground ; being — as the manner there is — barefooted. 

It rains far more in the high lands of Conde Uda, than in 
the low lands beneath the hills. The north end of this 
island is much subject to dry weather. I have known it, for 
five or six years together, so dry, having no rain — and there 
is no other means of water but that ; there being but three 
springs of running water there, that I know or ever heard 
of — that they could not plough nor sow, and scarcely could 
dig wells deep enough to get water to drink ; and when they 
got it, its taste was brackish. At which time, in other 
parts, there wanted not rain : whither the northern people 
were forced to come and buy food. 

Let thus much suffice to have spoken of the countries, 
soil, and nature of this island in general. I will proceed to 
speak of the cities and towns in it; together with some 
other remarkable matters thereunto belonging. 




332 The five principal cities. [^SSf; 

Preliminary Chapter II. 
Concerning the chief cities and towns of this Island. 

]N this island are several places where, they say 
formerly stood cities, and which still retain the 
name ; though little or nothing of building be now 
to be seen : but there are five cities now standing, 
which are the most eminent, and where the King 
hath palaces and goods ; yet even these — all of them, except 
that wherein his person is, — are ruined and fallen to decay. 

The first is the city of Kandy— so generally called by the 
Christians, probably from Conde, which in the Cingalese 
language signifies " hills," for among them it is situated — 
but by the inhabitants called Hingodagul-newera, as much as 
to say, " The City of the Cingalese people ; " and Mauneur, 
signifying " The chief or royal city." This is the chief or 
metropolitical city of thewhole island. It is placed in the midst 
of the island, in the Province of Yattenowera; bravely situated 
for all conveniences, excellently well watered. The King's 
palace stands on the ea >t corner of the city, as is customary 
in this land for the King's palaces to stand. This city is 
three square, like a triangle, but has no artificial strength about 
it: unless on the south side, which is the easiest and openest 
way to it, where they have long since cast up a bank of 
earth across the valley from one hill to another; which 
nevertheless is not so steep but that a man may easily go 
over it anywhere. It may be some twenty feet in height. 
In every way to come to this city, about two or three miles 
off from it, are Thorn Gates and Watches to examine all that 
go and come. It is environed around with hills. The great 
river [the Mahavilla Ganga] coming clown from Adam's Peak, 
runs within less than a mile of it, on the west side. 

It has oftentimes been burnt by the Portuguese in their 
former invasions of this island; together with the King's palace 
and the temples. Insomuch that the King has been fain to pay 
them a tribute of three elephants per annum. The King left 
this city, about twenty years ago [i.e. about 1660], and never 
since has come to it. So that it is now quite gone to decay. 



Ca Ma^h K i n 6s'i'J Kandy, Nellembe, Alloot, Badoolla. 333 

A second city is Nellembe Newera, lying in Ooddaboollat, 
south of Kandy, some twelve miles distant. Unto this, the 
King retired and here kept his Court, when he forsook Kandy. 
Thirdly. The cityAlloot Newera, on thenorth-east of Kandy. 
Here this King was born. Here also he keeps a great store 
of corn and salt, &c, against time of war or trouble. This 
is situated in the country of Bintenne ; which land I have 
never been at, but have taken a view of it from the top of 
a mountain. It seems to be a smooth land, and not much 
hilly. The great river [the Mahavilla Ganga] runneth through 
the midst of it. It is all over covered with mighty woods and 
abundance of deer : but much subject to dry weather and 
sickness. In these woods are a sort of wild people [The 
Veddahs, supposed to be the original race inhabiting Ceylon] 
inhabiting. 

Fourthly, Badoolla, eastward from Kandy, some two days' 
journey : the second city in this land. The Portuguese, in 
time of war, burnt it down to the ground. The palace here 
is quite ruined : the pagodas only remain in good repair. 

This city stands in the kingdom or province of Oowah, which 
is a country well watered ; the land not. smooth, neither the 
hills very high. Wood very scarce, but what they plant about 
their houses: but great plenty of cattle; their land, void of 
wood, being the more apt for grazing. If these cattle be carried 
to any other parts in this island, they will commonly die. 
The reason whereof no man can tell. Only they conjecture 
it is occasioned by a kind of small tree or shrub that grows 
in all countries but in Oowah, the touch or scent of which 
may be poison to the Oowah cattle, though it is not so to 
other. The tree hath a pretty physical smell like an 
apothecary's shop ; but no sort of cattle will eat it. In this 
country grows the best tobacco that is on the land. Rice 
is more in plenty here than most other things. 

The fifth city is Digligy Newera, towards the east of Kandy, 
lying in the country of Hevahatt : where the King — ever 
since he was routed from Nellembe, in the rebellion, Anno 
1664 — hath held his Court. The situation of this place is 
very rocky and mountainous, the land is barren : so that 
hardly a worse place could be found out in the whole island. 
Yet the King chose it, partly because it lies about the middle 
of his kingdom, but chiefly for his safety: having the great 



334 AXURADIIAPOORA, CRADLE OF BUDDHISM. [^^hS: 

mountain Gauluda behind his palace, unto which he lied for 
safety in the rebellion — being not only high, but on the top of 
it lie three towns, and corn fields, whence he may have 
necessary supplies. And it is so fenced with steep cliffs, 
rocks, and woods; that a few men here will be able to defend 
themselves against a great army. 

There are, besides these already mentioned, several other 
ruinous places that do still retain the name of cities ; where 
kings have reigned, though now there are little footsteps 
remaining of them. 

At the north end of this King's dominions is one of these 
ruinous cities, called Anuradhapoora, where they say ninety 
kings have reigned; the spirits of whom they hold now to be 
saints in glory, having merited it by making pagodas, and 
stone pillars and images to the honour of their gods : whereof 
there are many yet remaining, which the Cingalese count very 
meritorious to worship, and the next way to heaven. Near 
by is a river by which we came, when we made our escape : 
all along which there is an abundance of hewn stones ; some 
long for pillars, some broad for paving. Over this river, 
there have been three stone bridges, built upon stone pillars; 
but now are fallen down ; and the country is all desolate, 
without inhabitants. 

At this city of Anuradhapoora is a Watch kept ; beyond 
which are no more people that yield obedience to the King of 
Kandy. This place is above ninety miles to the northward 
of the city of Kandy. In these northern parts there are no 
hills, nor but two or three springs of running water; so that 
their corn ripeneth with the help of rain. 

There is a port in the country of Portaloon, on the west 
side of this island, whence part of the King's country is 
supplied with salt and fish : where they have some small trade 
with the Dutch ; who have a fort on the point to prevent 
boats from coming. But the eastern parts being too far and 
too hilly, to drive cattle thither for salt ; GOD's providence 
hath provided them a place on the east side, nearer to them, 
which in their language they called Leawava : where, the 
eastwardly winds blowing, the sea beats in ; and in westerly 
winds — being then fair weather there — it becomes salt ; and 
that in such abundance, that they have as much as they 
please to fetch. 



CaP M^h K iS ^ IIE TOWNS OF CONDE UdA. 335 

This place of Leawava is so contrived by the Providence 
of the Almighty Creator, that neither the Portuguese nor 
Dutch, in all the time of their wars, could ever prevent this 
people from having the benefit of this salt : which is the 
principal thing that they esteem in time of trouble or war; 
and most of them do keep by them, a store of salt against 
such times. It is, as I have heard, environed with hills on 
the land side, and by sea not convenient for ships to ride : 
and very sickly — which they do impute to the power of a 
great god, who dwelleth near by in a town called Cotteragom, 
standing in the road ; to whom all that go to fetch salt, both 
small and great, must give an offering. The name and power 
of this god striketh such terror into the Cingalese, that those 
who otherwise are enemies to this King, and have served 
both Portuguese and Dutch against him ; yet, w r ould never 
assist to make invasions this way. 

Having said thus much concerning the cities and other 
eminent places of this kingdom ; I will now add a little 
concerning their towns. The best are those that do belong 
to their idols, wherein stand their Dewals or temples. They 
do not care to make streets by building their houses together 
in rows, but each man lives by himself in his own plantation ; 
having a hedge, it may be, and a ditch round about him to 
keep out cattle. Their towns are always placed some distance 
from the highways : for they care not that their towns should 
be a thoroughfare for all people; but only for those that have 
business with them. The towns are not very big : in some 
may be forty, and in some fifty houses ; and in some, above 
an hundred : and in some again, not above eight or ten. 

As I said before of their cities, so I must of their towns ; 
that there are many of them here and there lying desolate : 
occasioned by their voluntarily forsaking them ; which they 
often do, in case many of them fall sick, and two or three die 
soon after one another. For this, they conclude to happen 
from the hand of the devil ; whereupon, they all leave their 
town, and go to another, thinking thereby to avoid him : 
thus relinquishing both their houses and lands too. Yet 
afterwards, when they think the devil hath departed the 
place : some will sometimes come back, and reassume their 
lands again. 



336 Cingalese Character and Proverbs. [^fiiSSI 



Preliminary Chapter III. 

General character of the Cingalese, with 
some of their proverbs. 






ERe are iron and crystal in great plenty. Saltpetre 
they can make. Brimstone, some say, is here; but 
the King will not have it discovered. Steel they can 
make of their iron. Ebony is in great abundance, 
with choice of tall and large timber. Cardamoms, 
jaggory, arrack, oil, black-lead, turmeric, salt, rice, betel nuts, 
musk, wax, pepper — which grows here very well, and might be 
had in great plenty, if it had any vent [sale] — and the peculiar 
commodity of the island, cinnamon. Wild cattle also, and 
wild honey in great plenty in the woods : it lies in holes or 
hollow trees, free for any that will take the pains to get it. 
Elephants' teeth. Cotton, of which there is good plenty, 
growing in their own grounds : sufficient to make them good 
and strong cloth for their own use, and also to sell to the 
people of the uplands, where cotton is not so plentiful. 

All these things the land affords, and might do it in 
much greater quantity; if the people were but laborious and 
industrious. But that, they are not. For the Cingalese are 
naturally a people given to sloth and laziness. If they can 
but any ways live, they abhor to work. Only what their 
necessities force them to do, they do: that is, to get food and 
raiment. 

Yet in this I must a little vindicate them. For what 
indeed should they do with more than food and raiment ; 
seeing that, as their estates increase, so do their taxes also ? 
And although the people be generally covetous, spending 
but little, scraping together what they can : yet such is the 
government they are under; that they are afraid to be known 
to have anything, lest it be taken away from them. Neither 
have they any encouragement for their industry, having no 
vent by traffic and commerce for what they have got. 



" I have given pepper, and got ginger." Spoken when a 



Ca Ma^68?:] Fables. Noya and Polonga. 337 

man makes a bad exchange: and they use it in reference to 
the Dutch succeeding the Portuguese in their island. 

"Pick your teeth, to fill your belly." Spoken of stingy 
niggardly people. 

"To eat before you go forth, is handsome and convenient." 
Which they therefore ever do. 

" As the saying is, If I come to beg buttermilk, why 
should I hide my pan." Which is ordinarily spoken to 
introduce the business that one man comes to speak to 
another about. 

" A beggar and a trader cannot be lost." Because they 
are never out of their way. 

"To lend to another, makes him become an enemy." For 
he will hate you, if you ask him for it again. 

"Go not with a slave in one boat." It signifies to have no 
dealing nor correspondence with any one's slave : for if any 
damage should happen, it would fall upon your head ; and, 
by their law, you must make it good. 

" First look into the hand, afterwards open the mouth." 
Spoken of a judge ; who first must have a bribe, before 
he will pronounce on their side. 

" Take a ploughman from the plough, and wash off his 
dirt : and he is fit to rule a kingdom." Spoken of the people 
of Conde Uda, where there are such eminent persons of the 
"Hondrew" rank: and because of the civility, understanding, 
and gravity of the poorest men among them. 

" Nobody can reproach the King and the beggar." Because 
the former is above the slander of the people, and nothing 
can be said bad enough of the latter. 

" Like Noya and Polonga." Denoting irreconcilable 
enemies. 

If the Polonga and the Noya meet together, they cease 
not fighting till one hath killed the other. 

The reason and original of this fatal enmity is this ; 
according to a fable among the Cingalese. 

These two chanced to meet in a dry season, when water 
was scarce. The Polonga being almost famished for thirst j 
asked the Noya, where he might go to find a little water. 
The Noya, a little before, had met with a bowl of water in 
which a child lay playing : as it is usual among this people, 
to wash their children in a bowl of water, and there leave 
e.xg. Car. 1. 22 



338 More Pro v e r b s a x i» Fable s. i Ca| ^5: 

them, to tumble and play in it. Here the Noya had quenched 
his thirst, but, as he was drinking, the child that lay in the 
bowl, out of his innocency and play, hit him on the head, 
with his hand; which the Noya made no matter of, but bare 
patiently, knowing it was not done out of any malice, and 
having drunk as much as sufficed him, went away, without 
rloing the child any harm. 

Being minded to direct the Polonga to this bowl, but 
desirous withal to preserve the child : he told him, " That he 
knew of water; but he was such a surly hasty creature, that 
he was fearful to let him know where it was, lest he might 
do some mischief." • Making him therefore promise that he 
would not : he then told him, that at such a place there was 
a bowl of water with a child playing in it; and that probably 
the child might, as he was tumbling, give him a pat on 
the head — as he had done to him before — but charged him 
nevertheless, not to hurt the child. Which the Polonga 
having promised ; went his way towards the water, as the 
Nova had directed him. 

The Noya, knowing his touchy disposition, went after 
him : fearing that he might do the child a mischief; and that 
thereby he himself might be deprived of the like benefit 
afterwards. It fell out as he feared. For as the Polonga 
drank, the child patted him on the head : and he, in his 
hasty humour, bit him on the hand, and killed him. The 
Noya seeing this, was resolved to be revenged : and so, 
reproaching him for his baseness, fought him so long till 
he killed him ; and after that, devoured him. Which to this 
day they ever do ; and always fight, when they meet : 
and the conqueror eats the body of the vanquished. Hence 
the proverb. 

" He that hath money to give to his judge, needs not fear; 
be his cause right or wrong." Because of the corruption of 
the great men, and their greediness for bribes. 

" If our fortune [gerehah be bad, what can god do against 
it ? " Reckoning that none of their gods have power to reverse 
the fate of an ill planet. 

'■ The ague is nothing, but the headache is all." That 
country is very subject to agues, which do especially afflict 
the heads of those who have them. 

The)- have certain words of form and civility that they use 



Capt. R. Knox."! r*^»-„^ . , ^ 

March .6S..J GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE CINGALESE. 3"Q 

upon occasion When they come to another man's house; he 
asks them "What they come for?" which is his civility 
And they answer, "I come for nothing;" which is their 
ordinary reply; though they do come for something 

And upon this they have a fable. A god came down upon 
earth one day, and bade all his creatures come before him • 
and demanded, « What they would have, and it should be 
granted them." So all the beasts and other creatures 
came: and one desired strength, another legs, and another 
wings, &c. ; and it was bestowed on them. Then came the 
white men. The god asked them, " What they came for ? " 
And they said, "They desired Beauty, Valour, and Riches." 
It was granted them. At last, came the Cingalese. The 
god required of them "What they came for?" They 
answered, " I come for nothing." Then replied he again, 
1 Do you come for nothing : then go away with nothing ! " 
And so they for their compliment, fared worse than alAne 
rest. 

I might multiply many more of their proverbial sayings • 
but let these suffice. 

The worst words they use to whites and Christians, is to 
call them " Beef-eating slaves." 

When they travel together, a great many of them, the 
roads are so narrow that but one can go abreast. And if 
there be twenty of them, there is but one argument or matter 
discoursed among them all from the first to the last. And so 
they go talking along, all together ; and every one carrieth 
his provisions on his back, for his whole journey. 

In short. In carriage and behaviour, they are very grave 
and stately, like unto Portuguese ; in understanding, quick 
and apprehensive; in design, subtle and crafty; in discourse, 
courteous but full of flatteries; naturally inclined to temper- 
ance both in meat and drink, but not to chastity; near and 
provident in their families, commending good husbandry. 
In their dispositions, not passionate ; neither hard to be 
reconciled again when angry. In their promises, very 
unfaithful ; approving lying in themselves, but misliking it 
in others: delighting in sloth, deferring labour till urgent 
necessity constrain them. Neat in apparel, nice in eating, 
and not given to much sleep. 

22 ::: 




;40 Clay seals for all travellers. [^m^iS: 

Preltmin a r v Chapter I V. 

The Thorn Gates. 

HEREare constantWatches set in convenient places 
in all parts of the country, and Thorn Gates : but 
in time of danger, besides the ordinary Watches in 
all towns, they are in all places and at every cross 
road, exceedingly thick : so that it is not possible 
for any to pass unobserved. 

These Thorn Gates which I here mention, and have done 
before, are made of a sort of thorn bush or thorn tree ; each 
stick or branch whereof thrusts out on all sides round about, 
sharp prickles like iron nails, of three or four inches long. 
One of these very thorns, I have lately seen in the Repository 
at Gresham College. These sticks or branches being as big 
as a good cane, are plaited one very close to another, and so 
being fastened or tied to three or four upright spars, are 
made in the fashion of a door. 

This is hung upon a door case some ten or twelve feet 
high (so that they may, and do ride through upon elephants) 
made of three pieces of timber like a gallows, after this 
manner [~| : the thorn door hanging upon the transverse piece 
like a shop window. So they lift it up or clap it down ; as 
there is occasion : and tie it with rope to a cross bar. 

But especially in all roads and passes from the city [Digligy] 
where the King now inhabits, are very strict Watches set : 
which will suffer none to pass, not having a passport ; which 
is the print of a seal in clay. 

It is given at the Court to them that have license to go 
through the Watches. The seals are different, according to 
the profession of the party. As to a soldier, the print of a 
man with a pike on his shoulder ; or, to a labourer, of a man 
with two bags hanging at each end of a pole upon his 
shoulder; which is the manner they commonly carry their 
loads: and to a white man, the passport is the print of a 
man with a sword by his side and his hat on his head. And 
as many men as there are in the company ; so many prints 
there must be in the clay. 

There is not half the examination for those that come Into 
the city, as for those that go out : whom they usually search 
tn see what they carry with them. 



-a- A •**■■•»•«•• e*-» §j & • § ■ jh£-5 &-&-» a-*-*-* ■ s 



it-it- 




Nineteen Years' Captivity 



In the Kingdom of Conde Ud 



A. 



BY 



Captain Robert Knox. 
Chapter I. 

Of the reason of our going to Ceylon, and 
detainment there. 

N this fourth and last part, I purpose to speak 
concerning our captivity in this island; and 
during which, in what condition the English 
have lived there; and the eminent providence 
of GOD in my escape thence : together with 
other matters relating to the Dutch and other 
European nations that dwell, and are kept 
there. All which will afford so much variety 
and new matter, that I doubt not but the readers will be 
entertained with as much delight in perusing these things, 
as in any else that have been already related. 

I begin with the unhappy occasion of our going to this 
country. 

Anno 1657, the Anne frigate of London, Captain Robert 
Knox Commander, on the 21st day of January ; set sail 
out of the Downs in the service of the Honourable the 
English East India Company, bound for Fort St. George 
[Madras] on the coast of Coromandel, to trade one year from 
port to port in India. Which we having performed, as we 
were lading goods to return for England, being on the road 




342 The Anne refitting at Trincomalee. [ Cap Lreh K .X. 

of Malipatam,onthe igth of November, 1659, there happened 
such a mighty storm, that in it several ships were cast 
away: and we were forced to cut our mainmast by the board; 
which so disabled the ship that she could not proceed in her 
voyage. Whereupon Kottiaar in the island of Ceylon, being 
a very commodious bay, fit for our present distress ; Thomas 
Chambers, Esq., since Sir Thomas Chambers, the Agent at 
Fort St. George, ordered that the ship should take in some 
cloth, and go to Kottiaar Bay [i.e. the Bay of Trincomalee , 
there to trade ; while she lay, to set her mast. Where 
being arrived, according to the appointment of those Indian 
merchants of Porto Nova we carried with us, they were 
put ashore ; and we minded our business to set another 
mainmast, and repair our other damages that we had 
sustained by the late storm. 

At our first coming hither, we were shy and jealous of the 
people of the place ; by reason our nation never had any 
commerce or dealing with them. But now having been there 
some twenty days, and going ashoie and coming on board at 
our pleasure, without any molestation ; the Governor of the 
place also telling us that we were welcome, as we seemed 
to ourselves to be : we began to lay aside all suspicious 
thoughts of the people dwelling thereabouts, who had very 
kindly entertained us for our money with such provisions 
and refreshings as those parts aftorded. 

By this time, the King of the country had notice of our 
being there, and, as I suppose, grew suspicious of us; not 
having all that while by any message, made him acquainted 
with our intent and purpose in coming. Thereupon he 
despatched down a Dissauva or general with his army to us. 
Who immediately sent a messenger on board to acquaint the 
Captain with his coming and desired him to come ashore to 
him ; pretending to have a letter to him from the King. We 
saluted the message with the tiring of guns, and my father the 
Captain, ordered me with Master John Loveland, merchant 
[supercargo of the ship, to go on shore and wait upon him. 

When we were come before him ; he demanded " Who we 
were?" and " How long we should stay?" We told him, 
11 We were English," and " Not to stay above twenty or 
thirty days:" and desired permission to trade in his Majesty's 
port. His answer was, " The King was glad to hear that the 



Cn Ma\rh K . n 68i'.j TlIE CAPTAIN IS MADE PRISONER. 343 

English were come to his country, and had commanded him 
to assist us as we should desire ; and had sent a letter to be 
delivered to none but to the Captain himself." 

We were then some twelve miles from the seaside. Our 
reply was, " That the Captain could not leave his ship to 
come so far ; but if he pleased to come down to the seaside 
himself, the Captain would immediately wait upon him to 
receive the letter." Upon which, the Dissauva desired us to 
stay that day ; and on the morrow, he would go down with 
us : which being a small request ; we, unwilling to displease 
him, consented to. 

The same day at evening, the Dissauva sent two of his 
chief captains to the house where we lay, to tell us " That 
he was sending a present to the Captain, and if we pleased 
we might send a letter to him : that he would send the 
present in the night ; and himself, with us, follow the next 
morning." At which, we began to suspect, and accordingly' 
concluded to write and advise the Captain not to adventure 
himself nor any other on shore, till he saw us. We having 
written a letter to this purpose, they took it and went away; 
but never delivered it. 

The next morning, the present (which was cattle, fruit, &c. ) 
was brought to the seaside and delivered to the Captain ; the 
messengers telling him withal, that we were upon the way 
coming down with the Dissauva, who desired his company 
on shore, against his coming; having a letter from the 
King to deliver into his own hand. Hereupon the Captain 
mistrusting nothing, came up with his boat into a small river ; 
and being come ashore, sat down under a tamarind tree,* 
waiting for the Dissauva and us. In which time, the native 
soldiers privately surrounded him and his men having no 
arms with them : and so he was seized on, and seven men 
with him ; yet without any violence or plundering them of 



*Sir James Emerson Tennent, 
K.C.G., in a tour through the northern 

forests of Ceylon in February 1848, 
thus — 

" At Cottiar, . . . we halted by the 
identical tamarind tree, under which, 



the Kandyans ; and thence carried into 
their hills : to be detained an inoffensive 
prisoner, from boyhood to grey hair-,. 
But to that captivity, we are indebted 
for the most faithful and life-like 
1 portraiture that was ever drawn of a 



two centuries before, Captain Robert semi-civilised, but remarkable people." 
KNOX — the gentlest of historians, and , — Ceylon, ii. 478. Ed. 1859 
the meekest of captives — was betrayed by | 



344 The long boat's crew also taken. [ c %£dK«E 

anything. And then they brought them up unto us, carrying 
the Captain in a hammock upon their shoulders. 

The next day after, the long boat's crew not knowing what 
had happened, came ashore to cut a tree to make cheeks for 
the mainmast ; and were made prisoners after the same 
manner, though with more violence. For they being rough 
and making resistance, were bound with withes ; and so were 
led away till they came where the people got ropes. Which 
when our men saw brought to them, they were not a little 
affrighted ; for being already bound, they concluded there 
could be no other use for those ropes but to hang them. But 
the true use of them was to bind them faster, fearing lest the 
withes might break ; and so they were brought up farther 
into the country ; but afterwards being become more tame, 
they were loosed. They would not adventure to bring them 
to us, but quartered them in another house, though in the 
same town : where without leave, we could not see one another. 
The house where they kept the Captain and us, was all 
hanged with white calico ; which is the greatest honour they 
can show to any : but the house wherein the other men were, 
that were brought up after us, was not. They gave us also 
as good entertainment as the country afforded. 

Having thus taken both our boats and eighteen men of us; 
their next care was, fearing lest the ship should be gone, to 
secure her. Therefore to bring this about, the Dissauva told 
the Captain that the reason of this their detainment was that 
the King intended to send letters and a present to the English 
nation by him ; and therefore that the ship must not go away 
till the King was ready to send his messenger and message : 
and thereupon desired the Captain to send on board to order 
her stay, and— it being not safe for her to ride in the bay, lest 
the Dutch might come and fire her — that he should take 
order for her bringing up into the river. Which advice of 
his, the Captain approved not of ; but concealing his dislike 
to it, replied "that unless he could send two of his own men 
on board with his letter and order, those in the ship would 
not obey him, but speedily would be gone with the ship." 
Which he, rather than he would run the hazard of the ship's 
departing, granted : imagining that the Captain would order 
the ship to be brought up into the river, as he had advised : 
though the Captain intended to make another use of this 
message. 



Cap L*ch K r 8 *:] The Captain sends the ship away. 345 

Upon which, the Captain sent two of his men, some 
Indians accompanying them, in a canoe to the ship; the 
Captain ordering them, when they were aboard not to abuse 
the Indians, but to entertain them very kindly : and 
afterwards that, setting them ashore, they should keep the 
canoe to themselves, instead of our two boats which they had 
gotten from us ; and to secure the ship, and wait till further 
orders. 

These two men stayed on board, and came not back again. 
This, together with the ship's not coming up, displeased the 
Dissauva; and he demanded of the Captain the reason 
thereof. His answer was, " That being detained on shore, 
the men on board would not obey his command." 

Upon this, some days after, the Dissauva bid the Captain 
send his son with orders to those aboard that the ship might 
be brought into the river; but provided that he would be 
security for my return : which he promised he would. His order 
to me was, "to see the top chains put upon the cables, and 
the guns shotted [loaded] ; and to tell Master John Burford 
Chief Mate, and all the rest, as they valued their lives and 
liberties, to keep a watch ; and not to suffer any boat to come 
near, after it was dark : and charged me upon his blessing, 
and as I should answer it at the Great Day, not to leave him 
in this condition ; but to return to him again." Upon which I 
solemnly vowed, according to my duty, to be his obedient 
son. 

So, having seen all done according to his appointment, I 
wrote a letter in the name of the company to clear my father 
and myself, to this effect, " That they would not obey the 
Captain, nor any other in this matter; but were resolved to 
stand upon their own defence." To which they all set their 
hands. Which done, according to my promise and duty, I 
returned again ; and delivered the letter to the Dissauva, 
who was thereby answered: and afterwards urged the Captain 
no more in that matter, but gave him leave at his pleasure 
to write for what he pleased to have brought to him from the 
ship ; still pretending the King's order to release us was not 
yet, but would suddenly come. 

And so we remained expecting it, about two months ; being 
entertained, as formerly, with the best diet and accommoda- 
tion of the country. 



346 The reason of their capture. [ Cap Ma *ch K ,"8*: 

Having continued thus long in suspense, and the time and 
the year spending [passing away] for the ship to proceed on 
her voyage to some other place ; and our condition being, as 
we feared and afterwards found to be, the beginning of a sad 
captivity: the Captain sent orders to Master John Burford 
to take the charge of the ship upon him, and to set sail for 
Porto Nova, whence we came ; and there to follow the 
Madras] Agent's order. 

If any inquire what became of the cloth of our lading, 
which we brought thither; they only took an account to see 
what it was, and so left it where and as it was before : and 
there it remained until both house and goods rotted away, 
as the people of the same town informed me afterwards. 

I impute the main reason of our surprise to our neglect, 
\'\z., in not sending a letter and present to the King at our 
first coming : who looking upon himself as a great monarch, 
as he is indeed, requires to be treated with suitable state. 

Thus were sixteen of us left to the mercy of those 
barbarians: the names of which are as follows. The Captain, 
Master John Loveland, John Gregory, Charles Beard, 
Roger Gold, Stephen Rutland, Nicholas Mullins, 
Francis Crutch, John Berry, Ralph Knight, Peter 
Winn, William Hubbard, Antony Emery, Richard 
Varnham, George Smith, and myself. Though our hearts 
were very heavy, seeing ourselves betrayed into so sad a 
condition, to be forced to dwell among those that knew not 
GOD nor His laws : yet so great was the mercy of our 
gracious GOD, that He gave us favour in the sight of this 
people: insomuch that we lived far better than we could 
have expected, being prisoners or rather captives in the 
hands of the heathen; from whom we could have looked for 
nothing but very severe usage. 

The ship being gone, the King sent to call the Dissauva 
speedily to him; who, upon this order, immediately marched 
away with his army; leaving us where we were. But 
concerning us, there was no order at all. 




Cap M^h^8ii] The captives are moved inland. 347 



Chapter II. 

How we lucre carried up into the country, and 

disposed of tJiere : and of the sickness, 

sorrow and death of the Captain. 

He Dissauva with his men, being gone; the people 
of the town were appointed to guard and secure 
us until further orders. But they carried us some 
six miles higher into the country ; and would not 
yet adventure to bring the long boat's crew unto 
us, but kept them by themselves in another town : fearing 
lest we might make an escape ; as certainly we would have 
attempted it, had they not removed us. 

There was a small Moor's vessel, which lay in the river ; 
which they had seized on about this time, as we supposed 
they would have done by our ship, if they could have caught 
her there. This vessel had some forty men belonging to her ; 
who were not made prisoners as we were, but yet lay in the 
same town. With those, we had concluded that they should 
furnish us with arms: and, in the night, all together to march 
down and get on board their vessel ; and so make our escape. 
But being prevented in this design by our departure, we were 
fain to lie at their mercy. 

In our.new quarters, our entertainment proved as good as 
formerly : and indeed there was this to mitigate our misery; 
that the people were courteous to us, and seemed to pity us. 
For there is a great difference between the people inhabiting 
the high lands or mountains of Kandy, and those of the low 
lands where we now were placed; who are of a kinder nature 
by far, than the other. For these countries beneath the 
mountains formerly were in subjection to the Portuguese ; 
whereby they have been exercised and acquainted with the 
customs and manners of Christian people : which pleasing 
them far better than their own, have begot and bred in them 
a kind of love and affection towards strangers ; being apt to 
show pity and compassion on them in their distress. And 



348 They are marched up the country. [ Cap ^chi™8*: 

you shall hear them oftentimes upbraiding the Highlanders 
for their insolent and rude behaviour. 

It was a very sad condition whilst we were all together ; 
yet hitherto each other's company lessened our sufferings, 
and was some comfort, that we might condole one another. 
But now it came to pass that we must be separated and 
placed asunder, one in a village ; where we could have none 
to confer withal or look upon, but the horrible black faces of 
our heathen enemies, and not understand one word of their 
language neither. This was a great addition to our grief. 
Yet GOD was so merciful to us, as not to suffer them to part 
my father and I. 

For it was some sixteen days after our last remove, the 
King was pleased to send a captain with soldiers to bring us 
up into the country ; who brought us and the other men 
taken in the long boat together : which was a heavy meeting ; 
being then, as we well saw, to be carried captives into the 
mountains. That night we supped together ; and the next 
morning changed our condition into real captivity. Howbeit 
they gave us many comfortable promises, which we believed 
not ; as " That the King's intent was not to keep us any 
longer than till another ship came to carry us away." 
Although we had but very little to carry, GOD knows; yet 
they appointed men to carry the clothes that belonged to the 
Captain and Officers. We still expected they would plunder 
us of our clothes, having nothing else to be plundered of : 
but the Cingalese captain told us, that the King had given 
order that none should take the value of a thread from us; 
which indeed they did not. 

As they brought us up, they were very tender of us ; as 
not to tire us with travelling, bidding us go no faster than we 
would ourselves. This kindness did somewhat comfort us. 
The way was plain and easy to travel, through great woods, 
so that we walked as in an arbour ; but desolate of 
inhabitants : so that for four or live nights we lay on the 
ground, with boughs of trees only over our heads. And i^( 
victuals, twice a day they gave us as much as we could eat : 
that is, of rice, salt fish, dried flesh : and sometimes they 
would shoot deer, and find honey in the trees; a good part 
"I which they always brought unto us. And drink we could 
not want ; there being rivers and puddles full of water, as we 
travelled along. 



c ' M M.!ah K .o3i.'] Kept near the Court, at first. 349 

But when we came out of the woods amongst inhabitants, 
and were led into their towns ; they brought us victuals 
ready dressed after their fashion, viz. : rice boiled in water, 
and three other sorts of food, whereof one was flesh and the 
other two herbs or such like things that grow in their 
country ; and all kinds of ripe fruit : which we liked very well 
and fed heartily upon. Our entertainment all along was at 
the charge of the country, so we fed like soldiers upon free 
quarters. Yet I think we gave them good content for all 
the charge we put them to ; which was to have the satisfac- 
tion of seeing us eat, sitting on mats upon the ground in their 
yards to the public view of all beholders : who greatly 
admired us ; having never seen, nor scarce heard of English- 
men before. It was also great entertainment to them to 
observe our manner of eating with spoons, which some of us 
had ; and that we could not take the rice up in our hands and 
put it to our mouths without spilling, as they do ; nor gaped 
and poured the water into our mouths out of pots, according 
to their country's fashion. Thus at every town where we 
came ; they used both young and old in great companies, 
to stare upon us. 

Being thus brought up altogether somewhat near to the 
city of Kandy ; now came an order from the King to separate 
us, and to place us one in a town. Which then seemed to us 
to be very hard ; but it was for the convenience of getting 
food, being quartered upon the country at their charge. 

The Captain, Master John Loveland, myself and John* 
Gregory were parted from the rest, and brought nearer to the 
city ; to be ready when the King should send for us : all the 
rest were placed one in a town, according to the aforesaid 
order. Special command also was given from the King that 
we all should be well entertained ; and according to the 
country's fare, we had no cause to complain. We four were 
thus kept together some two months, faring well all the 
while. 

But the King minding us not, order came from the great 
men in court to place us in towns, as the rest were ; only 
my father and 1 were still permitted to be together : and a 
great charge given to use us well. And indeed twice a day, 
we had brought unto us as good fare as the country afforded. 
All the rest had not their provisions brought to them, as we 



350 Author settled at Bonder Coswat. [^iiSdSat. 

had ; but went to eat from house to house., each house taking 
its turn. 

On the 16th of September ifiGo, my father and I were 
placed in a town called Bonder Coswat. The situation 
was very pleasing and commodious, lying about thirty 
miles to the northward of the city of Kandy, in the country 
called Hotkorle [? Hewarrisse Korle], and distant from the 
rest of our people a full day's journey. We were removed 
hither from another town nearer to the city of Kandy, where 
the nobles at Court supposing that the King would call for 
us, had placed us to have us ready. 

Being thus brought to Bonder Coswat ; the people put it 
to our choice, which house we would have to reside in. The 
country being hot, and their houses dark and dirty ; my 
father chose an open house ; having only a roof, but no walls : 
wherein they placed a cot or bedstead with a mat only upon 
it for him, which in their account is an extraordinary 
lodging ; and for me, a mat on the ground. 

Money at that time was very low with us. For although 
we wanted not for opportunity to send for what we would 
have brought unto us from the ship ; yet fearing we should 
be plundered of it, we sent not for anything save a pillow 
for my father. For we held it a point without dispute, that 
they that made prisoners of our bodies would not spare to 
take our goods : my father also alleging that he had rather 
his ehildren at home should enjoy them. 

But to make amends for that; we had our provisions 
brought us without money, and that twice a day, so much as 
we could eat and as good as their country yielded. To wit, 
a pot of good rice, and three dishes of such things as with 
them are accounted good cheer; one always either flesh, fish 
or eggs, but not o\ermuch of this dish; the other dishes, 
herbs, pumpkins or >uch like, one of which was always made 
sour. 

The first year that we were brought to this town ; this part 
of the land was extraordinarily sickly with agues and fevers, 
whereof many people died: insomuch that many times we 
were forced to remain an hungry; there being none well 
enough either to boil or bring victuals unto us. 

We had with us a Practice of Piety, and Master Roger's 
;/ Treatises called The Practice of Christianity. With which 



^"M.lrch^:] He and his father ill of the ague. 351 

companions we did frequently discourse ; and in the cool of 
the evening walked abroad in the field for a refreshing, being 
tired with being all day in our house or prison. 

This course lasted until GOD was pleased to visit us both 
with the country's sickness, ague and fever. The sight 
of my father's misery was far more grievous unto me 
than the sense of my own; that I must be a spectator of his 
affliction, and not in any way able to help him. And the 
sight of me so far augmented his grief, that he would often 
say " What have I done, when I charged you to come ashore 
to me again ? Your dutifulness to me hath brought you to 
be a captive. I am old and cannot long hold out, but you 
may live to see many days of sorrow ; if the msrcy of GOD 
do not prevent it. But my prayers to GOD for you shall not 
be wanting ; that for this cause, he would visit you with his 
mercy and bestow on you a blessing." 

My father's ague lasted not long; but deep grief daily 
more and more increased upon him ; which so overwhelmed 
even his very heart, that with many a bitter sigh, he used to 
utter these words, " These many years, even from my youth, 
have I used the seas ; in which time the Lord GOD hath 
delivered me from a multitude of dangers " — rehearsing to 
me what great dangers he had been in in the Straits of 
Gibraltar by the Turks and by other enemies, and also in 
many other places too large here to insert; and always how 
merciful GOD was to him in delivering him out of them all 
— " so that he never knew what it was to be in the hands of 
an enemy : but now, in his old age, when his head was grown 
grey, to be a captive to the heathen, and to leave his bones 
in the eastern parts of the world : when it was his hope and 
intention, if GOD had permitted him to finish this voyage, 
to spend and end the residue of his days at home with his 
children in his native country ; and so to settle me in the 
ship in his stead. The thoughts of these things did even 
break his heart." 

Upwards of three months, my father lay in this manner 
upon his bed ; having only under him a mat and the carpet 
he sat upon in the boat when he came ashore, and a small 
quilt I had to cover him withal. And I had only a mat upon 
the ground, and a pillow to lay on , and nothing to cover me 
but the clothes on my back: but when I was cold and that 



152 His father's dying speeches. [ c 



March 1681. 



my ague came upon me, I used to make a fire ; wood costing 
nothing but the fetching. 

We had a black boy [la Madrassee] that my father 
brought from Porto Nova to attend upon him : who seeing 
his master to be a prisoner in the hands of the people of his 
complexion, would not now obey his command further than 
what agreed unto his own humour : neither was it then, as 
we thought, in our power to compel or make him ; but that 
was our ignorance, 

As for me, my ague now came to a settled course, that is, 
once in three days, and so continued for sixteen months' time. 

There appearing now to us no probability, whereupon to 
build any hopes of liberty : the sense of it struck my father 
into such an agony and strong passion of grief that once, I 
well remember, in nine days' time nothing came into his 
mouth but cold water ; neither did he in three months 
together, ever rise up out of his bed but when the course of 
nature required it : always groaning and sighing in a most 
piteous manner, which for me to hear and see come from my 
dear father, myself also in the same condition, did almost 
break my heart. But then I felt that doctrine most true, 
which I had read out of Master Rogers's book, ' ; That GOD 
is most sweet ; when the world is most bitter." 

In this manner my father lay until the gth of February 
1661 : by which time he was consumed to an anatomy 
[reduced to a skeleton], having nothing left but skin to cover 
his bones. Yet he would often say, ''that the very sound of 
liberty would so revive him, that it would put strength into 
his limbs." But it was not the will of Him, to whom we say 
" Thy will be d.° n e " to have it so. 

The evening before his death, he called me to come near 
his bedside, and to sit down by him; at which time I had 
also a strong fever upon me. This done, he told me, " That 
he sensibly felt his life departing from him, and was assured 
that this night GOD would deliver him out of his captivity: 
and that he never thought, in all his lifetime, that death 
could be so easy and welcome to any man as GOD had made 
it to be to him, and the joys he now felt in himself he wanted 
utterance to express to me." He told me " These were the 
last words that ever he should speak to me, and bade me well 
to regard and 10 be sure to remember them, and tell them to my 



Cap Ma^h K I 6°8i.'] The death of his father. 



ODO 



brother and sister, if it pleased GOD, as he hoped it would, 
to bring us together in England, where I should find all 
things settled to my contentation : " relating unto me after 
what manner he had settled his estate by letters, which he 
sent from Kottiaar. 

"In the first place, and above all; he charged me to serve 
GOD, and with a circumspect care to walk in His ways ; and 
then," he said, "GOD would bless me and prosper me." And 
next, he bade me, " have a care of my brother and sister." 
And lastly, he gave me "a special charge to beware of strong 
drink and lewd company; which, as by experience many had 
found, would change me into another man, so that I should 
not be myself." " It deeply grieved him," he said, " to see me 
in captivity in the prime of my years, and so much the more 
because I had chosen rather to suffer captivity with him 
than to disobey his command ; which now he was heartily 
sorry for, that he had so commanded me : but bade me not 
repent of obeying the command of my father, seeing for this 
very thing," he said, "GOD would bless me," and bade me "be 
assured of it, which he doubted not of, namely, that GOD 
Almighty would deliver me." Which, at that time, I could 
not tell how to conceive of, seeing but little sign of any such 
matter. But blessed be the Name of my most precious GOD, 
who hath so bountifully sustained me ever since in the land 
of my captivity, and preserved me alike to see my deceased 
father's word fulfilled ! And truly I was so far from repenting 
that I had obeyed the command of my father, and performed 
the oath and promise I made unto him upon it ; that it 
rather rejoiced me to see that GOD had given me so much 
grace. 

But though it was a trouble to him, that by his means, I 
was thus made a captive; yet "it was a great comfort to 
him," he said, "to have his own son sit by him on his death- 
bed, and by his hands to be buried ; whereas otherwise he 
could expect no other but to be eaten by dogs or wild beasts." 
Then he gave me order concerning his burial, "That having 
no winding sheet, I should pull his shirt over his head and 
slip his breeches over his feet, and so wrap him up in the 
mat he laid upon." And then he ceased speaking, and fell 
into a slumber. This was about eight or nine o'clock in the 
evening : and about two or three in the morning he gave up 

Eng. Gar. I. 23 



354 He buries his father. p^ySt 

the ghost, February gth 1660 ; being very sensible unto the 
very instant of his departure. 

According to his own appointment ; with my own hands, I 
wrapped him up ready for the grave : myself being very sick 
and weak ; and, as I thought, ready to follow after him. 

Having none but the black boy, I bade him ask the people 
of the town for help to carry my father to the grave ; because 
I could not understand their language : who immediately 
brought forth a great rope they used to tie their cattle 
withal, therewith to drag him by the neck into the woods; 
saying " that they could afford me no other help, unless I 
would pay for it." This insolency of the heathen grieved me 
much to see; neither could I, with the boy alone, do what 
was necessary for his burial, though we had been able to 
carry the corpse : having not wherewithal to dig a grave, and 
the ground being very dry and hard. Yet it was some 
comfort to me, that I had so much ability as to hire one to 
help ; which at first I would not have spared to have done, 
had I known their meaning. 

By this means, I thank God, in so decent a manner as 
our present condition would permit, I laid my father's body 
in the grave ; most of which I digged with my own hands : 
the place being in a wood on the north side of a corn field, 
where heretofore we had used often to walk, going up to 
Handapoul [? Handcpoli], That division, as I have said, being 
called Bonder Coswat, because formerly it had belonged to 
the revenues or jointure of the Queen : Bonder implying 
something relating to the King. It lies towards the north- 
west of the middle of the island, in the county of Hotkorle. 

Thus was I left desolate, sick, and in captivity ; having no 
earthly comforter ; none but only He who looks down from 
heaven to hear the groaning of the prisoners ; and to show 
himself a Father to the fatherless, and a present help to 
them that have no helper. 

The news of my father's death being carried to Court ; 
presently two messengers were sent from thence to see me, 
and to know of me how and in what manner my father died ; 
and what he had left ? Which was a gold ring, a pagoda 
[= 6s. in present value', some two or three dollars, and a few 
old clothes; GOD knows but a very little: yet it scared me 
not a little, fearing they would take it away from me, and 



Cap M^ch K i68i:] The order for food renewed. 355 

my want being so great : but they had no such order or 
intent. But the chief occasion of their coming was to renew 
the former order unto the people of that town: that they 
should be kind to me ; and give me good victuals, lest I 
might die also, as my father had done. So for a while I 
had better entertainment than formerly. 




23 * 




;56 After 16 months, the ague goes. [^i^X. 



Chapter III. 

Hozu I lived after my father s death : and of the 

condition of the rest of the English, and hozu it 

fared with them. And of our interview. 

Still remained where I was before ; having none 
but the black boy and my ague to bear me company. 
Never found I more pleasure in reading, meditating 
and praying than now : for there was nothing else 
could administer to me any comfort ; neither had I 
any other business to be occupied about. I had read my two 
books so often over, that I had them almost by heart. For 
my custom was after dinner, to take a book and go into the 
fields and sit under a tree ; reading and meditating until 
evening : except the day when my ague came, for then I 
could scarce hold up my head. Often have I prayed as 
Elijah under the juniper tree, that GOD would take away 
my life ; for it was a burden to me. 

At length it pleased GOD that my ague began to be a 
little moderate ; and so, by degrees, it wore away : after it 
had held me sixteen months. 

Provisions falling short with me, though rice, I thank 
GOD, I never wanted, and money also growing low: as 
well to help out a meal as for recreation ; sometimes I went 
with an angle -to catch small fish in the brooks, the aforesaid 
boy being with me. 

It chanced, as I was fishing, an old man passed by ; and 
seeing me, asked of my boy, " if I could read in a book ? " He 
answered " Yes." " The reason I ask," said the old man, 
" is because I have one I got when the Portuguese lost 
Colombo ; and if your master please to buy it, I will sell it 
him." Which when I heard of, I bade my boy go to his 
house with him, which was not far off, and bring it to me to 
see it ; making no great account of the matter, supposing 
it might he some Portuguese hook. 

The hoy having formerly served the English, knew the 



1 ' ll March K i68i.'] The Author meets with a Bible. 357 

book ; and as soon as he had got it in his hand, came running 
with it, calling out to me " It is a Bible." It startled me 
to hear him mention the name of a " Bible : " for I neither had 
one, nor scarcely could ever think to see one. Upon which, 
I flung down my angle, and went to meet him. The first 
place the book opened in, after I took it in my hand, was the 
sixteenth chapter of the Acts, and the first place my eye 
pitched on, was the 30th and 31st verses, where the gaoler 
asked St. Paul " What must I do to be saved ? And he 
answered saying, Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved and thine house." 

The sight of this book so rejoiced me, and affrighted me 
together ; that I cannot say which passion was greater, the 
Joy for that I had got sight of a Bible, or the Fear that I had 
not enough to buy it, having then but one pagoda in the 
world : which I willingly would have given for it, but my boy 
dissuaded me from giving so much, alleging my necessity 
for money many other ways, and undertaking to procure the 
book for a far meaner price ; provided I would seem to 
slight it in the sight of the old man. This counsel after I 
considered, I approved of, my urgent necessities earnestly 
craving; and my ability being but very small to relieve the 
same : and however, I thought, I could give my piece of gold 
at the last cast, if other means should fail. 

I hope the readers will excuse me, that I hold them so 
long upon this single passage ; for it did so affect me then, 
that I cannot lightly pass it over as often as I think of it, or 
have occasion to mention it. The sight indeed of this Bible 
so overjoyed me, as if an angel had spoken to me from 
heaven. To see that my gracious GOD had prepared such 
an extraordinary blessing for me, which I did, and ever shall 
look upon as miraculous : to bring unto me a Bible in my own 
native language ; and that in such a remote part of the world 
where His name was not so much as known, and where any 
Englishman was never known to have been before. I looked 
upon it as somewhat of the same nature with the Ten 
Commandments He had given the Israelites out of heaven. 
It being the thing for want whereof I had so often mourned, 
nay and shed tears too ; and than the enjoyment whereof, 
there could be no greater joy in the world to me. 

Upon the sight of it I left off fishing ; GOD having brought 



358 They are given food but not clothes. [ Cap M a rch K i68*' 

a fish to me that I longed for : and now how to get it and 
enjoy the same, all the powers of my soul were employed. I 
gave GOD hearty thanks that He had brought it so near me, 
and most earnestly prayed that He would bestow it on me. 
Now it being well towards evening, and not having wherewithal 
to buy it about me, I departed home ; telling the old man 
that in the morning I would send my boy to buy it of him. 

All that night I could take no rest for thinking on it, fearing 
lest I might be disappointed of it. In the morning, as soon 
as it was day, I sent the boy with a knit cap he had made 
for me to buy the book, praying in my heart for good success : 
which it pleased GOD to grant. For that cap purchased it, 
and the boy brought it to me to my great joy ; which did not 
a little comfort me in all my afflictions. 

Having said all this concerning my father and myself, it 
will now be time to think of the rest of our poor countrymen, 
and to see what is become of them. 

They were carried into the county of Hotterakorle, westward 
from the city of Kandy ; and placed singly according to the 
King's order aforesaid, some four, some six miles distant one 
from the other. It was the King's command concerning 
them that the people should give them victuals, and look after 
them : so they carried each man from house to house to eat, 
as their turns came to give them victuals : and where they 
supped, there they lodged that night. Their bedding was 
only a mat upon the ground. 

They knew not that they were so near to one another a 
great while, till at length Almighty GOD was pleased by their 
grief and heaviness to move those heathen to pity and take 
compassion on them ; so that they did bring some of them 
to one another. Which joy was but abortive, for no sooner 
did they begin to feel the comfort of one another's company; 
but immediately their keepers called upon them to go from 
whence they came, fearing they might consult and run away, 
although Colombo, the nearest port they could fly to, was 
above two days' journey from them. But as it is with wild 
beasts beginning to grow tame, their liberty increaseth ; so 
it happened to our men. So that at length, they might go 
and see one another at their pleasures; and were less and less 
watched and regarded : and seeing they did not attempt to 



Cap M^ch K .6 8^:] They eat their food uncooked. 359 

run away ; they made no matter of it, if they stayed two or 
three days one with the other. 

They all wondered much to see themselves in this condition, 
to be kept only to eat ; and the people of the country giving it 
unto them, daily expecting when they would put them to 
work, which they never did nor dared to do. For the King's 
order was to feed them well only, and to look after them ; 
until he pleased to send for them. 

This, after some time, made the Englishmen change their 
minds, and not to think themselves slaves any more ; but the 
inhabitants of the land to be their servants, in that they 
laboured to sustain them: which- made them to begin to 
domineer, and would not be content, unless they had such 
victuals as pleased them ; and oftentimes used to throw the 
pots victuals and all, at their heads that brought them, which 
they patiently would bear. 

And as they lived here longer, they knew better what 
privileges they had in belonging unto the King ; and being 
maintained by virtue of his command. And their privileges 
they made use of to no purpose, as I shall relate an instance 
or two by and by, and showed their English metal. 

Victuals were the only thing allowed to them, but no 
clothes. By this time the clothes they had were almost 
worn out. This put them to a study what course to take to 
procure more, when those on their backs were gone. The 
readiest way that they could devise was this, that whereas 
they used to take their victuals brought to them ready 
dressed, they should now take them raw ; and so to pinch 
somewhat out of their bellies to save to buy clothes for their 
backs. And so accordingly they concluded to do, and by the 
favour that GOD gave them in the sight of the people, by 
alleging the innocency of their cause and the extremity of 
their present condition, having not the least ability to help or 
relieve themselves ; they consented to give them two measures 
of rice a day each man, one of which is as much as any man 
can eat in a day, so that the other was to serve for advance 
towards clothes. For besides rice, they gave them to eat 
with it, salt, pepper, limes, herbs, pumpkins, cocoa nuts, 
flesh (a little) : these, and such like things, were their 
constant fare. 

And thus they made a shift to live for some years, until 



360 The Englishman & Cingalese potter, P p m5^"4i: 

some of them had an insight in knitting caps, by whom all 
afterwards learned : and it proved to be the chief means and 
help we all had to relieve our wants. The ordinary price 
we sold these caps for was ninepence apiece, in value of 
English money ; the thread standing us in about three 
pence. But at length — we plying hard our new learned 
trade — caps began to abound, and trading grew dead, so that 
we could not sell them at the former price ; which brought 
several of our nation to great want. 

The English began now to pluck up their hearts ; and 
though they were entered into a new condition, they kept 
their old spirits : especially considering they were the King's 
men, and quartered by his special order, upon the people. 

When they had obtained to have their allowance raw, if 
any brought them not their full due, they would go in and 
plunder their houses of such goods as they found there : and 
keep them until they came and brought them their complete 
allowance to redeem their goods back again. 

Some of our Englishmen have proceeded further yet. 
One, for example, went to buy pots of a potter; who, 
because he [the potter] would not let him have them at his 
own price, fell to a quarrel ; in which the Englishman met 
with some blows : which he complained of to the magistrate, 
as being a person that belonged unto the King, and therefore 
claimed better usage. And the magistrate condemned the 
potter as guilty in lifting up his hand against him ; and 
sent some of his soldiers to bind him, and then bade the 
Englishman go and content himself by paying him in the 
same coin again as he had served our countryman, which he 
did until he was satisfied : and moreover, ordered him to 
take the pots* he came to buy and pay nothing. But the 
law was not so satisfied neither : for the soldiers lay on 
many blows besides. 

Another time, at a certain feast, as they were drinking and 
wanting wine, they sent money to buy more; but the seller 
refused to give it them for their money : which the)- took so 
heinously, that they unanimously concluded to go and take 
it by force. Away they went, each man with a staff in his 
hand, and entered the house and began to drink : which the 
people, not liking of, gathered their forces together, and by 
blows began to resist them. But the Englishmen bravely 



Cai M^ch K i68i'.] Author first meets his countrymen. 361 

behaved themselves, and broke several of their pates : who, 
with the blood about their ears, went to the city of Kandy 
to complain to the great men. They demanded of them, " if 
they had ever sold them wine before." They answered 
" Yes." They asked them again, " Why then did they 
refuse to sell to them now ? " and that they were well 
served by the English for denying them drink for their 
money : and so sent them away, laughing at them. Our 
men got two or three black and blue blows ; but they came 
home with their bellies full of drink for their pains. 

But to return unto myself. It was a full year after my father 
died, before I had sight of any of my countrymen and fellow 
prisoners. Then John Gregory, with much ado, obtained 
leave to come and see me ; which did exceedingly rejoice me. 
For a great satisfaction it was, both to see a countnman, 
and also to hear of the welfare of the rest. But he could 
not be permitted to stay with me above one day. Until 
then, I knew not punctually [exactly] where the rest of my 
countrymen were : but having heard that they were within 
a day's journey of me, I never ceased importuning the people 
of the town where I dwelt, to let me go and see them : 
which though very loth, yet at last they granted. 

Being arrived at the nearest Englishman's house, I was 
joyfully received ; and the next day, he went and called some 
of the rest of our countrymen that were near. So that there 
were some seven or eight of us met together. 

We gave GOD thanks for His great mercies towards us ; 
being then, as we did confess, in a far better condition than 
we could have expected. They were now no more like the 
prisoners I left them : but were become housekeepers and 
knitters of caps; and had changed their habit from breeches 
to clouts [clothes] like the Cingalese. They entertained me 
with very good cheer in their houses, beyond what I did 
expect. 

My money, at the same time, being almost gone; and 
clothes in the same condition : it was high time for me now 
to take some course in hand to get more. Therefore I took 
some advice with them about knitting, my boy having skill 
therein. Likewise they advised me to take my victuals raw 
wherein they found great profit. For all this while there 



362 He learns Cingalese. [^M^dSi,' 

being no signs of releasing us, it concerned me now to 
bethink myself how I should live for the future. For neither 
had I any more than my countrymen any allowance for 
clothes, but for victuals only. 

Having stayed here some two or three days ; we did take 
leave of one another, hoping to see one another oftener : 
since we now knew each other's habitations : and I departed 
to my house, having a keeper with me. 

By this time, I began to speak the language of the country, 
whereby I was enabled the better to speak my mind unto the 
people that brought me my victuals ; which was, henceforth 
not to boil my rice but to bring it raw, according to the 
quantity that the other Englishmen had. This occasioned 
a great deal of disputing and reasoning between us. They 
alleged "that I was not as they, being the Captain's son and 
they but his servants : and therefore that it was ordered by 
the great men at Court that my victuals should be daily 
brought unto me ; whereas they went always from house to 
house for theirs. Neither was it fitting for me," they said. " to 
employ myself in such an inferior office as to dress my own 
meat, being a man that the King had notice of by name; and 
very suddenlv before I should be aware of it, would send 
for me into his presence ; where I should be highly promoted 
to some place of honour. In the mean time," they told me, 
as pretending to give me good counsel, " that it was more for 
my credit and reputation to have my provisions brought unto 
me ready dressed as they were before." 

Although I was yet but a novice in the country, and knew 
not much of the people; yet plain reason told me that it was 
not so much for my good and credit that they pleaded, as for 
their own benefit: wherefore I returned them this answer, 
" That if, as they said, I was greater in quality than the rest, 
and so held in their estima io 1 ; it would be but reason to 
demand a greater allowance ; w lereas I desired no more than 
the other Englishmen had: and as for the toil and trouble in 
dressing of it, that wouldbe none to me, for my boy had nothing 
else to do." And then I alleged several inconveniences in 
bringing my victuals ready boiled : as first, that it was not 
dressed according to my diet; and many times not brought 
in due season, so that I could not eat when I was an hungry ; 
and the last and chief reason was, that I might save a little 



^Ma^X"] The Author builds a house. 36 



j 



to serve my necessity for clothing; and rather than want 
clothes for my back, I must pinch a little out of my belly; 
and so both go share and share alike. 

And so at length, thanks be to GOD, I obtained, though 
with much ado, to get two measures of rice per diem for 
myself, and one for my boy ; also cocoa nuts, pumpkins, herbs, 
limes, and such like enough; besides pepper and salt; and 
sometimes hens, eggs, or flesh: rice being the main thing 
they stand upon, for of other things they refuse not to give 
what they have. 

Now having settled all business about my allowance, my 
next concern was to look after a house more convenient ; for 
my present one was too small to dress my victuals in and 
sleep in too. Thereabouts was a garden of cocoa-nut trees 
belonging to the King, and a pleasant situation. This place 
I made choice of to build me a house in : and discovering my 
desire to the people ; they consented, and came and built it 
for me. But before it was finished, their occasions called 
them away ; but my boy and I made an end of it, and 
whitened [whitewashed] the walls with lime, according to 
my own country's fashion. But in doing this, I committed 
a capital offence: for none may white [wash] their houses 
with lime, that being peculiar to the royal houses and 
temples : but, being a stranger, nothing was made of it, 
because I did it in ignorance. Had it been a native that 
had so done, it is most probable that it would have cost 
him his head, or at the least a great fine. 

Being settled in my new house, I began to keep hogs and 
hens ; which, by GOD's blessing, throve very well with me, 
and were a great help unto me. I had also a great benefit 
by living in this garden. For all the cocoa nuts that fell 
down, they gave me; which afforded me oil to burn in the 
lamp, and also to fry my meat in : which oil being new, is but 
little inferior to this country's butter. Now I learned to 
knit caps, which skill I quickly attained unto ; and, by GOD's 
blessing upon the same, I obtained great help and relief 
thereby. 

In this manner we all lived : seeing but very little sign 
that we might build upon, to look for liberty. The chief of 
our hopes of it was that in process of time, when we were 



364 Cingalese punishment of runaways. [ Cap M^S*; 

better acquainted, we might run away : which some of our 
people attempted to do too soon, before they knew well 
which way to go, and were taken by the inhabitants. For 
it is the custom of the Cingalese to suspect all white people 
they meet travelling in the country to be runaways, and to 
examine them : and if they cannot give satisfactory answers, 
they will lay hold of them and carry them back unto the city 
[of Randy] ; where they will keep them prisoners under a 
guard of soldiers, in an open house like a barn, with a little 
victuals sometimes, and sometimes with none at all. Where 
they have no other remedy to help themselves but begging : 
and in this condition, they may lie perhaps for their lifetime ; 
being so kept for a spectacle unto the people. 

Though the common way whereby the King gratifies such 
as catch runaways and bring them up [to the city_j, is not 
over acceptable. For they are appointed to feed and watch 
them, until he calls for them to be brought before him ; at 
which time, his promise is bountifully to reward them. But 
these promises I never knew performed : neither doth he 
perhaps ever think of it after. For when the King is made 
acquainted with the matter, the men that have brought up 
the prisoner are in a manner as bad prisoners themselves ; 
not daring to go home to their houses, without his leave : 
but there they must remain. After some years' stay, the 
common manner is for them to give a fee unto the governor 
of the country, and he will license them to go home; which 
they must be contented with, instead of the promised reward. 




March 16; 



:*•] The Persia Merc ha nt men. 365 




C II A PT E R IV. 

Concerning some other Englishmen detained 
in that country. 

^N the same captivity with ourselves on this island 
was another company of Englishmen, who were 
taken ahout a year and a half before us, viz.: in the 
year 1658. They were thirteen in number, whose 
names were as "follows, viz.: — Master William 
Vassal, John Merginson, Thomas March, Thomas Kirby, 
Richard Jelf, Gamaliel Gardner, William Day, Thomas 
Stapleton, Henry Man, Hugh Smart, Daniel Holstein 
an Hamburgher, James Gony and Henry Bingham. 

The occasion of their seizure was thus. The ship these 
men belonged to, was the Persia Merchant, Captain Francis 
Johnson Commander ; which was lost upon the Maldive 
islands: but they escaped in their boats, and passing along by 
this land went on shore to recruit and buy provisions ; and so 
were taken. The Cingalese that took them, plundered them 
of what they had, except their clothes. Yet one of them, 
John Merginson by name, having cunningly hid his money 
about him, saved it from the heathen : but from his own 
countrymen he could not ; some of them knowing of it, set 
upon him and robbed him of it. But it did them little good, 
for the King hearing of it, sent and robbed the robbers. 

These men thus seized, were carried up before the King, of 
whom he demanded, " whether the English had wars with the 
Hollanders?" They answered, "No." "Or if the English 
could beat them?" They answered, "They could, and had done 
it lately." Then he gave order to give them all some clothes ; 
and to Master William Vassal, being the chief of them, a 
double portion. And out of them, he made choice of two 
lads, whom afterwards he sent and took into his Court. Then- 
honours and their ends we shall see by and by. 

They were all placed in the city of Kandy, and each of 



366 Vergonse, the Portuguese priest. [ Cap M a S: 

them had a new mat given them to sleep on, and their diet 
was victuals dressed and brought them, twice a day, from the 
King's own palace. They had clothes also distributed to them 
at another time. So that these men had the advantage of 
us : for we neither had mats nor clothes, nor had the honour 
of being ever brought into the King's presence. 

This civil reception upon their first coming up into the city 
put the Persia Merchant men in hope that the King would 
give them their liberty. There was at that time an old 
Portuguese father, Padre Vergonse by name, living in the 
city. With him they discoursed concerning the probability 
of their liberty, and that the favours the King had shown them 
seemed to be good signs of it : but he told them the plain 
truth, that it was not customary there to release white men. 
For saying which, they railed on him; calling him " Popish 
dog " and "Jesuitical rogue," supposing he spoke as he wished 
it might be : but afterwards, to their grief, they found it to be 
true as he told them. 

Their entertainment was excellently good according to the 
poor condition of the country : but they thought it otherwise, 
very mean ; and not according to the King's order. Therefore 
that the King might be informed how they were abused, each 
man took the limb of a hen in his hand, and they marched 
rank and file, in order, through the streets, with it in their 
hands to the Court; as a sign to the great men, whereby 
they might see how illy [badly] they were served: thinking 
hereby the King might come to hear of their misusage, and 
so they might have orders to be fed better afterwards. But 
this proved sport to the noblemen who knew well the fare of 
the country : they laughing at their ignorance, to complain 
where they had so little cause. And indeed afterwards, they 
themselves laughed at this action of theirs, and were half 
ashamed of it ; when they came to a better understanding of 
the nature of the country's diet. 

Yet notwithstanding, being not used to such short commons 
of flesh, though they had rice in abundance, and having no 
money to buy more; they had a desire to kill some cows, 
that they might eat their bellies full of beef: but made it 
somewhat a point of conscience, whether it might be lawful 
or not to take them without leave. Upon which they applied 
themselves to the old father aforesaid, desiring him to solve 



^Ma^X.] Hugh Smart taken to Court. 367 

this case of conscience : who was very ready to give them a 
dispensation ; and told them, "that forasmuch as the Cingalese 
were their enemies and had taken their bodies, it was very 
lawful for them to satisfy their bodies with their goods." 
And the better to animate them in this design, he bade them 
bring him a piece that he might partake with them. So being 
encouraged by the old father, they went on boldly in their 
intended business. 

Now if you would have an account of the mettle and 
manfulness of these men, as you have already had a taste of 
those of ours ; take this passage. The Jak fruit the King's 
officers often gather wheresoever it grows, and give it to the 
King's elephants; and they may gather it in any man's 
grounds without the owner's leave, being for the King's 
use. Now these Englishmen were appointed to dwell in a 
house that formerly belonged unto a nobleman, whom the 
King had cut off, and seized upon it. In the ground 
belonging to this house stood a Jak tree full of fruit. Some 
of the King's men came thither to gather some to feed 
the elephants : but although the English had free liberty to 
gather what they could eat or desire ; yet they would permit 
none but themselves to meddle with them, but took the officers 
by the shoulders and turned them out of the garden; 
although there were a great many more fruits than they 
could tell what to do with. The great men were so civil that 
notwithstanding this affront, they had no punishment upon 
them. But the event of this was, that a few days after, they 
were removed from this house to another where was a 
garden, but no trees in it. And because they would not allow 
the King a few, they lost all themselves. 

I mentioned before two lads of this company, whom the 
King chose out for his own service. Their names were Hugh 
Smart and Henry Man. These being taken into his Court, 
obtained great favour and honour from him, as to be always 
in his presence, and very often he would kindly and familiarly 
talk with them, concerning their country, what it afforded, 
and of their King, and his strength for war. 

Till at length Hugh Smart having a desire to hear news 
concerning England, privately got to the speech of a Dutch 
Ambassador. Of which the King had notice, but would not 



o 



6S Henry Man set over the servants. pM^hSl* 



believe it, supposing the information was given him out of 
envy to his favourite ; but commanded privately to watch him, 
and if he went again to catch him there : which he not being 
aware of, went again and was caught. At which the King 
was very angry : for he allows none to come to the speech of 
Ambassadors ; much less one that served in his presence and 
heard and saw all that passed in Court. Yet the King dealt 
very favourably with him. For had it been a Cingalese, 
there is nothing more sure than that he should have died for 
it ; but this Englishman's punishment was only to be sent 
away, and kept a prisoner in the mountains without chains : 
and the King ordei ed him to be well used there ; where indeed 
he lived in better content than in the King's palace. He 
took a wife there, and had one son by her ; and afterwards 
died by a mischance, which was thus : as he was gathering 
a Jak from the tree by a crook, it [? the tree] fell down upon 
his side, and bruised him ; so that it killed him. 

Henry Man, the other Englishman, yet remained in 
favour ; and was promoted to be chief over all the King's 
servants that attended on him in his palace. It happened 
one day that he broke one of the King's china dishes: which 
made him so sore afraid, that he fled for sanctuary into a 
vchar, a temple where the chief priests always dwell and 
hold the consultations. This did not a little displease the 
King, this act of his supposing him to be of opinion that 
those priests were able to secure him against the King's 
displeasure. However he, showing reverence to their order, 
would not violently fetch him from thence ; but sent a kind 
message to the Englishman, bidding him "not to be afraid for 
so small a matter as a dish " — and it is probable, had he not 
added this fault, he might have escaped without punishment 
— " and that he should conic, and act in his place as formerly.*' 
At which message, he came forth ; and immediately, as the King 
had given orders, they took hold of him, and bound his arms 
above the elbows behind ; which is their fashion of binding 
men. In which manner, he lay all that night, being bound 
so hard that his arms swelled, and the ropes cut through the 
flesh into the bones. The next day the King commanded a 
nobleman to loose the ropes off his arms, and to put chains 
on his legs; and to keep him in his house, and there feed 
him and cure him. Thus he lay some six months, and was 



Cap March K ,63i:] Henry Man torn by elephants. 369 

cured ; but had no strength in his arms : and then was taken 
into his office again, and had as much favour from the King, 
as before ; who seemed much to lament him for his folly, 
thus to procure his own ruin. 

Not long after, he again offended the King ; which, as it is 
reported, was thus. A Portuguese had been sent for to th< 
city [of Kandy] to be employed in the King's service; to whic 
service he had no stomach at all, and was greatly afraid 
thereof, as he justly might be. For the avoiding thereof, 
he sends aletter to this English courtier; wherein he entreated 
him to use his interest to excuse him to the King. The 
Englishman could not read the letter, it being written in 
the Portuguese tongue, but gave it to another to read : which 
when he knew the contents thereof, he thought it not safe 
for him to meddle in that business, and so concealed the 
letter. The person to whom the Englishman had given it to 
read, some time after informed the King thereof. Whereupon 
both the Portuguese that sent the letter, and the Englishman 
to whom it was sent, and the third person that read it (because 
he informed not sooner) were all three, at one time and in 
one place, torn in pieces by elephants. 

After this execution ; the King supposing that we might 
be either discontented in ourselves or discountenanced by 
the people of the land : sent special orders to all parts where 
we dwelt, that we should be of good cheer; and not be 
discouraged, neither abused by the natives. 

Thus jealous is the King of letters, and allows none to 
come or go. 

We have seen how dear it cost poor Henry Man. Master 
William Vassal, another of the Persia Merchant men, was 
therefore more wary of some letters he had ; and came off 
better. This man had received several letters, as it was 
known abroad that he had; which he, fearing lest the King 
should hear of, thought it most convenient and safe to go to 
the Court and present them himself; that so he might plead 
in his own defence to the King. Which he did. He acknow- 
ledged to him that he had received letters, and that they 
came to his hands, a pretty while ago ; but withal pretended 
excuses and reasons to clear himself; as that, " when he 
received them, he knew not that it was against the law and 

Eng. Gar. I. 24 



3/0 Vassal's news of an English Victory. p&J«h K X: 

manner of the country ; and when he did know, he took 
counsel of a Portuguese priest," who was now dead, " being 
old and, as he thought, well experienced in the country : but 
he advised him to defer awhile the carrying them unto the King 
until a more convenient season. After this, he did attempt," 
he said, " to bring them unto the King; but could not be 
permitted to have entrance through the Watches ; so that 
until now, he could not have opportunity to present them." 

The King at the hearing thereof, seemed not to be displeased 
in the least, but bade him read them : which he did in the 
English language, as they were written ; and the King sat 
very attentive, as if he had understood every word. After 
they were read, the King gave Vassal a letter he had inter- 
cepted, sent to us from Sir Edward Winter, then Agent 
at Fort St. George \ Madras], and asked the news and contents 
thereof: which Mr. Vassal informed him of, at large. It was 
concerning the victory [on 3rd June 1665I we had gained over 
the Dutch ; when Opdam, Admiral of Holland, was slain ; and 
concerning the number of our ships in that fight: being there 
specified to be an 150 sail. The King inquired much after the 
number of guns and men they carried. The number of men, 
he [Master Vassal] computed to be, one ship with another, 
about 300 per ship. At which rate, the King demanded of him, 
how many that was in all ? Which Mr. Vassal went about 
to cast up in the sand, with his finger : but before he had 
made his figures, the King had done it by head, and bade him 
desist; saying it was 45,00 >. 

This news of the Hollanders' overthrow, and the English 
victory much delighted the King; and he inquired into it very 
particularly. -Then the King pretended that he would send a 
letter to the English nation, and bade Master Vassal inform 
him of a trusty bearer : which he was very forward to do, 
and named one of the best of those which he had made 
trial of. One of the great men there present, objected against 
him ; saying, he was insufficient, and asked him it he knew 
no other. At which, Vassal suspected their design, which 
was to learn who had brought those letters : and so framed 
his answer accordingly, which was, that he knew no other. 

There was much other discourse passed between the King 
and him at this time, in the Portuguese tongue ; which, what 
it was, I could never get out of him, the King having com- 



& $&SS:] The King's jealousy of letters. 371 

manded him to keep it secret : and he saith, he hath sworn 
to himself not to divulge it, till he is out of the King's hands. 
At parting, the King told him that for secrecy, he would 
send him home privately, or otherwise he would have 
dismissed him with drums and honour : but after this, the 
King never sent for him again. And the man that he named 
as fit and able to carry the King's letter, was sent away 
prisoner to be kept in chains in the country. It is supposed 
that they concluded him to have been the man that brought 
Vassal his letters. 

And thus much of the captivity and condition of the Persia 
Merchant men. 




24 



372 The English summoned to Nillembe. RjS 




Chapter V . 

Concerning the means that zuere used for our deliver- 
ance : and zvhat happened to us in the rebellion ; 
and hozv we were settled aftenvards. 

Ll of us, in this manner, remained until the year 
1664. At which time arrived a letter on our behalf 
to the King from the Right Worshipful Sir Edward 
Winter, Governor of Fort George, and Agent 
there. The Dutch Ambassador a'so at that time, 
by a commission from the Governor of Colombo, treated with 
the King for us. With Sir Edward's message the King was 
much pleased, and with the Dutch Ambassador's mediation 
so prevailed with ; that he promised he would send us away. 
Upon this, he commanded us all to be brought to the city 
of Nillembe. Whither, when we came, we were very joyful, 
not only upon the hopes of our liberty; but also upon the 
sight of one another. For several of us had not seen the 
others, since we were first parted [in 1660J. Here also we 
met with the Persia Merchant men; whom, until this time, we 
had not seen. So that we were [originally] nine and twenty 
English in all. 

Some few days after our arrival at the city, we were all called 
to Court. At which time, standing all of us in one of the palace 
courtyards, the nobles by command from the King, came 
forth and told us, "that it was His Majesty's pleasure to grant 
unto us our liberty and to send us home to our country ; and 
that we should not any more look upon ourselves as prisoners 
or detained men." At which, we bowed our heads and thanked 
His Majesty. They told us moreover, "that the King was 
intending to send us either with the Dutch Ambassador or by 
the boat which Sir Edward Winter had sent : and that it 
was His Majesty's goodwill to grant us our choice." We 
humbly referred it to His Majesty's pleasure. They answered, 
11 His Majesty could and would do his pleasure, but his will 



Cui Ma^ch K i68r.'] TEMPTED TO ENTER TI IE KlNG's SERVICE. $73 

was to know our minds." After a short consultation we 
answered, " Since it was his Majesty's pleasure to grant us 
our choice" — with many thanks and obeisance — "we chose to 
go with the Dutch Ambassador, fearing the boat's insuffi- 
ciency." She having, as we were well sensible, laid there a 
great while. And if we had chosen the boat, ihe danger of 
going that way, might have served them for a put off to us; 
and a plea to detain us still, out of care of us : and agair, had 
we refused the Ambassador's kindness at this time ; for the 
future, if these things succeeded not with us now, we could 
never have expected any more aid or friendship from that 
nation. In the next place, they told us, " It was the King's 
pleasure to let us understand, that all those that were willing 
to stay and serve His Majesty ; should have very great 
rewards, as towns, money, slaves, and places of honour 
conferred upon them." Which all in general refused. 

Then we were bidden to absent ourselves, while they 
returned our answers to the King. By and bye, there came 
an order to call us in, one at a time, when the former 
promises were repeated to every one of us ; of great favours, 
honours and rewards from the King to those that were 
willing to stay with him : and after each one had given his 
answer, he was sent into a corner of the courtyard, and then 
another called ; and so all round, one after another : they 
inquiring particularly concerning each man's trade and 
office ; handicraftsmen and trumpeters being most desired by 
the King. We being thus particularly examined again; there 
was not one of us that was tempted by the King's rewards : 
but all in general refused the King's honourable employment, 
choosing rather to go to our native country. By which we 
purchased the K'ng's displeasure. 

After this, they told us, that we must wait at the palace 
gate daily : it being the King's pleasure that we should make 
our personal appearance before him. In this manner, we 
waited many days. 

At length happened a thing which he least suspected, viz., 
a general rebellion of his people against him ; who assaulted 
his palace in the night, but their hearts failed them, daring 
not to enter the apartment where his person was. For 
if they had had courage enough, they might have taken 
him there : for he stayed in his palace until the morning, 




374 A REBELLION BREAKS OUT AT NlLLEMBE. [^M^hrfSi." 

and then fled into the mountains and escaped their hands ; 
but more through their cowardliness than his valour. 

This rebellion I have related at large in the Second Part 
[of this book] ; whither he that desires to know more of it, 
may have recourse. Only I shall mention here a few things 
concerning ourselves, who were gotten [had got] into the 
midst of these broils and combustions ; being all of us now 
waiting upon the King in the city of Nillembe. 

We here break off Captain Knox's narrative, to give his account of this 
rising, from the Second Part referred to. 

A relation of the rebellion made against the King. 

T happened in the year 1664 a.d. About which 
time appeared a fearful blazing star [a comet]. Just 
at the instant of the rebellion, the star was right 
over our heads. And one thing I very much 
wondered at was, that whereas before this rebellion, 
the tail stood away towards the westward ; from which side 
the rebellion sprang: the very night after — for I well observed 
it — the tail turned, and stood away toward the eastward; and 
by degrees it diminished quite away. 

At this time, I say, the people of this land, having been 
long and sore oppressed by this King's unreasonable and cruel 
government, had contrived a plot against him : which was to 
assault the King's Court in the night, and slay him ; and to 
make the Prince his son, king — he being then some twelve or 
fifteen years of age — who was then with his mother the Queen 
in the city of Kandy. 

At this time -the King held his Court in a city called 
Nillembe : the situation of which is far inferior to that of 
Kandy ; and as far beyond that of Digligy where he now is. 
Nillembe lieth some fourteen miles southward of the city of 
Kandy. In the place where this city stands, it is reported by 
tradition that an hare gave chase after a dog; upon which it 
was concluded that that place was fortunate : and so indeed 
it proved to the King. It is environed with hills and woods. 
The time appointed to put their design in action was the 
21st of December 1GG4, about twelve in the night. Having 
got a select company of men — how many I know not well, 



Ca Ma r rch K i6s".] THE KlNG ESCAPES TO DlGLIGY. 375 

but as it is supposed not above 200 ; neither needed they 
many here, having so many confederates in the Court — in 
the dead of the night, they came marching into the city. 

The Watch was thought to be of their confederacy : but it 
he were not ; it was not in his power to resist them. 
Howbeit afterwards, whether he were or not, he was executed 
for it. 

The said men being thus in the city, hastened and came 
down to the Court ; and fell upon the great men nobles) 
which then lay without the palace upon watch — since which 
time, by the King's order, they lie always within the palace — 
for they were well informed beforehand, who were for them 
and who not. Many who before were not intrusted to know 
of their design, were killed and wounded : and those that 
could, seeing the slaughter of others, got in unto the King ; 
who was walled about with a clay wall, thatched. That was 
all his strength. Yet these people feared to assault him ; 
lying still until the morning. 

At which time, the King made way to flee — fearing to stay 
in his palace — endeavouring to get unto the mountains. He 
had not with him above fifty persons. There went with him 
horses ; but the ways were so bad, that he could not ride : 
they were fain to drive an elephant before him, to break the 
way through the woods ; that the King with his followers 
might pass. 

As he fled, they pursued him ; but at a great distance, 
fearing to approach within shot of him : for he wanted not 
excellent fowling pieces ; which are made there. So he got 
safe upon a mountain called Gauluda, some fifteen miles 
distant ; where many of the inhabitants that were near, 
resorted to him. Howbeit had the people of the rebel party 
been resolute — who were the major part and almost of all the 
land — this hill could not have secured him, but they might 
have driven him from thence ; there being many ways by 
which they might have ascended. 

There is not far from thence, a high and peaked hill called 
Mondamounour ; where there is but one way to get up, and 
that verv steep : at the top are great stones hanging in 
chains to let fall when need requireth. Had he fled thither, 
there had been no way to come at him : but he never will 
adventure to go, where he may be stopped in. 



376 The King's sister brings the Prince. [ Cap M a *j h K X: 

The people having thus driven away the old King, marched 
away to the city of Kandy, and proclaimed the Prince, king; 
giving out to us English who were there, that what they had 
done they had not done rashly, but upon good consideration 
and with good advice : the King by his evil government 
having occasioned it ; who went about to destroy them and 
their country — as in keeping Ambassadors, disannulling of 
trade, detaining all people that came upon his land, killing 
his subjects and their children, and not suffering them to 
enjoy nor to see their wives. All this was contrary to reason ; 
and as they were informed, to the government of other 
countries. 

The Prince being young and tender, and having never been 
out of the palace, nor ever seen any but those that attended 
on his person ; was — as it seemed afterwards — scared to see 
so many coning and bowing down to him, and telling him 
that he was King; and that his father was fled into the 
mountains. Neither did he say or act anything; as not 
owning the business or else not knowing what to say or do. 
This much discouraged the rebels, to see they had no more 
thanks for their pains. And so all things stood until the 
25th of December, at which time they intended to march and 
fall upon the old King. 

But in the interim, the King's sister flies away with the 
Prince from the Court into the country near unto the King : 
which so amazed the rebels, that they scattered about the 
money, cloth and plunder which they had taken, and were 
going to distribute to the strangers to gain their goodwill 
and assistance ; and lied. Others of their company seeing 
the business was overthrown ; to make amends for their 
former fact, turned and fell on their consorts [confederates , 
killing and taking prisoners all they could. The people were 
now all up in arms one against another : killing whom they 
pleased, only saying they were rebels ; and taking their 
goods. 

By this time, a great man [nobleman] had drawn out his 
men, and stood in the field: and there turned, and publicly 
declared for the old King; and so went to catch the rebels 
that were scattered abroad : who— when he understood that 
they were all lied, and no whole party or body left to resist 
him — marched into the city killing all he could catch. 



^■"mJaSL] The rebels kill one another. 377 

And so all revolted, and came back to the King again : 
whilst he only lay still upon his mountain. The King needed 
not to take care to catch or execute the rebels, for they 
themselves out of their zeal to him and to make amends for 
what was past ; imprisoned and killed all they met, the 
plunder being their own. This continued for eight or ten 
days. 

Which the King hearing of, commanded to kill no more : 
but that whom they took, they should imprison until 
examination was passed : which was not so much to save 
innocent persons from violence as that he might have the 
rebels ; to torment them and make them confess their 
confederates. For he spared none that appeared guilty. 
Some to this day lie chained in prison ; being sequestered 
from all their estates, and beg for their living. 

One of the most notable rebels, called Ambom Wellaraul; 
he sent to Colombo to the Dutch to execute ; supposing 
they would invent new tortures for him, beyond what he 
knew of: but they — instead of executing him — cut off his 
chains, and entertained him kindly ; and there he is still in 
the city of Colombo, they reserving him for some designs 
they may hereafter have against that country. 

The King could not but be sensible but that it was his 
rigorous government that had occasioned this rebellion : 
yet he amended it not in the least ; but on the contrary, like 
to Rehoboam, added yet more to the people's yoke. 

And being thus safely reinstated in his kingdom again : 
and observing that the life of his son gave encouragement to 
the rebellion ; he resolved to prevent it for the future by 
taking him away : which upon the next opportunity he did 
by poisoning him [pretending to send physic to cure him, 
when he was sick]. 

But one thing there is, that argues him guilty of imprudence 
and horrible ingratitude : that most of those that went along 
with him when he fled, of whose loyalty he had such ample 
experience, he has since cut off; and that with extreme 
cruelty too. 

In the month of February, 1666 ; there appeared in this 
country another comet or stream in the west ; the head end 
under the horizon, much resembling that which was seen in 
England in December, 1680. The sight of this did much 



378 The English are carried to Kandy. [ G,| M2dKa!!! 

daunt both King and people : having but a year or two before 
felt the sad event of a blazing star in this rebellion which I 
have now related. The King sent men upon the highest 
mountains in the land to look if they could perceive the head 
of it : which they could not, it being still under the horizon. 
This continued visible about the space of one month : and by 
that time it was so diminished that it could not be seen. 

But there were no remarkable passages that ensued 
upon it. 

We now resume our Author's narration. 

It was a great and marvellous mercy of Almighty GOD 
to bring us safe through these dangers ; for it so happened 
all along, that we were in the very midst of them. Before 
they gave the assault on the King's palace ; they were con- 
sulting to lay handsonus : fearing lest we might be prejudicial 
to their business in joining to the help and assistance of the 
King against them. For though we were but few in com- 
parison ; yet the name of white men was somewhat dreadful 
to them : whereupon, at first, their counsels were to cut us 
off. But others among them advised, that it would be better to 
let us alone, "for that we, being ignorant of their designs"- — 
as indeed we were — "and quiet in our several lodgings ; could 
not be provided to hurt or endanger them : but otherwise, if 
they should lay hands on us, it would certainly come to the 
King's ears, and alarm him; and then all would be frustrated 
and overthrown." This, some of their own party have related 
to us since. These counsels were not given out of any secret 
goodwill any of them bore to us, as I believe : but proceeded 
from the overruling hand of GOD, who put those things into 
their hearts for our safety and preservation. 

The people of the city of Nillembe, whence the King fled, 
ran away also ; leaving their houses and goods behind them: 
where we found good prey and plunder, being permitted to 
ransack the houses of all such as were fled away with the 
King. 

The rebels having driven away the King, and marching to 
the city of Kandy t<> the Prince, carried us along with them ; 
the chief of their party telling us that we should now be of 
good cheer, for what they had done they had done upon very 
good advisement ; the King's ill-government having given an 



°T5tadS£] They attempt their Christmas dinner. 379 

occasion to it : who went about to destroy them and their 
country: and particularly insisted upon such things as might 
be plausible to strangers, such as keeping the Ambassadors, 
discouraging trade, detaining of foreigners that came upon 
his land, besides his cruelties towards themselves that were 
his natural people. All which, they told us, they had been 
informed was contrary to the government of other countries; 
and now so soon as their business was settled, they assured 
us, they would detain none that were minded to go to their 
own country. 

Being now at Kandy, on Christmas Day, of all the days 
in the year ; they sent to call us to the Court, and gave us 
some money and clothes first, to make us the more willing 
to take up arms ; which they intended then to deliver unto 
us. and to go with them upon a design to fall upon the old 
King in the palace whither he was fled. But in the very 
interim of time, GOD being merciful unto us ; the Prince 
with his aunt fled : which so amazed and discouraged them, 
that the money and clothes which they were distributing to 
us and other strangers, to gain us over to them, they 
scattered about the courtyard; and fled themselves. And 
now followed nothing but the cutting of one another's throats, 
to make themselves appear the more loyal subjects and 
make amends for their former rebellion. 

We, for our parts, little thinking in what danger we were, 
fell into a scramble among the rest, to get what we could of 
the money that was strewed about ; being then in great 
necessity and want. For the allowance which formerly we 
had, was in this disturbance lost ; and so we remained 
without it for some three months ; the want of which, this 
money did help to supply. 

Having gotten what we could at the Court, we made our 
way to get out of the hurly-burly, to our lodgings : intending, 
as we were strangers and prisoners, neither to meddle nor to 
make on the one side or the other ; being well satisfied, if 
GOD would but permit us quietly to sit and eat such a 
Christmas dinner together, as He had prepared for us. 

For our parts, we had no other dealings with the rebels, 
than to desire them to permit us to go to our native country ; 
which liberty they promised we should not want long. 
But being sent for by them to the Court, we durst not but go ; 



380 They are called away by a Nobleman. [^^uSaSE 

and they giving us such things as we wanted, we could 
not refuse to take them. But the day being turned, put us 
into great fear ; doubting how the King would take it at our 
hands, from whom, we knew, this could not be hid. 

Into our houses, we got safely : but no sooner were we 
there ; but immediately we were called again by a great man, 
who had drawn out his men, and stood in the held. This 
man, we thought, had been one of the rebels who to secure 
himselt upon this change, had intended to run away down to 
Colombo to the Dutch ; which made us repair to him the 
more cheerfully, leaving our meat a roasting on the spit : but 
it proved otherwise. For no sooner had he gotten us unto 
him, but he proclaimed himself for the old King; and 
forthwith he and his company, taking us with him, marched 
away to fight or seize the rebels ; but meeting none, went 
into the city of Kandy and there dismissed us, saying, " he 
would acquaint the King how willing and ready we were to 
fight for him, if need had required." Although, GOD knows, 
it was the least of our thoughts and intents : yet GOD 
brought it to pass for our good. For when the King was 
informed of what we had received of the rebels : this piece of 
good service that we had done or rather were supposed to 
have done, was also told him. At the hearing of which, he 
himself justified us to be innocent, saying, " Since my absence, 
who was there that would give them victuals? " and, "It was 
mere want that made them to take what they did." Thus 
the words of the King's own mouth acquitted us : and when 
the sword devoured on every side ; yet by the Providence of 
GOD, not one hair of our heads perished. 

The tumults being appeased and the rebellion vanquished; 
the king was settled in his throne again. And all this 
happened in five days. 

We were now greatly necessitated for food, and wanted 
some fresh orders from the King's mouth for our future 
subsistence. So that having no other remedy, we were fain 
to go and lay in the highway that leads to the city of 
Kandy a begging : for the people would not let us go any 
nearer towards the King, as we would have done. There 
therefore we lay, that the King might come to a knowledge of 
us; and give command for our allowance again. By which 
means, we obtained our purpose. For having lain there sonu 



Ca Ma?c'h^6sT:] They are distributed, one in a town. 381 

two months, the King was pleased to appoint our quarters in 
the country as formerly ; not mentioning a word of sending 
us away, as he had made us believe before the rebellion. 

Now we were all sent away indeed, not into our own 
country districts, but into new quarters : which being such 
as GOD would have to be no better, we were glad it was so 
well; being sore a weary of lying in this manner. We were 
all now placed one in a town, as formerly; together with the 
Persia Merchant men also, who hitherto had lived in the city 
of Kandy, and had their provisions brought them out of the 
King's palace ready dressed. These were now sent away with 
us into the country : and as strict charge was given for our 
good entertainment, as before. 

We were thus dispersed about the towns, here one and there 
another, for the more convenient receiving of our allowance, 
and for the greater ease of the people. And now we were far 
better to pass [in a fay better pass] than heretofore ; having 
the language and being acquainted with the manners and 
customs of the people; and we had the same proportion of 
victuals and the like respect as formerly. 

And now they fell into employments as they pleased, 
either husbandry or merchandizing or knitting caps ; being 
altogether free to do what they will themselves, and to go 
where they will, except running away : and for that end, we 
were not permitted to go down to the sea ; but we might 
travel all about the country, and no man regarded us. For 
though the people, some of the first years of our captivity, 
would scarcely let us go any whither, and had an eye upon 
us afterwards ; yet in process of time, all their suspicions 
of our going away wore off: especially when several of the 
English had built them houses ; and others had taken them 
wives, by whom they had children, to the number of eighteen 
living, when I came away. 

Having said all this in general of the English people there, 
I will now continue a further account of myself. 




382 Author settles at Handapondoun. [ Cap L*ch K .6Si.' 



Chapter VI. 

A continuation of the Author s particular condition 
after rebellion. He purchascth a piece of land. 

Y hap was to be quartered in a country called 
Handapondoun, lying to the westward of the city of 
Kandy ; which place liked [pleased] me very well, 
being much nearer to the sea than where I dwelt 
before ; which gave me some probable hopes, that 
in time I might chance to make an escape. But in the mean 
time, to free myself from the suspicion of the people — who 
watched me by night, and by day had an eye to all my 
actions — I went to work, with the help of some of my neigh- 
bours to build me another house, upon the bank of a river; 
and intrenched it round with a ditch, and planted an hedge : 
and so began to settle myself, and followed my business of 
knitting, and going about the country a trading; seeming to 
be very well contented in this condition. 

Lying so long at the city [of Kandy] without allowance, I had 
spent all to some seven shillings ; which served me for a stock 
to set up again in these new quarters : and — by the blessing 
of my most gracious GOD, which never failed me in all my 
undertakings — I soon came to be well furnished with what that 
country afforded. Insomuch that my neighbours and towns- 
men no more suspected my running away ; but earnestly 
advised me to marry, saying " it would be an ease and help to 
me:" knowing that I then dressed my victuals myself; having 
turned my boy to seek his fortune, when we were at the city 
of Kandy. They urged also, "that it was not convenient for 
a young man as I was to live so solitarily alone in a house ; 
and if it should so come to pass that the King should send 
me hereafter to my country, their manner of marriage," they 
said, " was not like ours, and I might without any offence, 
discharge my wife, and go away." 

I seemed not altogether to slight their counsel, that they 
might the less suspect that I had any thoughts of mine 
own country; but told them, that, "as yet, I was not 



^fimhrifc.] Afterwards is moved to Lagoondenia. 383 

sufficiently stocked," and also, " that I would look for one that 
I could love," though in my heart I never purposed any 
such matter ; but on the contrary, did heartily abhor all 
thoughts tending that way. 

In this place I lived two years and all that time, could 
not get one likely occasion of running for it ; for I thought it 
better to forbear running too great a hazard, by being over 
hasty to escape; than to deprive myself of all hopes for the 
future, when time and experience would be a great help to me. 

In the year 1666, the Hollanders came up and built a fort 
just below me ; there being but a ridge of mountains between 
them and me ; but though so near, I could not come to them, 
a Watch being kept at every passage. The King sent down 
against them two great commanders with their armies ; but 
being not strong enough to expel them ; they lay in these 
Watches to stop them from coming up higher. The name 
of this fort was called Arranderre: which although they could 
not prevent the Dutch from building at that time ; yet some 
years after, when they were not aware, they fell upon it and 
took it ; and brought all the people of it up to Kandy, where 
those that remained alive were, when I came from thence. 

In this country [county] of Hotterakorle where the Dutch 
had built this fort ; were four Englishmen placed, whereof I 
was one. Respecting all of whom, the King immediately upon 
the news of the Dutch invasion, sent orders to bring up out 
of the danger of the war into Conde Uda; fearing that 
which we were intending to do, viz. — to run away. 

This invasion happening so unexpectedly, and our remove 
being so sudden : I was forced to leave behind me that 
little estate which GOD had given me, being scattered 
abroad in betel nuts, the great commodity of that country; 
which I was then in parting from. Much ado I had to get 
my clothes brought along with me ; the enemies, as they 
called them (but my friends) being so near. And thus I was 
carried out of this county as poor as I came into it, leaving 
all the fruits of my labour and industry behind me : which 
called to my remembrance the words of Job, " Naked came I 
into this world, and naked shall I return. GOD gave and 
GOD hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." 

We all four were brought together up into a town on the top 
of a mountain, called Lagoondenia: where I and my dear friend 



384 Their good entertainment ordered. [ Ca ^dSx; 

and fellow-prisoner Master John Loveland, lived together in 
one house. For by this time, not many of our people were 
as we were, that is, single men : but seeing so little hope, 
despaired of their liberty; and had taken wives or bedfellows. 

At our first coming into this town, we were very much 
dismayed: it being one of the most dismal places that I have 
seen upon that land. It stands alone upon the top of a 
mountain and no other town near it, and has not above 
four or five houses in it. And oftentimes into this town, did 
the King use to send such malefactors as he was minded 
suddenly to cut off. Upon these accounts, our being brought 
to this place, could not but scare us; and the more because it 
was the King's special order and command to place us in this 
very town. 

But this our trouble and dejection, thanks be to GOD ! 
lasted but a day ; for the King seemed to apprehend into 
what a fit of fear and sorrow, this our remove would cast us; 
and to be sensible, how sadly we must needs take it to 
change a sweet and pleasant country such as Handapondoun 
and the country adjacent was, for this most sad and dismal 
mountain. And therefore the next day came a comfortable 
message from the King's own mouth, sent by no less a man 
than he who had the chief power and command over those 
people, who were appointed to give us our victuals, where 
we were. This message which, as he said himself, he was 
ordered by the King to deliver to the people in our hearing, 
was this, " That they should not think that we were male- 
factors, that is, such, who having incurred the King's 
displeasure, were sent to be kept prisoners there ; but men 
whom his Majesty did highly esteem and meant to promote 
to great honour in his service ; and that they should respect 
us as such, and entertain us accordingly. And if their ability 
would not reach thereunto, it was the King's order," he said, 
" to bid them sell their cattle and goods, and when that was 
done, their wives and children : rather than we should want 
of our due allowance," which he ordered should be as formerly 
iv e used to have : " and if we had not houses thatched and 
sufficient for us to dwell in," he said, "we should change 
and take theirs." 

This kind order from the King coming so suddenly, did not 
a little comfort and encourage us : for then we did perceive 



Cap iu.!*' i, K ,'.', Ti. ! Three years at Lagoondenia. 385 

the King's purpose and intent in placing us in those remote 
parts, was not to punish us, but there that we might be his 
instruments to plague and take revenge of that people ; who 
it seems had plundered the King's palace in the time of the 
late rebellion, when he left it and tied, for this town lies near 
unto the same [i.e. Nillembe]. And their office lying about 
the Court, they had the fairer opportunity of plundering it : 
for the service they have to perform to the King is to carry 
his palanquin, when he pleaseth to ride therein ; and also 
to bring milk every morning to the Court, they being keepers 
of the King's cattle. 

In this town we remained some three years, by which time 
we were grown quite weary of the place ; and the place and 
people also grown weary of us, who were but troublesome 
guests to them; for having such great authority given us over 
them, we would not lose it ; and being four of us in call one 
of another, we would not permit or suffer them to domineer 
over us. Being thus tired with one another's company, and 
the King's order being of an old date, we used all the means 
we could to clear ourselves of one another ; often repairing 
unto the Court to seek to obtain a license that we might be 
removed and placed anywhere else ; but there was none that 
durst grant it, because it was the King's peculiar command 
and special appointment that we must abide in that very 
town. 

During the time of our stay here, we had our victuals 
brought us in good order and due season, the inhabitants 
having such a charge given them by their Governor, and he 
from the King; durst not do otherwise : so that we had but 
little to do ; only to dress and eat, and sit down to knit. 

I had used the utmost of my skill and endeavour to get a 
license to go down to my former quarters, all things being 
now pretty well settled; hoping that I might recover some of 
my old debts: but by no means could I obtain it. The denial 
of so reasonable a desire, put me upon taking leave. I was 
well acquainted with the way, but yet I hired a man to 
go with me; without which I could not get through the 
Watches : for although I was the master and he the man ; 
yet when we came into the Watches ; he was the keeper and 
I the prisoner. And by this means we passed without being 
suspected. 
Eno.Gar 1. 25 



586 He returns to his former residence. [ & $2d,*a£ 

Being come into my old quarters, by pretending that this 
man was sent down from the magistrate to see that my debts 
and demands might be duly paid and discharged, I chanced to 
recover some of them; and the rest I gave over for lost: for 
I never more lool eJ after them. And so I began the world 
anew ; and, by the blessing of GOD, was again pretty well 
recruited, before I left this town. 

In the time of my residence here [at Lagoondenia], I 
chanced to hear of a small piece of land that was to be sold ; 
about which I made very diligent inquiry : for although I 
was sore a weary of living in this town, yet I could not get 
out of it ; not having other new quarters appointed me, unless 
I could provide a place for myself to remove to ; which now 
GOD had put into my hand. As for the King's command I 
dreaded it not much, having found by observation that the 
King's orders wore away by time, and that the neglect of 
them comes at last to be unregarded. However I was resolved 
to put it to the hazard, come what would. 

Although I had been now some seven or eight years in this 
land, and by this time came to know pretty well the customs 
and constitutions of the nation, yet I would not trust my 
own knowledge ; but to prevent the worst, I went to the 
Governor of that same country where the land lay, to desire 
his advice, whether or not I might lawfully buy that small 
piece of land. He inquired "whose, and what land it was ? " I 
informed him "that it had been formerly dedicated to a pries t, 
and he at his death had left it to his grandson ; who for want, 
was forced to sell it." Understanding this, the Governor 
approved of the business, and encouraged me to buy it ; 
saying " that .such kind of lands only, were lawful here to be 
bought and sold, and that this was not in the least litigious." 

Having gotten both his consent and advice, I went on 
cheerfully with my purchase. The place also liked [pleased 
me wondrously well : it being a point of land, standing into 
a cornfield ; so that cornfields were on three sides of it, and 
jusl lie lore my door, a little corn ground belonging thereto 
and very well watered. In the ground besides eight cocoa- 
nut trees, there were all sorts of fruit trees that the 

country afforded. But it had been so long desolate that it 
all overgrown with bushes, and had no sign of a house 

therein. 



Ca M:uxh K i63i:l He buys land at Elledat. 387 

The price of this land was five and twenty larees, that is, 
five dollars, a great sum of money in the account of this 
country: yet — thanks be to GOD! who had so far enabled me 
after my late and great loss — I was strong enough to lay this 
down. The terms of purchase being concluded on between 
us, a writing was made upon a leaf after that country's 
manner, witnessed by seven or eight men of the best quality 
in the town, which was delivered to me; and I paid the 
money, and then took possession of the land. It lies some 
ten miles to the southward of the city of Kandy in the county 
of Oodanowera, in the town of Elledat. 

Now I went about building a house upon my land, and 
was assisted by three of my countrymen that dwelt near by ; 
Roger Gold, Ralph Knight, and Stephen Rutland : and 
in a short time, we finished it. The country people were all 
well pleased to see us thus busy ourselves about buying of 
land, and building of houses ; thinking it would tie our minds 
the faster to their country, and make us think the less upon 
our own. 

Though I had built my new house, yet durst I not yet 
leave my old quarters in Lagoondenia, but waited until a 
more convenient time fell out for that purpose. I went away 
therefore to my old home; and left my aforesaid three English 
neighbours to inhabit it in my absence. 

Not long after, I found a fit season to begone to my estate 
at Elledat : and upon my going the rest [of the four] left the 
town [of Lagoondenia] also, and went and dwelt elsewhere ; 
each one lived where he best liked. But by this means, we 
all lost a privilege which we had before ; which was, that our 
victuals were brought unto us: and now we were forced to 
go and fetch them ourselves ; the people alleging, truly 
enough, that the)' were not bound to carry our provisions 
about the country after us. 

Being settled in my new house, I began to plant ground 
full of all sorts of fruit trees, which, by the blessing of GOD, 
all grew and prospered, and yielded me plenty and good 
increase; sufficient both for me and those that dwelt with 
me : for the three Englishmen I left at my house when I 
departed back to Lagoondenia, still lived with me. 

We were all single men, and we agreed very well together, 

25 ::: 



388 Lives there, with three Englishmen, [^i*^! 

and were helpful to one another. And for their help and 
assistance, I freely granted them liberty to use and enjoy 
whatsoever the ground afforded, as much as myself. And, 
with a joint consent, it was concluded amongst us, "that only 
single men and bachelors should dwell there; and that such 
as would not be conformable to this present agreement, 
should depart and absent himself from our society ; and also 
forfeit his right and claim to the forementioned privilege, 
that is, to be cut off from all benefit of whatsoever the trees 
and ground afforded." 

I thought fit to make such a covenant, to exclude women 
from coming in among us, to prevent all strife and dissension, 
and to make all possible provision for the keeping up of love 
and quietness among ourselves. 

In this manner, we four lived together some two years 
very lovingly and contentedly ; not an ill word passing 
between us. We used to take turns in keeping at home, 
while the rest went forth about their business. For our 
house stood alone, and had no neighbour near it : therefore 
we always left one within. The rest of the Englishmen 
lived round about us ; some four or five miles distant, and 
some more : so that we were, as it were, within reach one of 
another, which made us like our present situation the more. 

Thus we lived upon the mountains, being beset round about 
us with Watches, most of our people being now married: 
so that now all talk and suspicion of our running away was 
laid aside ; neither indeed was it scarcely possible. The 
effect of which was that now we could walk from one to the 
other, or where we would upon the mountains; no man 
molesting or.disturbing us in the least : so that we began to 
go about a pedling and trading in the country further towards 
the northward, carrying our caps about to sell. 

By this time, two of our company [Roger Gold and 
Ralph Knight] seeing but little hopes of liberty, thought it 
too hard a task thus to lead a single life; and married: 
which when they had done, according to the former agreement, 
the}' departed from us. 

So that our company was now reduced to two, namely, 
myself and STEPHEN Rutland; whose inclination and 
resolution was as steadfast as mine against marriage. And 
we parted not to the last, hut came away together. 



^ P M^hrf8*:] As TO MARRIAGES WITH CINGALESE. 389 



C II A r T E R VII. 

A return to the rest of the English, with some further 

accounts of them. And some further discourse 

of the Authors course of life. 




Et us now make a visit to the rest of our country- 
men ; and see how they do. 

They reckoning themselves in for their lives, in 
order to their future settlement, were generally 
disposed to marry ; concerning which we have 
had many and sundry disputes among ourselves: as particu- 
larly, concerning the lawfulness of matching with heathens 
and idolaters, and whether the Cingalese marriage were any 
better than living in whoredom, there being no Christian 
priests to join them together; and it being allowed by their 
laws, to change their wives and take others, as often as they 
pleased. 

But these cases we solved for our own advantage, after 
this manner, "that we were but flesh and blood;" and that it 
is said " it is better to many than to burn ; " and that, " as 
far as we could see, we were cut off from all marriages 
anywhere else, even for our lifetime, and therefore that we 
must marry with these or with none at all : and when the 
people in Scripture were forbidden to take wives of strangers, 
it was then when they might intermarry with their own 
people, and so no necessity lay on them ; and that when 
they could not, there are examples in the Old Testament 
upon record, that they took wives of the daughters of the 
land, wherein they dwelt." 

These reasons being urged, there were none among us, 
that could object ought against them: especially if those that 
were minded to marry women here did take them for their 
wives during their lives; as some of them say they do, and 
most of the women they marry are such as do profess 
themselves to be Christians. 



390 The English in a flourishing state. [^JJihSS: 

As for mine own part, however lawful these marriages 
might be, yet I judged it far more convenient for me to 
abstain, and that it more redounded to my good, having 
always a reviving hope in me that my GOD had not for- 
saken me, but that according to his gracious promise to 
the Jews in the 30th chapter of Deuteronomy, and the 
beginning, "would turn my captivity, and bring me into the 
land of my fathers." These and such like meditations, 
together with my prayers to GOD, kept me from that unequal 
yoke of unbelievers; "which several of my countrymen and 
fellow-prisoners put themselves under. 

By this time, our people, having plied their business hard, 
had almost knit themselves out of work ; and now caps were 
become a very dead commodity, which were the chief stay 
they had heretofore to trust to. So that now, most of them 
betook themselves to other employments : some to husbandry, 
ploughing ground, and sowing rice and keeping cattle ; others 
distilled arrack to sell : others went about the country a 
trading. For that which one part of the land affords is a 
good commodity to carry to another that wants it. And thus, 
with the help of a little allowance, they make a shift to 
subsist. Most of their wives spin cotton yarn; which is a 
great help to them for clothing; and, at spare times, also knit. 

After this manner, by the blessing of GOD, our nation hath 
lived and still doth, in as good a fashion as any other people 
or nation whatsoever that are strangers there, or as any of the 
natives themselves : the grandees and courtiers only excepted. 
This I speak to the praise and glory of our GOD, who loves 
the stranger in giving him food and raiment ; and that hath 
been pleased to give us favour and a good repute in the sight 
of our enemies. We cannot complain for want of justice in 
any wrongs we have sustained by the people, or that our 
cause hath been discountenanced : but rather that we have 
been favoured above the natives themselves. 

One of our men happened to be beaten by a neighbour. At 
which, we were very much concerned, taking it as a reproach 
to our nation ; and fearing that it might embolden others to 
do the like by the rest of us : therefore, with joint consent, 
we all concluded to go to the Court to complain, and to desire 
satisfaction from the Adigar. Which we did. Upon this, 
the man who had beaten the Englishman was summoned 



Cap MiSh K i68iG Varnham in charge of the artillery. 391 

in, to appear before him : who, seeing so many of us there 
and fearing the eause would go very hard with him, to make 
the judge his friend, gave him a bribe. He having received 
it, would have shifted off the punishment from the malefactor: 
but we, day after day, followed him from house to Court and 
from place to place, wherever he went ; demanding justice 
and satisfaction for the wrong we had received, and showing 
the black and blue blows upon the Englishman's shoulders 
to all the rest of the noblemen at Court. He, fearing therefore 
lest the King might be made acquainted therewith, was forced 
— though much against his will — to clap the Cingalese in 
chains. In which condition, after he had got him ; he 
released him not, till besides the former fee, he had given 
him another. 

Lately [i.e. about 1678], was Richard Varnham taken into 
the King's service, and held as honourable employment as 
ever any Christian had, in my time ; being Commander of 
970 soldiers, and set over all the great guns; and besides this 
several towns were put under him. A place of no less profit 
than honour. The King gave him an excellent silver sword 
and halbert, the like to which the King never gave to any 
white man in my time. But he had the good luck to die a 
natural death : for had not that prevented, in all probability 
he should have followed the two Englishmen spoken of before, 
that served him. 

Some years since, some of our nation took up arms under 
the King : which happened on this occasion. The Hollanders 
had a small fort in the King's country, called Bibligom fort. 
This the King minding to take and demolish, sent his army 
to besiege it ; but it was pretty strong: for there were about 
ninety Dutchmen in it besides a good number of black 
soldiers; and it had four guns, on each point of the compass 
one. Being in this condition, it held out. 

Some of the great men informed the King of several Dutch 
runaways in his land that might be trusted, as not daring to 
turn again, for fear of the gallows ; who might help to reduce 
the fort : and that also there were white men of other nations 
that had wives and children from whom they would not run ; 
and that these might do him good service. Unto this advice 
the King inclined. Whereupon the King made a declaration 
to invite the foreign nations into his service against 



392 The King enlists strangers. [^i^X 

Bibli^om fort, that he would compel none, but that such as 
were willing of their own free accord, the King would take it 
kindly, and they should be well rewarded. 

Now there entered into the King's service upon this 
expedition, some of all nations ; both Portuguese, Dutch, and 
English ; about the number of thirty. To all that took arms, 
he gave the value of twenty shillings in money, and three 
pieces of calico for clothes: and commanded them to wear 
breeches, hats, and doublets; a great honour there. The King 
intended a Dutchman, who had been an old servant to him, 
to be captain over them all : but the Portuguese not caring to 
be under the command of a Dutchman, desired a captain of 
their own nation ; which the King granted, studying to please 
them at this time. But the English, being but six, were too 
few to have a captain over them ; and so were forced some 
to serve under the Dutch, and some under the Portuguese 
captain. There were no more of the English, because being 
left at their liberty, they thought it safest to dwell at home ; 
and cared not much to take arms under a heathen against 
Christians. 

They were all ready to go, their arms and amunition ready, 
with guns prepared to send down ; but before they went, 
tidings came that the fort yielded at the King's mercy. After 
this, the whites thought they had got an advantage of the 
King, in having these gifts for nothing : but the King did not 
intend to part with them so, but kept them to watch at his 
gate ; and now they are reduced to great poverty and 
necessity. 

For since the King's first gift, they have never received 
any pay or allowance : though they have often made their 
addresses to him to supply their wants ; signifying their 
forwardness to serve him faithfully. He speaks them fair, 
and tells them he will consider them ; but does not in the 
least regard them. Many of them since, after three or four 
years' service, have been glad to get other poor runaway 
Dutchmen to serve in their steads ; giving them as much 
money and clothes as they received from the King before, 
that so they might get free to come home to their wives 
and children. 

The Dutch captain would afterwards have forced the re I 
of the English to have come under him, and called them 



&P M^h K i n 6°i.'] The Author begins to lend out corn. 393 

"traitors," because they would not; and threatened them: but 
they scorned him and bid him do his worst, and would never 
be persuaded to be soldiers under him ; saying, that " it was 
not so much his zeal to the King's service, as his own pride 
to make himself greater, by having more men under him." 

I will now turn to the progress of my own story. 

It was now about the year 1672. I related before, that my 
family was reduced to two, myself and one honest man more. 
We lived solitarily and contented, being well settled in a good 
house of m)' own. Now we fell to breeding up goats. We 
begun with two, but, by the blessing of GOD, they soon came 
to a good many ; and their flesh served us instead of mutton. 
We kept hens and hogs also. And seeing no sudden likelihood 
of liberty, we went about to make all things handsome and 
convenient about us ; which might be serviceable to us while 
we lived there, and might further our liberty, whensoever we 
should see an occasion to attempt it : which it did, in taking 
away all suspicion from the people concerning us ; who — not 
having wives as the others had — they might well think, lay 
the readier to take any advantage to make an escape. Which 
indeed we two. did plot and consult about between ourselves, 
with all imaginable privacy, long before we could go away : 
and therefore we laboured, by all means, to hide our designs, 
and to free them from so much as suspicion. 

We had now brought our house and ground to such a 
perfection, that few noblemen's seats in the land could excel 
us. On each side was a great thorn gate for entrance, which 
is the manner of that country. The gates of the city are of 
the same. We built also another house in the yard, all open 
for air; for ourselves to sit in, or any neighbours that came to 
talk with us. For seldom should we be alone; our neighbours 
oftener frequenting our house than we desired : out of whom 
to be sure, we could pick no profit ; for their coming was 
always either to beg or to borrow. For although we were 
strangers and prisoners in their land, yet they would confess 
that Almighty GOD had dealt far more bountifully with us 
than with them, in that we had a far greater plenty of all 
things than they. 

I now began to set up a new trade. For the trade of 
knitting was grown dead : and husbandry I could not follow, 



394 He becomes prosperous at Elledat. [ Ca ^ h K 

not having a wife to help and assist me therein ; a great part 
of husbandry properly belonging to the woman to manage. 
Whereupon I perceived a trade in use among them, which 
was to lend out corn : the benefit of which was fifty per cent, 
per annum. This I saw to be the easiest and most profitable 
way of living : whereupon I took in hand to follow it ; and 
what stock I had, I converted into corn or rice in the husk. 
And now as customers came for corn, I let them have it; to 
receive back at their next harvest, when their own corn was 
ripe, the same quantity I had lent them, and half as much 
more. But as the profit is great, so is the trouble of getting 
it in also. For he that useth this trade must watch when 
the debtor's field is ripe and claim his due in time ; otherwise 
other creditors coming before him, will seize all upon the 
account of their debts, and leave no corn at all for those that 
come later. For these that come thus a borrowing, generally 
carry none of their corn home when it is ripe : for their 
creditors ease them of that labour, by coming into their fields 
and taking it ; and commonly they have not half enough to 
pay what they owe. So that they that miss getting their 
debts this year, must stay till the next; when it will be 
doubled, two measures for one; but the interest never runs 
up higher, though the debt lies seven years unpaid. By means 
thereof I was put to a great deal of trouble ; and was forced 
to watch early and late to get in my debts, and many times 
missed of them after all my pains. Howbeit when my stock 
did increase so that I had dealings with many ; it mattered 
not if I lost in some places; the profit of the rest was 
sufficient to bear that out. 

And thus, by the blessing of GOD, my little was increased 
to a great deal. For He had blessed me so, that I was able 
to lend to my enemies; and had no need to borrow of them : 
so that I might use the words of Jacob, not out of pride 
of myself, but thankfulness to GOD, "that He brought me 
hither with my staff, and blessed me so here, that I became 
two bands." 

For some years together after I had removed to my own 
house from Lagoondenia, the people from whence I came 
eontinued my allowance, that I had when I lived among 
them; but now ill plain terms, they told me "they could give 
it to me no more; and that 1 was better able to live without 



Oapt. R. Knox."] 
March 1681. J 



Allowance now given at Digligy. 395 



it, than they to give it me : " which though I knew to be true, 
yet I thought not fit to lose that portion of allowance, which 
the King was pleased to allow me. Therefore I went to Court 
and appealed to the Adigar, to whom such matters did 
belong: who upon consideration of the people's poor condition, 
appointed me monthly to come to him at the King's 
palace for a ticket to receive my allowance out of the King's 
storehouses. 

Hereby I was brought into a great danger ; out of which 
I had much ado to escape, and that with the loss of my 
allowance for ever after. I shall relate the manner of it in 
the next chapter. 





;96 Narrow escape of promotion. [ Cap M^h K ia£ 



Chapter VIII 

How the Author had like to have been received into 

the Kings service, and what means he used 

to avoid it. He meditates and attempts 

an escape ; but is often prevented. 

His frequent appearance at the Court, and waiting 
there for my tickets; brought me to be taken notice 
of by the great men, insomuch "that they wondered 
I had been all this while forgotten, and neverbeen 
brought before the King; being so fit, as they would 
suppose me, for his use and service; "saying, "that from hence- 
forward I should fare better than that allowance amounted 
to ; as soon as the King was made acquainted with me." 
Which words of theirs served instead of a ticket. Whereupon 
fearing that I should suddenly be brought in to the King, 
which thing I most of all feared and least desired ; and 
hoping that out of sight might prove out of mind, I resolved 
to forsake the Court, and never more to ask for tickets : 
especially seeing GOD had dealt so bountifully with me as to 
give me ability to live well enough without them : as when 
Israel had eaten of the corn of the land of Canaan, the 
manna ceased ; so when I was driven to forego my allowance 
that had all this. while sustained me in this wilderness, GOD 
in other ways provided for me. 

From this time forward to the time of my flight out of the 
land, which was five years ; I neither had nor demanded 
any more allowance: and glad I was that I could escape so. 

But I must have more trouble first. For, some four or five 
days alter my last coming from Court, there came a soldier to 
me, sent from the Adigar, with an order in writing under his 
hand, " that upon sight thereof, I should immediately dispatch 
and come to the Court, to make my personal appearance 
before the King: and that in case of any delay, the officers, 
"i the country were thereby authorized and commanded to 



^Ma^ciS.J Ch yA Matteral's well-meant designs. 397 

assist the bearer, and to see the same order speedily 
performed." 

The chief occasion of this, had been a person, not long 
before my near neighbour and acquaintance, Owa Matteral 
by name, who knew my manner of life, and had often been 
at my house ; but now was taken in and employed at Court : 
and he out of friendship and goodwill to me, was one of the 
chief actors in this business, that he might bring me to 
preferment at Court. 

Upon the abovesaid summons, there was no remedy, 
but to Court I must go. Where I first applied myself to my 
said old neighbour, Owa Matteral, who was the occasion of 
sending for me. I signified to him "that I was come in 
obedience to the warrant, and I desired to know the reason 
why I was sent for." To which he answered, " Here is good 
news for you. Your are to appear in the King's presence, 
where you will find great favour and honourable entertainment ; 
far more than any of your countrymen yet have found." 
Which the great man thought would be a strong inducement 
to persuade me joyfully to accept of the King's employments. 
But this was the thing I always most dreaded, and endeavoured 
to shun ; knowing that being taken into Court would be a 
means to cut off all hopes of liberty from me ; which was 
the thing that I esteemed as equal unto life itself. 

Seeing myself brought into this pass, wherein I had no 
earthly helper, I recommended my cause to GOD ; desiring 
Him in whose hands are the hearts of kings and princes, to 
divert the business: and my cause being just and right, I 
was resolved to persist in a denial. My case seemed to me 
to be like that of the four lepers at the gate of Samaria. No 
avoiding of death for me. If out of ambition and honour, 
I should have embraced the King's service; besides the 
depriving myself of all hopes of liberty, in the end I must be 
put to death, as happens to all that serve him : and to deny his 
service, could be but death ; and it seemed to me, to be the 
better death of the two. For if I should be put to death, 
only because I refused his service ; I should be pitied as one 
that died innocently: but if I should be executed in his 
service, however innocent I was, I should be certainly 
reckoned a rebel and a traitor; as they all are, whom he 
commands to be cut off. 



398 Author declines the King's service. [^mSaS 

Upon these considerations, having thus set my resolutions, 
as GOD enabled me, I returned him this answer. " First, 
that the English nation to whom I belonged, had never done 
any violence or wrong to their King, either in word or deed. 
Secondly, that the causes of my coming on their land was 
not like that of other nations, who were either enemies taken 
in war; or such as by reason of poverty or distress, were driven 
to sue for relief, out of the King's bountiful liberality; or such 
as fled for the fear of deserved punishment : whereas, as they 
all well knew, I came not upon any of these causes, but on 
account of trade; and came ashore to receive the King's orders, 
which by notice we understood were come concerning us, 
and to render an account to the Dissauva of the reasons and 
occasions of our coming into the King's port. And that by 
the grief and sorrow I had undergone, by being so long 
detained from my native country — but, for which I thanked 
the King's majesty, without want of anything — I scarcely 
enjoyed myself: for my heart was always absent from my 
body." Hereunto adding, my insufficiency and inability for 
such honourable employment ; being subject to many in- 
firmities and diseases of body. 

To this he replied, " Cannot you read and write English ? 
servile labour the King requireth not of you." 

I answered, " When I came ashore I was but young, and 
that which I then knew, now I had forgotten for want of 
practice; having had neither ink nor paper ever since I came 
ashore." I urged moreover "that it was contrary to the 
custom and practice of all kings and princes upon the earth, 
to keep and detain men that came into their countries upon 
such peaceable accounts as we did; much less to compel 
them to serve them, beyond their power and ability." 

At my first coming before him, he looked very pleasingly, and 
spake with a smiling countenance to me ; but now his smiles 
were turned into frowns, and his pleasing looks into bended 
brows: and in rough language, he hade me begone, and tell 
my tale to the Adigar. Which immediately I did ; but he 
being busy, did not much regard me: and I was glad of it. 
that I might absent myself from the Court ; but I durst not 
• nit <>l the city of Digligy] . Sore afraid I was, that evil 
would befall me; an 1 the best I could expect, was to In- put 
in chains. All my refuge was in prayer to GOD, " whose 



& &SdSfaJ IS F0R A TIME IN GREAT DREAD. 399 

hand was not shortened that it could not save: " and "would 
make all things work together for good to them that trust in 
Him." From Him only did I expect help and deliverance in 
that time of need. 

In this manner, I lodgedin an Englishman's housethatdwelt 
in the city, ten days : maintaining myself at my own charge, 
waiting with a sorrowful heart and daily expecting to hear 
my doom. In the meantime my countrymen and acquaintance : 
some of them blamed me for refusing so fair a proffer, whereby 
I might not only have lived well myself, but also have been 
helpful unto my poor countrymen and friends ; others of them 
pitying me, suspecting, as I did, nothing but a wrathful 
sentence from so cruel a tyrant, if GOD did not prevent it. 
And Richard Varnham — who was, at this time, a great man 
about the King — was not a little scared to see me run the 
hazard of what might ensue ; rather than be partaker with 
him in the felicities of the Court. 

It being chargeable thus to lie at the city, and hearing 
nothing more of my business ; I took leave without asking, 
and went home to my house, which was but a day's distance 
to get some victuals to carry with me, and to return again. 
But soon after I came home, I was sent for again ; so I took 
my load of victuals with me, and arrived at the city : but 
went not to the Court but to my former lodging ; where I 
stayed as formerly, until I had spent all my provisions. And 
by the good hand of my GOD upon me ; I never heard any 
more of that matter. Neither came I any more into the 
presence of the great men at Court ; but dwelt in my own 
plantation, upon what GOD provided for me by my labour 
and industry. 

For now I returned to my former course of life : dressing 
my victuals daily with my own hands, and fetching both 
wood and water upon mine own back. And this, for ought I 
could see to the contrary, I was likely to continue for my 
lifetime. This I could do for the present ; but I began to 
consider how helpless I should be, if it should please GOD 
that I should live till I grew old and feeble. So I entered 
upon a consultation with myself for the providing against 
this. One way was, the getting of me a wife ; hut that I 
was resolved never to do. Then I began to inquire for some 
poor body to live with me ; to dress my victuals for me, that 



400 Makes preparations for escape. [ c ^ a f ch ^ 



Knox. 
681 



I might live at a little more ease : but could not find any to 
my mind. Whereupon I considered that there was no better 
way, than to take one of my poor countrymen's children, 
whom I might bring up to learn both my own language and 
religion: and this might be not only charity to the child; 
but a kindness to myself also afterwards. And several there 
were that would be glad so to be eased of their charge, having 
more than they could well maintain. A child therefore I took, 
by whose aptness, ingenuity and company, as I was much 
delighted at present; so afterwards I hoped to be served. 

It was now about the year 1673. Although I had now 
lived many years in this land, and, GOD be praised ! I wanted 
for nothing the land afforded ; yet I could not forget my 
native country, England, and lamented under the famine of 
GOD's Word and Sacraments : the want whereof I found 
greater than all earthly wants, and my daily and fervent 
prayers to GOD were, in His good time, to restore me to the 
enjoyment of them. 

I and my companion [Stephen Rutland] were still 
meditating upon our escape, and the means to compass it : 
which our pedling about the country did greatly promote. For 
speaking well the language, and going with our commodities 
from place to place; we ustd often to entertain discourse 
with the country people, namely, concerning the ways and the 
countries; and where there were most and fewest inhabitants; 
and where and how the Watches laid from one country 
[district] to another; and what commodities were proper to 
carry from one part to the other: pretending we would, from 
time to time, go from one place to another to furnish our- 
selves with the wares that the respective places afforded. None 
doubted but that we had made these inquiries for the sake of 
our trade ; but ourselves had other designs in them : neither 
was there the least suspicion of us, for these our questions; 
all supposing I would never run away and leave such an 
estate as in their accounts and esteem I had. 

By diligent inquiry, I had come to understand that the 
easiest and most probable way to make an escape, was by 
travelling to the northward: that part of the land being least 
inhabited. Therefore we furnished ourselves with such wares 
as were vendible in those parts, as tobacco, pepper, garlic, 
combs, all SOrtS of iron ware, &C: and being laden with these 



^^MardS".] They travel about trading. 401 

things ; we two set forth, bending our course towards the 
northern parts of the island, knowing very little of the way. 
And the ways of this country generally are intricate and 
difficult, there being no great highways that run through the 
land ; but a multitude of little paths, some from one town to 
another, some into the fields, and some into the woods where 
they sow their corn : and the whole country is covered with 
woods, so that a man cannot see anything but just before 
him. And that which makes them most difficult of all is, 
that the ways shift and alter : new ways being often made 
and old ways stopped up. For they cut down woods, and 
sow the ground : and having got one crop off from it, they 
leave it ; and the wood soon grows over it again. And in 
case a road went through those woods, they stop it, and 
contrive another way ; neither do they regard though it goes 
two or three miles about. And to ask and inquire the way, 
was very dangerous for us white men : it occasioning the 
people to suspect us. And the Cingalese themselves never 
travel in countries [districts] where they are not experienced, 
without a guide, it being so difficult : and there was no 
getting a guide to conduct us down to the sea. 

But we made a shift to travel from Conde Uda downwards 
towards the north, from town to town ; happening at a place, 
at last, which I knew before : having been brought up 
formerly from Coswat that way, to descend the hill called 
Bocaul; where there is no Watch but in time of great dis- 
turbance. Thus, by the providence of God, we passed all 
difficulties until we came into the country of Nuweeracalava ; 
which are the lowest parts that belong to the King ; and 
some three days' journey from the place whence we came 
[viz. Elledat.] 

We were not a little glad that we were gotten so far 
onwards in our way, but yet at this time we could go no 
further ; for our wares were all sold, and we could pretend 
no more excuses : and also we had been out so long that it 
might cause our townsmen to come and look after us; it 
being the first time that we had been so long absent from 
home. 

In this manner, we went into these northern parts, eight 
or ten times; and once got as far as Hourly, a town in the 

ENG. Li.lJi. 1. 26 



402 The lower northern districts. [ Ca SkShrf8i! 

extremities of the King's dominions : but yet we could not 
attain our purpose. For this northern country being much 
subject to dry weather, and having no springs ; we were fain 
to drink of the ponds of rain water, wherein the cattle lie 
and tumble : which would be so thick and muddy that the 
very filth of it would hang in our beards when we drank. 
This did not agree with our bodies, we being used to drink 
pure spring water only : by which means, when we first used 
to visit those parts, we used often to be sick of violent 
fevers and agues when we came home. Which diseases 
happened not only to us, but to all other people that dwelt 
upon the mountains, as we did, whensoever they went down 
into those places ; and commonly the major part of those 
that fell sick, died. At which the Cingalese were so scared, 
that it was very seldom that they did adventure their bodies 
down thither. Neither, truly, would I have done it, were it 
not for those future hopes; which GOD of His mercy, did at 
length accomplish. For both of us smarted sufficiently by 
those severe fevers we got, so that we should both lay sick 
together, and one not able to help the other : insomuch that 
our countrymen and neighbours used to ask us, if we went 
thither purposing to destroy ourselves; they little thinking, 
and we not daring to tell them of our intent and design. 

At length we learned an antidote and counterpoison 
against the filthy venomous water ; which so operated, by the 
blessing of GOD, that after use thereof, we had no more 
sickness. It is only a dry leaf — the)' call it in Portuguese 
Banga — beaten to powder with some of the country's Jaggery. 
And this we ate morning and evening, upon an empty 
stomach. It intoxicates the brain, and makes one giddy ; 
without any other operation, either by stool or vomit. 

Thus every voyage [journey] we gathered more experience 
and got lower down ; for this is a large and spacious country. 
We travelled to and fro where the ways led us ; according to 
their own proverb, The beggar and the merchant arc never out of 
the way ; because the one begs and the other trades wherever 
they go. Thus we used to ramble until we had sold all our 
wares ; and then went home for more : and by these means, 
we grew acquainted both with the people and the paths. 

In these parts, I met with my black boy, whom I had 
divers vears before tinned away: who had now a wife and 



Ca Si'a^'h K .68«:J They trade for eight or nine years. 403 

children. He proved a great help to me in directing me in 
the ways ; for he had lived many years in these parts. 
Perceiving him to be able, and also in a very poor and sad 
condition, not able to maintain his family ; I adventured 
once to ask him if a good reward would not be welcome to 
him, for guiding us two down to the Dutch ; which having 
done, he might return, and nobody be the wiser. At which 
proposition he seemed to be very joyful, and promised to 
undertake the same : only at this time, for reasons he 
alleged, which to me seemed probable, as that it was harvest 
time and many people about ; it could not so safely and 
conveniently be done now, as it might be, some two months 
after. 

The business was concluded upon, and the time appointed 
between us : but it so fell out, that at the very precise time, 
all things being ready to depart on the morrow ; it pleased 
GOD — whose time was not yet come — to strike me with a 
most grievous pain in the hollow on my right side, that for 
five days together I was not able to stir from the fireside ; but 
by warming it and fomenting and chafing it, I got a little ease. 

Afterward, as soon as I was recovered and had got 
strength, we went down, and carried one Englishman more 
with us for company, for our better security ; seeing that we 
must travel by night upon our flight : but though we took him 
with us, we dared not to tell him of our design, because he 
had a wife ; intending not to acquaint him with it, till the 
business was just ready to be put into action. But when we 
came, expecting to meet with our guide ; he was gone into 
another country : and we knew not where to find him or how 
to run away without him. Thus we were disappointed that 
time. 

But, as formerly, we went to and fro, until we had sold 
our ware ; and so returned home again, and delivered the man 
to his wife : but never told him anything of our intended 
design, fearing lest if he knew it he might acquaint her with 
it ; and so all our purposes coming to be revealed, might be 
overthrown for ever afterwards. For we were resolved, by 
GOD's help still to persevere in our design. 

Some eight or nine years, one after another, we followed 
this trade, going into this country on purpose to seek to get 
beyond the inhabitants ; and so to run away through the 

26 * 



„ r. ~ a -n « ! Cant R Knox. 

404 Drought hinders theiu escape. | Ma «h,68,. 

woods to the Hollanders. Three or four years together, the 
weather prevented us, when the country was almost starved 
[bard^ for want of rain; all which time they never tilled 
fe ground. The wells also were almost all dry, so that m 
the fowns we could scarcely get water to drink or victuals to 
ea?; which affrighted us, at those times, f-m running into 
the woods, lest we might perish for thirst. All this while 
upon the mountains, where our dwelling was, there was no 

W We° found it an inconvenience when we came three of us 
down together ; reckoning it might give occas ion to the people 
to suspect our design, and so to prevent us from going thither 
agam Some of the English as followed such a trade as we 
dfd, had been down that way with their commodities : but 
having felt the smart of that country's sickness, would go 
thereto more; finding as much profit in nearer and ^easier 
iournevs. But we still persisted in our courses this way, 
iaving" some greater matter to do here than to ^11 wares 
viz. to find out this Northern Discovery: which, in GOD S 
good time, we did effect. 





Ca Ma?ch K «68i.J They start on their final attempt. 405 



Chapter IX. 

How the Author began his escape, and got onward 
of his way, about an hundred mi/es. 

Aving often gone this way to seek for liberty, but 
could not yet find it ; we again set forth, to try 
what success GOD Almighty would now give us, 
in the year 1679, on the 22nd of September; 
furnished with such arms as we could well carry 
with safety and secrecy, which were knives and small axes : 
we carried also several sorts of ware to sell as formerly. The 
moon being seven and twenty days old ; which we had so 
contrived, that we might have a light moon, to see the better 
to run away by: having left an old man at home, whom I had 
hired to live with me, to look after my house and goats. 

We went down at the hill Bocaul, where there was now no 
Watch ; and but seldom any. From thence, down to the town 
of Bonder Coswat, where my father died. And by the town 
of Nicavar, which is the last town belonging to Hotkorle in 
that road. From thenceforward, the towns stand thin : for it 
was sixteen miles to the next town, called Parroah, which lay 
in the country of Nuwerakalawe ; and all the way through a 
wilderness called Parroah Mocolane, full of wild elephants 
tigers and bears. 

Now we set our design for Anuradhapoora, which is the 
lowest place inhabited belonging to the kingdom of Kandy ; 
where there is a Watch always kept : and nearer than twelve 
or fourteen miles of this town, as yet, we had never been. 

When we came into the midst of this country, we heard 
that the Governor thereof had sent officers from the Court to 
dispatch away the King's revenues and duties to the city of 
Digligy], and that they were now come into the country: which 
put us into no small fear, lest if they saw us, they should send 
us back again. Wherefore we edged away into the western- 
most parts of Ecpoulpot, being a remote part of that country. 
wherein we now were: and there we sat knitting, until we 



406 They reach Colliwilla. [^^SifiSl! 

heard they were gone. But this caused us to overshoot our 
time, the moon spending so fast. As soon as we heard that 
they were departed out of the country, we went onwards of 
our journey, having kept most of our wares for a pretence 
to have an occasion to go further ; and having bought a good 
parcel of cotton yarn to knit caps withal : the rest of our wares, 
we gave out, was to buy dried flesh with, which only in those 
lower parts is to be sold. 

Our way now lay, necessarily, through the chief Governor's 
yard at Colliwilla [? Kalluvilla] ; who dwells there purposely to 
see and examine all that go and come. This greatly distressed 
us. First, because he was a stranger to us and one whom we 
had never seen : and secondly, because there was no other 
way to escape him ; and plain reason would tell him that we, 
being prisoners, were without our bounds. Whereupon we 
concluded that our best way would be, to go boldly and 
resolutely to his house ; and not to seem daunted in the least 
or to look as if we did distrust him to disallow our journey : 
but to show such a behaviour, as if we had authority to travel 
where we would. 

So we went forward, and were forced to inquire and ask the 
way to his house, having never been so far this way before. I 
brought from home with me, knives with fine carved handles 
and a red Tunis cap, purposely to sell or give to him if 
occasion required : knowing before, that we must pass by 
him. And all along as we went, that we might be the less 
suspected, we sold caps and other wares; to be paid for at 
our return homewards. 

There were many cross paths to and fro, to his house ; 
yet by GOD l s providence, we happened in the right road. 
And having reached his house, according to the country's 
manner, we went and sat down in the open house ; which 
kind of houses are built on purpose for the reception of 
strangers. Whither, not long after, the great man himself 
came and sat down by us ; to whom we presented a small 
parcel of tobacco, and some betel. And before he asked us the 
cause of our coming; wc showed him the warts we brought 
for him, and the cotton yarn we had trucked about the 
country, telling him withal, how the case stood with us, viz : 
" That we had a charge greater than the King's allowance 
would maintain, and that because dried flesh was the chief 



Capt. R. Knox.] (* . r _, _. ,~> a--. 

March 1681.J 1ALKWITH UOVERNOR OF COLLIWILLA. 407 

commodity of that part;" we told him "that missing of the 
lading which we used to carry back, we were glad to come 
thither to see if we could make it up with dried flesh: and 
therefore if he would please to supply us— either for such 
wares as we had brought or else for our monev— it would be 
a great favour; the which would oblige us for' the future to 
bring him any necessaries that he should name unto us, 
when we should come again into those parts, as we used to 
do very often ; and that we could furnish him, having 
dealings and being acquainted with the best artificers in 
Kandy. 

At which he replied, " That he was sorrv we were come at 
such a dry time, when they could not catch deer ; but if some 
rain ie 1, he would soon dispatch us with some ladings of 
flesh: but however he bade us go about the towns and see 
whether there might be any or not, though he thought there 
was none. This answer of his pleased us wondrously 
well ; both because by this we saw he suspected us not, and 
because he told us there was no dried flesh to be got For it 
was one of our greatest fears that we should get our lading 
too soon; for then we could not have had an excuse to go 
further: and as yet we could not possibly fly; having still 
six miles further to the northward to go, before we could 
attempt it, that is, to Anuradhapoora. 

From Anuradhapoora, it is two days' journey further through 
a desolate wilderness, before there ara any more inhabitants • 
and these inhabitants are neither under this King nor the 
Dutch; but are Malabars, and are under a Prince of their 
own. This people we were sorely afraid of, lest they might 
seize us and send us back: there being a correspondence 
between this Prince and the King of Kandy: wherefore it was 
our endeavour by all means to shun them, lest, according to 
the old proverb, we might leap out of the fryingpan into the 
fire. ' ' 

But we must take care of that as well as we could, when 
we came among them; for as yet our care was to get to 
Anuradhapoora, where although it was our desire to get, yet 
we would not seem to be too hasty, lest it might occasion 
suspicion, but lay where we were two or three days : and one- 
stayed at the Governor's house a knitting; whilst the other 
went about among the towns to see for flesh. The ponds in 



408 Last messages to their countrymen, [^m^ 1 ^; 

the country being now dry, there was fish everywhere in 
aDundance ; which they dry like red herrings over a fire. 
They offered to sell us a store of them ; " but they," we told 
them, "would not turn to so good profit as flesh." "The 
which," we said, " we would have, though we stayed ten days 
longer for it. For here we could live as cheap, and earn as 
much as if we were at home, by our knitting." So we seemed 
to them as if we were not in any haste. 

In the meantime happened an accident which put us 
to a great fright. For the King, having newly clapped up 
several persons of quality (whereof my old neighbour Owa 
Motteral that sent for me to Court, was one) sent down 
soldiers to this High Sheriff or Governor at whose house we 
now were, to give him order to set a secure guard at the 
Watches that no suspicious persons might pass. This he 
did to prevent the relations of these imprisoned persons from 
making an escape ; who — through fear of the King — might 
attempt it. This always is the King's custom to do. But it 
put us into an exceeding fear lest it might beget an admira- 
tion [wonderment] in these soldiers to see white men so low 
down the country ; which indeed is not customary nor 
allowed of; and so they might send us up again. Which 
doubtless they would have done ; had it not been of GOD by 
this means and after this manner to deliver us. Especially 
considering that the King's command came just at that time, 
and so expressly to keep a secure guard at the Watches, and 
that in that very way that always we purposed to go in ; so 
that it seemed scarcely possible for us to pass afterwards : 
though we should get off fairly at present with the soldiers. 
Which we did. For they having delivered their message, 
departed ; showing themselves very kind and civil unto us : 
and we seemed to lament for our hard fortune, that we were 
not ready to go upwards with them, in their good company : 
for we were neighbours dwelling in one and the same country. 
However we bade them carry our commendations to our 
countrymen the English — with whom they were acquainted 
at the city — and so bade them farewell. And glad we were 
when they were gone from us : and we resolved, GOD willing, 
to set forward the next day in the morning. 

But we thought not fit to tell our host, the Governor, of it, 
till the very instant of our departure; that he might not have 



Cap Mareh K ,6SKj They journey to Anuradhapoora. 409 

any time to deliberate concerning us. That night, he, being 
disposed to be merry, sent for people whose trade it is to 
dance and show tricks, to come to his house, to entertain 
him with their sports. The beholding of them spent most 
part of the night : which we merely called our old host's 
civility to us at our last parting ; as it proved indeed, though 
he, honest man, then little dreamed of any such thing. 

The morning being come, we first took care to fill our 
bellies; then we packed up those things which were neces- 
sary for our journey to carry with us ; and the rest of our 
goods — cotton yarn, cloth, and other things — that we would 
not incumber ourselves withal, we bound up in a bundle, 
intending to leave them behind us. This being done, I went 
to the Governor, and carried to him four or five charges of 
gunpowder, a thing somewhat scarce with them ; intreating 
him rather than that we should be disappointed of flesh ; to 
make use of that and shoot some deer — which he was very 
willing to accept of; and to us it could be no ways profit- 
able, not having a gun— while we, we told him, " would 
make a step to Anuradhapoora to see what flesh we could 
procure there." In the meantime, according as we had before 
laid the business, came Stephen Rutland with the bundle 
of goods, desiring to leave them in his house, till we came 
back : which he was very ready to grant us leave to do. And 
seeing us leave such a parcel of goods — though, GOD knows, 
but of little account in themselves, yet of considerable value 
in that land — he could not suppose otherwise but that we 
were intending to return again. Thus we took our leave and 
immediately departed, not giving him time again to consider 
with himself, or to consult with others about us : and he, like 
a good-natured man, bade us heartily farewell. 

Although we knew not the way to this town— having never 
been there in all our lives ; and durst not ask, lest it might 
breed suspicion — yet we went on confidently through a 
desolate wood ; and happened to go very right, and came out 
directly at the place. 

But in our way, before we arrived thither, we came up 
with a small river, which ran through the woods, called by 
the Cingalese, Malwatta Oya : the which we viewed well and 
judged it might be a probable guide to carry us down to the 
sea; if a better did not present itself. However we thought 



410 Astonishment there, at seeing them. [ Cap M a ^h K X; 

good to try first the way we were taking, and to go onwards 
towards Anuradhapoora, that being the shortest and easiest 
way to get to the coast, and this river, being as under our 
lee, ready to serve and assist us, if other means failed. 

To Anuradhapoora, called also Neur Wang, therefore we 
came ; which is not so much a particular single town, as a 
territory. It is a vast great plain — the like of which I never 
saw in all that island — in the midst whereof is a lake, which 
may be a mile over; not natural, but made by art as are the 
other ponds in the country, to serve them to water their corn 
grounds. This plain is encompassed round with woods, and 
small towns among them on every side inhabited by Malabars, 
a distinct race from the Cingalese : but these towns we could 
not see, till we came in among them. 

Being come through the woods into this plain, we stood 
looking and staring round about us : but knew not where nor 
which way to go. At length, we heard a cock crow, which 
was a sure sign to us that there was a town hard by ; into 
which we were resolved to enter. For standing thus amazed 
was the ready way to be taken up for suspicious persons ; 
especially because white men never came down so low. 

Being entered into the town, we sat ourselves under a tree, 
and proclaimed our wares : for we feared to rush into their 
yards as we used to do in other places, lest we should scare 
them. The people stood amazed, as soon as they saw us ; 
being originally Malabars, though subjects of Kandy : nor 
could they understand the Cingalese language in which we 
spake to them. And we stood looking one upon another, 
until there came one that could speak the Cingalese tongue, 
who asked us,-" From whence we came ? " We told him from 
Conde Uda : but they believed us not, supposing that we 
came up from the Dutch, from Manaar. So they brought us 
before their Governor. He not speaking Cingalese, spake to 
us by an interpreter ; and to know the trutli whether we 
came from the place we pretended, he inquired about the 
news at Court: and demanded "who were Governors of such 
and such countries ?" and "What was become of some certain 
noblemen?" (whomthe King had lately cut off) and aiso "What 
the common people were employed about at Court?" for it is 
seldom that they are idle. To all which, we gave satisfactory 
answers. Then he inquired of us "Who gave us leave to 



Ca M^ch K .68i.'] Stay three days at Anuradhapoora. 411 

come down so low?" We told him, "That privilege was 
given to us by the King himself full fifteen years since at his 
palace at Nellembe; when he caused it to be declared unto 
us that we were no longer prisoners, and," which indeed was 
our own addition, " that we were free to enjoy the benefit of 
trade in all his dominions." 

To prove and confirm the truth of which, we alleged the 
distance of the way that we were now come from home, being 
nearly an hundred miles, passing through several counties, 
where we met with several Governors and Officers in their 
respective jurisdictions ; who, had they not been well sensible 
of these privileges granted to us, would not have allowed us 
to pass through their countries [districts]. All which Officers 
we described to them by name. And also that now we came 
from the High Sheriff's house at Colliwilla, where we had 
been these three days, and there heard of the order that was 
come to secure the Watches ; which was not for fear of the 
running away of white men, but of the Cingalese. These . 
reasons gave him full satisfaction, that we were innocent 
traders : seeing also the commodities that we had brought 
with us ; this further confirmed his opinion concerning us. 

The people were very glad of our coming, and gave us an 
end of an open house to lie in : but at present they had no 
dried flesh, but desired us to stay two or three days, and we 
should not fail : which we were very ready to consent to, 
hoping by that time to come to the knowledge of the way, and 
to learn where about the Watch was placed. To prevent the 
least surmise that we were plotting to run away ; we agreed 
that Stephen Rutland should stay in the house by the 
things; while I, with some few of them, went abroad, 
pretending to inquire for dried flesh to carry back with us to 
Kandy, but intending to make discoveries of the way, and 
to provide necessaries for our flight, as rice, a brass pot to 
boil our rice in, a little dried flesh to eat, and a deerskin to 
make us shoes of. And by the providence of my gracious 
GOD, all these things I happened upon, and bought : but, as 
our good hap was, of deer's flesh we could meet with none. 
So that we had time enough to fit ourselves ; all people 
thinking that we stayed only to buy flesh. 

Here we stayed three days. During which, we had found 
the great road that runs down towards Jaflnapatam, one of 



412 THEY REJECT THE J AFFNAPATAM ROAD, [^j* 



Knox. 
March 1681. 



the northern ports belonging to the Dutch : which road, we 
judged led also towards Manaar, a Dutch northern port also, 
which was the place that we endeavoured to get to ; it lying 
about two or three days' journey distant from us. But in this 
road there was a Watch laid which must be passed. Where 
this Watch was placed, it was necessary for us punctually 
[precisely] to know, and to endeavour to get a sight of it : 
and if we could do this, our intent was to go unseen by night 
— the people being then afraid to travel — and being come up 
to the Watch, to slip aside into the woods, and so go on 
until we were passed it ; and then to strike into the road again. 
But this project came to nothing, because I could not 
without suspicion and danger, go and viewthis Watch; which 
lay some four or five miles below this plain : and so far I 
could not frame any business to go. 

But several inconveniences we saw here, insomuch that 
we found it would not be safe for us to go down in this road. 
For if we should have slipped away from them by night ; in 
the morning, we should be missed : and then most surely, 
they would go that way to chase us ; and, ten to one, overtake 
us, being but one night before them. Also we knew not 
whether or not, it might lead us into the country of the 
Malabar Prince; of whom we were much afraid. 

Then resolving to let the great road alone, we thought of 
going right down through the woods, and steer our course by 
the sun and moon ; but the ground being so dry, we feared 
we should not meet with water. So we declined that counsel 
also. 

Thus being in doubt, we prayed to GOD to direct us, and to 
put it into .our heads which way to take. Then, after a 
consultation between ourselves, all things considered, we 
concluded it to be the best course to go back to Malwatta 
Oya; the river that we had well viewed, and that lay in our 
way as we came hither. 





Capti M^rfax.] Ostensibly returning, they escape. 413 



Chapter X . 

The Authors progress in his flight from Anura- 

dhapoora into the woods ; tintil their 

arrival in the Malabar s country. 

Ow GOD, of His mercy, having prospered our 
design hitherto, for which we blessed His holy 
name; our next care was how to come off clear 
from the people of Anuradhapoora, that they might 
not presently miss us, and so pursue after us : 
which if they should do, there would have been no escaping 
them. For from this town to Colliwilla — where the Sheriff 
lived, with whom we left our goods — they were as well 
acquainted in the woods as in the paths : and when we came 
away, we must tell the people that we were going thither ; 
because there was no other way but that. Now our fear was 
lest upon some occasion or other, any men might chance to 
travel that way soon after we were gone; and not rinding us 
at Colliwilla might conclude, as they could do no otherwise, 
that we were run into the woods. Therefore to avoid this 
danger, we stayed in the town till it was so late that we 
knew that none durst venture to travel afterwards, for fear of 
wild beasts. By which means we were sure to gain a night's 
travel, at least : if they should chance to pursue us. 

So we took our leaves of the Governor, who kindly gave 
us a pot of milk to drink, for a farewell : we telling him, "We 
were returning back to the Sheriff at Colliwilla, to whom we 
had given some gunpowder when we came from him, to shoot 
us some deer: and we doubted not but by that time we should 
get to him, he would have provided flesh enough for our lading 
home." Thus bidding him and the rest of the neighbours 
farewell, we departed : they giving us the civility of their 
accustomed prayers ; Diabac, that is, "God bless or keep you." 
It was now the 12th day of October on a Sunday, the moon 
eighteen days old. We were well furnished with all things 
needful, which we could get, viz. — ten days' provisions, rice, 



414 Strike down the Malwatta Oya. [ Cai £ 



R. Knox. 
March 1681. 



flesh, fish, pepptr, salt ; a basin to boil our victuals in ; 
two calabashes to fetch water ; two great Tallipat [leaves] 
for tents, big enough to sleep under, if it should rain ; 
Jaggery and sweetmeats, which we brought from home 
with us ; tobacco also and betel ; tinder boxes, two or three 
for fear of failing; and a deer's skin to make us shoes, to 
prevent any thorns running into our feet as we travelled 
thiough the woods, for our greatest trust, under GOD, was 
to our feet. Our weapons were, to each man a small axe 
fastened to a long staff in our hands, and a good knife by our 
sides: which were sufficient, with GOD's help, to defend us 
from the assaults of either tiger or bear ; and as for elephants, 
there is no standing against them, but the best defence is to 
fly from them. 

In this posture and equipage we marched forward. When 
we were come within a mile of this river, it being about foui 
in the evening, we began to fear lest any of the people oi 
Anuradhapoora from whence we came, should follow us to 
Colliwilla ; which place we never intended to come at more : 
the river along which we intended to go, laying on this side 
of it. That we might be secure therefore, that no people came 
after us ; we sat down upon a rock by a hole that was full of 
water in the highway, until it was so late that we were sure no 
people durst travel. In case any had come after us, and seen 
us sitting there, and gotten no further; we intended to tell 
them that one of us was taken sick by the way, and therefore 
was not able to go on. But it was our happy chance, that 
there came none. 

So about sundown, we took up our sacks of provisions, and 
marched forward for the river; which, under GOD, we had 
pitched upon to be our guide down to the sea. 

Being come at the river; we left the road, and struck into 
the woods by the river side. We were exceedingly careful not 
to tread on the sand or soft ground, lest our footsteps should 
be seen : and where it could not be avoided, we went 
backwards ; so that by the print of our feet it seemed as if we 
had gone the contrary way. We had now got a good way 
into the wood, when it grew dark and began to rain; so that 
we thought it best to pitch our tents, and get wood for firing 
before it was all wet, and too dark to find it : which we did, 
and kindled a lire. 



Cap Ma^ch K , n 6°sT.] They are stopped by an elephant. 415 

Then we began to fit ourselves for our journey, against the 
moon rose. All our sale-wares which we had left, we cast 
away, for we had taken care not to sell too much ; keeping 
only provisions, and what was very necessary for our journey. 
About our feet we tied pieces of deer's-hide, to prevent thorns 
and stumps annoying our feet. We always used to travel 
barefoot, but now being to travel by night and in the woods, 
we feared to do so : for if our feet should fail us now, we 
were quite undone. 

And by the time we had well fitted ourselves, and were 
refreshed with a morsel of Portuguese sweetmeats; the moon 
began to shine. So having commended ourselves into the 
hands of the Almighty, we took up our provisions upon our 
shoulders and set forward, and travelled some three or four 
hours, but with a great deal of difficulty. For the trees 
being thick, the moon gave us but little light through : but 
our resolution was, to keep going. 

Now it was our chance to meet with an elephant in our 
way, just before us ; which we tried to, but could not scare 
away : so he forced us to stay. We kindled a fire and sat 
down; and took a pipe of tobacco, waiting till morning. 
Then we looked round about us, and it appeared all like a 
wilderness, and no signs that people ever had been there ; 
which put us in great hopes that we had gained our passage, 
and were past all the inhabitants. W'hereuponwe concluded 
that we were now in no danger of being seen, and might 
travel in the day securely. 

There was only one great road in our way, which led to 
Portaloon from the towns which by and by we fell into. 
This road therefore we were shy of ; lest when we passed it 
over, some passengers travelling on it, might see us. And 
this road we were in expectance about this time, to meet 
withal, feeling secure, as I said before, of all other danger 
of people : but the river winding about to the northward, 
brought us into the midst of a parcel of towns, called Tissea 
Wava, before we were aware of it. For the country being 
all woods, we could not discern where there were towns until 
we came within the hearing of them. That which betrayed 
us into this danger was, that meeting with a path which 
only led from one town to another, we concluded it to be 
that great road above mentioned, and so having passed it over: 



416 They hide in a hollow trp. [ Ca ^urch K x n 68*'. 

we supposed the danger we might encounter in being seen 
was also passed over with it: but we were mistaken, for going 
further we still met with other paths, which we crossed over, 
still hoping one or other of them was that great road ; but 
at last we perceived our error, namely, that they were only 
paths that went from one town to another. 

And so while we were avoiding men and towns, we ran 
into the midst of them. This was a great trouble to us ; 
hearing the noise of people round about us, and not knowing 
how to avoid them : into whose hands we knew if we should 
have fallen ; they would have carried us up to the King, 
besides beating and plundering us to boot. 

We knew before, that these towns were here away : but 
had we known that this river turned and ran in among them; 
we should never have undertaken the enterprise. But now 
to go back, after we had newly passed so many paths, and 
fields, and places, where people did resort : we thought it 
not advisable, and that the danger in so doing might be 
greater than in going forward. And had we known so much 
then as afterwards did appear to us ; it had been safer for us 
to have gone on, than to have hid as we did : which we then 
thought the best course we could take for the present 
extremity, viz. — to secure ourselves in secret until night, and 
then to run through, in the dark. All that we wanted was a 
hole to creep in, to lie close : for the woods thereabouts were 
thin, and there were no shrubs or bushes, under which we 
might be concealed. 

We heard the noise of people on every side, and expected 
every moment to see some of them : to our great terror. And 
it is not easy .to say, in what danger ; and in what apprehension 
of it we were. It was not safe for us to stir backwards or 
forwards, for fearing of running among the people ; and it 
was as unsafe to stand still, where we were, lest somebody 
might spy us : and where to find covert, we could not tell. 

Looking about us, in these straits, we spied a great tree 
by us, which for the bigness thereof 'twas probable might be 
hollow. To which we went, and found it so. It was like a 
tub, some three feet high. Into it, immediately we both 
crept, and made a shift to sit there for several hours, 
though very uneasily, and all in mud and wet. But however it 
did great comfort us, in the fright and amazement we were in. 



0ap March K xX:] Protected by a herd of elephants. 417 

So soon as it began to grow dark, we came creeping out of 
our hollow tree; and put for it, as fast as our legs could carry 
us. And then we crossed that great road, which all the day 
before we did expect to come up with ; keeping close by the 
river side ; and going so long, till dark night stopped us. 

We kept going the longer, because we heard the voice of 
men holloaing towards evening ; which created in us a fresh 
disturbance: thinking them to be people that were coming 
to chase us. But at length ; we heard elephants behind us, 
between us and the voice, which we knew by the noise of 
the cracking of the boughs and small trees which they brake 
down and ate. These elephants were a very good guard 
behind us ; and were, methought, like the darkness that came 
between Israel and the Egyptians. For the people, we 
knew, would not dare to go forwards ; hearing elephants 
before them. 

In this security, we pitched our tents by the river side, and 
boiled rice and roasted flesh for our supper : for we were very 
hungry ; and so, commending ourselves to GOD's keeping, 
we lay down to sleep. The voice which we heard still 
continued ; which lasting so long, we knew what it meant. 
It was nothing but the holloaing of people that lay to watch 
the cornfields ; to scare away the wild beasts out of their 
corn. 

Thus we passed Monday. 

But nevertheless the next morning, so soon as the moon 
shone out bright; to prevent the worst, we took up our packs, 
and were gone : being past all the tame inhabitants, with 
whom we had no more trouble. 

But the next day, we feared we should come among the 
wild ones : for these woods are full of them. Of these, we 
were as much afraid as of the other : for they [the tame 
inhabitants] would have carried us back to the King, where 
we should have been kept prisoners ; but these, we feared, 
would have shot us, not standing to hear us plead for 
ourselves. 

And indeed all along as we went, by the sides of the river, 
till we came to the Malabar inhabitants ; there had been the 
tents of wild men, made only of boughs of trees. But GOD 
be praised, they were all gone : though but very lately before 
we came ; as we perceived by the bones of cattle and shells 

ENG. i'.AR. I. 27 



A^^^r, rCaptain R- Knox. 
LLIGATORS. L March «6Bi. 

of fruit, which lay scattered about. We supposed that want 
of water had driven them out of the country down to the 
rivS side; but that since it had rained a shower or two, 

^^IS^Zs^ down upon a rock by the river 
side to take a pipe of tobacco and rest ourselves; we had 
almos? been discovered by the women of these wild people : 
coming down, as I suppose, to wash themselves m the river; 
who being many of them, came talking and laughing 
Sh At the first hearing of the noise being at a 
£od [distance, we marvelled what it was. fitting still and 
listening ; it came a little above where we sat : and at last 
w? could plainly distinguish it to be the voices of — £ nd 
children. Whereupon we thought it no boot to sit longer, 
since we could escape unobserved; and so took up our bags, 
and fled as fast as we could. . . . 

Thus we kept travelling every day, from mormn£ * mght, 
still along by the river side, which turned and wound ver> 
crooked^ In some plaees, it would be pretty good travel- 
^gTnTbut few bushed and thorns ; in others a great manv . 
so that our shoulders and arms were all ot a gore, Dem„ 
CTievousW torn and scratched. For we had nothing on us, 
but a clout .ound about our middles, and our victuals on our 
shouWers ; and in our hands, atallipat [palm leaf T»d an «e. 
The lower we came down this river, the less water, so 
that sometimes we could go a mile or two upon the sand 
And in some places, three or four rivers would all meet 
fogetner. When this happened so, and was noon-t he sun , ove 
our head and the water not runnmg-we could not tell wtacft 
to follow ; but were forced to stay till the sun was fallen, 

^ofteffi *S, hogs, deer and wild buffaloes; 
but they al" ran, so soon as they saw us i but elephants we 
met with no more than that I have mentioned befoie. I he 
"s exceeding full of alligators all along as we went : 
•ind the unner part of it is nothing but rocks. 

Here ' there by the side of this river, there is a world -I 

he , si." c P 1 ars, standing upright ; and other heaps of hewn 

tones, which I suppose formerly were ^mldmgs And m 

three or four places, are the ruins of bridges, built ot stone , 

iome remains <A them yet standing upon stone pillars. In 



CaptainR. (Cnox.~| T rt _„ , T 

MarehiesiJ IHE\ GET INTO THE MALABAR COUNTRY. 419 

many places are points built out into the river, like wharves- 
all of hewn stone: which I suppose have been built for 
kings to sit upon for pleasure; for I cannot think the ever 

r"cks e tha P tZV° T 'if C b} ' Water ' tHe river bei "g -7ul o 
rocks that boats could never come up into it 

1 m i V ° 0ds J in a11 these north ern parts are short and 
shrubbed; and so they are here by the river's side : and the 
lower down the river, the worse; and the grounds so also 

great fire bothTf ™ U *f 1 V° P J tch ° Ur tent > and m ^e a 
great fire, both before and behind us ; that the wild beasts 

might have notice where we lay: and we used to hear The 

voices of all sorts of them; but, thanks be to GOD - no e 

ever came near to hurt us. ' 

YetVe were the more wary of them ; because once a W r 

showed us a cheat. For having bought a deer (and ha in " 

salted ng an°d 1. V> UP i n) ^ P ^ ed * U P in the ™ e S 
salted, and la d it under a bench in an open house on which 

bench Hay that night; and Stephen lay just by 

house' ^nd^in T T, P6 ° Ple , m ° re ^ ^ * th/sam 
nouse, and n the said house there was a great fire- and 

another in the yard: yet a tiger came in fhe n£hV and 
carried deer and hide and all away. But we m ssing 
concluded that it was a thief that had done it! Willed 
up the people that lay by us ; and told them what had 
happened; who informed us that it was a tiger; and wfch 
a torch they went to see which way he had Vone and 
presently found some of it, which he ij let drop by "he 
way. When it was day, we went further; and picked up 
more which was scattered; till we came to the hid "itself 
which remained uneaten. ' 

We had now travelled till Thursday afternoon when u , 
crossed the river called Coronda Oya [? Lf™6yl which 

oTt^e Mal'ars 7 W ThiS ^ ^ ^ — ti^o'm tlS 
?L a ^ lalabars - , We saw no sign of inhabitants here The 

!tfclffs"T/° b L £ T y I Ul1 ofth ^ns and shrubby busies 
ll\° a bl x? ken land; S0 that we could not possibly "o 

in the woods But now the river grew better, beinVdleS 
of rocks; and dry, water only standing in holes So we 
marched along in the river bed upon the sand H^reabonls 
are far more elephants than higher un Bv rl-,v " 
but by night, the river was full of them " } ' "" ***'' 



17 



420 They still keep on down the river. [ Captai M* 

On Friday, about nine or ten in the morning, we came 
among the inhabitants : for then we saw the footing 
[footprints] of people on the sand; and tame cattle with bells 
about their necks. Yet we kept on our way right down the 
river; knowing no other course to take, to shun the people. 
And as we went still forwards, we saw coracan corn sown in 
the woods ; but neither town, nor people, nor so much as the 
voice of man : yet we were somewhat dismayed ; knowing 
that we were now in a country inhabited by Malabars. 

The Wawniounay or Prince of this people for fear, pays 
tribute to the Dutch ; but stands far more affected towards 
the King of Kandy : which made our ca:-e the greater to 
keep ourselves out of his hands; fearing lest if he did not 
keep us himself, he might send us up to our old master. So 
that great was our tenor again, lest meeting with people we 
might be discovered. 

Yet there was no means now left us how to avoid the 
danger of being seen. The woods were so bad that we could 
not possibly travel in them for thorns ; and to travel by night 
was impossible, it being a dark moon; and the river at night 
so full of elephants and other wild beasts coming to drink, 
as we did both hear and see, lying upon the banks with a fire 
by us. They came in such numbers, because there was 
water for them nowhere else to be had : the ponds and holes 
of water; nay the river itself, in many places being dry. 
There was therefore no other way to be taken, but to travel 
on in the river. 

So down we went into the sand and put on as fast as we 
could set our legs to the ground: seeing no people, nor. I 
think, nobody us ; but only buffaloes in abundance in the 
water. 







C;ipt.iin R. Knox. "1 
Man 



TlIEV MEET WITH TWO BRAHMINS. 42 1 




Chapter XI. 

Eeing in the Malabar territories ; ho.w they encountered 
tcco men, and what passed betzueen them. And of 
their getting safe unto the Dutch fort ; and 
their reception there, and at the Island 
of Manaar ; until their em- 
barking for Colombo. 

Hus we went on till about three o'clock in the 
afternoon. At which time, coming about a point, 
we came up with two Brahmins on a sudden ; who 
were sitting under a tree, boiling rice. We were 
within forty paces of them. When they saw us they 
were amazed at us ; and as much afraid of us, as we were of 
them. Now we thought it better policy to treat with them, 
than to fly from them : fearing they might have bows and 
arrows, whereas we were armed only with axes in our hands, 
and knives by our sides ; or else that they might raise the 
country and pursue us. So we made a stand, and in the 
Cingalese language, asked their leave to come near and treat 
with them, but they did not understand it : but being risen 
up, spake to us in the Malabar tongue, which we could not 
understand. Then, still standing at a distance, we intimated 
our minds to them by signs, beckoning with our hand : which 
they answered in the same language. 

Then offering to go towards them, and seeing them to be 
naked men, and no arms near them ; we laid our axes upon 
the ground with our bags : lest we might scare them, if we had 
come up to them with those weapons in our hands; and so 
went towards them with only our knives by our sides. 

By signs with our hands, showing them our b'oody backs ; 
we made understand whence we came, and whither we 
were going: which when they perceived, they seemed to 
commiserate our condition, and greatly to admire at such a 
miracle which GOD had brought to pass; and as they talked 
one to another, they lifted up their hands and faces towards 



422 Flinging firebrands at Elephants. [^^m^S^; 

heaven, after repeating Tombrane, which is God in the 
Malabar tongue. 

And by their signs, we understood they would have us 
bring our bags and axes nearer : which we had no sooner 
done ; but they brought the rice and herbs which they had 
boiled for themselves to us, and bade us eat ; which we were 
not fitted to do, having not long before eaten a hearty 
dinner of better fare. Yet we could not but thankfully 
accept of their compassion and kindness, and eat as much as 
we could ; and in requital of their courtesy, we gave them 
some of our tobacco : which, after much entreating, they did 
receive, and it pleased them exceedingly. 

After these civilities passed on either side ; we began by 
signs to desire them to go with us, and show us the way to 
the Dutch fort : which they were very unwilling to do, saying — 
as by signs and some few words which we could understand 
—that our greatest danger was past ; and that by night, we 
might get into the Hollanders' dominions. 

Yet we being weary with our tedious journey, and desirous 
to have a guide ; showed them money to the value of five 
shillings, being all I had, and offered it to them, to go with 
us. Which together with our great importunity, so prevailed, 
that one of them took it ; and leaving his fellow to carry 
their baggage, he went with us about one mile, and then 
began to take his leave of us and to return : which we 
supposed was to get more from us. Having therefore no 
more money, we gave him a red Tunis cap and a knife ; for 
which he went a mile further, and then as before would leave 
us, signifying to us, " that we were out of danger, and he 
could go no farther." 

Now we had no more left to give him ; but began to 
perceive that what we had parted withal to him was but 
flung away. And although we might have taken all from 
him again, being alone in the wood ; yet we feared to do it, 
lest thereby we might exasperate him, and so he might give 
notice of us to the people : but bade him farewell ; after he 
had conducted us four or five miles. 

We kept on our journey down the river as before, until it 
was night ; and lodged upon a bank under a tree: but were 
in the way of the elephants; for in the night they came and 
had like to have disturbed us; so that lor our preservation 



^ShS'.] They reach the Dutch territory. 423 

we were forced to fling firebrands at them to scare them 
away. 

The next morning, being Saturday, as soon as it was light, 
having eaten to strengthen us (as horses do oats before they 
travel), we set forth, going still down. The sand was dry 
and loose and so very tedious to go upon, by the side of the 
river we could not go, it being all overgrown with bushes. 
The land hereabouts was as smooth as a bowling green ; but 
the grass clean burnt up for want of rain. 

Having travelled about two hours, we saw a man walking 
in the river before, whom we would gladly have shunned, but 
well could not : for he walked down the river as we did : but 
at a very slow rate, which much hindered us. But considering 
upon the distance we had come since we left the Brahmin 
and comparing with what he told us, we concluded we were 
in the Hollanders' jurisdiction ; and so amended our pace to 
overtake the man before us : whom we perceiving to be 
free from timorousness at the sight of us, concluded he had 
been used to see white men. 

Whereupon, we asked him, " to whom he belonged ? " He, 
speaking the Cingalese language, answered, " to the Dutch;" 
and also "that all the country was under their command, and 
that we were out of danger, and that the fort of Aripo was 
but some six miles off." Which did not a little rejoice us. 
We told him, " we- were of that nation, and had made our 
escape from Kandy, where we had been many years kept in 
captivity : " and — having nothing to give him ourselves — we 
told him, "that it was not to be doubted, but that the chief 
Commander at the fort, would bountifully reward him if he 
would go with us, and direct us thither." But whether he 
doubted of that or not, or whether he expected something in 
hand ; he excused himself, pretending earnest and urgent 
occasions that he could not defer. But he advised us to 
leave the river, because it winds so much about, and to turn 
up without fear to the towns; where the people would direct 
us the way to the fort. 

Upon his advice, we struck up a path that came down to 
the river, intending to go to a town, but could find none : and 
there were so many cross paths that we could not tell which 
way to go; and the land here was so exceedingly low and 
level, that we could see no other thing but trees. For 



424 And arrive at Aripo fort. [ Capta M^ch K i68«: 

although I got up a tree to look if I could see the Dutch 
fort or discern any houses ; yet I could not : and the sun 
being right over our heads, neither could that direct us. 
Insomuch that we wished ourselves again in our old friend, 
the river. So after much wandering up and down ; we sat 
down under a tree, waiting until the sun was fallen or some 
people came by. 

Which not long after, three or four Malabars did. We 
told these men that we were Hollanders : supposing they 
would be the more willing to go with us ; but they proved of 
the same temper with the rest before mentioned. For until 
I gave one of them a small knife to cut betel nuts, he would 
not go with us ; but for the lucre of that, he conducted us to 
a town. From whence, they sent a man with us to the next. 
And so we were passed from town to town, until we arrived 
at the fort called Aripo. It being about four o'clock on 
Saturday afternoon, October the 18th, 1679. 

Which day, GOD grant us grace that we may never forget: 
when He was pleased to give us so great a deliverance from 
such a long captivity of nineteen years, and six months, and 
odd days. I being taken prisoner when I was nineteen years 
old ; and continued upon the mountains among the heathen 
till I attained to eight and thirty. 

In this flight through the woods ; I cannot but take notice 
with some wonder and great thankfulness, that this travel- 
ling by night in a desolate wilderness was little or nothing 
dreadful to me; whereas formerly the very thoughts of it 
would seem to dread me. And in the night, when I lay 
down to rest, with wild beasts round me; I slept as soundly 
and securely'as ever I did at home in my own house. Which 
courage and peace, I look upon to be the immediate gift of 
GOD to me, upon my earnest prayers; which at that time he 
poured into my heart in great measure and fervency. After 
which I found myself freed from those frights and fears, 
which usually possessed my heart at other times. 

In short, I look upon the whole business as a miraculous 
providence; ami that the hand of GOD did eminently appear 
t" me as it did of old to his people Israel in the like cir- 
cumstances; in leading and conducting me through this 
dreadful wilderness, and not to sutler any evil to approach 
nigh unto me. 



Capta March K i68i:] Hospitably entertained at Manaar. 425 

The Hollanders much wondered at our arrival — it being so 
strange that any should escape from Randy — and entertained 
us very kindly that night. 

And the next morning, being Sunday ; they sent a Corporal 
with us to Manaar, and a black man to carry our few things. 

At Manaar, we were brought before the Captain of the 
castle, the Chief Governor being absent; who, when we 
came in, was just risen from dinner. He received us with a 
great deal of kindness, and bade us sit down to eat. 

It seemed not a little strange to us, who had dwelt so long 
in straw cottages among the black heathen, and used to sit 
on the ground, and eat our meat on leaves; now to sit on 
chairs, and eat out of china dishes at a table ; where 
there were great varieties, and a fair and sumptuous house 
inhabited by white and Christian people : we being then in 
such habit and guise (our natural colour excepted) that we 
seemed not fit to eat with his servants, no, nor his slaves. _ 

After dinner, the Captain inquired concerning the affairs 
of the King and country, and the condition of their Ambassa- 
dors and people there. To all which, we gave them true and 
satisfactory answers. Then he told us " that to-morrow, there 
was a sloop to sail to Jaffnapatam, in which he would send us 
to the Commander and Governor; from whence we might 
have a passage to Fort Saint George [Madras] or any other 
place on that coast, according to our desire." After this, he 
gave us some money ; bidding us go to the Castle to drink, 
and be merry with our countrymen there. For all which 
kindness, giving him many thanks in the Portuguese language; 
we took our leaves of him. 

When we came to the court of guard at the Castle ; we 
asked the soldiers if there were no Englishmen among them. 
Immediately there came forth two men to us, the one a 
Scotchman named Andrew Brown ; the other an Irishman, 
whose name was FRANCIS Hodges: who, after very kind 
salutes, carried us unto their lodgings in the castle; and 
entertained us very nobly, according to their ability, with 
arrack and tobacco. 

The news of our arrival being spread in the town, the 
people came flocking to see us as a strange ami wonderful 
sight : and some to inquire about their husbands, sons and 
relations which were prisoners at Kandy. 



426 Go in Governor's ship to Colombo. [ Capt ll*c h K X.' 

In the evening a gentlemen of the town sent to invite us 
to his house ; where we were gallantly entertained both with 
victuals and lodging. 

The next day, being Monday, while ready to embark for 
Jaffnapatam ; there came an order from the Captain and 
Council that we must stay until the Commander of 
Jaffnapatam, who was daily expected, came thither: which 
we could not deny to do ; and order was given to the 
Victuallers of the soldiers to provide for us. The Scotch- 
man and Irishman were very glad of this order, that they 
might have our company longer : and would not suffer us to 
spend the Captain's benevolence in their company, but spent 
freely upon us at their own charges. 

Thanks be to GOD, we both continued in health all the 
time of our escape ; but within three days after we came to 
Manaar, my companion fell very sick; so that I thought I 
should have lost him. 

Thus we remained some ten days. At which time the 
expected Commander arrived, and was received with great 
ceremonies of state. The next day we went before him, to 
receive his orders concerning us : which were to be ready to 
go with him on the morrow to Colombo; there being a ship, 
that had long waited in that road to carry him. In which, 
we embark with him for Colombo. 

At our coming on board to go to sea, we could not expect 
but to be seasick ; being now as fresh men having so long 
disused the sea : but it proved otherwise, and we were not in 
the least stirred. 




Captain R. Kn 




Marci^'J Make a sensation at Colombo. 427 



Chapter XII. 

Their arrival at Colombo and entertainment 

there. Their departure thence to Batavia ; 

and from thence to Bantam : whence 

they set sail for England. 

Eing safely arrived at Colombo, before the ship 
came to an anchor ; there came a barge on board to 
carry the Commander ashore. But it being late 
in the evening, and my consort being sick of an 
ague and fever ; we thought it better for us to stay 
on board until the morning, so as to have a day before us. 

The next morning, we bade the skipper farewell, and 
went ashore in the first boat : going straight to the Court 
of Guard ; where all the soldiers came staring upon us, 
wondering to see white men in Cingalese habits. We asked 
them, if "there were no Englishmen among them." They told 
us, "there were none, but that in the city there were several." 
A trumpeter being hard by who had formerly sailed in 
English ships ; hearing of us, came and invited us to his 
chamber : and entertained my consort being sick of his 
ague, in his own bed. 

The strange news of our arrival from Kandy was presently 
spread all about the city, and all the Englishmen that were 
there immediately came to bid us welcome out of our long 
captivity : with whom we consulted how to come to speech 
of the Governor. Upon which, one of them went and 
acquainted the Captain of the Guard of our being on shore ; 
which the Captain understanding, went and informed the 
Governor thereof. Who sent us answer that to-morrow we 
should come before him. 

Alter my consort's fit was over ; our countrymen and their 
friends invited us abroad to walk and see the city. We 
being barefooted and in Cingalese habit with great long 
beards; the people much wondered at us, and came flocking 
to see wlin and what we were ; so that we had a great train 
of people about us, as we walked in the streets. And after 



42S Interview with Governor van Gons. [ Capta M a *chi68i'. 

we had walked to and fro, and had seen the citj 7 ; they 
carried us to their landlady's house, where we were kindly 
treated both with victuals and drink; and returned to the 
trumpeter's house as he had desired us when we went out. 
In the evening, came a boy from the Governor's house to tell 
us, that the Governor invited us to come to supper at his 
house : but we — having dined lately with our countrymen 
and their friends — had no room to receive the Governor's 
kindness ; and so lodged that night, at the trumpeter's. 

The next morning, the Governor — whose name wasRiCKLOF 
van Gons, son of Ricklof van Gons the General of 
Batavia — sent for us to his house. Whom we found standing 
in a large and stately room, paved with black and white 
stones : and only the Commander of Jaffnapatam, who 
brought us from Manaar, standing by him ; who was to 
succeed him in the government of that place. On the 
further side of the room, stood three of the chief Captains 
bareheaded. 

First, " he bade us welcome out of our long captivity," and 
told us "That we were free men: and that he should have 
been glad if he could have been an instrument to redeem us 
sooner ; having endeavoured as much for us as for his own 
people.." For all which, we thanked him heartily: telling him, 
" We knew it to be true." 

The Governor perceiving I could speak the Portuguese 
tongue, began to inquire concerning the affairs of the King 
and country very particularly; and oftentimes asked about 
such matters as he himself knew better than I. To all his 
questions, my too much experience enabled me to give a 
satisfactory reply. Some of the most remarkable matters he 
demanded of me, were these. 

First, they inquired much about the reason and intent of 
our coming to Kottiaar: to which, I answered them at 

Then they asked, "If the King of Kandy had any issue ? " I 
told tin 111. '" As report went, lie had none." 

And, "• Who were the greatest in the realm, next to him? " 
I answered, "There were none of renown left, the King had 
royed them all." 

" 1 low the hearts of the people stood affected ? " I answered, 
" Much against their King : he being so cruel." 



Captain k. Knox 



|,t: mu'^XJ Conversation with Dutch Governor. 429 

" If we had never been brought into his presence ? " I told 
them, " No, nor never had had a near sight of him." 

" What strength he had for war ? " I answered, " Not well 
able to assault them, by reason that the hearts of his people 
were not true to him : but that the strength of his country 
consisted in mountains and woods, as much as in the people." 

" What army could he raise upon occasion ? " I answered 
" I knew not well ; but, as I thought, about thirty thousand 
men." J 

"Why would he not make peace with them: they so 
much suing for it, and sending presents to please him?" 
I answered, " I was not one of his Council, and knew not his 
meaning." 

But they demanded of me, " What I thought might be 
the reason or occasion of it ? " I answered, " Living securely 
in the mountains, he feareth none; and for traffic he 
regardeth it not." 

" Which way was best and most secure to send spies or 
intelligence to Kandy ? " I told them, " By the way that goeth 
to Jaffnapatam ; and by some of that country's people, who 
have great correspondence with the people of Nuweraka'lawe, 
one of the King's countries." 

"What I thought would become of that land after the King's 
decease ? " I told them, " I thought, he having no issue : it 
might fall into their hands." 

" How many Englishmen had served the King, and what 
became of them ? " Which I gave them an account of. 

" Whether I had an acquaintance or discourse with the 
great men at Court ? " I answered, " That I was too small 
to have any friendship or intimacy or hold discourse with 
them." 

" How the common people used to talk concerning them 
[the Dutch] ? " I answered, "They used much to commend 
their justice and good government in the territories and over 
the people belonging unto them." 

" Whether the King did take counsel of any, or rule and act 
only by his own will and pleasure ? " I answered, " I was a 
stranger at Court, and how could I know that ?" 

"But," they asked further, " what was my opinion ? " I 
replied, " He is so great, that there is none great enough to 
give him counsel." 



430 The conversation continued. [^^mSJSV., 

Concerning the French : " if the King knew not of their 
coming, before they came ? " I answered, " I thought not, 
because their coming seemed strange and wonderful unto the 
people." 

" How they had proceeded in treating with the King? " I 
answered as shall be related hereafter, when I come to speak 
of the French detained in this land. 

" If I knew any way or means to be used, whereby the 
prisoners in Kandy might be set free ? " I told them, " Means 
I knew none, unless they could do it by war." 

Also they inquired about the manner of executing those 
whom the King commands to be put to death. They inquired 
also very curiously concerning the manner of our surprisal, 
and entertainment or usage among them ; and in what 
parts of the land, we had our residence : and particularly 
concerning myself, in what parts of the land, and how long 
in each, I had dwelt; and after what manner I lived there ; 
and of my age; and in what part or place when GOD sent 
me home, I should take up my abode ? To all which, I 
gave answers. 

They desired to know also, how many Englishmen there 
were yet remaining behind. I gave them an account of 
sixteen men, and also of eighteen children born there. 

They much inquiredconcerning their Ambassadors detained 
there, and of their behaviour and manner of living ; also 
what the King allowed them for maintenance ; and concerning 
several officers of quality, prisoners there ; and in general, 
about all the rest of their nation. 

And what " countenance the King showed to those 
Dutchmen that came running away to him ? " I answered, 
" The Dutch runaways, the King looks upon as rogues." 

And concerning the Portuguese, they inquired also. I told 
them, " The Portuguese were about some fifty or threescore 
persons : and six or seven of those, were European born." 

They asked moreover, "How we had made our escape ? and 
which way ? and by what towns we passed ? and how long 
we were in our journey ?" To all which I answered at large. 
Then the Governor asked me "What was my intent and 
desire ? " I told him, " To have passage to our own nation 
at Fort Saint George." 

In which he answered, u That suddenly [immediately] there 



Capta i5Sh K X:] Rutland recovers from the ague. 431 

would be no convenient opportunity : but his desire was that 
we would go with him to Batavia ; where the General his 
father, would be very glad to see us." Which it was not in 
our power to deny. 

Then he commanded to call a Dutch Captain ; who was 
over the countries adjacent, subject to their jurisdiction. To 
whom he gave orders to take us home to his house, and 
there well to entertain us, and also to send for a tailor to 
make us clothes. 

Upon which I told him : " That his kindness shown us 
already, was more than we could have desired. It would be 
a sufficient favour now to supply us with a little money upon 
a bill to be paid at Fort Saint George, that we might 
therewith clothe ourselves." 

To which he answered, " That he would not deny me any 
sum I should demand, and clothe us upon his own account 
besides." For which, we humbly thanked his Lordship : and 
so took our leave of him ; and went home with the aforesaid 
Captain. 

The Governor presently sent me money by his steward 
for expenses when we walked abroad in the city. 

We were nobly entertained without lack of anything all 
the time we stayed at Colombo. My consort's ague 
increased, and grew very bad ; but the Chief Surgeon, by 
order, daily came to see him ; and gave him such potions of 
physic, that by GOD's blessing, he soon after recovered. 

During my being here, I wrote a letter to my fellow- 
prisoners that I left behind me in Kandy : wherein I 
described, at large, the way we went, so that they might 
plainly understand the same ; which I finding to be safe and 
secure, advised them when GOD permitted, to steer the 
same course. This letter I left with the new Governor of 
Colombo and desired him, when opportunity presented, to 
send it to them : who said he would have it copied out into 
Dutch, for the benefit of their prisoners there ; and promised 
to send both together. 

The Governor seemed to be pleased with my aforesaid 
relations and replies to his demands; insomuch that he 
afterwards appointed one that well understood Portuguese to 
write down all the former particulars. Which being done ; 
for further satisfaction, they brought me pen and paper, 



432 They sail to Batayia. [ Capt ifi a *- h K X 

desiring me to write the same, that I had related to them, 
in English and to sign it with my hand : which I was not 
unwilling to do. 

Upon the Governor's departure, there were great and 
royal feasts made : to which he always sent for me. Here 
were exceeding great varieties of food, wine and sweetmeats ; 
and music. 

Some two and twenty days after our arrival at Colombo, 
the Governor went on board ship to sail to Batavia ; and 
took us with him. At which time there were many scores 
of ordnance fired. 

We sailed all the day with flag and pennant under it ; 
being out both day and night ; in a ship of about 800 tons 
burden ; and a soldier standing armed as a sentinel at the 
cabin door, both night and day. The Governor so far 
favoured me that I was in his own mess, and eat at his 
table ; where every meal, we had ten or twelve dishes of 
meat, with variety of wine. 

We set sail from Colombo the 24th of November ; and the 
5th of January [1680] anchored in Batavia road. 

As we came to greater men, so we found greater kindness : 
for the General of Batavia's reception of us and favours to 
us, exceeded if possible, those of the Governor his son. As 
soon as we came before him ; seeming to be very glad, he took 
me by the hand and bade me " heartily welcome, thanking 
GOD on our behalf, that had appeared so miraculously in 
our deliverance ; " telling us withal, " that he had omitted no 
means for our redemption ; and that if it had been in his 
power, we should long before have had our liberty." 

I humbly.thanked his Excellency, and said, " That I knew 
it to be true ; and that though it missed of an effect, yet his 
good will was not the less, neither were our obligations ; 
being ever bound to thank and pray for him." 

Then his own tailor was ordered to take measure of us, 
and to furnish us with two suits of apparel. He gave us 
also money for tobacco and betel, and to spend in the city. 
All the time we stayed there, our quarters were in the 
Captain of the Castle's house. And oftentimes the General 
would send for me to his own table, at which sat only 
himself and his lady who was all bespangled with diamonds 
and pearls. Sometimes his sons and daughters-in-law, with 



Captain R. Knox."] A „, T t-xt,-,™ t-« 

Marchi63.J AT LENGTH, COME HOME TO ENGLAND. 433 

some other strangers did eat with him : the trumpets sounding 
all the while. b 

We finding ourselves thus kindly entertained, and our 
habits changed ; saw that we were no more captives in 
kandy, nor yet prisoners elsewhere : therefore we cut off 
our beards which we had brought with us out of our 
captivity (for until then, we cut them not) ; GOD having 
rolled away the reproach of Kandy from us. 

Here also, they did examine me again, concerning the 
passages of Kandy ; causing all to be written down which I 
said and requiring my hand to the same : which I refused 
as I had done before, and upon the same account— because 
I understood not the Dutch language. Whereupon they 
persuaded me to write a certificate upon another paper 
under my hand, that what I had informed them of was true. 
Which I did. This examination was taken by two secretaries, 
who were appointed to demand answers of me concerning 
the King of Ceylon and his country : which they committed 
to writing from my mouth. 

The General's youngest son being to go home Admiral of 
the ships this year, the General kindly offered us passage 
upon their ships; promising me entertainment at his sch?s 
own table, as the Governor of Colombo had given me in 
my voyage thither : which offer he made me, he said, " that I 
might better satisfy their Company in Holland concerning 
the affairs of Ceylon ; which they would be very glad to know." 
^ At this time came two English merchants hither from 
Bantam : with whom the General was pleased to permit us 
to go. 

But when we came to Bantam, the English Agent [of the 
English East India Company] very kindly entertained us ; 
and being not willing that we should go to the Dutch for a 
passage, since GOD had brought us to our own nation, 
ordered our passage in the good ship Ceesar King then in the 
road, for England the land of our nativity and our lon«* 
wished for port. Where by the good providence of GOD^ 
we arrived safe in the month of September [1680]. 



Ef/c gar. I. 




434 T IIE Malabars in the north tarts. [ Capta M ; ^S: 



Chapter XIII. 

Concerning some other nations, and chiefly 

European that now live in the island. 

The Portuguese and Dutch . 

Aving said all this concerning the English people, 
it may not be unacceptable to give some account of 
other whites, who either voluntarily or by constraint 
inhabit there : and they are besides the English 
already spoken of; Portuguese, Dutch and French. 
But before I enter upon a discourse of any of these, I 
shall detain my readers a little with another nation inhabiting 
this land, I mean the Malabars : both because they are 
strangers and derive themselves from another country ; and 
also because I have had occasion to mention them sometimes 
in this book. 

These Malabars, then, are voluntary inhabitants of the 
island ; and have a country here, though the limits of it are 
but small. It lies to the northward of the King's coasts, 
betwixt him and the Hollanders. Corunda Ova parts it 
from the King's territories. Through this country we passed, 
when we made our escape. The language they speak is 
peculiar to themselves ; so that a Cingalese cannot understand 
them, nor they a Cingalese. 

They have a Prince over them, called Coilat Wannea, that 
is independent both of the King of Kandy on the one hand, 
and of the Dutch on the other : only that he pays an acknow- 
ledgment to the Hollanders, who have endeavoured to subdue 
him by wars, but they cannot yet do it. Yet they have 
brought him to be a tributary to them, viz. : to pay a certain 
rate of elephants per annum. The King and this Prince 
maintain a friendship and correspondence together : and 
when the King lately sent an army against the Hollanders, 
this Prince let them pass through his country; and went 
himself in person, to direct the King's people; when they 
took one or two forts from them. 



c * ptt Btachrf8?:] The King tributary to Portuguese. 435 

The people are in great subjection under him. They pay 
him rather greater taxes than the Cingalese do to their 
King : but he is nothing so cruel. He victualleth his soldiers 
during the time they are upon the guard, either about the 
palace or abroad in the wars : whereas it is the contrary in 
the King's country ; for the Cingalese soldiers bear their own 
expenses. He hath a certain rate out of every land that is 
sown ; which is to maintain his charge. 

The commodities of this country are elephants, honey, 
butter, milk, wax, cows, wild cattle ; of the last three, a 
great abundance. As for corn, it is more scarce than in the 
Cingalese country ; neither have they any cotton : but they 
come up into Nuwerakalawe yearly, with great droves of 
cattle ; and lade back both corn and cotton. And to buy 
these they bring up cloth made of the same cotton, which 
they can make better than the Cingalese ; also they bring 
salt, and salt fish, brass basins, and other commodities ; which 
they get of the Hollander. Because the King permits not his 
people to have any manner of trade with the Hollander ; so 
they receive the Dutch commodities at second hand. 

We will now proceed unto the European nations : and we 
will begin with the Portuguese; who deserve the first place; 
being the oldest standers there. 

The sea-coasts round about the island were formerly under 
their power and government : and so held for many years. 
In which time, many of the natives became Christians, and 
learned the Portuguese tongue ; which to this day is much 
spoken in that land, for even the King himself understands 
and speaks it excellently well. 

The Portuguese have often made invasions throughout 
the whole land, even to Kandy the metropolis of the island ; 
which they have burnt more than once with the palace and 
the temples. And so formidable have they been that the 
King hath been forced to turn tributary to them, paying them 
three elephants per annum. However the middle of the 
island, viz., Conde Uda, standing upon mountains, and so 
strongly fortified by nature ; could never be brought into 
subjection by them, much less by any other: but hath 
always been under the power of their own kings. 

There were great and long wars between the King of 
28 



436 C. Sa, a Portuguese General. [ &pl 4£?5E 

Ceylon and the Portuguese ; and many of the brave 
Portuguese generals are still in memory among them : of 
whom I shall relate some passages presently. Great 
vexation they gave the King by their irruptions into his 
dominions, and the mischiefs they did him ; though often- 
times with great loss on their side. Great battles have been 
lost and won between them ; with great destruction of men 
on both parts. But being greatly distressed at last ; he sent 
and called in the Hollander to his aid : by whose seasonable 
assistance, together with his own arms ; the King totally 
dispossessed the Portuguese and routed them out of the 
land. Whose room the Dutch now occupy; paying 
themselves for their pains. 

At the surrender of Colombo, which was the last place the 
Portuguese held, the King made a proclamation, that all 
Portuguese which would come unto him, should be well 
entertained : which accordingly many did, with their whole 
families, wives, children and servants ; choosing rather to 
be under him than the Dutch. And divers of them are alive 
to this day, living in Conde Uda ; and others are born 
there. To all of whom, he alloweth monthty maintenance, 
yea also and provisions for their slaves and servants which 
they brought up with them. These people are privileged to 
travel the countries above all other whites, as knowing they 
will not run away. Also when there was a trade at the sea- 
ports ; they were permitted to go down with commodities, 
clear from all customs and duties. 

Besides those who came voluntarily to live under the King : 
there are others whom he took prisoners. The Portuguese 
of the best quality, the King took into his service : who have 
been, most of them, since cut off; according to his kind 
custom towards his courtiers. The rest of them have an 
allowance from the King ; and follow husbandry, trading 
about the country, distilling arrack, keeping taverns ; or the 
women sew women's waistcoats, and the men sew men's 
doublets for sale. 

I ^hall now mention some of the last Portuguese generals, 
all within the present King's reign; with some passages 
concerning them. 

CONSTANTINE S.\, General of the Portuguese army in 
Ceylon when the Portuguese had looting in this land, was 



C '' pi 'm.L. K ," hj Caspar FlGARI, a BRAVE GENERAL. 437 

very successful against this present King. He ran quite 
through the island unto the royal city itself; which he set 
on fire, with the temples therein. Insomuch that the King 
sent a message to him signifying that he was willing to 
become his tributary. But he proudly sent him word back 
again, " That that would not serve his turn : he should not 
only be tributary but slave to his master, the King of 
Portugal." This, the King of Kandy could not brook, being 
of an high stomach ; and said, " He would fight to the last 
drop of blood, rather than stoop to that." 

There were at this time, many commanders in the General's 
army, who were natural Cingalese : with these, the King 
dealt secretly ; assuring them that if they would turn on 
h s side, he would gratify them with very ample rewards. 
The King's promises took effect ; and they all revolted from 
the General. The King now — not daring to trust the 
revolted to make trial of their truth and fidelity — put them in 
the forefront of his battle ; and commanded them to give 
the first onset. The King at that time, might have had 20,000 
or 30,000 men in the field : who, taking their opportunity, 
set upon the Portuguese army and gave them such a total 
overthrow; that, as they report in that country, not one of 
them escaped. The General seeing his defeat, and himself 
likely to be taken ; called his black boy to give him water 
to drink ; and snatching the knife that stuck by his boy's 
side, stabbed himself with it. 

Another General after him, was Lewis Tissera. He swore 
that he would make the King eat coracan tallipa, that is, a 
kind of hasty pudding made of water and the coracan flour, 
which is reckoned the worst fare of that island. The King 
afterwards took this Lewis Tissera; and put him in chains 
in the common gaol, and made him eat of the same fare. 
And there is a ballad of this man and this passage, sung 
much among the common people there to this day. 

Their next General was Simon CAREE, a natural Cingalese, 
but baptized. He is said to have been a great commander. 
When he had got any victory over the Cingalese, he did 
exercise great cruelty. He would make the women heat their 
own children to pieces in their mortars; wherein they used to 
beat their corn. 

GASPAR FlGAR] had a Portuguese father and a Cingalese 



438 " Brother, Stay ! I would speak." [ Capt ta*h K X: 

mother. He was the last general they had in this country, 
and a brave soldier : but degenerated not from his pre- 
decessors in cruelty. He would hang up the people by the 
heels, and split them down the middle. He had his axe 
wrapped in a white cloth, which he carried with him into the 
field, to execute those he suspected to be false to him or 
that attempted to run away. Smaller malefactors he was 
merciful to, cutting off only their right hands. Several 
whom he hath so served are yet living, whom I have seen. 

This Gaspar came up one day to fight against the King : 
and the King resolved to fight him. The General fixed his 
camp at Motaupul in Hotterakorle. And in order to the 
King's coming down to meet the Portuguese, preparation 
was made for him at a place called Catta coppul, which might 
be ten or twelve miles distant from the Portuguese army. 
Gaspar knew of the place by some spies, but of the time of 
the King's coming he was informed that it was a day sooner 
than really it happened. According to this information, he 
resolved privately to march thither; and come upon him in 
the night unawares. And because he knew the King was a 
politician, and would have his spies abroad to watch the 
General's motion ; the General sent for all the drummers and 
pipers to play and dance in his camp that thereby the King's 
spies might not suspect that he was upon the march, but 
merry and secure in his camp. 

In the meantime, having set his people all to their dancing 
and drumming, he left a small party there to secure the 
baggage ; and away he goes in the night with his army, and 
arrives at Catta coppul, intending to fall upon the King. But 
when he came thither, he found the King was not yet come ; 
but into the King's tent he went, and sate him down in the 
seat appointed for the King. Here he heard where the King- 
was with his camp ; which being not far off, he marched 
thither in the morning, and fell upon him ; and gave him one 
of the greatest routs that ever he had. 

The King himself had a narrow escape. For had it not 
been for a Dutch company, which the Dutch had sent a little 
before for his guard : who, after his own army fled, turned 
head and stopped the Portuguese for a while; he had been 
seized. The Portuguese Genera] was so near the King, that 
he called after him, Home, that is " Brother, Stay ! I would 



0lBl iL2*5E] Dutch get Colombo by treachery. 439 

speak with you !" But the King having got atop of the hills, 
was safe : and so Gaspar retired to his quarters. 

This gallant expert Commander, that had so often 
vanquished the Cingalese ; could not cope with another 
European nation. For when the Hollanders came to besiege 
Colombo, he was sent against them with his army. They 
told him before he went, that now he must look to himself: 
for he was not now to fight against Cingalese ; but against 
soldiers that would look him in the face. But he made 
nothing of them, and said that he would serve them as he 
had served the Cingalese. The Hollanders met him, and 
they fought; but they had before contrived a stratagem, 
which he was not aware of. They had placed some field- 
pieces in the rear of their army; and after a small skirmish, 
they retreated as if they had been worsted, which was only 
to draw the Portuguese nearer upon their guns: which, when 
they had brought them in shot of, they opened on a sudden 
to the right and left, and fired upon them; and so routed 
them, and drove them into Colombo. 

This Gaspar was in the city, when it was taken ; and was 
himself taken prisoner : who was afterwards sent to Goa ; 
where he died. 

And so much of the Portuguese. 

The Dutch succeeded the Portuguese. The first occasion 
of whose coming into this land was that the present King, 
being wearied and overmatched with the Portuguese, sent for 
them into his aid long ago from Batavia. And they did 
him good service; but they feathered their own nests by the 
means ; and are now possessed of all the sea-coasts, and 
considerable territories thereunto adjoining. 

The King of the country keeps up an irreconcilable war 
against them : the occasion of which is said to have been this. 

Upon the besieging of Colombo, which was about the year 
1655 : it was concluded upon between the King and the 
Dutch, that their enemies the Portuguese being expelled 
thence; the city was to be delivered up by the Dutch into 
the King's hands. Whereupon the King himself in person, 
with all his power; went down to this war, to assist and 
and join with the Hollanders : without whose help, as it is 
generally reported, the Dutch could not have taken the city. 



440 King and Dutch at constant war. [ Capta Mj C h K X. - 

But being surrendered to them, and they gotten into it ; the 
King lay looking for when they would come, according 
to their former articles, and put him into possession of 
it. Meanwhile they turned on a sudden, and fell upon him, 
contrary to his expectation — whether the King had first broke 
word with them is not known — and took bag and baggage 
from him. Which provoked him in so high a manner, that 
he maintains a constant hostility against them; detains their 
Ambassadors; and forbids his people, upon pain of death, to 
hold commerce with them. 

So that the Dutch have enough to do to maintain those 
places which they have. Oftentimes the King, at unawares 
falls upon them and does them great spoil : sometimes 
giving no quarter, but cutting off the heads of whomsoever 
he catches : which are brought up and hung upon trees near 
the city ; many of which I have seen. Sometimes he brings 
up his prisoners alive and keeps them by the highway sides, a 
spectacle to the people in memory of his victories over them. 
Many of these are now living there in a most miserable 
condition, having but a very small allowance from him ; so 
that they are forced to beg, and it is a favour when they can 
get leave to go abroad and do it. 

The Dutch, therefore, not being able to deal with him by 
the sword, being unacquainted with the woods and the 
Cingalese manner of fighting; do endeavour for peace with 
him all they can : dispatching divers Ambassadors to him, 
and sending great presents ; by carrying letters to him in 
great state, wrapped up in silks wrought with gold and silver ; 
bearing them all the way upon their heads, in token of great 
honour; honouring him with great and high titles; subscribing 
themselves his subjects and servants ; telling him that the 
forts they build, are out of loyalty to him, to secure His 
Majesty's country from foreign enemies ; and that when they 
came up into his country, it was to seek maintenance. 

And by these flatteries and submissions, they sometimes 
obtain to keep what they have gotten from him; and 
sometimes nothing will prevail : he, neither regarding their 
Ambassadors nor receiving the presents; but taking his 
opportunity upon a sudden, of setting on them with his forces. 

I lis craft and success in taking Belligam fort, in the county 
of Habberagon; may deserve to be mentioned. The Cingalese 



Capt:i Mareh K i n 68^] Cingalese capture Belligam Fort. 441 

had besieged the fort, and knowing the Dutch had no water 
there, but that all they had was conveyed through a trench 
wrought under ground from a river near by : they besieged 
them so closely and planted so many guns towards the mouth 
of this trench ; that they could not come out to fetch water. 
They cut down wood also, and made bundles of faggots 
therewith : which they piled up around about the fort at some 
distance ; and every night removed them nearer and nearer : 
so their works became higher than the fort. Their main 
intent by these faggot-works, was to have brought them just 
under the fort, and then to have set it on fire : the walls of 
the fort being for the most part of wood. There was also a 
boabab tree growing just by the fort; on which they planted 
guns, and shot right down into them.- The houses in the 
fort being thatched ; they shot also fire arrows among them : 
so that the besieged we. e forced to pull off the straw from their 
houses, which proved a great inconvenience to them, it being 
a rainy season; so that they lay open to the weather and cold. 

The Dutch finding themselves in this extremity, desired 
quarter : which was granted them at the King's mercy. 
They came out and laid down their arms ; all but the officers, 
who still wore theirs. None were plundered of anything 
they had about them. The fort, the Cingalese demolished 
to the ground ; and brought up the four guns to the King's 
palace : where they, among others, stand ; mounted on broad 
carriages, before his gate. 

The Dutch were brought two or three days' journey from 
the fort into the country they called Oowah ; and there 
were placed with a guard about them : having but a small 
allowance appointed them ; insomuch that afterwards having 
spent what they had ; they perished for hunger. So that of 
about ninety Hollanders taken prisoners ; there were not 
above five and twenty living when I came away. 

There are several white Ambassadors, besides other 
Cingalese people, by whom the Dutch have sent letters 
and presents to the King : whom he keeps from returning 
back again. They are all bestowed in several houses, with 
soldiers to guard them. And though they are not in chains ; 
yet none is permitted to come to them or speak with them. 
It not being the custom of that land for any to come to the 
speech of Ambassadors. Their allowance is brought them 



442 The first Dutch Ambassador seduced, [^'m"^^".' 

ready dressed out of the King's palace ; being of all sorts 
and varieties that the land affords. 

After they have remained in this condition some years, the 
guards are somewhat slackened and the soldiers that are to 
watch them grow remiss in their duty; so that now the 
Ambassadors walk about the streets, and anybody goes to 
their houses and talks with them : that is after they have been 
so long in the country, that all their news is stale and grown 
out of date. But this liberty is only winked at, not allowed 

When they have been there a great while, the King usually 
gives them slaves, both men and women : the more to 
alienate their minds from their own country ; and that they 
may stay with him, with the more willingness and content. 
For his design is to make them, if he can, inclinable to 
serve him : as he prevailed with one of these Ambassadors 
to do for the love of a woman. The manner of it I shall 
relate immediately. 

There were five Ambassadors whom he hath thus detained, 
since my coming there ; of each of whom, I shall speak a 
little : besides two, whom he sent away voluntarily. 

The first of these was sent up by the Hollanders, some 
time before the rebellion against the King ^in 1664] ; who 
detained him in the city. After the rebellion, the King sent 
for him to him to the mountain of Gauluda ; whither he had 
retreated from the rebels. The King not long after removed 
to Digligy, where he now keeps his Court : but left the 
Ambassador at Gauluda remaining by himself, with a guard 
of soldiers. In this uncomfortable condition, upon a dismal 
mountain, void of all society; he continued many days. 
During which time, a Cingalese and his wife fell out, and 
she being discontented with her husband, to escape from him 
flies to this Ambassador's house for shelter. The woman 
being somewhat beautiful ; he fell greatly in love with her : 
and to obtain her, he sent to the King and proffered him his 
service if he would permit him to enjoy her company. 
Which the King was very willing and glad to do, having now 
obtained that which he had long aimed at, to get him into 
his service. 

Hereupon the King sent him word that he granted his 
desire, and withal sent to both of them rich apparel ; and to 
her, many jewels and bracelets of gold and silver. 



Cvb M^ Phi - x>nd Dutch Ambassador dies. 443 

Suddenl)* afterwards there was a great house prepared 
for them in the city, furnished with all kind of furniture 
out of the King's treasure, and at his proper cost and cha 
Which being finished, he was brought away from his moun- 
tain, into it : but from thenceforward he never saw his 
wife more, according to the custom of the Court. And he was 
entertained in the King's service, and made which 

is Chief over all the smiths and carpenters in Conde Uda. 

Some short time after, the King about to send his forces 
against a fort of the Hollanders called Arranderre, built by 
them in the year 1666 ; he, though in the King's service, yet 
being a well-wisher to his country, had privately sent a 
letter of advice to the Dutch concerning the King's intention 
and purpose; an answer to which was intercepted, ar.d 
brought to the King; wherein Si thanks were returned to him 
from the Dutch for his loyalty to his own nation, and that 
they would accordingly prepare for the King's assault." 

The King having read this letter, sent for him, and bade 
him read it ; which he excused, pretending it was so written 
that he could not. Whereupon immediately another 
Dutchman was sent for; who read it before the King, and 
told him the contents of it. At which it is reported that the 
King said Bcia pas mettandi ..::.: -.: that is. "He 

serves me for fear, and them for love," or " His fear is here, 
and his love there : " and forthwith commanded to carry 
him forth to execution ; which was accordingly done upon 
him. It is generally said that this letter was framed by 
somebody on purpose to ruin him. 

The next Ambassador after him was Hendrick Dk.uk. a 
fine gentleman, and a good friend of the English. This 
was he who was commissioned in the year 1664 to intercede 
with the King on behalf of the English, that they might have 
liberty to go home; and with him they were made to believe 
they should return : which happened at the same time that 
Sir Edward Winter sent his letters to the King for us; 
which I have already spoken of in the Fifth Chapter of this 
Fourth Part. 

This Ambassador was much in the King's favour, with 
whom he was detained till he died. And then the Kinc 
his body down to Colombo, carried in a palankin with great 
state and lamentation; and accompanied with his great 
commanders and many soldiers. 



444 The third will "die like a man." [ Capta M a ?ch K X: 

Some time after the loss of the fort of Arranderre, which 
was about the year 1670 : the Dutch sent up another 
Ambassador to see if he could obtain peace : which was the 
first time their Ambassadors began to bring up letters upon 
their heads in token of extraordinary reverence. This man 
was much favoured by the King, and was entertained with 
great ceremony and honour: he clothing him in Cingalese 
habit, which I never knew done before nor since. But being 
weary of his long stay, and of the delays that were made ; 
having often made motions to go down to the coast and 
still he was deferred from day to day : at length he made a 
resolution, that if he had not leave by such a day, he would 
go without it; saying "the former ambassador [H. Draak], 
who died there, died like a woman ; but it should be seen 
that he would die like a man." 

At the appointed day, he girt on his sword, and repaired to 
the gates of the King's palace ; pulling off his hat, and 
making his obeisance, as if the King were present before 
him : and thanking him for the favours and honours he had 
done him; and so took his leave. And there being some 
Englishmen present, he generously gave them some money 
to drink his health : and in this resolute manner departed, 
with some two or three black servants that attended on him. 
The upshot of which was, that the King, not being willing 
to prevent his resolution by violence, sent one of his 
noblemen to conduct him down : and so he had the good 
fortune to get home safely to Colombo. 

The next Ambassador after him, was John Baptista : a 
man of a milder spirit than the former ; endeavouring to 
please and show compliance with the King. He obtained 
many favours of the King, and several slaves, both men and 
women: and living well, with servants about him; is the 
more patient in waiting the King's leisure, till he pleaseth to 
send him home. 

The last Ambassador that came up while I was there, 
brought up a lion ; which the Dutch thought would be the 
most acceptable present that they could send to the Kin- : 
as indeed did all others. It was but a whelp. But the 
King did never receive it, supposing it not so famous as he 
had heard by report lions were. This man with his lion was 
brought up and kept in the county of Oocldaboolat, nearly 



^^JdJrfsH Two other Ambassadors detained. 445 

twenty miles from the King's Court : where he remained 
about a year; in the which time the lion died. 

The Ambassador, being weary of living thus like a prisoner, 
with a guard always upon him, often attempted to go back ; 
seeing the King would not permit him audience : but the 
guards would not let him. Having divers times made 
disturbances in this manner to get away home ; the King 
commanded to bring him up into the city to an house that 
was prepared for him, standing some distance from the 
Court. Where having waited many days, and seeing no 
signs of audience ; he resolved to make his appearance before 
the King by force : which he attempted to do ; when the King 
was abroad taking his pleasure. The soldiers of his guard 
immediately ran, and acquainted the noblemen at Court of 
his coming; who delayed not to acquaint the King thereof. 
Whereupon the King gave order forthwith to meet him ; and 
where they met him in that same place to stop him till 
further orders. And there they kept him, not letting him go 
either forward or backward. In this manner and place, he 
remained for three days : till the King sent orders that he 
might return to his house whence he came. This the King 
did to tame him. But afterwards he was pleased to call him 
before him. And there he remained when I left the country; 
maintained with plenty of provisions at the King's charge. 

The number of Dutch now living there may be about fifty 
or sixty. Some whereof are Ambassadors ; some prisoners 
of war ; some runaways and malefactors that have escaped 
the hand of justice, and got away from the Dutch quarters. 
To all of whom, are allotted respective allowances ; but the 
runaways have the least, the King not loving such, though 
giving them entertainment. 

The Dutch here love drink, and so practise their proper 
vice in this country. One who was a great man in the Court, 
would sometime come into the King's presence, half disguised 
with drink ; which the King often passed over : but once 
asked him, " Why do you thus disorder yourself that when 
I send for you about my business, you are not in a capacity 
to serve me?" He boldly replied, "That as soon as his 
mother took away her milk from him ; she supplied it with 
wine : and ever since," saith he, " I have used myself to it," 
With this answer, the King seemed to be pleased. And indeed 



446 The Dutch disregard castes. [ Capt l? a * ch K i"3*: 

the rest of the white men are generally of the same temper; 
insomuch that the Cingalese have a saying, "That wine is as 
natural to white men as milk to children." 

All differences of ranks and qualities are disregarded 
among those Cingalese people that are under the Dutch. 
Neither do the Dutch make any distinction between the 
" Hondrews," and the low and inferior castes of men ; and 
permit them to go in the same habit, and sit upon stools, as 
well as the best Hondrews : and the lower ranks may eat and 
intermarry with the higher without any punishment or any 
cognizance taken of it. Which is a matter that the Cingalese 
in Conde Uda are much offended with the Dutch for; and 
makes them think, that they themselves are sprung from some 
mean rank or extract. And this prejudiceth this people against 
them ; that they have not such an esteem for them. For 
to a Cingalese, his rank and honour is as dear as his life. 

And thus much of the Dutch. 





Lapta M^h K i°sij French fleet arrives at Kottiaar. 447 



Chapter XIV. 

Concerning the French. With some inquiries what 

should make the King detain white men as he does. 

And how the Christian religion is maintained 

among the Christians there. 

Bout the year 1672 or 1673 ; there came fourteen 
sail of great ships from the King of France to settle 
a trade here. Monsieur De la Haye the Admiral, 
put in with his fleet into the port of Kottiaar. From 
whence, he sent up three men by way of embassy, to 
the King of Kandy : whom he entertained very nobly, and gave 
every one of them a chain of gold about their necks, and a 
sword all inlaid with silver, and a gun. And afterwards he 
sent one of them down to the Admiral with his answer which 
encouraged him to send up others, that is, an Ambassador, 
and six more, who were to reside there, till the return of the 
fleet back again ; the fleet being about to sail to the coast 
of Coromandel. 

To the fleet, the King sent all manner of provisions, as 
much as his ability could afford; and not only permitted 
but assisted them to build a fort in the bay : which they 
manned, partly with their own people and partly with 
Cingalese, whom the king sent and lent to the French. But 
the Admiral finding that the King's provisions, and what else 
could be brought in the island, would not suffice for so great 
a fleet : was forced to depart for the coast of Coromandel, 
promising the King by the Ambassador aforementioned, 
speedily to return again. So leaving some of his men with 
the King's supplies [auxiliaries] to keep the fort till his return : 
he weighed anchor and set sail. But never came back again. 
Some reported they were destroyed by a storm ; others by the 
Dutch. The Admiral had sent up to the King great presents, 
but he would not presently receive them ; that it might not 
seem as if he wanted anything or were greedy of things 



448 The French Ambassador captive. [ Capta i'L?ch K ,68": 

brought to him : but since the French returned not according 
to their promise; he scorned ever after to receive them. At 
first, he neglected the present out of State; and ever since 
out of anger and indignation. The French fort at Kottiaar 
was a little after, easily taken by the Dutch. 

But to return to the Ambassador and his retinue. He 
rode up from Kottiaar on horseback ; which was very grand in 
that country : and being, with his company, gotten somewhat 
short of the city [of Digligy], was appointed there to 
stay until an house should be prepared in the city for their 
entertainment. When it was signified to him that their 
house was ready for their reception ; they were conducted 
forward by certain nobleman sent by the King, carrying with 
them a present for his majesty. The Ambassador came 
riding on horseback into the city, which the noblemen 
observing, dissuaded him from, and advised him to walk on 
foot ; telling him it was not allowable nor the custom : but 
he, regarding them not, rode by the palace gate. It offended 
the King ; but he took not much notice of it for the present. 

The Ambassador alighted at his lodgings, where he and 
his companions were nobly entertained ; and provisions sent 
them ready dressed out of the King's palace three times a 
day. Great plenty they had of all things the country 
afforded. 

After some time, the King sent to him to come to his 
audience. In great state, he was conducted to the Court ; 
accompanied with several of the nobles that were sent to 
him. Coming — thus to the Court in the night — as it is the 
King's usual manner at that season [time] to send for foreign 
ministers, and give them audience — he waited there some 
small time about two hours or less, the King not yet 
admitting him. Which he took in such great disdain, and 
for such an affront that he was made to stay at all ; much 
more so long : that he would tarry no longer but went 
towards his lodgings. Some about the Court observing this, 
would have stopped him by elephants that stood in the court, 
turning them before the gate, through which he was to pass : 
but he would not so be stopped, but laid his hand upon his 
sword, as if he meant to make his way by the elephants. 
The people seeing his resolution, called away the elephants, 
and let him pass. 



Q **4IdSfc] Discord among the Frenchmen. 449 

As soon as the King heard of it, he was highly displeased ; 
insomuch that he commanded some of his officers, that they 
should go, and beat them and clap them in chains: which 
was immediately done to all ; excepting the two gentlemen 
that were first sent up by the Admiral. (For these were not 
touched, the King reckoning they did not belong unto this 
Ambassador : neither were they now in his company ; 
excepting that one of them in the combustion got a few 
blows.) They were likewise disarmed, and so have con- 
tinued ever since. Upon this the gentlemen, attendants 
upon the Ambassador, made their complaints to the captain 
of their guards ; excusing themselves and laying all the 
blame upon their Ambassador : urging " that they were his 
attendants, and a soldier must obey his commander, and go 
where he appoints him." Which sayings being told the King, 
he approved thereof, and commanded them out of chains : 
the Ambassador still remaining in them, and so continued 
for six months. After which, he was released from his 
chains, by means of the entreaties his own men made to the 
great men in his behalf. 

The rest of the Frenchmen, seeing how the Ambassador's 
imprudent carriage had brought him to this misery, refused 
any longer to dwell with him : and each of them by the 
King's permission dwells by himself in the city ; being 
maintained at the King's charge. Three of these — whose 
names were Monsieur Du Plessy, son to a gentleman of note 
in France; and Jean Bloom; the third — whose name I cannot 
tell, but he was the Ambassador's boy — the King appointed 
to look to his best horse kept in the palace. This horse 
some time after died, as it is supposed of old age : which 
extremely troubled the King. And imagining they had been 
instrumental in hisdeath, by their carelessness: hecommanded 
two of them, Monsieur Du Plessy and Jean Bloom, to be 
carried away into the mountains, and kept prisor ers in chains. 
Where they remained when I came thence. 

The rest of them follow employments: some whereof distil 
arrack, and keep the greatest taverns in the city. 

Lately — a little before I came from the island — the King 
understanding the disagreements and differences that were 
still kept on foot betwixt the Ambassador and the rest of his 
company, disliked it; and used these means to make them 

ENG. CAR. I. 29 



450 The King tries to make peace. [^^ifiSE 

friends. He sent for them all, the Ambassador and the 
rest; and told them, "that it was not seemly for persons as 
they were, at such a distance from their own country, to 
quarrel and fall out ; and that if they had any love for GOD 
or the King of France or himself ; they should go home with 
the Ambassador and agree and live together." They went 
back together not daring to disobey the King : and as soon 
as they were at home, the King sent a banquet after them of 
sweetmeats and fruits to eat together. They did eat the 
King's banquet; but it would not make the reconcilement. 
For after they had done, each man went home ; and dwelt in 
their own houses, as they did before. It was thought that 
this carriage would offend the King, and that he would, 
at least, take away their allowance : and it is probable, 
before this time the King hath taken vengeance on them. 
But the Ambassador's carriage is so imperious, that they 
would rather venture whatsoever might follow than be 
subject to him. And in this case I left them. 

Since my return to England ; I presumed by a letter to 
inform the French Ambassador then in London of the 
aforesaid matters : thinking myself bound in conscience and 
Christian charity to do my endeavour ; that their friends 
knowing their condition, may use means for their deliverance. 
The letter ran thus. 

" These may acquaint yoar Excellency, that having been a 
Prisoner in the island of Ceylon, under the King of that country 
nearly twenty years : by means of this my long detainment there, 
I became acquainted with the French Ambassador and the other 
gentlemen of his retinue, being in all eight persons ; who were 
sent to treat with the said King in the year 1672, by Monsieur 
De la Ha ye ; who came ivith a fleet to the port of Kottiaar or 
Trincomalcc, from whence he sent these gentlemen. And knowing 
that from thence it is scarcely possible to send any letters or notice 
to other parts — for in all the time of my captivity, I could never 
send one word whereby my friends here might come to hear of my 
condition; until with one more, I made an escape, leaving sixteen 
Englishmen yet there — the kindness I have received from those 
French gentlemen, as also my compassion for them being detained 
in the same place with me: have obliged and constrained me to 



^^Ma^X'.] Reasons for detaining white men. 45 1 

{resume to trouble your Lordship with this paper; not knowing 
any other means whereby I might convey notice to their friends and 
relations, which is all the service I am able to perform for them. 

"The Ambassador's name I know not. There is a kinsman of 
his, called Monsieur Le Serle, and a young gentleman called 
Monsieur Du Plessy, and another named Monsieur La Roche. 
The rest, by name I know not." 

And then an account of them is given, according to what I 
have mentioned above. 

" I shall not presume to be further tedious to your Honour. 
Craving pardon for my boldness, which an affection to those 
gentlemen, being in the same land with me, hath occasioned; 
concerning whom if your Lordship be pleased further to be 
informed, I shall be both willing and ready to be. 

" Yours, &c." 

The Ambassador upon the receipt of this, desired to speak 
with me. Upon whom I waited, and he, after some speech 
with me ; told me he would send word into France of it, and 
gave me thanks for this my kindness to his countrymen. 

It may be worth some inquiry, what the reason might be, 
that the King detains the European people as he does. It 
cannot be out of hope of profit or advantage, for they are so 
far from bringing him any, that they are a very great 
charge ; being all maintained either by him or his people. 
Neither is it in the power of money to redeem any one ; for 
that he neither needs nor values. Which makes me 
conclude it is not out of profit or envy or ill-will, but out of 
love and favour, that he keeps them ; delighting in their 
company, and to have them ready at his command. 

For he is very ambitious of the service of these men ; and 
winks at many of their failings, more than he uses to do 
towards his natural subjects. 

As may appear from a Company of white soldiers he hath, 
who upon their watch used to be very negligent ; one lying 
drunk here, and another there: which remissness in his own 
soldiers, he would scarcely have endured, but it would have 
cost their lives ; but with these, he useth more craft than 
severity to make them more watchful. 

2C, ■ 



/j 5 2 The King's European guard. [ Capt t| a £hi6s*' 

These soldiers are under two Captains, the one a Dutchman 
and the other a Portuguese. They are appointed to guard 
one of the King's magazines ; where they always keep 
sentinel, both by day and night. This is a pretty good 
distance from the Court, and here it was the King contrived 
their station, that they might swear and swagger out of his 
hearing, and that nobody might disturb them nor they 
nobody. The Dutch captain lies at one side of the gate, 
and the Portuguese at the other. 

Once the King, to employ these his white soldiers, and to 
honour them, by letting them see what an assurance he 
reposed in them ; sent one of his boys thither to be kept 
prisoner, which they were very proud of. They kept him 
two years in which time he had learnt both the Dutch and 
Portuguese language. Afterwards the King retook the boy 
into his service; and within a short time after, executed him. 

But the King's reason in sending this boy to be kept by these 
soldiers was probably, not as they supposed and as the king 
himself outwardly pretended, viz.: — to show how much he 
confided in them, but out of design to make them look the 
better to their watch, which their debauchery made them 
very remiss in. For the prisoner's hands only were in chains, 
and not his legs. So that his possibility of running away, 
having his legs at liberty; concerned them to be circumspect 
and wakeful : and they knew if he had escaped it were as 
much as their lives were worth. By this crafty and kind 
way did the king correct the negligence of his white soldiers. 

Indeed his inclinations are much towards the Europeans, 
making them his great officers; accounting them more 
faithful and -trusty than his own people. With these he 
often discourses concerning the affairs of their countries, and 
promotes to places far above their ability and sometimes 
their degree or desert. And indeed all over the land they do 
bear, as it were, a natural respect and reverence to white 
men ; inasmuch as black, they hold to be inferior to white : 
and they say the gods are white, and that the souls of the 
blessed after the resurrection will be white; and therefore 
that black is a rejected and accursed colour. 

And as further signs of the King's favour to them, there are 
many privileges which the white men have and enjoy, as 
tolerated or allowed them from the King, which I fuppose 



Capt Ma^h K x68T.] White men a tax ox the Cingalese. 453 

may proceed from the aforesaid consideration : as, to wear 
any manner of apparel, either gold, silver or silk, shoes and 
stockings, a shoulder belt and sword ; their houses may be 
whitened with lime; and many such things: all which the 
Cingalese are not permitted to do. 

He will also sometimes send for them into his presence, 
and discourse familiarly with them, and entertain them with 
great civilities ; especially white Ambassadors. They are 
greatly chargeable unto his country, but he regards it not in 
the least. So that the people are more like slaves unto us, 
than we to the King : inasmuch as they are enforced by his 
command to bring us maintenance. Whose poverty is 
so great oftentimes, that for want of what they supply us 
with ; themselves, their wives and children are forced to 
suffer hunger. This being as a due tax imposed upon them 
to pay unto us. Neither can they by any power or authority 
refuse the payment thereof to us. For in my own hearing, 
the people once complaining of their poverty and inability to 
give us any longer our allowance, the magistrate or governor 
replied, " It was the King's special command, and who durst 
disannul it ? And if otherwise they could not supply us with 
our maintenance; he bade them sell their wives and children, 
rather than we should want of our due." Such is the favour 
that Almighty GOD hath given Christian people in the sight 
of this heathen King; whose entertainment and usage of them 
is thus favourable. 



If any inquire into the religious exercise and worship 
practised among the Christians there : I am sorry I must 
say it ; I can give but a slender account. For they have no 
churches, nor no priests; and so no meetings together on the 
Lord's days for Divine Worship; but each one reads and 
prays at his own house, as he is disposed. They sanctify the 
day chiefly by refraining work, and meeting together at 
drinking houses. They continue the practice of baptism. 
And there being no priests, they baptize their children them- 
selves with water, and use the words " In the name of the 
FATHER, and of the SON, and of the HOLY GHOST; " and 
give them Christian names. They have their friends about 
them at such a time, and make a small feast, according to 



454 Religious life of the Christians, [^tia^es*: 

their ability : and some teach their children to say their 
prayers, and to read ; and some do not. 

Indeed their religion, at the best, is but negative, that is, 
they are not heathen ; they do not comply with the idolatry 
here practised : and they profess themselves Christians in a 
general manner; which appears by their names, and by their 
beads and crosses, that some of them wear about their necks. 

Nor indeed can I wholly clear them from compliance with 
the religion of the country. For some of them, when they 
are sick do use the ceremonies which the heathen do in the 
like case : as in making idols of clay, and setting them up in 
their houses, and offering rice to them ; and having weavers 
to dance before them. But they are ashamed to be known 
to do this : and I have known none to do it, but such as are 
Indian born. Yet I never knew any of them, that do 
inwardly in heart and conscience incline to the ways of the 
heathen ; but perfectly abhor them. Nor have there been 
any, I ever heard of, that came to their temples, upon any 
religious account ; but only would stand by and look on : 
without it were one old priest, named Padre Vergonse, a 
Genoese born and of the Jesuit's order; who would go to the 
temples and eat with the weavers and other ordinary people, 
of the sacrifices offered to the idols. But with this apology 
for himself ; "That he ate it as common meat and as GOD's 
creature; and that it was never the worse for the superstition 
that had passed upon it." 

But however this may reflect upon the Father, another 
thing may be related for his honour. There happened two 
priests to fall into the hands of the King, on whom he conferred 
great honours. For having laid aside their habits, they kept 
about his person ; and were the greatest favourites at Court. 
The King, one day, sent for Vergonse, and asked him if it 
would not be better for him to lay aside his old coat and cap ; 
and to do as the other two priests had done, and receive 
honour from him. He replied to the King, "That he boasted 
more in that old habit, and in the name of Jesus; than in 
all the honour that he could do him." And so refused the 
King's honour. The King valued the Father for this saying. 

He had a pretty library about him, and died in his bed of 
old age : whereas the two other priests in the King's service, 
died miserably ; one of a cancer, and the other was slain. 






Captain R. Knox.l \XT^ 

March l68 ,J We usually say, " We Christians." 455 

„I h !? e P" ests and -"ore, lived there; but were all deceased 
it down ° r Wh ' Ch CaUSe ' the Ki "S commanded to pull 

SiiPiiii 

FINIS. 







456 



xfi** 



i 



Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
My bonny lass ! thine eye. 

[P/ianix Nest.] 

Y bonny lass ! thine eye, 
So sly, 
Hath made me sorrow so. 
Thy crimscn cheeks, my Dear ! 

So clear, 
Have so much wrought my woe. 



Thy pleasing smiles and grace, 
Thy face, 

Have ravished so my sprites ; 

That life is grown to nought, 

Through thought 

Of love, which me affrights. 



For fancy's flames of fire 
Aspire 

Unto such furious power: 

As hut the tears I shed 

Make dead, 

The brands would me devour. 



T.Lodge, ? M.D.; My B0NNY LASS J TH INE EYE. 457 

I should consume to nought, 

Through thought 

Of thy fair shining eye ; 

Thy cheeks, thy pleasing smiles, 
The wiles, 

That forced my heart to die : 



Thy grace, thy face, the part 

Where art 
Stands gazing still to see ; 
The wondrous gifts and power, 

Each hour, 
That hath bewitched me. 

T. L., Gent. 




453 



Rev. Richard Hakluyt. 

The Voyage of the Dog to the 
Gulf of Mexico^ 1589. 

[Voyages-] 

A brief remembrance for want of further advertisements 
as yet, of a voyage made this present year 1589, by 
William Michelson Captain, and William Mace 
(of Ratcliff) Master of a ship called the Dog, to the 
Bay of Mexico, in the West Indies. 

He foresaid ship called the Dog, of 70 tons burden, 
was armed forth with the number of forty men. I 
departed from the coast of England in the month of 
May [1589], directly for the West Indies. It fell in 
with the Bay of Mexico, and there met with 
divers Spanish ships at sundry times ; whereof three fell into 
her lap, and were forced to yield to the mercy of the English. 
The last that they met with in the Bay was a Spanish Man 
of War, whom the English chased ; and after three several 
fights upon three several days, pressed him so far that he 
entreated a parley, by putting out a flag of trace. 

The parley was granted, and certain of the Spaniards came 
aboard the English ship ; where after conference about those 
matters that had passed in fight betwixt them, they received 
reasonable entertainment and a quiet farewell. 

The Spaniards, as if they had meant to requite the English 
courtesy, invited our men totheirship; who persuading them- 
selves of good meaning in them, went aboard. But honest 
and friendly dealing was not their purpose. For suddenly 
they assaulted our men, and with a dagger stabbing the 
English pilot to the heart, slew him. Others were served 
with the like sauce ; only William Mace the Master (and 
two others) notwithstanding all the prepared traps of the 





'~'//H 



Rev. R. Hakluyt.j T HE Vo Y AGE O F T HE Z? OC. 459 

enemy, leaped overboard into the sea, and so came safe to his 
own ship : and directing his course to England, arrived at 
Plymouth the 10th of September [1589] last ; laden with 
wines, iron, roans which are a kind of linen cloth, and 
other rich commodities. Looking also for the arrival of the 
rest of his consorts; whereof one, and the principal one, hath 
not long since obtained [reached] its port. 

Thus much, in general terms only, I have as yet learned 
and received touching this voyage, as extracted out of letters 
sent from the foresaid William Mace to Master Edward 
Wilkinson of Tower Hill in London. 

My principal intention by this example is to admonish our 
nation of circumspection in dealing with that subtle enemy ; 
and never to trust the Spanish further than that their own 
strength shall be able to master them. For otherwise who- 
soever shall through simplicity trust their courtesy shall by 
trial taste of their assured cruelty. 




460 



Anonymous. 

An excellent Sonnet, wherein the lover 

exclaimeth against Detraction, 

being the principal cause 

of all his care. 

To the tune When Cupid scaled first the fort. 



[A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions.] 

Ass forth in doleful dumps, my verse ! 
Thy master's heavy haps unfold ! 
His grizzled grief each heart well pierce! 
Display his woes ! Fear not, be bold ! 

Hid whole in heaps of heaviness, 
His dismal days are almost spent ; 
For Fate, which forged this fickleness, 
My youthly years with tears hath sprent. 

I loathe the ling'ring life I led. 

O wished Death ! why stay'st thy hand ? 

Sith gladsome joys away be tied, 

And linked I am in Dolour's band. 

In welt'ring waves my ship is tost, 
My shattering sails away be shorn : 
My anchor from the stern is lost, 
And tacklings from the mainyards torn. 




,/ 78 .] Third Version ok Cupid's assault. 461 

Thus driven with every gale of wind, 
My weather-beaten bark doth fail : 
Still hoping harbour once to find, 
Which may these passing perils quail. 

But out alas ! in vain I hope, 
Sith billows proud assault me still : 
And skill doth want with seas to cope, 
And liquor salt my keel doth fill. 



Yet storm doth cease : but lo, at hand, 
A ship with warlike wights addressed ; 
Which seems to be some pirate's band, 
With powder and with pellets pressed. 

To sink or spoil my bruised bark; 
Which dangers' dread could not a daunt. 
And now the shot the air doth dark ; 
And Captain on the deck him vaunt. 

Then Ignorance the Overseer proud, 
Cries to Suspicion, " Spare no shot : " 
And Envy yelleth out aloud, 
" Yield to Detraction this thy boat." 

And as it is now seamen's trade, 
When might to cool the foe doth lack : 
By vailing foretop, sign I made ; 
That to their lee, I me did take. 

Then gathering wind, to me they make, 
And Treason first on board doth come ; 
Then follows Fraud like wily snake, 
And swift amongst them takes his room. 



462 Third Version of Cupid s assault. [ 1S J 



573. 



These bind me, captive ta'en, with band 
Of carking care and fell annoy ; 
While under hatches yet I stand, 
Thereby quite to abandon joy. 

Then hoisting sails, they homeward hie, 
And me present unto Disdain : 
Who me beheld with scorning eye, 
The more for to increase my pain. 

As Lady, she commanded straight, 
That to Despair they me convey : 
And bade with skilful heed lie wait 
That Truth be barred from me away. 

" Madam," quoth I, " let due desert 
Yet find remorse for these my woes. 
Of pity, grant some ease to smart. 
Let Troth draw near to quail my foes." 

But all for nought I do complain, 
For why ? The deaf can move no noise. 
No more can they which do disdain ; 
But will in heart thereat rejoice. 

Wherefore twixt life and death I stay ; 
Till Time with daughter his, draw nigh, 
Which may these furious foes dismay : 
Or else in ruthful plight I die. 



FINIS. 



463 



Ranks in the British Army about 1630. 



[I/arl. MS. 4031. f. 244.] 



Lord General of the Field. 
Lieutenant General of the Field. 



Of Horsemen. 

All do ride. 
A Captain. 
A Lieutenant. 
Coronel or Colonel of thehost 

that is, Ensign Bearer. 
Quarter Master. 
Clerk. 

3 Corporals. 
2 Trumpeters. 
A Surgeon. 
A Farrier. 



These 

may 

*■ ride if 

they 

will. 



Of Footmen. 

Sergeant Major General.^ 
Master of the Ordnance 
; Quarter Master General 
Colonel of a Regiment. 
Lieutenant Colonel of a 

Regiment. 
Sergeant Major [now Major] of 

a Regiment. 
Quarter Master of a Regiment. 
Captain of a Company. 
Lieutenant of a Company. 
Ensign Bearer [now Ensign] of 
the same Company. 

2 Sergeants of the Band [? now 

Drum Majors]. 
Clerk of the Band. 
Quarter Master of a Company. 
Gentlemen of a Company. 

3 Corporals. 
Drummers. 

Lantz privadoes [?] who are 
Corporals' Lieutenants [now 
Lance Corporals]. 

Sentinels. 

Surgeon. 

Common Soldiers. 



4-64 




Thomas, after Sir Thomas Wilson. 

{[ Eloquence first given by GOD, 

after lost by man, and last 

repaired by GOD again, 

[ The Art of Rhetoric.'] 

An in whom is poured the breath of life, was made 
at his first being an everlasting creature, unto the 
likenessof GOD ; endued with reason, and appointed 
lord over all other things living. But after the fall 
of our first father, sin so crept in that our knowledge 
was much darkened, and by corruption of this our flesh, man's 
reason and entendment [intellect] were both overwhelmed. 
At what time, GOD being sore grieved with the folly of 
one man ; pitied, of His mere goodness, the whole state and 
posterity of mankind. And therefore whereas through the 
wicked suggestion of our ghostly enemy, the joyful fruition 
of GOD's glory was altogether lost ; it pleased our heavenly 
Father to repair mankind of his free mercy and to grant an 
everlasting inheritance unto such as would by constant faith 
seek earnestly thereafter. 

Long it was", ere that man knew ; himself being destitute of 
GOD's grace, so that all things waxed savage, the earth 
untilled, society neglected, GOD's will not known, man 
against man, one against another, and all against order. 
Some lived by spoil, some like brute beasts grazed upon the 
ground, some went naked, some roamed like woodwoses 
mad wild men] , none did anything by reason, but most did 
what they could by manhood. None almost considered the 
everliving GOD ; but all lived most commonly after their own 
lust. By death, they thought that all things ended ; by life, 
they looked for none other living. None remembered the 
true observation of wedlock, none tendered the education 



^"jal^ss":] -The tower of Eloquence & Reason. 465 

of their children ; laws were not regarded, true dealing 
was not once used. For virtue, vice bare place; for right 
and equity, might used authority. And therefore whereas 
man through reason might have used order, man through 
folly fell into error. And thus for lack of skill and want of 
grace, evil so prevailed ; that the devil was most esteemed : 
and GOD either almost unknown among them all or else 
nothing feared among so many. Therefore — even now when 
man was thus past all hope of amendment— GOD still 
tendering his own workmanship ; stirred up his faithful and 
elect, to persuade with reason all men to society : and gave 
his appointed ministers knowledge both to see the natures of 
men; and also granted to them the gift of utterance, that 
they might with ease win folk at their will, and frame them 
by reason to all good order. 

And therefore whereas men lived brutishly in open fields 
having neither house to shroud [cover] them in, nor attire to 
clothe their backs ; nor yet any regard to seek their best 
avail [interest] : these appointed of GOD, called them together 
by utterance of speech ; and persuaded with them what was 
good, what was bad, and what was gainful for mankind. 
And although at first the rude could hardly learn, and either 
for the strangeness of the thing would not gladly receive the 
offer or else for lack of knowledge could not perceive the 
goodness : yet being somewhat drawn and delighted with the 
pleasantness of reason and the sweetness of utterance, after 
a certain space, they became through nurture and good 
advisement, of wild, sober; of cruel, gentle; of fools, wise; 
and of beasts, men. Such force hath the tongue, and such 
is the power of Eloquence and Reason that most men are 
forced, even to yield in that which most standeth against 
their will. And therefore the poets do feign that Hercules, 
being a man of great wisdom, had all men linked together by 
the ears in a chain, to draw them and lead them even as he 
listed. For his wit so great, his tongue so eloquent, and his 
experience such ; that no man was able to withstand his 
reason : but every one was rather driven to do that which he 
would, and to will that which he did ; agreeing to his advice 
both in word and work, in all that ever they were able. 

Neither can I see that men could have been brought by 
any other means to live together in fellowship of life, to 
Enc. Gar. J, 3° 



466 Eloquence fostereth Society. si ' ',." 



Sir T. WiU n 
554- 



maintain cities, to deal truly, and willingly to obey one 
another : if men, at the first, had not by art and eloquence 
persuaded that which they full oft found out by reason. For 
what man, I pray you, being better able to maintain himself 
by valiant courage than by living in base subjection, would 
not rather look to rule like a lord, than to live like an 
underling ; if by reason he were not persuaded that it 
behoveth every man to live in his own vocation, and not to 
seek any higher room than that whereunto he was at the 
first, appointed ? Who would dig and delve from morn till 
evening ? Who would travail and toil with the sweat of his 
brows? Yea, who would, for his King's pleasure, adventure 
and hazard his life, if wit had not so won men ; that they 
thought nothing more needful in this world nor anything 
whereunto they were more bounden than here to live in 
their duty and to train their whole life, according to their 
calling. Therefore whereas men are in many things weakly 
by nature, and subject to much infirmity ; I think in this 
one point they pass all other creatures living, that they have 
the gift of speech and reason. 

And among all other, I think him of most worthy fame, 
and amongst men to be taken for half a god that therein doth 
chiefly and above all other excel men ; wherein men do 
excel beasts. For he that is among the reasonable, of all 
the most reasonable ; and among the witty, of all the most 
witty ; and among the eloquent, of all the most eloquent : 
him, think I, among all men, not only' to be taken for a 
singular man, but rather to be counted for half a god. For 
in seeking the excellency hereof, the sooner he draweth to 
perfection the nigher he cometh to GOD, who is the chief 
Wisdom : and therefore called GOD because He is the most 
wise, or rather wisdom itself. 

'sow then seeing that GOD giveth heavenly grace unto 
such as called unto him with outstretched hands and 
humble heart ; never wanting to those that want not to 
themselves: I purpose by His grace and especial assistance, 
to set forth such precepts of eloquence, and to show what 
observation the wise have used in handling of their matters : 
that the unlearned by seeing the practice of ethers, may have 
some knowledge themselves : and learn by their neighbours' 
device what is neeessary for themselves in their own case. 



467 

Sir Philip Sidney. 
Astrophel and Stella. 

Heralds at arms do three perfections quote, 
To wit, most fair, most rich, most glittering, 
So when these three concur within one thin- 
Needs must that thing ol honour be :. 1 

Lately did I behold a rich fair coat, 
Which wished Fortune to mine eyes did bring. 
A lordly coat, but worthy of a kin,'. 
In which one might all these perfections note, 

A field of lilies, roses proper bare ; 
Two stars in chief, the crest was waves of gold : 
How glittering 'twas, might by the stars appear j 
The lilies made it fair for to behold. 

And kich it was as by the gold appeareth ; 
But happy he that in his arms it weareth. 

H. Constable, Dias'a. Sonnet X. 1594. 
His very ways in the world did generally add reputation to his Prince and country, by restoring 
wSed dou h """'"'W ° f " 0bIe and true baling ; as a manly wisdom that can no more be 
ue^hed down by an effemmate craft, than Hercules could be overcome by that effeminate army 

IZ^L , And th ; S T ' WhiC T h ' ' Pr ° feSS ' ' '° Ved dear ^ in him > »"d «ai ^1 be glad to honour 
in the good men of th.s tune : I mean that h,s heart and tongue went both one way and so with 
every one that went with the truth ; as knowing no other kindred, party, or end. Above al he 
^tv]K,p e 'rL e i6 ^ f : SSed thC firm ^ ° f HiS ^-SJXvnxB, Life 7 A P. 

we', ir dSd^^;h.T' 7 : mase of quiet and action : happi,y unitej in him - a,,d se,dom 

Ady Penelope Devereux eldest child of Walter, 2nd 
Earl of Essex ; and» elder sister to his successor Robert, 
the second favourite of Queen Elizabeth : was Sir Philip 
Sidney's first and only love, his Stella. 
Her first husband was Robert, 3rd Lord Rich ; who 
after her death (1607) was made Earl of Warwick (6th August, 1618) 
Sidney's transparent Riddle at page 521 identifies Stella with Lady 
Rich, i.e. the once Lady Penelope Devereux. 

We must first recall from the Elegy we have printed at pages 249- 
296 ; the testimony of Sidney's dearest friends as to the relationship of 
Stella to his life and soul. Edmund Spenser wrote— 

TJOr he could pipe, and dance, and carol sweet ; 
Emongst the shepherds in their shearing feast ■ 
As summer's lark that with her song doth greet 
The dawning day, forth coming from the East. 
And lays of love he also would compose. 
Thrice happy she ! whom he to praise did choose. 
30 : 





468 Introduction to Sidney's 

Full many maidens often did him woo, 

Them to vouchsafe, emongst his rhymes to name ; 

Or make for them, as he was wont to do, 

For her that did his heart with love inflame ; 

For which they promised to dight for him, 

Gay chaplets of flowers and garlands trim. 

And many a nymph, both of the wood and brook, 

Soon as his oaten pipe began to shrill ; 

Both crystal wells and shady groves forsook, 

To hear the charms of his enchanting skill : 

And brought him presents ; flowers, if it were prime ; 

Or mellow fruit, if it were harvest time. 



But he for none of them did care a whit ; 
Yet wood-gods for them oft sighed sore : 
Ne for their gifts unworthy of his wit, 
Yet not unworthy of the country's store. 
For One alone he cared, for One he sigh'ed 
His life's treasure, and his dear love's delight. 

Stella the fair ! the fairest star in sky : 

As fair as Venus, or the fairest fair. 

A fairer star saw never living eye, 

Shot her sharp pointed beams through purest air. 

Her, he did love ; her, he alone he did honour : 

His thoughts, his rhymes, his songs were all upon her. 

To her, he vowed the service of his days ; 
On her, he spent the riches of his wit ; 
For her, he made hymns of immortal praise: 
Of only her; he sang, he thought, he writ. 
Her, and but her, of love he worthy deemed : 
For all the rest, but little he esteemed. 



■ / S / ,V i I / .7 £ / ./ .V/J 5 /-/■. /./../. 469 

Ne her with idle words alone he vowed, 
And verses vain — yet verses are not vain : 
But with brave deeds, to her sole service vowed ; 
And bold achievements, her did entertain. 
For both in deeds and words he nurtured was. 
Both wise and hardy — too hard)', alas ! 



We take these representations of Spenser to be calm and deliberate 
statements of facts. 

Lodowick BRYSKETTis more poetic in the setting ; but puts words into 
the mouth of Stella, which are quite consistent with the facts of the 
case. 




H, that thou hadst but heard his lovely STELLA plain 
Her grievous loss, or seen her heavy mourning cheer; 
Whilst she, with woe oppressed, her sorrows did 
unfold. 

Her hair hung loose neglect about her shoulders twain : 
And from those two bright stars to him sometime so dear, 
Her heart sent drops of pearl ; which fell in foison down 
'Twixt lily and the rose. She wrung her hands with pain 
And piteously 'gan say, " My true and faithful phcer ! 
Alas, and woe is me ! why should my fortune frown 
On me thus frowardly to rob me of my joy ? 
What cruel envious hand hath taken thee away ; 
And with thee, my content, my comfort and my stay ? 
Thou only wast the ease of trouble and annoy : 
When they did me assail, in thee my hopes did rest. 
Alas, what now is left but grief that night and day 
Afflicts this woeful life, and with continual rage 
Torments ten thousand ways my miserable breast ? 
greedy envious heaven ! what needed thee to have 
Enriched with such a jewel this unhappy age ; 
To take it back again so soon ? Alas, when shall 
Mine eyes see ought that may content them, since thy grave 
My only treasure hides, the joy of my poor heart ? 



470 Introduction to Sidney's 

As here with thee on earth I lived, even so equal 
Methinks it were, with thee in heaven I did abide: 
And as our troubles all, we here on earth did part ; 
So reason would that there, of thy most happy state 
I had my share. Alas, if thou my trusty guide 
Were wont to be : how canst thou leave me thus alone 
In darkness and astray ; weak, weary, desolate, 
Plunged in a world of woe— refusing for to take 
Me with thee, to the place of rest where thou art gone ? 
This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tied her tongue : 
And instead of more words, seemed that her eyes a lake 
Of tears had been, they flowed so plenteously therefrom : 
And with her sobs and sighs th'air round about her rung. 

Matthew Roydon gives this further representation— 

Hen being filled with learned dew, 
The Muses willed him to love : 
That instrument can aptly show, 
How finely our conceits will move. 

As Bacchus opes dissembled hearts, 
So Love sets out our better parts." 

" Stella, a nymph within this wood, 
Most rare, and rich of heavenly bliss ; 
The highest in his fancy stood, 
And she could well demerit this. 

'Tis likely, they acquainted soon : 
He was a sun, and she a moon." 

" Our Astrophil did Stella love. 
O Stella ! vaunt of Astrophil ! 
Albeit thy graces gods may move ; 
Where wilt th<>u find an Astrophil? 
The rose and lily have their prime; 
And so hath beauty hut a time," 



■ •. 



A STROP II EL AND S TELL A. 47 I 

" Although thy beauty do exceed 
In common sight of every eye ; 
Yet in his poesies when we read, 
It is apparent more thereby. 

He that hath love and judgment too, 

Sees more than any others do." 

" Then Astrophil hath honoured thee. 
For when thy body is extinct, 
Thy graces shall eternal be, 
And live by virtue of his ink. 

For by his verses he doth give 

To shortlived beauty aye to live." 



" Above all others this is he, 
Which erst approved in his song 
That love and honour might agree, 
And that pure love will do no wrong. 

Sweet saints ! it is no sin nor blame 
To love a man of virtuous name." 



" Did never love so sweetly breathe 
In any mortal breast before ? 
Did never Muse inspire beneath, 
A poet's brain with finer store ? 

He wrote of love with high conceit ; 

And beauty reared above her height." 



As these statements were made by persons perfectly conversant with 
all the facts of the case ; as they occur in a work dedicated to SIDNEY'S 
widow (after she had taken for her second husband, ROB] i;i 1M vi R] r\. 
Earl of ESSEX ; and so had become sister-in-law to .S/7././..11, and which 
must be regarded as the family offering to his memory and fame: they 
must be accepted, as being in their general representation, absolutely 
beyond any dispute. 



472 



Introduction to Sydney's 



• 



• II. 

R. H. F. BOURNE (my class-mate in i860 at King's College, 
London; when my honoured Teacher, Professor HENRY 
Morlev, there revealed to us what English Literature really 
was), in his Memoir of Sir Philip Sidney, 1863, gives the 
birth of Stella as about 1 563. 
Sidney, having been born on the 29th of November 1554, was therefore 
nearly nine years older than the Lady Penelope. 

Philip Sidney returned to London from his foreign tour about the 31st 
of May 1575, and thence journeying with the Queen's progress, first to the 
Triumphs and' Pageants at Keniiworth, and afterwards in August to 
Chartley in Staffordshire, the home of Lady Penelope ; where he, then 
21, may have first seen Stella, then aged 13. 

On the occasion of the death of her father, the 1st Earl, the following 
letter was written : — 

Edward Water house, Esquire. 

Letter from Chartley on the \\th November 1576, to 

Sir Henry Sidney, Lord Deputy of Ireland. 

[A.Collins, Letters d-v.J 

May it please your Lordship, 

He funerals of [Walter Devereux] the Earl of 
Essex have been deferred till now that they be 
appointed to be honourably finished at Carmarthen, 
the 24th of this month. I have forborne to write 
to your Lordship since my arrival in this realm [i.e. of 
England] because I would give free scope to all men to utter 
their opinions- concerning my behaviour here in such causes 
as I had to deal in ; and I doubt not but you have heard 
enough of it. But if any reports have come unto your 
Lordship's ears that in the causes of my Lord of Essex I 
have dealt indirectly ; I assure your Lordship they have 
done me wrong: for as I have justified him and his doings 
against all the world, without respect of fear or favour ; so 
have I been free from malicious thoughts, and have quenched 
all sparks that might kindle any new lire in these causes 
which I hope be buried in oblivion— wherein I stand to the 
report of Master PHILIP SIDNEY above any other. 




ASTROFHEL AND S TELL A. 473 

The estate of the Earl of Essex being best known to 
myself, doth require my travail for a time in his causes ; but 
my burden cannot be great when every man putteth to his 
helping hand. Her Majesty hath bestowed upon the young 
Earl, his Marriage and all his father's Rules in Wales ; and 
promiseth the remission of his debt. The Lords do generally 
favour and further him : some for the trust reposed, some for 
love to the father, others for affinity with the child, and some 
for other causes. And all these lords that wish well to the 
children ; and 1 suppose all the best sort of the English lords 
besides ; do expect what will become of the treaty between 
Master Philip and my Lady Penelope. 

Truly, my Lord, I must say to your Lordship, as I have 
said to my Lord of Leicester and Master Philip, the 
breaking off from this match, if the default be on your parts 
[i.e. Leicester's, Sir H. Sidney's mid Philip Sidney's, 
will turn to more dishonour than can be repaired with any 
other marriage in England. And I protest unto your Lordship, 
I do not think that there is at this day so strong a man in 
England of friends as the little Earl of Essex; nor any man 
more lamented than his father, since the death of King 
Edward [VI . 

[The rest of the letter is about other business.] 

From this it would appear that, for some insuperable objection, the 
Sidneys had not closed with a contemplated match between the tvto 
families. 

There then occurs, thirty months later, the following passage in a letter 
from Sidney to Languet on the 1st of March 1578 [i.e. 1579] :— 

But I wonder, my very dear Hubert, what has come into 
your mind that, when I have not as yet done anything worthy 
of me, you would have me bound in the chains of matrimony; 
and yet without pointing out any individual lady, but rather 
seeming to extol the state itself, which however you have not 
as yet sanctioned by your own example. Respecting her, of 
whom I readily acknowledge how unworthy I am. I have 
written you my reasons long since, briefly indeed, but yet as 
well as I was able. 

At this present time, indeed, I believe you have entertained 
some other notion, which I earnestly entreat you to acquaint 
me with, whatever it may be; for even thing that comes 



474 Introduction to Sidney's 

from you has great weight with me ; and, to speak candidly, 
I am in some measure doubting whether some one, more 
suspicious than wise, has not whispered to you something 
unfavourable concerning me; which, though you did not give 
entire credit to it, you nevertheless, prudently and as a 
friend, thought right to suggest for my consideration. 
Should this have been the case, I entreat you to state the 
matter to me in plain terms, that I may be able to acquit 
myself before you, of whose good opinion I am most 
desirous : and should it only prove to have been a joke or a 
piece of friendly advice, I. pray you nevertheless to let me 
know ; since everything from you will always be no less 
acceptable to me than the things that I hold most dear. :;: 

If the former letter — which must have been written subsequent to 
Sidney's return home on the 31st of May 1575 though "written long ago'' 
— could be recovered, we might then know for certain who this Lady was, 
to whom he thus significantly refers. After the expression in WATER- 
HOUSE's letter, there is a high presumption that it was Stella : and this 
presumption is increased to a moral certainty by Sidney's own words in 
the following Sonnet at page 519. 

Might — unhappy word, O me ! — I might, 
And then would not, or could not see my bliss : 
Till now, wrapt in a most infernal night, 
I find, how heavenly day, wretch ! did I miss. 
Heart rent thyself! thou dost thyself but right. 
No lovely Paris made thy Helen his ; 
No force, no fraud robbed thee of thy delight ; 
No fOiiune, of thy fortune author is ; 

But to myself, myself did give the blow; 
While too much wit (forsooth) so troubled me, 
That I, respects for both our sakes must show. 

And yet could not by rising morn foresee 
How fair a day was near. O punisht eyes ! 
That I had been more foolish or more wise ! 

* Th. tdctlCi .</ Mi PHILIP SIDNEY .///</ 1 1 1 BBR1 1 INGUET. Ed. !>}' 

S. A. Pj \i: . M.A., p. 1 1 j. Ed. 1845. 




ASTROPHEL A. YD S 7 ELLA 



475 



On the iSth of October 1580, Sidney, in the confidential letter to 
his brother which we have printed at pages 305-309, states, " I write 
this to you as one, that for myself have given over the delight in the 
world; but wish to you as much, if not more than to myself," and refers 
to his delight in music in his " melancholy times." To our mind, it is 
clear that all through these lonely days Sidney's love for the Lady 
Penelope was growing and growing through all the stages which he has 
so beautifully described at page 504. 




sense of sap. 



Ot at the first sight, nor with adribbed shot, 
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will 

bleed : 
But known worth did in mine * of time proceed, 
Till, by degrees, it had full conquest got. * i n the military 

I saw and liked, I liked but loved not ; 
I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed 
At length to Love's decrees, I forced, agreed; 
Yet with repining at so partial lot. 

Now even that footstep of lost liberty 
Is gone; and now, like slave-born Muscovite, 
I call it praise to suffer tyranny : 

And now employ the remnant of my wit 
To make me self believe that all is well ; 
While with a feeling skill, I paint my hell. 



III. 

A.D the second Lord Rich only lived a few years longer, it 
would have mattered little how useless a life ; it would have 
prevented a great following misery ; it would have made 
STELLA the happy wife of ASTROPHEL ; might have kept 
Sidney from the Dutch war, and preserved him to ripen 

in the full maturity of his powers into at least a prose SPENSER, if not a 

very great Poet as well ; and soendowedour following ages with wonderful 

pieces of genius and power. 

But the Lord died, and the misery came ; being heralded in by the 

followiiv' letter : — 






476 Introduction to Sidney's 



Henry Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon. 

Letter to Lord Burleigh, proposing Lady Penelofe 

Devereux as a Jit match for the 

new Lord Rich. 

[Lands. 3i.fol. 105.] 

May it please your Lordship, 

ea aIEaring that GOD hath taken to His mercy my Loid 
Baal 3; Rich, who hath left as his heir a proper gentleman 
Jl and one in years very fit for my lady Penelope 
' Devereux, if with the favour and liking: of Her 



Majesty the matter might be brought to pass ; and because I 
know your Lordship's good affection to their father gone, and 
also your favour to his children : I am bold to pray your 
furtherance now in this matter, which may, I think, by your 
good means be brought to such pass as I desire. 

Her Majesty was pleased the last year to give me leave, at 
times convenient, to put Her Highness in mind of these 
young ladies i.e. Penelope and Dorothy Devereux]: and 
therefore I am by this occasion of my Lord's death the 
bolder to move your Lordship in this matter. I have also 
written to Master Secretary Walsingham herein. And so 
hoping of your Lordship's favour, I do commit you to the 
tuition of the Almighty. 

At Newcastle, the 10th of March 1580 [i.e. 1581]. 

Your Lordship's most assured 

H. Huntingdon. 
To the Right Honourable 
my ver\ -ood Lord, 
the Lord Treasurer. 

It is clear that if Queen ELIZABETH in 1580 gave Lord HUNTINGDON 
leave to put her In mind of these two young ladies ; that the) were not 
at that time, or when this letter was written, at Court : but probably, as 
their youth befitted, in the retirement of their home at * [hartley. 

But that I'l \ I U »P1 .it any rate I .line up tO Court at once, is proved by 

her presence at the Anjoi fites in London. Stow's account of these 
feastings is as follows : — 



As T R P II E L AMD S 7 E L LA . 4/ J 

This year — against the coming of certain Ambassadors out 
of France — by Her Majesty's appointment, on the 26th day 
of March [1581] in the morning, being Easter Day, a 
Banquetting House was begun at Westminster on the south- 
west side of Her Majesty's palace at Whitehall ; made in 
manner and form of a long square 332 feet in measure about : 
thirty principals made of great masts, being forty feet in 
length apiece, standing upright. Between every one of the 
masts, ten feet asunder and more, the walls of this house 
were closed with canvas, and painted all outside of the same 
most artificially with a work called "rustic," much like 
stone. 

The house had 292 lights of glass [windows]. The sides 
within the same house were made with ten heights of degrees 
[steps] for people to stand upon. The top of this house was 
wrought most cunningly upon canvas works of holly and ivy ; 
with pendants made of wicker rods, and garnished with bay, 
rue, and all manner of strange flowers garnished with spangles 
cf gold : as also beautified with hanging toscans made of holly 
and ivy, with all manner of strange fruits, as pomegranates, 
oranges, pompions [pumpkins], cucumbers, grapes with such 
like, spangled with gold and most richly hanged. Betwixt 
these works of bays and ivy were great spaces of canvas, 
which were most cunningly painted : the clouds with stars, 
the sun and sunbeams, with divers coats [of arms] of sundry 
sorts belonging to the Queen's Majesty, most richly garnished 
with gold. 

There were of all manner of persons working on this house, 
to the number of 375. Two men had mischances. The one 
broke his leg, and so did the other. This house was made 
in three weeks and three days, and was ended the iSth of 
April ; and cost £1,744 T 9 S - °d» & c * 

On the 16th day of April, arrived at Dover, these noblemen of 
France, Commissioners from the French King to Her Majesty, 
Francis Bourbon, Prince Dauphin of Auvergne ; Arthur 
Cossaie, Marshal of France; Lodowic Lusignian, Lord of 
Lancot ; Travergins Caercongin, Count of Tillix ; 
Betrand Salingurons; Lord De la Mothe-Fenelox ; 
Monsieur Manaissour ; Barnaby Brissen, President of 
the Parliament of Paris ; Claude Pinart ; Monsieur 
Marciiemoxt; Monsieur Veraie. 



478 Introduction to Sydney's 

These came from Gravesend by water to London ; where 
they were honourably received and entertained : and shortly 
after, being accompanied of the nobility of England, they 
repaired to the Court : where Her Majesty received them ; 
and afterwards in that place most royally feasted and 
banqueted them. 

Also the nobles and gentlemen of the Court, desirous to 
show them all courtesy possible, prepared a Triumph in most 
sumptuous order upon Whitsun Monday and Tuesday [15th 
and 16th May, 1581]. The chief Challengers of which 
attempts were the Earl of Arundel, Frederick Lord 
Windsor, Philip Sidney, Fulke Grevill and others : 
the defendants, to the number of 21, all which of them ran 
six courses against the former Challengers, who performed 
their parts valiantly. 

On the Tuesday they went to the tourney; where they did 
very nobly : and after that to the barriers ; whereat they 
fought courageously, &c. ; as more at large I have set down 
in the continuance of Reginald Wolf's Chronicle. 

Annals, pp. 1 166-7, Ed. 1600. 

Henry Goldwel, Gentlemen, wrote at the time A brief declaration 
of these shows, devices, speeches and inventions &*c, London, 1581 ; in 
which, after describing the appearance and array of the Earl of Arundel 
and Lord Windsor the first two of the challengers ; he goes on to say — 

Then proceeded Master Philip Sidney in very sumptuous 
manner, with armour part blue and the rest gilt and 
engraven : with four spare horses having comparisons and 
furniture very rich and costly, as some of cloth of gold 
embroidered with pearl, and some embroidered with gold 
and silver feathers, very richly and cunningly wrought. He 
had four pages that rode on his four spare horses ; who had 
cassock hats and Venetian hose all of cloth of silver laid 
with gold lace, and hats of the same with gold bands and 
white feathers : and each one a pair of white buskins. 

Then had he a thirty gentlemen and yeomen, and four 
trumpeters, who were all in cassock coats and Venetian hose 
of yellow velvet, laid with silver lace; yellow velvet caps 
with silver bands and white feathers ; and every one a pair 
of white buskins. And they had upon their coats, a scroll 
or band of silver, which came scarfwise over the shoulder 



AsTROPIIEL AXD S TEL LA. 479 

and so down under the arm, with this posy or sentence 
written upon it, both before and behind, Sic nos 11011 nobis. 

Then came Master Fulk Grevil* in gilt armour with rich 
and fair comparisons and furniture; having four spare horses 
with four pages riding upon them ; and four trumpeters 
sounding before him : and a twenty gentlemen and yeomen 
attending upon him ; who with the pages and trumpeters 
were all apparelled in loose jerkins of tawny taffety cut and 
lined with yellow sarsenet and laid with gold lace and cut 
down the arm and set with loops and buttons of gold ; 
Venetian hose of the same lined as aforesaid, laid with gold 
lace down the side with loops and buttons of gold ; with each 
a pair of yellow worsted stockings ; and hats of tawny 
taffety with gold bands and yellow feathers. 

If any date in the series of Sonnets can be fixed with certainty, this 
jousting on May 1581, is that referred to in the following one, and there- 
fore establishes the presence thereat of the Lady Penelope Devereux. 




Aving this day, my horse, my hand, my lance 
Guided so well ; that I obtained the prize : 
Both by the judgment of the English eyes ; 
And of some sent by that sweet enemy, France ! 
Horsemen, my skill in horsemanship advance ; 
Townsfolk, my strength ; a daintier judge applies 
His praise to sleight, which, from good use doth rise ; 
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; 

Others, because, of both sides, I do take 
My blood from them who did excel in this : 
Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make. 

How far they shoot awry ! The true cause is, 
Stella lookt on, and from her heavenly face 
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race. 
Doubtless, this was one of the happiest days in the Writer's life. 

* Fulk Grevil was to Philip Sidney what Jonathan was to David. 

Hi- epitaph in St. Mary's Church, Warwick, runs thus : — 

FULK GREVIL, 

SERVANT TO QUEEN ELIZABETH, 

COUNCILLOR TO KING JAMI -, 

AM> FRIEND TO SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 



480 



Introduction to Sydney's 



If the opinion be sound that so far as any locality is predicated in these 
Sonnets it is that of London, its river and its neighbourhood ; it would 
therefore appear that few, if any of them, were anterior to March 1581 : 
and as Sidney left England finally in November 1584; the hypothetical 
dates for their composition, in default of any positive evidence, must 
be the years 1 581-1584. 




IV. 

E have here to confess our manifold ignorance of many points 
at this period of the story, upon which we should be glad to 
inform our readers. 

The date when the misery began, has eluded our search ; 
that is, the day when Lord Rich contracted his unlawful 
though legal marriage with Lady PENELOPE Devereux. Now-a-days 
we could not think it possible that a young English nobleman could 
— even if surrounding circumstances permitted it — have the audacity, 
the effrontery, the heartlessness to marry against her will a beautiful 
young English lady of high rank; who, from her very soul, detested 
him. 
Yet this befell Sidney's Stella. 

The revolting story of the misery, extending over many years, that this 
bad man brought upon the Lady he thus legally appropriated, was written 
by him who was, in truth and reality, her second husband Charles 
Blount Earl of Devonshire, to James I., and must be told here ; if 
we would understand— though he only saw the beginning of it — Sidney's 
agony, his continued love for Stella, and the scorn which he has thus 
ably expressed for that man Rich. 




Ich fools there be, whose base and filthy heart 
Lies- hatching still the goods wherein they flow: 
And damning their own selves to Tantal's smart, 
Wealth breeding want ; more blest, more wretched 
grow. 
Yet to those fools, heaven such wit doth impart, 
As what their hands do hold, their heads do know ; 
And knowing, love and loving lay apart, 
As sacred things, far from all dangers show : 

But that rich fool, who by blind Fortune's lot, 
The richest gem of love and life enjoys; 



ASTROPHEL AND STELLA. 481 

And can with foul abuse, such beauties blot : 
Let him deprived of sweet but unfelt joys. 
(Exiled for aye from those high treasures, which 
He knows not) grow in only folly rich ! 

In the Lambeth Palace Library, there is an autographic letter from the 
Earl of Devonshire to King James shortly after the Gunpowder Plot ; 
and therefore in November 1605. Allowing it to be an ex parte stale- 
merit ; it is nevertheless the story of Stella's married life, as the Earl 
of Devonshire had it from her own lips. 

Charles Blount, Earl of Devonshire. 

Narration to James I. of the injuries offered 
to Stella by her first husband. 




Lady [Penelope Devereux] of great birth and virtue, 
being in the power of her friends ; was by them 
married against her will unto one [Robert, Lord 
Rich] , against whom she did protest at the very 
solemnity, and ever after ; between whom from the first day 
there ensued continual discord : although the same fear that 
forced her to marry, constrained her to live with him. 
Instead of a Comforter, he did strive in all things to torment 
her ; and by fear and fraud did practise to deceive her of her 
dowry. 

And though he forbare to offer her any open wrong, 
restrained with the awe of her brother's [Robert, Earl of 
Essex] powerfulness : yet as he had not in long time before 
in the chiefest duty of a husband used her as his wife : so 
presently [immediately] after his death, [25th of February, 
1601] he did put her to a stipend ; and utterly abandoned 
her without pretence of any cause, but his own desire to live 
without her. 

And after he had not for the space of twelve years enjoyed 
her ; he did [in 1604 or 1605] by persuasions and threatenings 
move her to consent unto a divorce : and to confess a fault 
with a nameless stranger; without the which, such a divorce 
as he desired could not, by the laws in practice, proceed. 

Whereupon to give a form to that separation which was 
long before in substance made ; she was content to subscribe 

Eng. Car. I. 31 



482 1 NTRODUCTION TO SIDNEY'S 

to a confession of his and her own Counsel's making, touching 
a fault committed before your general pardon. Whereupon 
the sentence of divorce proceeded with as much rigour as 
ever was showed to the meanest in the like case. 

Now if before GOD, the want of consent doth make a 
nullity in marriage ; and the not-performing the duties doth 
break the conditions of marriage ; and that dissension by 
Paul's doctrine doth make the woman free to marry again ; 
and lastly, if a sentence of divorce be a judicial separation, 
not prohibited by the Law of GOD : this Lady remaineth 
divers ways free from her bond and free from her sin, if she 
repent, namely, impietas impii non nocebit ei, in quacunque die 
conversus fuerit ab impirtate sua. 

And you, dear lord ! — that in the greatness of your place 
(but more in your wonderful gui [dance ?] ) resemble GOD — 
out of that clemency, wherein you imitate Him whose 
Mercy doth exceed all his works ; lay by the rigour of your 
judgment and as you are both fidelis et prudens dispensator ; 
at the least dispense and forgive them, though it were much, 
[seeing] they have ever loved you much : and, if no other 
fortune {honours}, give them leave in their old age to live 
together like poor Baucis and Philemon ; who will never 
entertain any other guests into their hearts, but GOD and you. 

For me, if the laws of moral honesty — which in things 
not prohibited by GOD, I have ever held inviolable — do 
only move me now to prefer my own conscience before the 
opinion of the world ; my own better fortunes [i.e. prospects of 
higher honours or greater possessions] ; or the dear respect to 
my posterity : do but vouchsafe to think ! what a servant 
the same rules of honesty must force me to be to you ; whose 
merit to me is so infinitely beyond any other, and my love to 
you so much above the love to a woman, as Jonathan's was 
to David, " whom he loved as his own soul." Lambeth Palace 
MSS. Vol. 943. Art. 6. fol. 47. 

This holograph is virtually the dedication to the King of a very- 
learned Defence of the subsequent marriage on the 26th December, 1605, 
at Wansted of the Earl of Devonshire with Stella ; after she had 
borne several children to him ; had, as we have seen, received the King's 
general pardon ; and had been promoted in her own right in the peerage 
(so well known at Court were the wrongs which Lord Rich offered to 



A S TR O P II E L A ND S T E L L A. 483 

her ; and so strong the reaction there in her favour). Copies of this 
Defence are of frequent occurrence ; but not of this Dedication. 

Laud, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, married them to his 
everlasting regret ; as the following notes in his Diary show. 

Anno 1603. 
I was made chaplain to the Earl of Devonshire, 
September 3. 1603. 

Anno 1605. 

My cross about the Earl of Devon's marriage, December 
26, 1605, die Jovis. 

The History of the Troubles &£., p. 2. Ed. 1695. fol. 

Laud's remorse, and the general surprise occasioned by the marriage ; 
arose not from its not being the best thing to be done under the circum- 
stances : but because it was an upset of all the then received ideas of the 
marriage state. 

For a tithe of the neglect and affronts which Lord Rich offered to his 
beautiful young wife ; or, as Sidney puts it, did " with foul abuse, such 
beauties blot ; " the Divorce Court would now at once and for ever free an 
English lady, without the faintest shadow of dishonour to her. But 
civilisation and a keen sense of justice to women had not progressed so 
far three hundred years ago. It did however get a good way in this case. 
For the strict-ruled Court of Elizabeth condoned— on account of her 
compulsory and abhorrent marriage with Lord Rich, treating it as a 
monstrosity, a moral nullity ; whatever might be the law — what would have 
been otherwise regarded as flagrant adultery ; Stella's illegal intimacy, 
after Lord Rich's desertion of her, with Lord Devonshire, then Lord 
Mountjoy. But the second marriage, after a divorce, in her first husband's 
lifetime ; that could not be endured ! It was an affront to the Canon Law ! 
So the very step which many of us would have considered the right thing to 
do, shocked the divines, startled the civilians, and perplexed the heralds. 

Strange vicissitudes came to this English beauty with her black eyes, 
fair complexion and golden hair ! What bitterness in all the miseries of 
her enforced first marriage ! What bliss in the affection which she 
inspired in, and received in succession from two of the most honourable 
worthy and accomplished gentlemen of Elizabeth's later Court ! Both 
Philip Sidney, and after him Charles Mountjoy (while in their 
writings they express their gladness to throw away everything this world 
holds precious for her love), do join in testifying, that through all the 
great fluctuations, the anomalous circumstances of her strange life ; from 
its bright girlhood to her accelerated death, she was ever "a Lady of 
great virtue." 

3T* 



4*4 



Introduction to Sydney's 




|Ut to return to Sidney. We have been looking far ahead 
at what did happen ; all springing out of Sidney's not asking 
Stella to be his wife before Lord Huntingdon's proposal 
of her as a fit match for the young Lord Rich. As we have 
seen, he blamed himself for it all ; and we think rightly. 
It would be a great light on the subject of the Sonnets, if we could 
discover the crucial date of Stella's first marriage; and also the dates 
of the birth of her seven children to Lord Rich. It is stated in Sloatie 
MS. 4225, p. 47, that her son Robert Rich, second Earl of Warwick, 
died on the 19th of April 1658, aged seventy years and eleven months. 
This would place his birth in May 1587 : but whether this Robert was 
her eldest child we cannot say. H. CONSTABLE has two Sonnets, one on 
the birth of Lady Rich's daughter in 1588, on a Friday ; and the other 
on the untimely death of the same. 

Sidney left England for the last time on the 21st of November 15S4. 
We think the series of Sonnets had been closed long before then : that in 
fact they were not continued after his marriage with Frances Walsing- 
HAM about March 1583. From which we expect that the date of 
Stella's first marriage, when recovered, will be found to have been 
about the beginning of 1582. 

VI. 

Here is no distinct chronological order in the Sonnets and 
Songs. Many of them have no indication of time or place at 
all. Probably this was of purpose. Sidney never intended 
them for publication. They were the expression of a personal 
homage offered in the most straightforward way possible ; 
by one whom FULK Greville tells us did restore to his generation 
" the ancient majesty of noble and true dealing." 

It is indisputable, however, from the Sonnets themselves, that many of 
them were addressed to Stella, when she was occupying the position 
though bereft of the happiness of a newly wedded wife. Sidney knew 
that to do so was both hopeless and wrong. How beautifully he puts this. 

Ith what sharp checks I in myself am shent, 
When into Reason's audit I do go ; 
And by just counts, myself a bankrupt know 
Of all those goods which heaven to me hath lent. 

Unable quite, to pay even Nature's rent, 
Which unto it by birthright I do owe : 
And which is worse, no good excuse can show, 
But that my wealth I have most idly spent. 





A S TR OP HE L A ND S TZ L L A . 



485 



My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys ; 
My wit doth strive those passions to defend, 
Which for reward, spoil it with vain annoys. 

I see my course to lose myself doth bend. 




N Cupid's bow, how are my heart-strings bent ! 
That see my wrack, and yet embrace the same. 
When most I glory, then I feel most shame. 
I willing run, yet while I run, repent. 

My best wits still their own disgrace invent. 

Sidney in his devouring affection for this his only love, would have 
lost himself altogether, as this impassioned appeal shows. 




O more ! my Dear ! no more these counsels try ! 
O give my passions leave to run their race ! 
Let Fortune lay on me her worst disgrace ! 
Let folk o'ercharged with brain, against me cry ! 
Let clouds bedim my face, break in mine eye ! 
Let me no steps but of lost labour trace ! 
Let all the earth in scorn recount my case ; 
But do not will me from my love to fly ! 

I do not envy Aristotle's wit ; 
Nor do aspire to Cesar's bleeding fame ; 
Nor ought do care, though some above me sit ; 
Nor hope, nor wish another course to frame : 
But that which once may win thy cruel heart. 
Thou art my Wit, and thou my Virtue art. 



See also the Eighth Song. 

But Stella, loving him to distraction, was as firm as a rock. She 
saved Sidney from himself; at the same time declaring her affection for 

him. 




Ate tired with woe, even ready for to pine 
With rage of love, I called my love " unkind ! " 
She in whose eyes love, though unfelt, doth shine 



Sweetly said, " That I, true love in her should find." 



1 



486 In troduction to Sydney's 

I joyed ; but straight thus watered was my wine. 
" That love she did, but loved a love not blind ; 
Which would not let me, whom she loved, decline 
From nobler course, fit for my birth and mind : 

And therefore by her love's authority, 
Willed me, these tempests of vain love to fly ; 
And anchor fast myself on Virtue's shore." 

To which may be added that impassioned avowal of her fondness for 
him, in verses which expressed so truly the real state of her heart that 
Newman suppressed them in his Quartos of 1 591, probably as touching 
too near her personal and family life. 

Then she spake, her speech was such, 
As not ears, but heart did touch ; 
While such wise she love denied, 
As yet love she signified. 

" Astrophel," said she, " my love ! 

Cease in these effects to prove. 

Now be still ! yet still believe me, 

Thy grief more than death would grieve me." 

" If that any thought in me, 
Can taste comfort but of thee; 
Let me feed with hellish anguish, 
Joyless, hopeless, endless languish." 

" If those eyes you praised, be 
Half so dear as you to me ; 
Let me home return, stark blinded 
Of those eyes ; and blinder minded ! " 

" If to secret of my heart, 

I do any wish impart ; 

Where thou art not foremost placed : 

Be both wish and I defaced ! " 






AS7R0PHEL AND S TEL LA. 48 

" If more may be said, T say 

All my bliss on thee I lay. 

If thou love, my love content thee ! 

For all love, all faith is meant thee." 

" Trust me, while I thee deny, 

In myself the smart I try. 

Tyrant Honour doth thus use thee. 

Stella's self might not refuse thee ! " 

"Therefore, Dear! this no more move : 
Lest, though I leave not thy love, 
Which too deep in me is framed;' 
I should blush when thou art named ! " 

It was the result of this noble firmness that a kiss stolen while she 
"-**_«- t^ height of Sidney's indiscretion. He sTys^X at 

So while thy beauty draws the heart to love 
As fast thy virtue bends that love to good. 

Thus in the midst of all her hateful surroundings, she redeemed her 
own true love from all that was base or ignoble! ever poimmThlm 

Er^ndTT* J™ t0 thC high6St inquest and Chn Z 

chivalry and he has for ever glorified her in such verse, as no other 
English Lady has ever been celebrated with. So she come down to u 
depicted by her poet-lover as the very apotheosis of all that mos 
dehghtful, most tender, most beautiful, and most honourable in woman 




1 1 ' ■ iv, very careful of his writings, was 1 ei v shy or indifferent 
as to then- publication. The following letter written in 
November 1586, though it does riot mention these Sonnets • 
yet shows us on what principle they with his other works' 
were afterwards published. 



488 I NTRODUCTION TO SlDNEY.'s 

FULK G R E V I L L . 

Letter to Sir Francis Walsingham as to 
the printing of Sir Philip Sidney's 



Arcadia and other works. 



Sir, 




His day one [William] Ponsonby, a bookbinder in 
Paul's Churchyard, came to me and told me that 
there was one in hand to print Sir Philip Sidney's 
old Arcadia; asking me, "if it were done with your 
Honour's cons 1 ent] or any other's of his friends?" I told him, 
"To my knowledge, No." Then he advised me to give 
warning of it to the Archbishop [Whitgift] or Doctor Cosen; 
who have, as he says, a copy of it to peruse to that end. 

Sir, I am loth to renew his memory unto you, but yet in 
this I must presume ; for I have sent my Lady, your 
daughter, at her request, a correction of that old one, done 
four or five years since [i.e. in 1581 or 1582], which he left in 
trust with me : whereof there are no more copies [i.e. no other 
copy than this one] ; and [it is] fitter to be printed than the 
first which is so common [i.e. in manuscript]. Notwithstand- 
ing even that to be amended by a direction set down under 
his own hand, how and why : so as in many respects, 
especially the care of printing of it, it is to be done with 
more deliberation. 

Besides, he hath most excellently translated, among divers 
other notable works, Monsieur [de Mornay, Sieur] de 
Plessis's book against Atheism, which is since done by 
another. So.as both in respect of love between Plessis and 
him, besides other affinities in their courses, but especially 
Sir Philip's incomparable judgment : I think fit there be 
made stay of that mercenary book [i.e. that it be called in , so 
that Sir Philip might have all those religious works which 
are worthily due to his life and death. 

Many other works of Sir Philip SidneyJ, as [Du] Bartas's 
Spaniard ; Forty of the Psalms translated into metre ; 
which require the care of his friends not to amend, for 1 
think it falls within the reach of no man living; but only to 
see to the paper and other common errors of mercenary 
printing. 



ASTROPIIEL AND S TELL A. 489 

Gain there will be, no doubt, to be disposed [ofj by you. 
Let it be to the poorest of his servants. I desire only care 
to be had of his honour; who, I fear, hath carried the 
honour of these latter ages with him. 

Sir, pardon me ! I make this the business of my life ; 
and desire GOD to show that He is your GOD. 

From my Lodge, not well, this day in haste. 
Your Honour's 

Foulk Grevill. 

Sir, I had waited on you myself for [an] answer, because I 
am jealous of time in it: but in truth I am nothing well. 
Good Sir, think of it ! 

State Papers, Dom. Eliz. Vol. 195, Art. 43, in Public Record Office, London. 

VIII. 

Ere we must stop. Annotation must be as a rule forbidden 
in this Series, or we shall never get to the end of it. We 
have briefly indicated a few points which may better enable 
us to appreciate these wonderful poems. How nobly 
Sidney describes them at page 528 ! 

Stella ! the fulness of my thoughts of thee 
Cannot be stayed within my panting breast ; 
But they do swell and struggle forth of me 
Till that in words, thy figure be exprest. 

What subtle beauties are there in them ! What palpable ones also. 
Those "sighs stolen out, or killed before full born,'' p. 536; " thou straight 
look'st babies in her eyes," i.e. the reflection of lovers in each other's 
eyes, p. 508. Is there in our Literature another such glorification of a 
kiss, as that on p. 542? What can be more charming than the coy way 
in which it ends ? 

But lo ! lo ! where she is 
Cease we to praise. Now pray we for a kiss ? 

The following Sonnet, in honour of her "sweet swelling lip," is quite a 
counterpart of this. Akin to these, is that representation at p. 524 v( 
Cupid playing in Stella's lips: — 

With either lip, he doth the other kiss. 




490 In troduction to Sydney's 

And that stanza on page 577 — 

Think of that most grateful time ! 
When my leaping heart will climb 
In my lips to have his biding ! 
There those roses for to kiss, 
Which do breathe a sugared bliss ; 
Opening rubies, pearls dividing. 

So that in this one part of his ways, Sidney is our Poet of kissing. 

With these, we may put that sportive appeal to " Grammar rules " at 
p. 534 ; that radiant description of Stella in a boat on the Thames at 
p. 554; and these lines at p. 538. 

Sonnets be not bound 'prentice to Annoy: 
Trebles sing high, as well as basses deep : 
Grief, but Love's winter livery is ■ the boy 
Hath cheeks to smile as well as eyes to weep. 

There is in all this a happy joyousness, a delicate glee, a gladsome play- 
fulness that we should hardly have associated with a man of SIDNEY'S 
strength and breadth of character ; and one, too, so addicted to the 
athletic sports of the time. 

But he could also write in other moods ; as to those apostrophes to the 
Moon at p. 518, to Sleep at p. 522, to the highway to Stella's house at 
p. 545, and to Absence at p. 547 : with the description of Jealousy at p. 542. 

Consider also that wonderful FIFTH SONG at p. 564! There SIDNEY 
makes such cruel words as Thief! Tyrant! Rebel! Runaway! Witch! 
and Devil ! subservient by the slightest tincture of bathos, to the beati- 
fication of Stella. This Poem also offers in the sententious line which 
closes each of its'stanzas, some ready examples of their Author's powers 
as a Thoughtful as distinguished from an Amorous Poet. Many similar 
lines are scattered up and clown the Sonnets: and, in particular, nearly 
the whole of the Sonnets XXIII. and LI. illustrate this characteristic. 
Of which, we also take the following further instance from p. 530. 
Addressing the Muses, he says : — 

And oft whole troops of saddest words I stayed, 
Striving abroad a foraging to go ; 
Until by your inspiring, I might know 
How their black banner might be best displayed. 



A STROP II EL AND S TEL LA. 49 I 

Where shall we find another English poet who has given us such 
honeyed verse wedded to so much lofty thought, and expressed in such a 
perfect and pure taste? Fit tribute to a beautiful and virtuous Lady! 
from one who is the Chevalier Bayard of our history. 

IX. 

WORD or two on the Bibliography of the Poems and we have 
clone. It appears from the following entries in the Registers 
at Stationers' Hall, that Newman's first edition was called 
in at once, if we may not regard it as surreptitious. 

Item paid the xviij th of September [1591] for carryeinge 

of Newmans bookes to the hall iiij cl. 

Item paid to John Wolf [the Beadle of the Stationers'' 
Company] when he ryd with an answere to my Lord 
Treasurer beinge with her maiestie in progress for the 
taking of bookes intituled Sir P[hilip] S[idney] 
Astrophell and Stella XVS. 

Transcripts &>c. 1. 555. Ed. 1876. 

Three Quartos, all printed in 1591, have come down to us. Two printed 
for Thomas Newman, the other for Matthew Lownes. The question 
arises which of the two published by Newman was the surreptitious one. 

We think the one, the title page of which we have reproduced on 
page 493 ; and for the following reasons. 

1. There is a greater general divergence in the text from the authorized 
Arcadia version, than in Newman's other Quarto. 

2. It alone includes the Introductory matter between pages 495 and 
502 ; and all the poems between pages 580 and 600. 

3. It was evidently unauthorized, for Nash writes at page 49S : — 

Which although it be oftentimes imprisoned in ladies' 
caskets, and the precedent books of such as cannot see 
without another man's spectacles ; yet, at length, it breaks 
forth in spite of his keepers, and useth some private pen, 
instead of a pick-lock, to procure his violent enlargement. 

This being the case, Newman's other edition, the title page of which 
will be found at page 494, would be the second Quarto. The Songs are 
printed after the Sonnets in both editions, as we have printed them here. 
The Fifth SONG could never have been written of a married woman, and 
therefore confirms the other internal evidence that these Songs (to be 



492 Introduction to A str oph el &c. . 

sung) are an independent, though collateral homage of the same affection. 
Both editions are alike wanting in the Poems and stanzas distinguished on 
pages 521, 573, 577, and 578. 

Of the third Quarto of this year, we have only seen an imperfect title 
page, Harl. MS. 5,963, fol. 152; which is "Printed for Matthew 
Lo\VNES"but has the date cut off. There is a copy in the Bodleian, 
which we have not had an opportunity of consulting. We should from 
the title expect this to be a reissue or reimpression of the First Quarto. 
The proof that it is the latest in time of the three is that the First Quarto 
was seized in September ; and Matthew Lownes did not take up his 
freedom of the Stationers' Company, and therefore could not avowedly 
publish a book till the 1 ith of October 1591. 

At first we thought that these Quartos might have the better text : but 
on comparing and weighing, we have come to the conclusion that the 
version found after Sidney's Arcadia is in every way the truer and 
better one. The earliest revised edition of the Arcadia that we have 
met with is that of the Third Edition of 1 598. 

Thus the reader has here both the additional matter of the suppressed 
Quarto ; and the more accurate text of the Arcadia impression, of which 
(as we have seen) Sir FULK Grevil with Sidneys other friends were 
sponsors. 




■522^ 



Syr P. S. 

His Jlstrophel aitd Stella, 

Wherein the excellence of sweet 

Poesy is concluded. 
('.') 

To the end of which are added, sundry 

other rare Sonnets of divers Noble 

men and Gentlemen. 
(*) 



At London, 

Printed for Thomas Newman. 

Anno. Domini. 1 591. 

[Title page of the Quarto Edition with T. Nash's preface, written in what he calls 
his ' witless youth ; " which is prohahly the surreptitious imprcui 



^S I R P. S. HIS 

ASTROPHEL AND 
STELLA. 

Wherein the excellence of sweet 
Poesy is concluded. 






At London, 
Printed for Thomas Newman. 

Amio "Domini, 1591. 

[Title page of Newman's other Quarto Edition of dm year.] 



495 



fSxg?i fefe^ J'Ss^i tfwHvs iSf^i kS^s&jN 

K rT* v.'iX* -K7*ry \r7H* =K7*^# ^ .*> >* fCT^t v^*^-k ;*<t*-* v»r>* *r7»-< v -«* :>* v« 



[W^/mV;! l£*8^k«\fl W«y *S\jx ,^02* 







n^/ 7^ the worshipful and his very 

good friend, Master Francis Flower Esquire: 
increase of all content. 

T was my fortune, Right Worshipful, not many 
days since, to light upon the famous device of 
Astrophel and Stella, which carrying the 
general commendation of all men of judgment, and 
being reported to be one of the rarest things that ever any 
Englishmen set abroach, I have thought good to publish it 
under your name ; both for I know the excellency of your 
Worship's conceit, above all other to be such as is only fit to 
discern of all matters of wit ; as also for the credit and 
countenance your patronage may give to such a work. 

Accept of it, I beseech you, as the firstfruits of my 
affection, which desires to approve itself in all duty unto you : 
and though the argument, perhaps, may seem too light for 
your grave view ; yet considering the worthiness of the 
author, I hope you will entertain it accordingly. 



496 The Epistle. psKSE 

For my part, I have been very careful in the printing of it : 
and whereas being spread abroad in written copies, it had 
gathered much corruption by ill writers ; I have used their 
help and advice in correcting and restoring it to his first 
dignity, that I know were of skill and experience in those 
matters. 

And the rather was I moved to set it forth, because I 
thought it pity anything proceeding from so rare a man 
should be obscured ; or that his fame should not still be 
nourished in his works : whom the works with one united 
grief, bewailed. 

Thus craving pardon for my bold attempt, and desiring the 
continuance of your Worship's favour unto me : I end. 

Your's always to be commanded, 

Thomas Newman. 



497 



Ifcl 



Somewhat to read, for them 
that list. 




EMPUS adest plausus aurea pompa venit. So ends 
the scene of idiots ; and enter Astrophel in pomp. 
Gentlemen that have seen a thousand lines of folly 
drawn forth ex uno puncto impudcnticc, and two 
famous mountains to go to the conception of one mouse ; 
that have had your ears deafened with the echo of Fame's 
brazen towers, when only they have been touched with a 
leaden pen ; that have seen Pan sitting in his bower of 
delights, and a number of MiDAses to admire his miserable 
hornpipes : let not your surfeited sight — newly come from 
such puppet-play — think scorn to turn aside into this Theatre 
of Pleasure : for here you shall find a paper stage strewed 
with pearl, an artificial heaven to overshadow the fair frame, 
and crystal walls to encounter your curious eyes ; whiles the 
tragi-comedy of love is performed by starlight. 

The chief actor here is Melpomene, whose dusky robes, 
dipped in the ink of tears [which] as yet seem to drop, when 
I view them near ; the argument, cruel Chastity ; the 
prologue, Hope ; the epilogue, Despair. Vidctc qiaxso ct 
Unguis animisque favete. 

Eng. Gar. I. 32 



49S Somewhat to read for them that list. [si^Sf! 

And here, peradventure, my witless youth may be taxed 
with a margent note of presumption, for offering to put up 
any motion of applause in the behalf of so excellent a poet 
(the least syllable of whose name sounded in the ears of 
judgment, is able to give the meanest line he writes, a 
dowry of immortality) yet those that observe how jewels 
oftentimes come to their hands that know not their value ; 
and that the coxcombs of our days, like yEsop's cock, had 
rather have a barley kernel wrapt up in a ballet, than they 
will dig for the wealth of wit in any ground that they know 
not; I hope will also hold me excused, though I open the 
gate to his glory, and invite idle ears to the admiration cf his 
melancholy. 

Quid petitur sacris :iisi tantum fama poet is. 

Which although it be oftentimes imprisoned in ladies 
caskets, and the precedent books of such as cannot see 
without another man's spectacles ; yet, at length, it breaks 
forth in spite of his keepers, and useth some private pen, 
instead of a pick-lock, to procure his violent enlargement. 

The sun, for a time, may mask his golden head in a cloud ; 
yet in the end, the thick veil cloth vanish and his embellished 
blandishment appears. Long hath Astropiiel — England's 
sun — withheld the beams of his spirit from the common view 
of our dark sense ; and night hath hovered over the gardens 
of the Nine Sisters : while ignis fat mis, and gross fatty flames 
isueh as commonly arise out of dunghills) have taken occasion, 
in the midst eclipse of his shining perfections, to wander 
abroad with a wisp of paper at their tails, like hobgoblins; 
and lead men up and down, in a circle of absurdity a whole 
week, and they never know where they are. But now that 
cloud of sorrow is dissolved, which fiery Love exhaled from 



sepi.^". ] Somewhat to read for them that list. 499 

his dewy hair ; and Affection hath unburdened the labouring 
streams of her womb in the low cistern of his grave : the 
Night hath resigned her jetty throne unto Lucifer, and 
clear daylight possesseth the sky that was dimmed. 
Wherefore, break off your dance, you fairies and elves ! 
and from the fields, with the torn carcases of your timbrels ! 
for your kingdom is expired. Put out your rushlights, you 
poets and rhymers ! and bequeath your crazed quatorzains to 
the chandlers ! for lo, here he cometh that hath broken your 
legs. 

Apollo hath resigned his ivory harp unto Astrophel; and 
he, like Mercury, must lull you asleep with his music. Sleep 
Argus ! sleep ignorance ! sleep impudence ! for Mercury 
hath lo : and only lo Pcean belongeth to Astrophel. 

Dear Astrophel ! that in the ashes of thy love, livest again, 
like the Phcenix. O might thy body, as thy name, live again 
likewise here amongst us ! but the earth — the mother of 
mortality — hath snatched thee too soon into her chilled cold 
arms ; and will not let thee, by any means, be drawn from 
her deadly embrace : and thy divine soul, carried on angels' 
wings to heaven, is installed in Hermes' place, sole prolocutor 
to the gods. Therefore mayest thou never return from the 
Elysian fields, like Orpheus. Therefore must we ever mourn 
for our Orpheus. 

Fain would a second spring of passion here spend itself on 
his sweet remembrance — but Religion, that rebuketh profane 
lamentation, drinks in the rivers of those despairful tears, 
which languorous, ruth hath outwelled ; and bids me look 
back to the House of Honour : where from one and the self- 
same root of renown, I shall find many goodly branches 
derived ; and such as, with the spreading increase of their 
virtues, may somewhat overshadow the grief of his loss. 

32 



500 Somewhat to read for them that list, [sepi.^; 

Amongst the which ; fair sister of Phcebus ! and eloquent 
secretary of the Muses ! most rare Countess of Pembroke ! 
thou art not to be omitted : whom arts do adore as a second 
Minerva, and our poets extol as the patroness of their 
invention. For in thee, the Lesbian Sappho with her 
lyric harp is disgraced ; and the laurel garland, which thy 
brother so bravely advanced on his lance, is still kept green 
in the temple of Pallas. Thou only sacrificest thy soul 
to contemplation ! Thou only entertainest emptyhanded 
Homer ! and keepest the springs of Castalia from being dried 
up ! Learning, wisdom, beauty and all other ornaments of 
nobility whatsoever, seek to approve themselves in thy sight ; 
and get a further seal of felicity from the smiles of thy favour. 

Jove digna vivo ni Jove nata fores. 

I fear I shall be counted a mercenary flatterer, for mixing 
my thoughts with such figurative admiration : but general 
report that surpasseth my praise, condemneth my rhetoric 
of dulness for so cold a commendation. Indeed, to say the 
truth, my style is somewhat heavy-gaited, and cannot dance 
trip and go so lively ; with " O my love!" "Ah my love!" 
"All my love's gone!" — as other shepherds that have been 
fools in the morris, time out of mind : nor hath my prose any 
skill to imitate the " almond leap verse," and sit tabering, 
five years together, nothing but "to be," "to he," on a 
paper drum. Only I can keep pace with Gravesend barge : 
and care not, if I have water enough to land my ship of 
fools with the Term (the tide, I should say). Now every 
man is not of that mind. For some, to go the lighter away, 
will take in their freight of spangled feathers, golden pebbles, 
straw, reeds, bulrushes, or anything ; and then they bear out 
their sails as proudly, as if they were ballasted with bull beef. 



&p??ȣl Somewhat to read for tiirm that list. 501 

Others are so hardly bestead for a loading, that they are 
fain to retail the cinders of Troy, and the shivers of broken 
trunchions, to fill up their boat ; that else should go empty : 
and if they have but a pound's weight of good merchandise, it 
shall be placed at the poop, or plucked into a thousand pieces 
to credit their carriage. 

For my -part every man as he likes. Mens cuj usque is est 
quisque. 'Tisas good to go in cut-fingered pumps as cork 
shoes : if one wear Cornish diamonds on his toes. To 
explain it by a more familiar example. An ass is no great 
statesman in the beasts' commonwealth, though he wear his 
ears, upscvant muffe, after the Muscovy fashion, and hang the 
lip like a cap-case half open ; or look as demurely as a 
sixpenny brown loaf; for he hath some imperfections that 
do keep him from the common Council : yet, of many, he is 
deemed a very virtuous member, and one of the honestest 
sort of men that are. So that our opinion — as Sextius 
Empedocus affirmeth — gives the name of good or ill to every 
thing. Out of whose works— laiely translated into English, 
for the benefit of unlearned writers — a man might collect a 
whole book of this argument : which, no doubt, would prove 
a worthy commonwealth matter ; and far better than wit's 
wax kernel. Much good worship have the author ! 

Such is this golden age wherein we live, and so replenished 
with golden asses of all sorts : that if learning had lost itself 
in a grove of genealogies ; we need do no more but set an old 
goose over half a dozen pottle pots (which are, as it were, the 
eggs of invention) and we shall have such a breed of books, 
within a while after, as will fill all the world with the wild 
fowl of good wits. 

I can tell you this is a harder thing than making gold of 
quicksilver ; and will trouble you more than the moral of 



502 Somewhat to read for them that list. [^?™;. 

.ZEsop's glowworm hath troubled our English apes : who, 
striving to warm themselves with the flame of the 
philosopher's stone, have spent all their wealth, in buying 
bellows to blow this false fire. 

Gentlemen ! I fear I have too much presumed on youi 
idle leisure; and been too bold, to stand talking all this 
while in another man's door : but now I will leave you to 
survey the pleasures of Paphos, and offer your smiles on the 
altars of Venus. 

Yours, in all desire to please, 

Thomas Nashe. 




[The foregoing Introductory matter bel | ,-. and 502 occurs only in Nbwm \n'> I i. -1 

is that >.f the Arcadia in>; 1 
1 . ilic text is that of Newman's First Quarto ; where only tli*. c 

additional poems .ire found.] 



503 



IPS 




|9K|g 






wW) ffi/sM 


mss j^^w 


^if^mP 


nia ^J^^Sm 


ISI& 


^^^^ 





^^ Sir P [ H I L I P ] S [ I D N E Y ] 

HIS 

ASTROPHEL and STELLA. 




i. 

OviXG in truth, and fain in verse my love 

to show, 
That She, dear She ! might take some 

pleasure of my pain ; 
Pleasure might cause her read, reading 

might make her know, 
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace 
obtain : 
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, 
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain ; 
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow 
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain : 
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay. 
Invention Nature's child, fled step-dame's Study's blows; 
And others' feet still seemed but strangers' in my way. 

Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes; 
Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite : 
" Fool ! " said my Muse, "look in thy heart, and write ! " 




504 ASTROPHEL AND S T £ L L A. [ SW ? JjSJjJ 



I I. 

Ot AT the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot, [bleed : 
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe, will 
But known worth did in mine of time proceed, 
Till, by degrees, it had full conquest got. 
I saw and liked, I liked but loved not ; 
I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed : 
At length to Love's decrees, I forced, agreed ; 
Yet with repining at so partial lot. 

Now even that footstep of lost liberty 
Is gone ; and now, like slave-born Muscovite, 
I call it praise to suffer tyranny : 

And now employ the remnant of my wit 
To make me self believe that all is well; 
While with a feeling skill, I paint my hell. 



III. 



j^^B|Et dainty wits cry on the Sisters nine, 
\ fyjnWl That hravely maskt, their fancies may be told ; 
*y**M O f Pindar's apes flaunt they in phrases fine, 
Enamelling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold ; 

Or else let them in statelier glory shine, 
Ennobling new-found tropes with problems old ; 
Or with strange similes enrich each line, 
Of herbs or beasts which Inde or Afric hold : 
For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know. 
Phrases and problems from my reach do grow, 
And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites. 
How then ? Even thus. In Stella's face I read 
What love and beauty be. Then all my deed 
But copying is, what in her Nature writes. 



Sir P. Sidney. 1 
1 1581-1584.J 



A STRO P H E L AND S TEL LA. 



505 




IV. 

Irtue ! alas, now let me take some rest. 
Thou sett'st a bate between my will and wit 
If vain love have my simple soul opprest ; 
Leave what thou lik'st not ! deal not thou with it 

Thy sceptre use in some old Cato's breast : 
Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit. 
I do confess, pardon a fault confest ! 
My mouth too tender is for thy hard bit. 
But if that needs thou wilt usurping be 
The little reason that is left in me ; 
And still th'effect of thy persuasions prove : 

I swear my heart, such one shall show to thee, 
That shrines in flesh so true a deity ; 
That Virtue ! thou thyself shalt be in love ! 




V. 

|T is most true — that eyes are formed to serve 
The inward light ; and that the heavenly part . 
OughttobeKing; fromwhose rules, who doth swer 
(Rebels to Nature) strive for their own smart : 
It is most true — what we call Cupid's dart, 
An image is ; which for ourselves we carve, 
And, fools ! adore, in temple of our heart ; 
Till that good GOD make church and churchman starve : 

True — that true beauty, Virtue is indeed ; 
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade, 
Which elements with mortal mixture breed : 

True — that on earth, we are but pilgrims made ; 
And should in soul, up to our country move : 
True — and yet true, that I must Stella love. 



;o6 



A STROP II EL AND Si ELLA. R^S 




VI. 

Ome lovers speak, when they their Muses entertain, 
Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires, 
Of force of heavenly beams infusing hellish pain, 
Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing 
fires. 
Some one his song, in Jove and Jove's strange tales attires ; 
Bordered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden rain : 
Another humbler wit to shepherd's pipe retires, 
Yet hiding royal blood full oft in rural vein. 

To some a sweetest plaint, a sweetest style affords; [words : 
While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his 
His paper, pale despair ; and pain, his pen doth move. 

I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they ; 
But think that all the map of my state I display, 
When trembling voice brings forth, that I do Stella love. 




VII. 

Hen Nature made her chief work — Stella's eyes ; 
In colour black, why wrapt she beams so bright ? 
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise, 
Frame daintiest lustre, mixed of shades and light ? 

Or did she else that sober hue devise, 
In object best to knit and strength our sight ? 
Lest if no veil these brave gleams did disguise, 
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight. 

Or would she her miraculous power show? 
That whereas black seems beauty's contrary ; 
She, even in black, doth make all beauties How ! 
But so and thus, she minding Love should be 
Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed ; 
To honour all their deaths, which lor her bleed. 




S ? f SfaSK'] ASTROPIIEL A N D S 7 E L L A. S°7 

VIII. 

Ove born in Greece, of late fled from his native place; 
Forced by a tedious proof, that Turkish hardened 
heart 

Is no fit mark to pierce with his fine pointed dart : 
And pleased with our soft peace, stayed here his flying race. 

But finding these North climes do coldly him embrace ; 
Not used to frozen clips, he strave to find some part 
Where, with most ease and warmth, he might employ his art. 
At length he perched himself in Stella's joyful face ; 

Whose fair skin, beamy eyes, like morning sun on snow : 
Deceived the quaking boy ; who thought from so pure light, 
Effects of lively heat must needs in nature grow. [flight 

But she most fair, most cold, made him thence take his 
To my close heart ; where, while some firebrands he did lay, 
He burnt un'wares his wings, and cannot fly away. 



IX. 

Ueen Virtue's Court— which some call Stella's 
Prepared by Nature's choicest furniture; [face — 
Hath his front built of alabaster pure. 
Gold is the covering of that stately place. 

The door, by which sometimes comes forth her Grace, 
Red porphyry is, which lock of pearl makes sure : 
Whose porches rich (which name of cheeks endure) 
Marble mixt red and white do interlace. 

The windows now— through which this heavenly guest 
Looks o'er the world, and can find nothing such 
Which dare claim from those lights the name of best— 

Of touch they are, that without touch do touch ; 
Which Cupid's self, from Beauty's mind did draw : 
Of touch they are, and poor I am their straw. 




508 A s tr o r h e l a x d Stella. 



[ Sir P. Sidney. 
L ? 1581-1584- 




X. 

Eason ! in faith, thou art well served ! that still 
Wouldst brabbling be with Sense and Love in me. 
I rather wisht thee climb the Muses' hill, 
Or reach the fruit of Nature's choicest tree, 

Or seek heaven's course, or heaven's inside to see. 
Why shouldst thou toil, our thorny soil to till ? 
Leave Sense ! and those which Sense's objects be. 
Deal thou with powers ! of thoughts, leave Love to will ! 

But thou wouldst needs fight both with Love and Sense 
With sword of wit, giving wounds of dispraise ; 
Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence. 

For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays; 
Reason ! thou kneel'dst ; and offeredst straight to prove 
By reason good, good reason her to love. 




XI. 

N truth, O Love ! with what a boyish kind 
Thou dost proceed in thy most serious ways ; 
That when the heaven to thee his best displays, 
Yet of that best, thou leav'st the best behind : 

For like a child, that some fair book doth find, 
With gilded leaves or coloured vellum plays ; 
Or, at the most, on some fair picture stays : 
But never heeds the fruit of writer's mind. 

So when thou saw'st in Nature's cabinet, 
STELLA : thou straight look'st babies in her eyes; 
In her cheek's pit, thou didst thy pitfold set ; 

And in her breast, bo-peep or couching lies: 
Playing and shining in each outward part. 
But, lool ! seek'st not to get into her heart! 




S 'v ^h-Sl ASTROPIIEL AND S TE LLA. 50 p 



XII. 

]Upid ! because thou shin'st in Stella's eyes ; 

That from her locks, thy dances none 'scapes free ; 
_ That those lips swelled, so full of thee they be, 
That her sweet breath makes oft thy flames to rise ; 

That in her breast, thy pap well sugared lies ; 
That her grace, gracious makes thy wrongs ; that she 
What words so e'er she speak, persuades for thee : 
That her clear voice lifts thy fame to the skies : 

Thou countest Stella thine, like those whose powers 
Having got up a breach by fighting well, 
Cry, " Victory ! this fair day all is ours ! " 

O no ! Her heart is such a citadel, 
So fortified with wit, stored with disdain ; 
That to win it, is all the skill and pain. 



XIII. 

j Hcebus was judge between Jove, Mars and Love; 
J Of those three gods, whose arms the fairest were. 
I Jove's golden shield did eagle sables bear, 
Whose talons held young Ganymede above. 

But in vert field, Mars bare a golden spear, 
Which through a bleeding heart his point did shove. 
Each had his crest. Mars carried Venus' glove ; 
Jove on his helm, the thunderbolt did rear. 

Cupid then smiles. For on his crest there lies 
Stella's fair hair. Her face, he makes his shield ; 
Where roses gules are borne in silver field. 

Puce bus drew wide the curtains of the skies 
To blaze these last : and sware devoutly then, 
The first, thus matched, were scantly gentlemen. 




IO 



A ST R I' II E L A X D S T E L L A 



[Sir P. Sidney. 
L ? 1581-1584- 




XIV. 

Las ! have I not pain enough ? my friend ! 
Upon whose breast, a fiercer gripe doth tire, 

I Than did on him who first stole down the fire; 

While Love on me, doth all his quiver spend : 

But with your rhubarb words ye must contend 
To grieve me worse in saying, " That Desire 
Doth plunge my well-formed soul even in the mire 
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end." 

If that be sin, which doth the manners frame 
Well stayed with truth in word, and faith of deed ; 
Ready of wit, and fearing nought but shame : 

If that be sin, which in fixt hearts doth breed 
A loathing of all loose unchastity : 
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be ! 




XV. 

Ou that do search for every purling spring 
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows ; 
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows 
Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring : 
You that do dictionary's method bring 
Into your rhymes running in rattling rows; 
You that poor Petrarch's long deceased woes, 
With newborn sighs and denizened wit do sing: 

You take wrong ways ! Those far-fet helps be such 
As do bewray a want of inward touch ; 
And sure at length, stolen goods do come to light. 

But if (both for your love and skill) your name 
You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of Fame : 
S 1 1.1.1. \ behold ! and then begin to endite. 



S'r P. s 
I 1581 -1584- 



ASTROPIIEL AND S T E L L A . 5 I I 




XVI. 

N nature apt to like, when I did see 
Beauties which were of many carats fine ; 
My boiling sprites did thither soon incline, 



And, Love ! I thought that I was full of thee. 

But finding not those restless flames in me, 
Which others said did make their souls to pine : 
I thought those babes, of some pin's hurt did whine ; 
By my soul judging what love's pains might be. 

But while I thus with this lion played, 
Mine eyes (shall I say curst or blest ?) beheld 
Stella. Now she is named, need more be said ? 

In her sight, I a lesson new have spelled. 
I now have learned love right ; and learned even so, 
As who by being poisoned doth poison know. 




XVII. 

Is mother dear, Cupid offended late: 
Because that Mars grown slacker in her love, 
With pricking shot he did not throughly move, 
To keep the pace of their first loving state. 
The boy refused for fear of Mars' hate ; 
Who threatened stripes, if he his wrath did prove: 
But she, in chafe, him from her lap did shove ; 
Brake bow, brake shafts: while weeping Cupid sate. 

Till that his grandame Nature pitying it, 
Of Stella's brows, made him two better bows; 
And in her eyes, of arrows infinite. 

O how for joy, he leaps ! O how he crows ! 
And straight therewith — like wags new got to play — 
Falls to shrewd turns ; and I was in his way. 




512 ASTROPIIEL AND S T E L L A . [ Si ? r fsgfL^f* 



XVI II. 

Ith what sharp checks I in myself am shent, 
When into Reason's audit I do go ; 
And by just counts, myself a bankrupt know 
Of all those goods which heaven to me hath lent. 

Unable quite, to pay even Nature's rent, 
Which unto it by birthright I do owe : 
And which is worse, no good excuse can show, 
But that my wealth I have most idly spent. 

My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys ; 
My wit doth strive those passions to defend, 
Which for reward, spoil it with vain annoys. 
I see my course to lose myself doth bend ; 
I see, and yet no greater sorrow take, 
Than that I lose no more for Stella's sake. 



XIX. 

jJN Cupid's bow, how are my heart-strings bent ! 
That see my wrack, and yet embrace the same. 
When most I glory, then I feel most shame. 
I willing run; yet while I run, repent. 

My best wits still their own disgrace invent. 
My very ink turns straight to Stella's name ; 
And yet my words — as them, my pen doth frame — 
Advise themselves that they are vainly spent. 

For though she pass all things, yet what is all 
That unto me ; who fares like him that both 
Looks to the skies and in a ditch doth fall ? 

O let me prop my mind, yet in his growth, 
And not in nature for best fruits unfit ! 
" Scholar ! " saith Love, " bend hitherward your wit !" 




Sir P. Sidney.] 
? 15S1-1584.J 



A STROP II EL AND S TE LL A 



513 



XX. 




Ly ! fly ! my friends ; I have my death wound, fly ! 
See there that boy ! that murdering boy, I say ! 
Who, like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie, 
Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey ! 
So, tyrant ! he no fitter place could spy, 
Nor so fair level in so secret stay, 
As that sweet black which veils the heavenly eve : 
There himself with his shot, he close doth lay. 

Poor passenger! pass now thereby I did, 
And stayed, pleased with the prospect of the place ; 
While that black hue from me the bad guest hid : 
But straight I saw motions of lightning grace, 
And then descried the glistering of his dart ; 
But ere I could fly hence, it pierced my heart. 




XXI. 

Our words, my friend ! (right healthful caustics ! ) 

blame 
My young mind marred, whom love doth windlass so; 



That mine own writings (like bad servants) show . 
My wits quick in vain thoughts ; in virtue, lame. 

" That Plato I read for nought, but if he tame 
Such coltish years; that to my birth I owe 
Nobler desires : lest else that friendly foe 
Great Expectation, wear a train of shame." 

" For since mad March great promise made of me ; 
If now the May of my years much decline, 
What can be hoped my harvest time will be ? " 

Sure you say well ! Your wisdom's golden mine, 
Dig deep with learning's spade ! Now tell me this, 
Hath this world ought so fair as Stella is ? 

RNG. Car. I. 33 



5H 



A S TR P II E L A N D S T E L L A . 



[Sir P. Sidney. 
L ? 1581-1584. 



XXII 




N highest way of heaven, the sun did ride, 
Progressing then from fair Twins' golden place; 
Having no scarf of clouds before his face, 
But shining forth of heat in his chief pride : 

When some fair ladies, by hard promise tied, 
On horseback met him in his furious race; 
Yet each prepared with fan's well-shading grace, 
From that foe's wounds, their tender skins to hide. 

Stella alone, with face unarmed, marched ; 
Either to do like him which open shone, 
Or careless of the wealth because her own : 

Yet were the hid and meaner beauties parched ; 
Her daintiest bare, went free. The cause was this. 
The sun which others burnt, did her but kiss. 




XXIII. 

He curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness 
Bewray itself in my long settled eyes : 
Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise, 
With idle pains and missing aim, do guess. 

Some that know how my Spring I did address, 
Deem that my Muse some fruit of know ledge plies 
Others, because the Prince my service tries, 
Think that I think State errors to redress. 

But harder judges judge ambition's rage — 
Scourge of itself, still climbing slippery place — 
Holds my young brain captived in golden cage. 

fools ! or overwise ! alas, the race 
Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start, 
But only Stella's eyes and Stella's heart. 



Sir P. Sidney.] 
? 1581-1584. J 



ASTROPHEL AND S T E L L A . 5 I 5 




XXIV. 

Ich fools there be, whose base and filthy heart 
Lies hatching still the goods wherein they flow : 
And damning their own selves to Tantal's smart, 
Wealth breeding want ; more blest, more wretched grow. 

Yet to those fools, heaven such wit doth impart, 
As what their hands do hold, their heads do know ; 
And knowing, love and loving lay apart, 
As sacred things, far from all danger's show : 

But that rich fool, who by blind Fortune's lot, 
The richest gem of love and life enjoys ; 
And can with foul abuse, such beauties blot : 
Let him deprived of sweet but unfelt joys, 
(Exiled for aye from those high treasures, which 
He knows not) grow in only folly rich ! 




XXV. 

He wisest scholar of the wight most wise, 
By Phoebus' doom, with sugared sentence says 
" That virtue, if it once met with our eyes, 
Strange flames of love it in our souls would raise : 
But for that man, with pain this truth descries, 
Whiles he each thing in sense's balance weighs : 
And so nor will, nor can behold those skies, 
Which inward sun to heroic minds displays." 

Virtue, of late, with virtuous care to stir 
Love of herself, takes Stella's shape; that she 
To mortal eyes might sweetly shine in her. 
It is most true. For since I her did see, 
Virtue's great beauty in that face I prove, 
And find th'effect : for I do burn in love. 
33* 



5 1 6 Astro fuel and Stella. [ s, l *JSj%: 



xO i 



XXVI. 

Hough dusty wits dare scorn astrology ; 
And fools can think those lamps of purest light- 
Whose number, ways, greatness, eternity, 
Promising wonders ; wonder do invite — 

To have, for no cause, birthright in the sky ; 
But for to spangle the black weeds of Night : 
Or for some brawl, which in that chamber high, 
They should still dance to please a gazer's sight. 

For me, I do Nature unidle know ; 
And know great causes, great effects procure ; 
And know those bodies high reign on the low : 

And if these rules did fail, proof makes me sure. 
Who oft fore-judge my after-following race, 
By only those two stars in Stella's face. 




XXVII. 

Ecause I oft in dark abstracted guise, 
Seem most alone in greatest company ; 
With dearth of words, or answers quite awry, 
To them that would make speech of speech arise. 
They deem, and of their doom the rumour flies, 
That poison foul of bubbling pride doth lie 
So in my swelling breast ; that only I 
Fawn on me self, and others do despise. 

Yet pride, I think, doth not my soul possess, 
Winch looks too oft in his unflattering glass : 
But one worse fault, ambition, I confess, 

That makes me oft my best friends overpass 
Unseen, unheard ; while thought to highest place 
Bends all his powers, even to Stella's grace. 



Sir i*. sniney. 
? 1581-1584. 



AsLROPHEL AND S TELL A. 5 I 7 




XXVII I. 

Ou THAT with allegory's curious frame, 
Of others' children, changelings use to make : 
With me, those pains for GOD's sake do not take. 



I list not dig so deep for brazen fame. 

When I say Stella ! I do mean the same 
Princess of Beauty ; for whose only sake 
The reins of love I love, though never slack : 
And joy therein, though nations count it shame. 

I beg no subject to use eloquence, 
Nor in hid ways do guide philosophy : 
Look at my hands for no such quintessence ! 

But know ! that I, in pure simplicity, 
Breathe out the flames which burn within my heart, 
Love only reading unto me this art. 



XXIX. 



Ike some weak lords — neighboured by mighty Icings 
To keep themselves and their chief cities free ; 
Do easily yield that all their coasts may be 
Ready to store their camp of needful things : 

So Stella's heart, finding what power Love brings, 
To keep itself in life and liberty ; 
Doth willing grant that in the frontiers he 
Use all to help his other conquerings : 

And thus her heart escapes, but thus her eyes 
Serve him with shot ; her lips, his heralds are ; 
Her breasts, his tents ; legs, his triumphal car; 

Her flesh, his food ; her skin, his armour brave. 
And I, but for because my prospect lies 
Upon that coast, am given up for slave. 




5 I 8 ASTROPIIEL AND S T E L LA. [ Si J %5J3E 

XXX. 

Hether the Turkish new moon minded be 
To fill his horns this year on Christian coast ? 
How Poles' right King means, without leave of host» 
To warm with ill- made fire, cold Muscovy ? 

If French can yet three parts in one agree ? 
What now the Dutch in their full diets boast ? 
How Holland's hearts — now so good towns be lost — 
Trust in the shade of pleasing Orange tree ? 
How Ulster likes of that same golden bit, 
Wherewith my father once made it half tame ? 
If in the Scotch Court be no welt'ring yet ? 

These questions, busy wits to me do frame : 
I — cumbered with good manners — answer do ; 
But know not how, for still I think on you. 



XXXI. 




Ith how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb'st the skies! 
How silently ! and with how wan a face ! 

3] What ! may it be that even in heavenly place 
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries ? 

Sure, if "that long with love-acquainted eyes 
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case. 
I read it in thy looks. Thy languisht grace 
To me that feel the like, thy state descries. 

Then even of fellowship, O Moon ! tell me 
Is constant love deemed there, but want of wit ? 
Arc beauties there, as proud as here they be ? 

Do they above love to be loved ; and yet 
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess ? 
Do they call virtue there, ungratefulness ? 



Sir P. Sidney. 
? 1581-15S4. 



A s r r p 11 e 1. a x j) Stella. 



5i9 




XXXII. 

Orpheus ! the lively son of deadly Sleep, 
Witness of life to them that living die. 
A prophet oft, and oft an history, 
A poet eke ; as humours fly and creep : 

Since thou in me so sure a power dost keep, 
That never I with close up sense do lie, 
But by thy work, my Stella I descry ; 
Teaching blind eyes both how to smile and weep. 

Vouchsafe of all acquaintance this to tell ! 
Whence hast thou ivory, rubies, pearl and gold, 
To show her skin, lips, teeth and head so well ? 

" Fool ! " answers he, " no Indes such treasures hold ; 
But from thy heart, while my sire charmeth thee, 
Sweet Stella's image I do steal to me." 




XXXIII. 

Might — unhappy word, O me ! — I might, 
And then would not, or could not see my bliss 
Till now, wrapt in a most infernal night, 
I find, how heavenly day, wretch ! I did miss. 

Heart rent thyself! thou dost thyself but right. 
No lovely Paris made thy Helen his ; 
No force, no fraud robbed thee of thy delight; 
No Fortune, of thy fortune author is ; 

But to myself, myself did give the blow; 
While too much wit (forsooth !) so troubled me, 
That I, respects for both our sakes must show: 

And yet could not by rising morn foresee 
How fair a day was near. O punisht eyes ! 
That I had been more foolish or more wise! 



520 



ASTROPHEL AND S TEL LA. 



r Sir P. Sidney, 
L X 1581-I 



584- 




XXXIV. 

Ome, let me write. ''And to what end ? " To ease 
A burthened heart. " How can words ease, which are 
The glasses of thy daily vexing care ? " 
Oft, cruel fights well pictured forth do please. 
"Art not ashamed to publish thy disease ? " 
Nay that may breed my fame. It is so rare. 
" But will not wise men think thy words fond ware ? " 
Then be they close, and so none shall displease. 

" What idler thing, than speak and not be heard ? " 
What harder thing, than smart and not to speak ? 
" Peace ! foolish wit ! " With wit, my wit is marred. 

Thus write I, while I doubt to write ; and wreak 
My harms on ink's poor loss. Perhaps some find 
Stella's great powers, that so confuse my mind. 




XXXV. 

Hat may words say, or what may words not say; 
Where truth itself must speak like flattery ? 
Within what bounds, can one his liking stay; 
Where Nature doth with infinite agree ? 

What Nestor's counsel can my flames allay, 
Since Reason's self doth blow the coal in me ? 
And ah ! what hope that hope should once see day, 
Where Cupid is sworn page to Chastity ? 

II'»nour is honoured, that thou dost possess 
Him as thy slave ; and now long needy FAME 
Doth even -row rich, naming my Stella's name. 

WlT learns in thee perfection to express; 
Not thou by praise, but Praise in thee is raised. 
It is a praise to praise, where thou art praised. 



Sir P. Sidney.1 
? I58Z-I584.J 



ASTROPIIEL A X D S 7 E L L A 



521 




XXXVI. 

Tella! whence doth this new assault arise? 
A conquered, yielded, ransacked heart to win ! 
Whereto, long since, through my long battered eyes, 
Whole armies of thy beauties entered in. 

And there, long since, Love thy Lieutenant lies : 
My forces razed, thy banners raised within. 
Of conquest, do not these effects suffice ? 
But wilt now war upon thine own begin 

With so sweet voice, and by sweet Nature so 
In sweetest strength ; so sweetly skilled withal 
In all sweet stratagems sweet Art can show : 

That not my soul, which at thy foot did fall, 
Long since forced by thy beams ; but stone nor tree 
By Sense's privilege, can 'scape from thee. 



Ml 



XXXVI I. 

[This is the Sonnet omitted in Newman's editions of 1591, probably from its being 
of too personal a character, as it distinctly identifies Stella wi'h Lady Rich.] 

Y mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell, 
My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labour be : 
Listen then Lordings with good ear to me ! 
For of my life I must a riddle tell. 

Towards Aurora's Court, a nymph doth dwell 
Rich in all beauties which man's eye can see : 
Beauties so far from reach of words, that we 
Abuse her praise saying she doth excel. 

Rich in the treasure of deserved renown. 
Rich in the riches of a royal heart. 
Rich in those gifts, which give th'eternal crown : 
Who, though most rich in these and every part, 
Which make the patents of true worldly bliss ; 
Hath no misfortune, but that Rich she is. 



522 A S TR P II E L A N D S TE L L A . [^^iSR 




XXXVIII. 

His night, while sleep begins with heavy wings 
To hatch mine eyes, and that unbitted thought 
Doth fall to stray; and my chief powers are brought 
To leave the sceptre of all subject things : 

The first that straight my fancy's error brings 
Unto my mind, is Stella's image; wrought 
By Love's own self, but with so curious draught, 
That she, methinks, not only shines but sings : 

I start ! look ! hark ! but what in closed up sense 
Was field, in open sense it flies away ; 
Leaving me nought but wailing eloquence. 

I, seeing better sights in sight's decay ; 
Called it anew, and wooed sleep again : 
But him her host, that unkind guest had slain. 



XXXIX 




Ome Sleep ! O Sleep ! the certain knot of peace ! 
The baiting place of wit ! the balm of woe ! 
The poor man's wealth ! the prisoner's release ! 
Tlf indifferent judge between the high and low ! 

With shield of proof, shield me from out the press 
Of those fierce darts, DESPAIR at me doth throw! 

make in me those civil wars to cease ! 

1 will good tribute pay if thou do so. 

Take thou of me, smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light, 

A ro y garland, and a weary head: 

And if these things as being thine by right, 
Move not thy heavj Qrac< ; thou shalt in me 
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see. 



Sir P. Sidney."! 
? 1581-1584.J 



A S T R P JI E L AND S T E L L A . 523 




XL. 

S good to write, as for to lie and groan. 
Stella dear ! how much thy power hath wrought ! 
Thou hast my mind, none of the basest, brought 



My still-kept course, while others sleep, to moan. 

Alas, if from the height of Virtue's throne, 
Thou canst vouchsafe the influence of a thought 
Upon a wretch, that long thy grace hath sought ; 
Weigh then, how I, by thee, am overthrown ! 

And then, think thus, "Although thy beauty be 
Made manifest by such a victory ; 
Yet noblest conquerors do wracks avoid." 

Since then thou hast so far subdued me 
That in my heart I offer still to thee. 
O do not let thy temple be destroyed ! 



11 

Li! 



XLI. 

Aving this day, my horse, my hand, my lance 
Guided so well ; that I obtained the prize : 
Both by the judgment of the English eyes ; 
And of some sent by that sweet enemy, France ! 
Horsemen, my skill in horsemanship advance ; 
Townsfolk, my strength ; a daintier judge applies 
His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise ; 
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; 
Others, because, of both sides, I do take 
My blood from them who did excel in this ; 
Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make. 

How far they shot awry ! The true cause is, 
Stella lookt on, and from her heavenly face 
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race. 



524 



ASTROPHEL AND S TELL A 



Sir P. Sidney. 
. ? 1581-15S4. 




XLI I 

Eyes ! which do the sphsres of beauty move ; 
Whose beams be joys ; whose joys, all virtues be ; 
Who while they make Love conquer, conquer Love. 
The schools where Venus hath learned chastity. 

O eyes ! where humble looks most glorious prove ; 
Only, loved tyrants ! just in cruelty, 
Do not ! O do not from poor me remove ! 
Keep still my zenith ! Ever shine on me ! 

For though I never see them, but straightways 
My life forgets to nourish languisht sprites ; 
Yet still on me, O eyes ! dart down your rays ! 

And if from majesty of sacred lights 
Oppressing mortal sense, my death proceed : 
Wracks, triumphs be ; which love (high set) doth breed. 




XLIII. 

Am eyes ! sweet lips ! dear heart ! that foolish I 
Could hope, by Cupid's help, on you to prey : 
Since to himself, he doth your gifts apply; 
As his main force, choice sport, and easeful stay. 

For when he will see who dare him gainsay ; 
Then with those eyes, he looks. Lo ! by and by, 
Each soul doth at Love's feet, his weapons lay ; 
Glad if for her he give them leave to die. 

When he will play ; then in her lips, he is ; 
Where blushing red, that Love's self them doth love; 
With either lip, he doth the other kiss. 

But when he will for quiet's sake, remove 
From all the world ; her heart is then his room : 
Where, well he knows, no man to him can come. 



Sir P. Sidney. 1 
•>. 15S1-1584.J 



ASTROPHEL AND S T E L L A . 



525 




XLI V. 

Y words, I know, do well set forth my mind ; 
My mind bemoans his sense of inward smart 
Such smart may pity claim of any heart ; 



Her heart, sweet heart ! is of no tigress kind: 

And yet she hears, and yet no pity I find ; 
But more I cry, less grace she doth impart. 
Alas, what cause is there, so overthwart, 
That Nobleness itself makes thus unkind ? 

I much do guess, yet find no truth save this; 
That when the breath of my complaints do touch 
Those dainty doors unto the Court of Bliss, 

The heavenly nature of that place is such, 
That once come there, the sobs of my annoys 
Are metamorphosed straight to tunes of joys. 




XLV. 

Tella oft sees the very face of woe 
Painted in my beclouded stormy face ; 
But cannot skill to pity my disgrace, 
Not, though thereof the cause herself she know : 

Yet hearing late a fable which did show 
Of lovers never known, a piteous case ; 
Pity thereof gat in her breast such place 
That from that sea derived, tears' spring did flow. 

Alas, if Fancy drawn by imaged things, 
Though false, yet with free scope more grace doth breed 
Than servant's wrack, where new doubts honour brings; 

Then think, my Dear ! that you in me do read 
Of lovers' ruin, some sad tragedy. 
I am not I, pity the tale of me ! 



526 A STROP II EL AND S TEL LA. 



Sir P. Sidney 
$1-1584. 




X L V I . 

Curst thee oft, I pity now thy case, 
Blind-hitting boy ! since she, that thee and me 
Rules with a beck, so tyrannizeth thee, 
That thou must want or fcod or dwelling place. 

For she protests to " banish thee her face." 
Her face ! O Love, a rogue thou then shouldst be! 
" If Love learn not alone to love and see, 
Without desire to feed of further grace." 
Alas, poor wag! that now a scholar art 
To such a schoolmistress, whose lessons new 
Thou needs must miss; and so, thou needs must smart ! 

Yet Dear ! let me his pardon get of you, 
So long (though he from book myche to desire) 
Till without fuel, you can make hot fire. 



XLVII. 

[Hat ! have I thus betrayed my liberty ? 
Can those black beams, such burning marks engrave 
In my free side ? or am I born a slave, 
Whose neck becomes such yoke of tyranny ? 

Or want I sense to feel my misery? 
Or sprite, disdain of such disdain to have? 
Who for long faith, though daily help I crave, 
May get no alms, but scorn of beggary. 

Virtue, awake ! Beauty, but beauty is. 
I may, I must, I can, I will, I do 
Leave following that which it is gain to miss. 

Let her do ! Soft ! but here she comes. Go to ! 
" Unkind ! I love you not." O me ! that eye 
Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie. 




S1 ? ^5^:] ASTROPIIEL AND S T E L L A. $27 




XLVIII. 

Oul's joy ! bend not those morning stars from me ! 
Where Virtue is made strong by Beauty's might, 
Where Love is Chasteness, Pain doth learn Delight, 
And Humbleness grows one with Majesty : 

Whatever may ensue, let me be 
Co-partner of the riches of that sight ! 
Let not mine eyes be hell-driven from that light ! 
look ! O shine ! O let me die and see ! 

For though I oft myself of them bemoan, 
That through my heart their beamy darts be gone ; 
Whose cureless wounds, even now, most freshly bleed : 

Yet since my death wound is already got ; 
Dear Killer! spare not thy sweet cruel shot! 
A kind of grace it is, to slay with speed. 




XLIX. 

, On my horse ; and Love on me, doth try 
Our horsemanships : while by strange work I prove 
A horseman to my horse, a horse to Love; 
And now man's wrongs in me poor beast! descry. 

The reins wherewith my rider doth me tie 
Are Humbled Thoughts, which bit of Reverence move; 
Curbed in with Fear, but with gilt boss above 
Of Hope, which makes it seem fair to the eye. 

The wand is Will, thou Fancy saddle art, 
Girt fast by Memory ; and while I spur 
My horse, he spurs with Sharp Desire my heart. 

He sits me fast, however I do stir ; 
And now hath made me to his hand so right, 
That in the menage mvself takes delight. 



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L. 

Tella! the fulness of my thoughts of thee 
Cannot be stayed within my panting breast ; 
B ut they do swell and struggle forth of me 
Till that in words, thy figure be exprest. 
And yet as soon as they so formed be, 
According to my lord Love's own behest : 
With sad eyes, I their weak proportion see, 
To portrait that which in this world is best. 

So that I cannot choose but write my mind ; 
And cannot choose but put out what I write ; 
While these poor babes their death in birth do find. 

And now my pen, these lines had dashed quite, 
But that they stopt his fury from the same ; 
Because their forefront bare sweet Stella's name. 




LI. 

Ardon mine ears ! both I and they do pray, 
So may your tongue still fluently proceed 
To them, that do such entertainment need: 
So may you still have somewhat new to say. 

On silly me do not the burden lay 
Of all the grave conceits, your brain doth breed : 
But find some Hercules to bear (instead 
Of Atlas tired) your wisdom's heavenly sway. 
For me, while you discourse of courtly tides ; 
Of cunning fishers in most troubled streams ; 
Of straying ways, when valiant error guides: 

Meanwhile, my heart confers with Stella's beams, 
And is even irkt that so sweet comedy 
By such unsuited speech, should hindered be. 



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LII. 

Strife is grown between Virtue and Love ; 
While each pretends that Stella must be his. 
"Her eyes, her lips, her all," saith Love " do this, 
Since they do wear his badge, " most firmly prove." 

But Virtue thus that title doth disprove. 
" That Stella," O dear name ! " that Stella is 
That virtuous soul, sure heir of heavenly bliss : 
Not this fair outside which our hearts doth move. 
And therefore though her beauty and her grace 
Be Love's indeed : in Stella's self he may 
By no pretence claim any manner place." 

Well, Love ! since this demurrer our suit doth stay, 
Let Virtue have that Stella's self; yet thus 
That Virtue but that body grant to us. 




LIU. 

N martial sports I had my cunning tried ; 
And yet to break more staves did me address : 
While with the people's shouts, I must confess, 
Youth, luck and praise even filled my veins with pride. 

When Cupid having me, his slave, descried 
In Mars' livery, prancing in the press. 
"What now, Sir Fool ! " said he (I would no less) 
" Look here, I say ! " I looked, and Stella spied ; 

Who, hard by, made a window send forth light : 
My heart then quaked, then dazzled were mine eyes, 
One hand forgot to rule, th'other to fight. 

Nor trumpets' sound I heard ; nor friendly cries ; 
My foe came on, and beat the air for me : 
Till that her blush taught me my shame to see. 
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LI V. 

Ecause I breathe not love to every one, 
Nor do not use set colours for to wear, 
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair, 
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan. 

The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan 
Of them who in their lips, Love's standard bear : 
" What he ! " say they of me, " now I dare swear 
He cannot love. No, no, let him alone ! " 

And think so still ! so Stella know my mind. 
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art: 
But you, fair maids ! at length, this true shall find, 

That his right badge is but worn in the heart. 
Dumb swans not chattering pies, do lovers prove. 
They love indeed who quake to say they love. 



L'V. 




Uses ! I oft invoked your holy aid, 
With choicest flowers my speech t'engarland so, 
That it, despised in true but naked show, 
Might win some grace in your sweet grace arrayed. 

And oft whole troops of saddest words I stayed, 
Striving abroad a foraging to go ; 
Until by your inspiring, I might know 
How their black banner might be best displayed. 

And now I mean no more your help to try, 
Nor other sugaring of my speech to prove ; 
But on her name incessantly to cry. 

For let me but name her whom I do love, 
So sweet sounds straight mine ear and heart do hit, 
That I well find no eloquence like it. 



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531 




LVI. 

Ie ! school of Patience, fie ! your lesson is 
Far far too long to learn it without book. 
What ! a whole week without one piece of look ! 
And think I should not your large precepts miss? 

When I might read those letters fair of bliss 
Which in her face teach virtue : I could brook 
Somewhat thy leaden counsels ; which I took 
As of a friend that meant not much amiss. 
But now that I, alas, do want her sight ; 
What ! dost thou think that I can ever take 
In thy cold stuff a phlegmatic delight ? 

No, Patience ! If thou wilt my good ; then make 
Her come, and hear with patience my desire : 
And then, with patience bid me bear my fire ! 




LVI I. 

JOe, having made with many fights his own, 

Each sense of mine, each gift, each power of mind 
Grown now his slaves ; he forced them out to find 
The thoroughest words, fit for Woe's self to groan. 

Hoping that when they might find Stella alone, 
Before she could prepare to be unkind; 
Her soul, armed but with such a dainty rind, 
Should soon be pierced with sharpness of the moan. 

She heard my plaints, and did not only hear, 
But them (so sweet is she) most sweetly sing; 
With that fair breast making Woe's darkness clear. 

A pretty case ! I hoped her to bring 
To feel my griefs : and she with face and voice, 
So sweets my pains ; that my pains me rejoice. 

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L V I I I 




SHIOUBT there hath been — when, with his golden chain, 
The Orator so far men's hearts doth bind ; 
That no pace else their guided steps can find, 
But as he them more short or slack doth rein — 

Whether with words, this sovereignty he gain ; 
Clothed with fine tropes, with strongest reasons lined : 
Or else pronouncing grace, wherewith his mind 
Prints his own lively form in rudest brain ? 

Now judge by this. In piercing phrases, late, 
The anatomy of all my woes I wrote. 
Stella's sweet breath the same to me did read. 

O voice ! O face ! maugre my speeches' might 
Which wooed woe : most ravishing delight, 
Even those sad words, even in sad me, did breed. 




LI X. 

JS Ear ! why make you more of a dog, than me ? 
If he do love; I burn, I burn in love ! 
If he wait well ; I never thence would move ! 
If he be fair; yet but a dog can be. 

Little he is, so little worth is he. 
He barks ; my songs, thine own voice oft doth prove. 
Bidden perhaps, he fetoheth thee a glove ; 
But I unhid, fetch even my soul to thee ! 

Yd while I languish ; him, that bosom clips, 
That lap doth lap, nay, lets in spite of spite, 
This sour-breathed mate taste of those sugared lips. 

Alas, if you grant only such delight 
To witless things; then Love I hope (since wit 
1 1 omea a clog) will soon ease me of it. 




S '? 1^-1584: ! A S T R O P J I E L AND S TE L L A . 533 

LX. 

Hen my good angel guides me to the place 
Where all my good I do in Stella see; 
That heaven of joys throws only down on me 
Thundered disdains and lightnings of disgrace. 

But when the rugged'st step of Fortune's race 
Makes me fall from her sight ; then sweetly she 
With words — wherein the Muses' treasures be — 
Shows love and pity to my absent case. 

Now I — wit-beaten long by hardest Fate — 
So dull am, that I cannot look into 
The ground of this fierce love and lovely hate. 

Then some good body tell me how I do ! 
Whose presence, absence ; absence, presence is: 
Blessed in my curse, and cursed in my bliss. 



LXI. 

Ft with true sighs, oft with uncalled tears, 
Now with slow words, now with dumb eloquence ; 
I Stella's eyes assailed, invade her ears : 
But this, at last, is her sweet breathed defence. 

" That who indeed infelt affection bears, 
So captives to his saint both soul and sense ; 
That wholly hers, all selfness he forbears : 
Thence his desires he learns, his life's course thence." 

Now since her chaste mind hates this love in me : 
With chastened mind, I needs must show that she 
Shall quickly me from what she hates, remove. 

O Doctor Cupid ! thou for me, reply ! 
Driven else to grant by angel's sophistry, 
That I love not, without I leave to love. 




534 A STROP H EL AND S T E L L A . 



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LXII. 




Ate tired with woe, even ready for to pine 
With rage of love, I called my love " unkind ! " 
She in whose eyes love, though unfelt, doth shine 
Sweetlv said, " That I, true love in her should find." 

I joved ; hut straight thus watered was my wine. 
" That love she did, but loved a love not blind ; 
Which would not let me, whom she loved, decline 
From nobler course, fit for my birth and mind : 

And therefore by her love's authority, 
Willed me, these tempests of vain love to fly ; 
And anchor fast myself on Virtue's shore." 

Alas, if this the only metal be 
Of love new coined to help my beggary : 
Dear ! love me not, that ye may love me more ! 



LXIII. 

Grammar rules ! O now your virtues show ! 
So children still read you with awful eyes ; 
As my young Dove may in your precepts wise 
Her grant ^to me, by her own virtue know. 

For late, with heart most high, with eyes most low ; 
I craved the thing which ever she denies : 
She lightning love, displaying Venus' skies, 
Lest once should not be heard; said twice "No!" "No!" 

Sing then my Muse ! now Io Pcean sing ! 
Heavens! envy not at my high triumphing; 
But Grammar's force with sweet success confirm ! 

For Grammar says (O this dear Stella's " Nay !" ) 
For Grammar says (to Grammar, who says "Nay " ?) 
" That in one speech, two negatives affirm." 




Sir P. Sidney."! 
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ASTROTIIEL AND S 7 ELLA 



535 




[In the Arcadia impression of 1598, the First Song at page 558 
comes in here.] 

LXI V. 

O more ! my Dear ! no more these counsels try ! 
O give my passions leave to run their race ! 
Let Fortune lay on me her worst disgrace ! 
Let folk o'ercharged with brain, against me cry ! 
Let clouds bedim my face, break in mine eye ! 
Let me no steps but of lost labour trace ! 
Let all the earth in scorn recount my case ; 
But do not will me from my love to fly ! 

I do not envy Aristotle's wit ; 
Nor do aspire to Cesar's bleeding fame ; 
Nor ought do care, though some above me sit ; 
Nor hope, nor wish another course to frame : 
But that which once may win thy cruel heart. 
Thou art my Wit, and thou my Virtue art. 




L X V . 

Ove ! by sure proof I may call thee unkind ; 
That giv'st no better ear to my just cries ! 
Thou, whom to me, such my good turns should bind, 
As I may well recount, but none can prize. 

For when, naked boy ! thou couldst no harbour find 
In this old world, grown now so too too wise ; 
I lodged thee in my heart : and being blind 
By nature born, I gave to thee mine eyes. 

Mine eyes ! my light ! my heart ! my life ! Alas ! 
If so great services may scorned be : 
Yet let this thought, thy tigerish courage pass. 

That I, perhaps, am somewhat kin to thee ; 
Since in thine arms, if learned Fame truth hath spread, 
Thou bar'st the arrow; I, the arrow head. 



536 ASTROPHEL AND S T E L L A . 



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LX VI. 




Xu do I see some cause a hope to feed ? 
Or doth the tedious burden of long woe 
In weakened minds, quick apprehending breed 
Of every image, which may comfort show ? 

I cannot brag of word, much less of deed ; 
Fortune's wheel's still with me in one sort slow ; 
My wealth no more, and no whit less my need : 
Desire still on the stilts of fear doth go. 
And yet amid all fears, a hope there is 
Stolen to my heart, since last fair night (nay, day !) 
Stella's eyes sent to me the beams of bliss ; 

Looking on me, while I lookt other way : 
But when mine eyes back to their heaven did move ; 
They fled with blush, which guilty seemed of love. 



IS 



LXVII. 

Ope ! art thou true, or dost thou flatter me ? 
Doth Stella now begin with piteous eye, 
The ruins of her conquest to espy ? 



Will she take time, before all wracked be ? 

Her eye's speech is translated thus by thee : 
But fail'st thou not in phrase so heavenly high? 
Look on again ! the fair text better try ! 
What blushing notes dost thou in margin see ? 

What sighs stolen out, or killed before full born ? 
Hast thou found such, and such like arguments ? 
Or art thou else to comfort me foresworn ? 

Well ! how so thou interpret their contents : 
I am resolved thy error to maintain ; 
Rather than by more truth to get more pain. 



Sir P. Sidney."] 
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10/ 




LXVIII. 

Tella ! the only planet of my light ! 
Light of my life ! and life of my desire ! 
Chief good ! whereto my hope doth only aspire 
World of my wealth ! and heaven of my delight ! 

Why dost thou spend the treasures of thy sprite, 
With voice more fit to wed Amphion's lyre ; 
Seeking to quench in me the noble fire, 
Fed by thy worth, and blinded by thy sight? 

And all in vain, for while thy breath so sweet, 
With choicest words ; thy words, with reasons rare ; 
Thy reasons firmly set on Virtue's feet ; 
Labour to kill in me this killing care : 
O think I then, what paradise of joy 
It is, so fair a virtue to enjoy ? 




LXIX. 

I Joy! too high for my low style to show. 
O bliss ! fit for a nobler seat than me. 
Envy ! put out thine eyes ! lest thou do see 
What oceans of delight in me do flow. 

My friend ! that oft saw, through all masks, my woe. 
Come ! come ! and let me pour myself on thee ! 
Gone is the winter of my misery! 
My spring appears ! O see what here doth grow ! 

For Stella hath with words (where faith doth shine), 
Of her high heart given me the monarchy : 
I ! I ! O I may say that she is mine. 

And though she give but thus conditionally 
This realm of bliss, "while virtuous course I take :" 
No kings be crowned, but they some covenant make. 



538 A STROP II EL AXD S TELIA. 



[Sir P. Sidney 
L ? 1581-1 



84. 




LXX. 

Y Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy, 
If still I force her in sad rhymes to creep ; 
She oft hath drunk my tears, now hopes t'enjoy 



Nectar of mirth, since I, Jove's cup do keep. 

Sonnets be not bound 'prentice to Annoy: 
Trebles sing high, as well as basses deep : 
Grief, but Love's winter livery is: the boy 
Hath cheeks to smile as well as eyes to weep. 

Come then, my Muse ! show thou height of delight 
In well-raised notes: my pen, the best it may 
Shall paint out joy, though but in black and white. 

"Cease! eager Muse!" "Peace! pen! For my sake, stay!" 
I give you here my hand for truth of this : 
" Wise silence is best music unto bliss." 




LXXI. 

Ho will in fairest book of Nature know 
How virtue may best lodged in beauty be ; 
Let him but learn of love to read in thee ! 



Stella ! those fair lines which true goodness show. 

There, shall he find all vices' overthrow ; 
Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty 
Of REASON : from whose light those night birds fly. 
That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so. 

And not content to be perfection's heir, 
Thyself dost strive all minds that way to move; 
Who mark in thee, what is in thee most fair : 

So while thy beauty draws the heart to love, 
As last thy virtue bends that love to good. 
I hit ah ! DESIRE still cries, "Give me some food I " 



Sir P. Sidney."] 
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539 



LXXII 




Esire ! though thou my old companion art, 
And oft so clings to my pure love, that I 
One from the other scarcely can descry ; 
While each doth blow the fire of my heart: 

Now from thy fellowship, I needs must part. 
Venus is taught with Dian's wings to fly. 
I must no more in thy sweet passions lie. 
Virtue's gold now, must head my Cupid's dart. 

Service and Honour, Wonder with Delight, 
Fear to offend, Will worthy to appear, 
Care shining in mine eyes, Faith in my sprite : 

These things are left me by my onty Dear. 
But thou, Desire ! because thou wouldst have all ; 
Now banisht art : but yet, alas, how shall ? 




[The Second Song, see page 560, comes in here in the 1598 edition.] 
L X X I I I . 

Ove STILL a boy, and oft a wanton is ; 
Schooled only by his mother's tender eye. 
What wonder then, if he his lesson miss ; 
When for so soft a rod, dear play he try ? 

And yet my Star, because a sugared kiss 
In sport I suckt, while she asleep did lie : 
Doth lower ; nay, chide ; nay, threat for only this! 
" Sweet ! It was saucy Love, not humble I." 

But no 'scuse serves; she makes her wrath appear 
In Beauty's throne. See now! who dares come near 
Those scarlet judges, threat'ning bloody pain ? 

O heavenly fool ! Thy most kiss-uorthy face, 
Anger invests with such a lovely grace ; 
That Anger's self! I needs must kiss airam ! 



54° A STR O PHE L AND S TE L L A . 



? 1581-15S4. 





L X X I V . 

Never drank of Aganippe's well ; 
Nor never did in shade of Tempe sit : 
And Muses scorn with vulgar brains to dwell. 
Poor layman, I ! for sacred rites unfit. 
Some do, I hear, of poets' fury tell ; 
But (GOD wot) wot not what they mean by it : 
And this I swear by blackest brook of hell ; 
I am no pick- purse of another's wit. 

How falls it then, that with so smooth an ease 
My thoughts I speak ? and what I speak doth flow 
In verse ? and that my verse best wits doth please ? 
Guess we the cause. What is it thus ? Fie, no ! 
Or so ? Much less ! How then ? Sure thus it is. 
My lips are sweet, inspired with Stella's kiss. 



LXXV. 

F all the Kings that ever here did reign ; 
Edward named Fourth; as first in praise I name. 
Not for his fair outside, nor well-lined brain ; 
Although less gifts imp feathers oft on Fame. 

Nor that he could young-wise wise-valiant, frame 
His sire's revenge, joined with a kingdom's gain: 
And gained by Mars ; could yet mad Mars so tame, 
That balance weighed what sword did late obtain. 

Nor that he made the fleur de luce so 'fraid, 
Though strongly hedged, of bloody lion's paws ; 
That witty Louis to him a tribute paid. 

Nor this, nor that, nor any such small cause ; 
But only for this worthy Knight durst prove 
To lose his crown, rather than fail his love. 



Sir P. Sidney."] 
? 1581-1584.J 



ASTROPHEL AND S TE L L A. 



541 




LXXVI. 

He comes! and straight therewith her shining 

twins do move 
Their rays to me ; who, in her tedious absence, lay 
Benighted in cold woe : but now appears my day, 
The only light of joy, the only warmth of love. [prove 

She comes with light and warmth ! which like Aurora 
Of gentle force, so that mine eyes dare gladly play 
With such a rosy morn ; whose beams, most freshly gay, 
Scorch not : but only do dark chilling sprites remove. 

But lo ! while I do speak, it groweth noon with me ; 
Her flamy glistering lights increase with time and place : 
My heart cries, "Ah ! It burns !" Mine eyes now dazzled be. 
No wind, no shade can cool. What help then in my case ? 
But with short breath, long looks, stayed feet, and walking 

head ; 
Pray that my Sun go down with meeker beams to bed. 




L XXVII. 

Hose looks ! whose beams be joy, whose motion is 
delight ; [is ; 

That face! whose lecture shows what perfect beauty 
That presence ! which doth give dark hearts a living light ; 
That grace ! which Venus weeps that she herself doth miss; 
That hand ! which without touch, holds more than Atlas' 
might ; 
Those lips! which make death's pay, a mean price for a kiss ; 
That skin! whose past-praisehuescornsthispoorterm of white; 
Those words ! which do sublime the quintessence of bliss ; 

That voice ! which makes the soul plant himself in the ears ; 
That conversation sweet ! where such high comforts be, 
As construed in true speech, the name of heaven it bears : 
Make me in my best thoughts and quiet'st judgment see 
That in no more but these, I might be fully blest ; 
Yet, ah ! My maiden Muse doth blush to tell the rest. 



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A S TR PHE L A XD S TEL L A . 



L ? 1581-1584. 




L X X V I I I . 

How the pleasant airs of true love be 
Infected by those vapours, which arise 
From out that noisome gulf, which gaping lies 
Between the jaws of hellish Jealousy. 

A monster! others' harm ! self's misery! 
Beauty's plague ! Virtue's scourge ! succour of lies ! 
Who his own joy to his own hurt applies ; 
And only cherish doth with injury ! 

Who since he hath — by Nature's special grace — 
So piercing paws, as spoil when they embrace ; 
So nimble feet, as stir still though on thorns ; 
So many eyes, aye seeking their own woe ; 
So ample ears, that never good news know : 
Is it not evil that such a devil wants horns ? 




LXXIX. 

Weet kiss ! thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite : 
Which even of sweetness, sweetest sweet'ner art ! 
Pleasing'st consort ! where each sense holds a part ; 
Which coupling doves guide Venus' chariot right. 
Best charge and bravest retreat in Cupid's fight! 
A double key! which opens to the heart. 
Most rich, when most his riches it impart ! 
Nest of young joys ! schoolmaster of delight ! 

Teaching the mean at once to take and give. 
The friendly fray ! where blows both wound and heal. 
The pretty death ! while each in other live. 

Poor hope's first wealth ! hostage of promised weal ! 
Breakfast of love ! But lo ! lo ! where she is, 
Cease we to praise. Now pray we lor a kiss ? 



Sir T. Sidney. 



ftf£2K] ASTROFHEL AND S 



TEL L A . 



543 



LXXX. 

Weet swelling lip ! well mayest thou swell in pride ; 
Since best wits think it wit, thee to admire : 
Nature's praise ! Virtue's stall ! Cupid's cold fire! 



Whence words, not words but heavenly graces slide. 

The new Parnassus! where the Muses bide. 
Sweet'ner of music ! wisdom's beautifier ! 
Breather of life ! and fast'ner of Desire ! 
Where Beauty's blush in Honour's grain is dyed. 

Thus much my heart compelled my mouth to say, 
But now spite of my heart, my mouth will stay ; 
Loathing all lies, doubting this flattery is : 

And no spur can his resty race renew ; 
Without how far this praise is short of you, 
Sweet lip ! you teach my mouth with one sweet kiss ! 




L X X X I . 

Kiss ! which dost those ruddy gems impart, 
Or gems or fruits of new-found Paradise ; 
Breathing all bliss and sweet'ning to the heart ; 
Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise. 

O kiss ! which souls, even souls together ties 
By links of love, and only Nature's art : 
How fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes 
Or of thy gifts at least shade out some part ? 

But she forbids. With blushing words, she says 
" She builds her fame on higher-seated praise : " 
But my heart burns, I cannot silent be. 

Then since, dear life ! you fain would have me peace; 
And I, mad with delight, want wit to cease : 
Stop you my mouth with still still kissing me ! 



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Sir P. Sidney. 
? 1581-1584. 




LXXXII. 

Ymph of the garden ! where all beauties be ; 
Beauties which do in excellency surpass 
His, who till death lookt in a wat'ry glass; 
Or hers, whom naked the Trojan boy did see. 

Sweet garden nymph ! which keeps the cherry tree, 
Whose fruit doth far th' Hesperian taste surpass: 
Most sweet fair ! most fair sweet ! do not, alas, 
From coming near those cherries, banish me ! 

For though full of desire, empty of wit, 
Admitted late by your best graced grace ; 
I caught at one of them a hungry bite : 

Pardon that fault ! Once more grant me the place ; 
And I do swear even by the same delight, 
I will but kiss, I never more will bite. 




LXXXIII. 

Ood brother Philip ! I have born you long. 
I was content you should in favour creep, 
While craftily you seemed your cut to keep ; 
As though that fair soft hand did you great wrong. 

I bare (with envy) yet I bare your song, 
When in her neck you did love ditties peep ; 
Nay, more fool I ! oft suffered you to sleep 
In lilies' nest, where Love's self lies along. 

What ! doth high place ambitious thoughts augment ? 
Is sauciness, reward of courtesy ? 
Cannot such grace your silly self content ; 

But you must needs, with those lips billing be ? 
And through those lips drink nectar from that tongue ? 
Leave that Sir Phip ! lest off your neck be wrung ! 



Sir P. Sidney."] 
? 1581-1584.] 



ASTROFHEL AND S 7 E L LA . 



545 




[The Third Song at p. 561 is inserted here in the Arcadia edition of 1598.] 

LXXXIV. 

Ighway ! since you my chief Parnassus be ; 
And that my Muse to some ears not unsweet, 
Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet 
More oft than to a chamber melody. 

Now blessed you ! bear onward blessed me 
To her, where I my heart safeliest shall meet. 
My Muse and I must you of duty greet 
With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully. 
Be you still fair ! honoured by public heed ! 
By no encroachment wronged ! nor time forgot ! 
Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed ! 

And that you know I envy you no lot 
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss : 
Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss ! 



LXXXV. 

See the house ! My heart ! thyself contain ! 
Beware full sails drown not thy tottering barge ! 
Lest joy — by Nature apt, spirits to enlarge — 
Thee to thy wrack, beyond thy limits strain. 

Nor do like lords, whose weak confused brain, 
Not 'pointing to fit folks each undercharge ; 
While every office themselves will discharge, 
With doing all, leave nothing done but pain : 

But give apt servants their due place! Let eyes 
See Beauty's total sum summed in her face ! 
Let ears hear speech, which wit to wonder ties ! 

Let breath suck up those sweets ! Let arms embrace 
The globe of weal ! Lips, love's indentures make ! 
Thou but of all, the Kingly tribute take! 



Eng. Gar. I. 



35 



546 A S T R P II E L AND S T E L L A . [ Si j ^gjjjj 

[The Fourth Song at p. 562 occurs here in the 1598 edition.] 
LXXXVI. 




Las ! whence came this change of looks ? If I 
Have changed desert, let mine own conscience be 
A still felt plague to self-condemning me ! 
Let woe gripe on my heart ! shame load mine eye ! 

But if all faith, like spotless ermine, lie 
Safe in my soul ; which only doth to thee 
(As his sole object of felicity) 
With wings of love in air of wonder fly : 

O ease your hand ! treat not so hard your slave ! 
In justice, pains come not till faults do call : 
Or if I needs, sweet Judge ! must torments have; 

Use something else to chasten me withal, 
Than those blest eyes, where all my hopes do dwell. 
No doom should make once heaven become his hell. 

[The Fifth to the Eighth Songs at pp. 564-574 come in here in the 
1598 impression.] 

LXXXVII. 

Hen I was forced from Stella ever dear — 
Stella ! food of my thoughts, heart of my heart ; 
|| Stella ! whose eyes make all my tempests clear — 
By iron laws of duty to depart : 

Alas, I found that she with me did smart ; 
I saw that tears did in her eyes appear ; 
I saw that sighs, her sweetest lips did part ; 
And her sad words, my saddest sense did hear. 

For me, I wept to see pearls scattered so ; 
I sighed her sighs ; and wailed for her woe : 
Yet swam in joy ; such love in her was seen. 
Thus while th'effect most bitter was to me, 
And nothing than the cause more sweet could be ; 
I had been vext, if vext I had not been. 




Sir P. Sidney.1 



? lisSS] ASTROFHEL AND S 7 E L LA. 



547 




LXXXVIII. 

Ut ! traitor Absence ! Darest thou counsel me 
From my dear Captainess to run away ? 
Because, in brave array, here marcheth she 
That to win me, oft shows a present pay. 

Is faith so weak, or is such force in thee ? 
When sun is hid, can stars such beams display ? 
Cannot heaven's food, once felt, keep stomachs free 
From base desire, on earthly cates to prey ? 

Tush ! Absence! while thy mists eclipse that light, 
My orphan sense flies to the inward sight; 
Where memory sets forth the beams of love. 

That where before heart loved and eyes did see ; 
In heart both sight and love both coupled be. 
United powers make each the stronger prove. 




LXXXIX. 

Ow that of absence the most irksome night, 

With darkest shade, doth overcome my day : 

Since Stella's eyes wont to give me my day ; 
i ... 

Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night. 

Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night; 
The night as tedious, woos th'approach of day. 
Tired with the dusty toils of busy day ; 
Languisht with horrors of the silent night : 

Suffering the evils both of the day and night ; 
While no night is more dark than is my day, 
Nor no day hath less quiet than my night. 

With such bad mixture of my night and day ; 
That living thus in blackest winter night, 
I feel the flames of hottest summer's day. 
35 * 



548 



ASTROPIJEL A N D S T E L L A 



rSii 

L ! 



P. Sidney. 
1581-15S4. 




xc. 

Tella ! think not that I by verse seek fame ; 
Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee. 
Thine eyes my pride ; thy lips mine history : 
If thou praise not, all other praise is shame. 

Not so ambitious am I as to frame 
A nest for my young praise in laurel tree : 
In truth I swear, I wish not there should be 
Graved in my epitaph, a Poet's name. 

Ne if I would, I could just title make 
That any laud to me thereof should grow, 
Without my plumes from others' wings I take. 
For nothing from my wit or will doth flow : 
Since all my words, thy beauty doth indite ; 
And love doth hold my hand and makes me write. 




XCI . 

Tella ! while now, by honour's cruel might, 
I am from you— light of my life misled ! 
And that fair you, my sun, thus overspread, 
With absence veil ; I live in sorrow's night. 

If this dark place yet show, like candlelight, 
Some beauty's piece, as amber-coloured head, 
Milk hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more red ; 
Or seeing gets black, but in blackness bright: 

They please, I do confess, they please mine eyes. 
But why ? Because of you they models be. 
Models ! Such be wood globes of glistering skies. 

Dear ! Therefore be not jealous over me, 
If you hear that they seem my heart to move. 
Not them, O no ! but you in them I love. 



'" SaSSE] Astrofhel and Stella. 



549 




XCII. 

E your words made, good Sir ! of Indian ware ; 
That you allow me them by so small rate ? 
Or do you cutted Spartan's imitate ? 
Or do you mean my tender ears to spare ? 
That to my questions, you so total are. 
When I demand of Phoenix Stella's state ; 
You say, forsooth ! " You left her well of late." 
O GOD ! think you that satisfies my care ? 

I would know whether she sit or walk ? 
How clothed ? how waited on ? sighed she or smiled ? 
Whereof? with whom ? how often did she talk ? 

With what pastime Time's journey she beguiled ? 
If her lips deigned to sweeten my poor name ? 
Say all ! and all well said, still say the same ! 




[The Tenth Song at p. 576 is placed here in the 1598 edition] 
XCII I. 

IJFate ! O fault ! O curse ! child of my bliss ! 

What sobs can give words grace my grief to show 
I What ink is black enough to paint my woe ? 
Through me, wretched me ! even Stella vexed is. 

Yet Truth — if caitiff's breath may call thee ! — this 
Witness with me, that my foul stumbling so 
From carelessness did in no manner grow ; 
But wit confused with too much care, did miss. 

And do I then myself this vain 'scuse give ? 
I have (live I, and know this !) harmed thee ! 
Though worlds quite me, shall I me self forgive ? 

Only with pains, my pains thus eased be, 
That all thy hurts in my heart's rack I read : 
I cry thy sighs, my Dear ! thy tears I bleed. 



550 



Astro phel and Stella. [ Sir , 5£jJ 




XCIV. 

Rief ! find the words ! For thou hast made my brain 
So dark with misty vapours, which arise 
_ From out thy heavy mould, that inbent eyes 
Can scarce discern the shape of mine own pain. 

Do thou then (for thou canst !) do thou complain 
For my poor soul ! which now that sickness tries : 
Which even to sense, sense of itself denies, 
Though harbingers of death lodge there his train. 

Or if thy love of plaint yet mine forbears — 
As of a caitiff worthy so to die — 
Yet wail thyself ! and wail with causefull tears ! 

That though in wretchedness thy life doth lie ; 
Yet grow'st more wretched than thy nature bears, 
By being placed in such a wretch as I ! 




xcv. 

Et Sighs ! dear Sighs ! indeed true friends you are, 
That do not leave your left friend at the worst : 
But as you with my breast I oft have nurst ; 
So grateful now, you wait upon my care. 
Faint coward Joy no longer tarry dare ; 
Seeing Hope yield, when this woe strake him first : 
Delight protests he is not for the accurst, 
Though oft himself my mate in arms he sware. 

Nay, Sorrow comes with such main rage, that he 
Kills his own children, Tears ; finding that they 
By Love were made apt to consort with me. 

Only true Sighs ! you do not go away ! 
Thank may you have for such a thankful part ; 
Thankworthiest yet, when you shall break my heart ! 



Sir P. Sidney. ■ 
? IS81-1584. I 



A STROPHEL AND STELL 



551 




xcvi. 

Houoht! with good cause thou likest so well thenight - 
Since kind or chance gives both one livery • ' 

Both sadly black, both blackly darkened be ; 
Night barred from sun ; thou, from thine own sun light 

Silence in both displays his sullen might ; 
Slow heaviness in both holds one degree • 
That full of doubts; thou, of perplexity \ 
Ihy tears express night's native moisture right 

In both a mazeful solitariness. 
In night, of sprites the ghastly powers do stir ; 
In thee, or sprites or sprited ghastliness : 

But, but, alas, night's side the odds hath far- 
For that at length, yet doth invite some rest ; 
Thou, though still tired, yet still dost it detest I 



XCVII. 



||IAN, that fain would cheer her friend the Night 
# 1 Shows her oft at the full her fairest face : 



— ^ *^n iiv^i laucsi lace * 
J Bringing with her those starry nymphs, whose chase 
From heavenly standing, hits each mortal wight 

But, ah, poor Night ! in love with Phcebus' light 
And endlessly despairing of his grace ; 
Herself (to show no other joy hath place) 
Silent and sad in mourning weeds doth dight. 

Even so, alas, a lady, Dian's peer ! 
With choice delights and rarest company. 
Would fain drive clouds from out my heavy cheer • 

But woe is me ! though Joy itself were she ■ 
She could not show my blind brain ways of joy • 
While I despair my sun's sight to enjoy. 



552 



ASTROPHEL AND S TE LL A . [ S '" ^jS"^ 




XC VIII . 

H, bed ! the field where joy's peace some do see ; 
The field where all my thoughts to war be trained 
How is thy grace by my strange fortune stained ! 



How thy lee shores by my sighs stormed be ! 

With sweet soft shades, thou oft invitest me 
To steal some rest ; but, wretch ! I am constrained — 
Spurred with Love's spur, though gold; and shortly reined 
With Care's hard hand — to turn and toss in thee ! 

While the black horrors of the silent night 
Paint Woe's black face so lively to my sight ; 
That tedious leisure marks each wrinkled line. 

But when Aurora leads out Phcebus' dance, 
Mine eyes then only wink : for spite perchance ; 
That worms should have their sun, and I want mine. 




XCIX. 

^Hen far-spent night persuades each mortal eye, 
To whom nor art nor nature granteth light ; 
To lay his then mark-wanting shafts of sight, 
Closed with their quivers, in sleep's armoury : 

With windows ope then most my mind doth lie, 
Viewing the shape of darkness and delight ; 
Takes in that sad hue, which with th'inward night 
Of his mazed powers keeps perfect harmony. 

But when birds charm, and that sweet air which is 
Morn's messenger, with rose-enamelled skies, 
Call each wight to salute the hour of bliss ; 

In tomb of lids, then buried are mine eyes : 
Forced by their lord ; who is ashamed to find 
Such light in sense, with such a darkened mind. 



Sir P. Sidney. - ] 



? Ssi-is^:] A S TR OPHE L AND S TE LLA. 



553 




C. 

Tears ! no tears but rain from beauty's skies 
Making those lilies and those roses grow ; 
Which aye most fair, now more than most fair show; 
While graceful pity, beauty beautifies. 

O honeyed Sighs ! which from that breast do rise, 
Whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow : 
Winged with whose breath, so pleasing zephyrs blow 
As can refresh the hell where my soul fries. 

O Plaints ! conserved in such a sugared phrase, 
That eloquence itself envies your praise. 
While sobbed out words a perfect music give. 

Such Tears, Sighs, Plaints, no sorrow are but joy : 
Or if such heavenly signs must prove annoy ; 
All mirth, farewell ! Let me in sorrow live ! 




CI. 

Tella is sick, and in that sick bed lies 
Sweetness, which breathes and pants, as oft as she; 
And Grace, sick too, such fine conclusions tries, 
That Sickness brags itself best graced to be. 
Beauty is sick, but sick in such fair guise 
That in that paleness Beauty's white we see ; 
And Joy, which is inseparate from those eyes. 
Stella now learns — strange case ! — to weep in thee. 

Love moves thy pain, and like a faithful page, 
As thy looks stir, comes up and down to make 
All folks prest at thy will, thy pain to assuage. 

Nature with care sweats for her darling's sake : 
Knowing worlds pass ere she enough can find 
Of such heaven stuff, to clothe so heavenly a mind. 




554 Astrophel and Stella. [ s H J^JJjg: 

CII. 

Here be those roses gone, which sweetened so our 

eyes ? 
Where those red cheeks, which oft with fair increase 
did frame 
The height of honour, in the kindly badge of shame ? 
Who hath the crimson weeds stolen from my morning skies? 

How doth the colour vade of those vermilion dyes 
Which Nature's self did make, and self engrained the same ? 
I would know by what right this paleness overcame 
That hue, whose force my heart still unto thraldom ties ? 

Galen's adoptive sons, who by a beaten way 
Their judgments hackney on, the fault on sickness lay : 
But feeling proof makes me (say they) mistake it far. 
It is but Love that makes his paper perfect white, 
To write therein more fresh the story of delight : 
While beauty's reddest ink, Venus for him doth stir. 



cm. 

Happy Thames ! that didst my Stella bare. 
I saw thyself with many a smiling line 
Upon thy cheerful face, Joy's livery wear; 
While those fajr planets on thy streams did shine. 

The boat, for joy could not to dance forbear : 
While wanton winds, with beauties so divine, 
Ravished; stayed not, till in her golden hair 
They did themselves (O sweetest prison !) twine. 

And fain those ^Eol's youths there would their stay 
Have made ; but forced by Nature still to fly ; 
First did with puffing kiss, those locks display. 

She so dishevelled, blushed. From window, I, 
With sight thereof, cried out, " O fair disgrace ! 
Let honour's self to thee grant highest place ! " 





Si ? ^i-i"!*] ASTKOPHEL AND S TELL A. 555 

CIV. 

Nvious wits ! what hath been mine offence, 
That with such poisonous care my looks you mark ? 
That each word, nay sigh of mine you hark, 
As grudging me my sorrows' eloquence ? 

Ah ! is it not enough, that I am thence ! 
Thence ! so far thence ! that scarcely any spark 
Of comfort dare come to this dungeon dark; 
Where rigour's exile locks up all my sense ? 

But if I by a happy window pass ; 
If I but stars upon mine armour bear; 
Sick, thirsty, glad (though but of empty glass ! ) 

Your moral notes straight my hid meaning tear 
From out my ribs ; and puffing prove that I 
Do Stella love. Fools ! who doth it deny ? 




[The Eleventh Song at£. 578 comes in here in the 1598 edition.] 

C V. 

Nhappy sight ! And hath she vanished by ? 
So near ! in so good time ! so free a place ! 
Dead glass ! dost thou thy object so embrace, 
As what my heart still sees thou canst not spy ? 

I swear by her I love and lack, that I 
Was not in fault, who bent thy dazzling race 
Only unto the heaven of Stella's face ; 
Counting but dust what in the way did lie. 

But cease mine eyes ! your tears do witness well 
That you guiltless thereof, your nectar missed : 
Curst be the page from whence the bad torch fell ! 
Curst be the night which did your strife resist ! 
Curst be the coachman that did drive so fast ! 
With no worse curse than absence makes me taste. 



556 



ASTROPIIEL AND S TE L LA . 



[Sir P. Sidney. 

L ? 1581-1584- 




CVI. 

Absent presence ! Stella is not here ! 
False flattering hope ! that with so fair a face 
Bare me in hand that in this orphan place 
Stella, I say, my Stella ! should appear. 

What sayest thou now ? Where is that dainty cheer 
Thou told'st mine eyes should help their famisheJ case ? 
But thou art gone now ; that self-felt disgrace 
Doth make me most to wish thy comfort near. 

But here I do store of fair ladies meet ; 
Who may with charm of conversation sweet, 
Make in my heavy mould, new thoughts to grow. 

Sure they prevail as much with me, as he 
That bade his friend, but then new-maimed, to be 
Merry with him and not think of his woe. 




CVI I. 

Tella ! since thou so right a Princess art 
Of all the powers which life bestows on me ; 
That ere by them ought undertaken be, 
They first resort unto that sovereign part. 

Sweet ! for a while give respite to my heart, 
Which pants as though it still should leap to thee ; 
And on my thoughts give thy Lieutenancy 
To this great cause, which needs both use and art. 

And as a Queen, who from her presence sends 
Whom she employs, dismiss from thee my wit ! 
Till it have wrought what thy own will attends. 

On servants' shame oft master's blame doth sit. 
O let not fools in me thy works reprove ; 
And scorning, say, " See ! what it is to love ! " 



Si ? is8 S i-i n S 84.] A S T R P H E L AND S T E L L A . 



557 




CVIII. 

Hen Sorrow, using mine own fire's might, 
Melts down his lead into my boiling breast : 
| Through that dark furnace to my heart opprest, 
There shines a joy from thee, my only light ! 

But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight, 
And my young soul flutters to thee his nest ! 
Most rude Despair, my daily unbidden guest, 
Clips straight my wings, straight wraps me in his night. 

And makes me then bow down my head, and say, 
" Ah what doth Phcebus' gold that wretch avail, 
Whom iron doors do keep from use of day ? " 

So strangely, alas, thy works in me prevail : 
That in my woes for thee, thou art my joy ; 
And in my joys for thee, my only annoy. 



The End of 
Astrophel and Stella, 




558 



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FIRST SONG. 

Oubt you to whom my Muse these notes 

intendeth ; 
Which now my breast o'ercharged to 

music lendeth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only in you, my song begins and endeth. 



Who hath the eyes which marry State with Pleasure ? 
Who keeps the key of Nature's chiefest treasure ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only forjww, the heaven forgat all measure. 



Who hath the lips, where Wit in fairness reigneth ? 
Who womankind at once both decks and staineth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only by you, Cupid his crown maintaineth. 



s ??s*S3 Other Songs of variable verse. 559 

Who hath the feet, whose steps all sweetness planteth ? 
Who else ; for whom Fame worthy trumpets wanteth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only to you, her sceptre Venus granteth. 



Who hath the breast, whose milk doth passions nourish ? 
Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only through you, the tree of life doth flourish. 



Who hath the hand, which without stroke subdueth ? 
Who long dead beauty with increase reneweth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only at you, all envy hopeless rueth. 



Who hath the hair, which loosest fasteth tieth ? 
Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only of you, the flatterer never lieth. 



Who hath the voice, which soul from senses sunders ? 
Whose force but yours the bolts of beauty thunders ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only with you, not miracles are wonders. 



Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth ; 
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth ? 
To you ! to you ! all song of praise is due : 
Only in you, my song begins and endeth. 



s6o Other Songs of variable verse. [ s l r f^S; 



SECOND SONG. 

Ave I caught my heavenly jewel, 
Teaching sleep most fair to be ? 
Now will I teach her, that she, 
When she wakes, is too too cruel. 

Since sweet sleep her eyes hath charmed, 
The two only darts of Love ; 
Now will I with that boy prove 
Some play, while he is disarmed. 

Her tongue, waking, still refuseth ; 

Giving frankly, niggard " No : " 

Now will I attempt to know 

What " No" her tongue sleeping, useth. 

See the hand that waking, guardeth ; 
Sleeping, grants a free resort : 
Now will I invade the fort ; 
Cowards, Love with loss rewardeth. 

But; O fool ! think of the danger 
Of her just and high disdain ; 
Now will I, alas, refrain, 
Love fears nothing else but anger. 



Yet those lips, so sweetly swelling, 

Do invite a stealing kiss : 

Now will I but venture this, 

Who will read must first learn spelling. 



s ? Ts8 S i id i n 5 8 y 4 :] Other Songs of variable verse. 561 

O sweet kiss ! but ah ! she is waking. 
Low'ring beauty chastens me : 
Now will I away hence flee ; 
Fool ! more fool ! for no more taking:. 



THIRD SONG. 

F Orpheus' voice had force to breathe such music's 

love 
Through pores of senseless trees, as it could make 
them move : 
If stones good measure danced the Theban walls to build, 
To cadence of the tunes which Amphion's lyre did yield : 
More cause a like effect at least wise bringeth. 
O stones ! O trees ! learn hearing ! Stella singeth ! 




If love might sweeten so a boy of shepherd brood, 
To make a lizard dull, to taste love's dainty food : 
If eagle fierce could so in Grecian maid delight, 
As his light were her eyes, her death his endless night : 

Earth gave that love. Heaven, I trow, love refineth. 

O beasts! O birds! look! love! lo, Stella shineth ! 



The beasts, birds, stones and trees feel this; and feeling, love. 

And if the trees nor stones stir not the same to prove ; 

Nor beasts nor birds do come unto this blessed gaze: 

Know that small love is quick, and great love doth amaze. 
They are amazed : but you, with reason armed, 
O eyes ! O ears of men ! how are you charmed ! 

BNG. GjIR. I. 36 



562 Other Songs of variable verse. [^: 



fSir P. Sidney. 
584. 




FOURTH SONG. 

Nly joy ! now here you are, 
Fit to hear and ease my care. 
Let my whispering voice obtain 
Sweet reward for sharpest pain. 
Take me to thee, and thee to me ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 

Night hath closed all in her cloak, 
Twinkling stars love thoughts provoke, 
Danger hence, good care doth keep ; 
Jealousy itself doth sleep. 
Take me to thee, and thee to me ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 



Better place no wit can find, 
Cupid's yoke to loose or bind; 
These sweet flowers on fine bed too, 
Us in their best language woo. 
Take me to thee, and thee to me ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 



This small light the moon bestows, 
Serves thy beams but to disclose : 
So to raise my hap more high. 
Fear not else ! none can us spy. 
Take me to thee, and thee to me! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let he. 



^SsSJffi] Other Songs of variable verse. 563 

That you heard was but a mouse, 
Dumb Sleep holdeth all the house : 
Yet asleep, methinks they say 
" Young folks, take time while you may!" 
Take me to thee, and thee to me ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear ! let be. 



Niggard time threats, if we miss 

This large offer of our bliss ; 

Long stay ere he grant the same. 

Sweet ! then, while each thing doth frame, 

Take me to thee, and thee to me! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 



Your fair mother is abed, 
Candles out, and curtains spread : 
She thinks you do letters write. 
Write I but let me first indite 
"Take me to thee, and thee to me! " 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 



Sweet ! alas, why strive you thus ? 
Concord better fitteth us. 
Leave to Mars the force of hands ; 
Your power in your beauty stands. 
Take me to thee, and me to thee ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 
36* 




564 Other Songs of variable verse. [^^sT-S.' 

Woe to me ! and do you swear 

Me to hate, but I forbear ? 

Cursed be my destinies all! 

That brought me so high to fall. 

Soon with my death I will please thee ! 

No, no, no, no, my Dear! let be. 



FIFTH SONG. 

|Hile favour fed my hope, delight with hope was 
brought ; 
Thought waited on delight ; and speech did follow 
thought. 
Then grew my tongue and pen records unto thy glory. 
I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee ; 
I thought each place was dark, but where thy lights would be; 
And all ears worse than deaf, that heard not out thy story. 

I said thou wert most fair, and so indeed thou art. 

I said thou art most sweet, sweet poison to my heart. 

I said my soul was thine, O that I then had lied ! 

I said thine eyes were stars, thy breasts the milken way, 

Thy fingers Cupid's shafts, thy voice the Angels' lay : 

And all I said so well, as no man it denied. 

But now that hope is lost, unkindness kills delight; 

Yet thought and speech do live, thought metamorphosed quite : 

For Rage now rules the reins, which guided were by 

Pleasure. 
I think now of thy faults, who late thought of thy praise. 
That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise. 
The same key open can, which can lock up a treasure. 



Si ? i58 S i- d i n 5 e 84.] Other Songs of variable verse. 565 

Thou then whom partial heavens conspired in one to frame 
The proof of beauty's worth, th'inheritrix of fame, 
The mansion seat of bliss, and just excuse of lovers : 
See now those feathers pluckt, wherewith thou flew most 

high! 
See what clouds of reproach shall dark thy honour's sky ! 
Whose own fault casts him down, hardly high seat recovers. 



And O my Muse ! though oft you lulled her in your lap; 
And then a heavenly child, gave her ambrosian pap ; 
And to that brain of hers, your hidnest gifts infused ! 
Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdain ; 
Suffer not her to laugh, while both we suffer pain. 
Princes in subjects wronged, must deem themselves abused. 



Your client poor, my self; shall Stella handle so ? 
Revenge ! revenge ! my Muse ! Defiance trumpet blow ! 
Threaten what maybe done ! yet do more than you threaten ! 
Ah ! my suit granted is. I feel my breast doth swell. 
Now child ! a lesson new you shall begin to spell. 
Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girls must be 
beaten. 



Think now no more to hear of warm fine-odoured snow, 

Nor blushing lilies, nor pearls ruby-hidden row, 

Nor of that golden sea whose waves in curls are broken : 

But of thy soul, so fraught with such ungratefulness, 

As where thou soon might'st help ; most faith thou dost 

oppress. 
Ungrateful who is called, the worst of evils is spok'n. 



566 Other Songs of variable verse. R^SjJ 

Yet worse than worst, I say thou art a Thief! A thief ! 
Now GOD forbid! A Thief! and of worst thieves, the 

chief. 
Thieves steal for need ; and steal but goods, which pain 

recovers : 
But thou, rich in all joys, dost rob my joys from me ; 
Which cannot be restored by time nor industry. 
Of foes, the spoil is evil : far worse of constant lovers'. 



Yet gentle English thieves do rob, but will not slay. 
Thou English murdering thief ! wilt have hearts for thy 

prey. 
The name of Murderer now on thy fair forehead sitteth. 
And even while I do speak, my death wounds bleeding be; 
Which, I protest, proceed from only cruel thee. 
Who may and will not save; murder in truth committeth. 



But murder's private fault seems but a toy to thee. 

I lay then to thy charge unjustest Tyranny! 

If rule by force without all claim, a tyrant showeth. 

Eor thou dost lord my heart, who am not born thy slave ; 

And which is worse, makes me most guiltless torments 

have. 
A rightful Prince by unright deeds a Tyrant groweth. 



Lo! you grow proud with this! For tyrants make folk 

bow. 
Of foul Rebellion then I do appeach thee now ! 
Rebel by Nature's laws, Rebel by law of reason. 
Thou sweetest subject wert born in the realm of Love ; 
And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily prove. 
No virtue merits praise, once touched with blot of treason. 



Si y " ^8 S i-i n 5 84.] Other Songs of variable verse. 567 

But valiant rebels oft in fools' mouths purchase fame. 
I now then stain thy white with vagabonding shame ; 
Both Rebel to the Son and Vagrant from the Mother. 
For wearing Venus' badge, in every part of thee ; 
Unto Diana's train thou Runaway didst flee ! 
Who faileth one is false, though trusty to another. 



What, is not this enough ? Nay, far worse cometh here. 

A Witch ! I say thou art, though thou so fair appear. 

For I protest my sight never thy face enjoyeth, 

But I in me am changed; I am alive and dead, 

My feet are turned to roots, my heart becometh lead. 

No witchcraft is so evil, as which man's mind destroyeth. 



Yet witches may repent. Thou art far worse than they. 
Alas ! that I am forced such evil of thee to say. 
I say thou art a Devil! though clothed in angel's shining; 
For thy face tempts my soul to leave the heavens for 

thee, 
And thy words of refuse do pour even hell on me. 
Who tempt, and tempted plague ; are Devils in true 

defining. 



You then ungrateful Thief! you murdering Tyrant you! 
You Rebel ! Runaway ! to Lord and Lady untrue. 
You Witch ! you Devil ! Alas, you still of me beloved ! 
You see what I can say. Mend yet your froward mind ! 
And such skill in my Muse you, reconciled, shall find; 
That by these cruel words, your praises shall be proved. 



568 Other Songs of variable verse. 



[" Sir P. Sidney 

L ? 1581-1584. 




SIXTH SONG. 

You that hear this voice ! 

O you that see this face ! 

Say whether of the choice 

Deserves the former place ? 
Fear not to judge this bate, 
For it is void of hate. 



This side doth Beauty take. 
For that doth Music speak. 
Fit orators to make 
The strongest judgments weak. 

The bar to plead the right, 

Is only True Delight. 

Thus doth the voice and face, 
These gentle lawyers wage, 
Like loving brothers' case, 
For father's heritage : 

That each, while each contends, 

Itself to other lends. 



For beauty beautifies, 
With heavenly hue and grace, 
The heavenly harmonies : 
And in this faultless face, 

The perfect beauties be 

A perfect harmony. 



Si ? r 5£5£] Other Songs of variable verse. 569 

Music more lofty swells 
In speeches nobly placed; 
Beauty as far excels 
In actions aptly graced. 

A friend each party draws 

To countenance his cause. 



Love more affected seems 

Beauty's lovely light ; 

And Wonder more esteems 

Of Music's wondrous might: 
But both to both so bent 
As both in both are spent. 

Music doth witness call 
The ear, his truth to try ; 
Beauty brings to the hall 
The judgment of the eye : 

Both in their objects such, 

As no exceptions touch. 

The common Sense which might 
Be arbiter of this ; 
To be forsooth upright, 
To both sides partial is : 

He lays on this side chief praise ; 

Chief praise on that he lays. 

Then Reason, Princess high ! 
Whose throne is in the mind ; 
Which music can in sky, 
And hidden beauties find. 

Say ! whether thou wilt crown 

With limitless renown ? 






570 Other Songs of variable verse. [ s ? ^sS^' 



SEVENTH SONG. 




Hose senses in so evil consort their stepdame 
Nature lays, 
I That ravishing delight in them most sweet tunes 
doth not raise : 
Or if they do delight therein, yet are so closed with wit ; 
As with sententious lips to set a title vain on it. 

O let them hear these sacred tunes, and learn in 

Wonder's schools 
.To be (in things past bounds of wit) fools, if they be 
not fools. 



Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweet Beauty's 

show ; 
Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to know ; 
Or knowing, have so muddy minds as not to be in love ; 
Or loving, have so frothy thoughts as easy thence to move : 
O let them see these heavenly beams! and in fair letters 

read 
A lesson fit, both sight and skill, love and firm love to 
breed. 



Hear then! but then with wonder hear; see! but adoring 

see 
No mortal gifts, no earthly fruits, now here discerned be. 
See! do you see this face ? A face ! nay image of the skies; 
Of which the two life-giving lights are figured in her eyes. 
Hear you this soul-invading voice! and count it but a 

voice ? 
The verv essence of their tunes when Angels do rejoice. 




F%£55J Other Songs of variable verse. 571 



EIGHTH SONG. 

N a grove most rich of shade, 

Where birds wanton music made ; 

May then young, his pied weeds showing, 

New perfumed with flowers fresh growing; 



Astrophel with Stella sweet, 
Did for mutual comfort meet ; 
Both within themselves oppressed, 
But each in the other blessed. 

Him great harms had taught much care; 
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare: 
But her sight his cares did banish, 
In his sight her yoke did vanish. 

Wept they had, alas the while, 
But now tears themselves did smile ; 
While their eyes by love directed, 
Interchangeably reflected. 

Sigh they did, but now betwixt 
Sighs of woe were glad sighs mixt; 
With arms crossed, yet testifying 
Restless rest, and living dying. 

Their ears hungry of each word, 
Which the dear tongue would afford : 
But their tongues restrained from walking, 
Till their hearts had ended talking:. 



572 Other Songs of variable verse. [ Sir ? ^ id I n 5 ^; 

But when their tongu.s could not speak, 
Love itself did silence break : 
Love did set his lips asunder, 
Thus to speak in love and wonder. 

"Stella ! Sovereign of my joy ! 
Fair triumpher of annoy ! 
Stella ! Star of heavenly fire ! 
Stella ! Loadstar of desire ! " 

" Stella ! in whose shining eyes, 
Are the lights of Cupid's skies ; 
Whose beams where they once are darted, 
Love therewith is straight imparted." 

" Stella ! whose voice when it speaks, 
Senses all asunder breaks. 
Stella ! whose voice when it singeth, 
Angels' to acquaintance bringeth." 

" Stella ! in whose body is 
Writ each character of bliss. 
Whose face all, all beauty passeth ; 
Save thy mind which yet surpasseth." 

"Grant! O grant ! but speech, alas, 
Fails me, fearing on to pass : 
Grant ! O me ! what am I saying ? 
But no fault there is in praying 



'5' 



"Grant ! O Dear! on knees I pray" 
Knees on ground he then did stay 
" That not I ; but since I love you, 
Time and place for me may move you ! M 



si ? JfiSj] Other Songs of variable verse. 57, 

" Never season was more fit: 

Never room more apt for it. 

Smiling air allows my reason ; 

These birds sing : now use the season ! " 

" This small wind which so sweet is, 
See how it the leaves doth kiss ! 
Each tree in his best attiring, 
Sense of love to love inspiring." 

" Love makes earth, the water drink ; 
Love to earth makes water sink : 
And if dumb things be so witty, 
Shall a heavenly grace want pity ? " 

There his hands in their speech, fain 
Would have made tongue's language plain : 
But her hands, his hands repelling, 
Gave repulse, all grace excelling. 

[The eight following stanzas are omitted in Newman's 
Quartos of 1591.] 

Then she spake, her speech was such, 
As not ears, but heart did touch ; 
While such wise she love denied, 
As yet love she signified. 

" Astrophel ! " said she, " my love ! 

Cease in these effects to prove. 

Now be still ! yet still believe me, 

Thy grief more than death would grieve me." 

" If that any thought in me, 
Can taste comfort but of thee ; 
Let me fed with hellish anguish, 
Joyless, hopeless, endless languish." 



574 Other Songs of variable verse. [^^.^ 



584. 



" If those eyes you praised, be 
Half so dear as you to me ; 
Let me home return, stark blinded 
Of those eyes ; and blinder minded ! " 

" If to secret of my heart, 

I do any wish impart ; 

Where thou art not foremost placed : 

Be both wish and I defaced ! " 

" If more may be said, I say 

All my bliss on thee I lay. 

If thou love, my love content thee ! 

For all love, all faith is meant thee." 

" Trust me, while I thee deny, 

In myself the smart I try. 

Tyrant Honour doth thus use thee. 

Stella's self might not refuse thee ! " 

"Therefore, Dear! this no more move : 
Lest, though I leave not thy love, 
Which too deep in me is framed ; 
I should blush when thou art named!" 

Therewithal away she went, 
Leaving him to passion rent, 
With what she had clone and spoken ; 
That therewith my song is broken. 




NINTH SONG. 

O my flock ! go get you hence ! 
Seek a better place of feeding ; 
Where you may have some defence 
Fro the storms in my breast breeding 
And showers from mine eyes proceeding. 



Si ? ^-is^'J Other Songs of variable verse. 575 

Leave a wretch in whom all woe 
Can abide to keep no measure : 
Merry flock ! such one forego, 
Unto whom mirth is displeasure : 
Only rich in mischief's treasure. 

Yet, alas, before you go, 
Hear your woeful master's story ; 
Which to stones I else would show. 
Sorrow only then hath glory, 
When 'tis excellently sorry. 

Stella ! fiercest shepherdess ! 
Fiercest but yet fairest ever ! 
Stella ! whom O heavens do bless ! 
Though against me she persevere ; 
Though I bliss inherit never. 

Stella hath refused me ! 

Stella, who more love hath proved 

In this caitiff heart to be ; 

Than can in good ewes be moved, 

Towards lambkins best beloved. 

Stella hath refused me ! 
Astrophel that so well served, 
In this pleasant spring, must see, 
While in pride flowers be preserved 
Himself only winter-starved. 

Why, alas, doth she then swear 
That she loveth me so dearly ? 
Seeing me so long to bear 
Coals of love that burn so clearly : 
And yet leave me helpless merely ? 



576 Other Songs of variable verse. [^^SJJJ 

Is that love? Forsooth, I trow, 
If I saw my good dog grieved, 
And a help for him did know; 
My love should not be believed, 
But he were by me relieved. 

No, she hates me, welaway ! 

Feigning love somewhat to please me : 

For she knows, if she display 

All her hate ; death would soon seize me, 

And of hideous torments ease me. 



Then adieu, dear flock ! adieu ! 
But, alas, if in your straying, 
Heavenly Stella meet with you : 
Tell her in your piteous blaying, 
Her poor slave's unjust decaying. 



TENTH SONG. 




Dear life ! when shall it be 
That mine eyes, thine eyes may see ? 
And in them, thy mind discover, 
Whether absence have had force 
Thy remembrance to divorce 
From the image of the lover ? 

Or if I myself find not, 

After parting ought forgot ; 

Nor be barred from Beauty's treasure ; 

Let no tongue aspire to tell 

In what high joys I shall dwell. 

Only Thought aims at the pleasure. 



''/issx-Sj Other Songs of variable verse. 577 

Thought therefore I will send thee ! 
To take up the place for me ; 
Long I will not after tarry. 
There, unseen, thou mayest be bold, 
Those fair wonders to behold, 
Which in them, my Hopes do carry. 

Thought ! see thou no place forbear ! 
Enter bravely everywhere ! 
Seize on all to her belonging ! 
But if thou wouldst guarded be, 
Fearing her beams ; take with thee 
Strength of Liking, Rage of Longing ! 

[The next three stanzas are omitted in Newman's 
Quartos of 1591.] 

Think of that most grateful time! 
When my leaping heart will climb 
In my lips to have his biding ! 
There those roses for to kiss, 
Which do breathe a sugared bliss ; 
Opening rubies, pearls dividing. 

Think of my most princely power ! 
When I blessed shall devour 
With my greedy lickorous senses 
Beauty, Music, Sweetness, Love : 
While she doth against me prove 
Her strong darts, but weak defences. 

Think ! think of those dairyings ! 
When with dovelike murmurings, 
With glad moaning passed anguish ; 
We change eyes, and heart for heart 
Each to other do depart : 
Joying till joy make us languish. 

Eng. G a r. I. oj 



57^ Other Songs of variable verse. [^j^b^JSJ 

O my Thought ! my Thoughts surcease ! 

Thy delights, my woes increase. 

My life melts with too much thinking. 

Think no more ! but die in me, 

Till thou shalt revived be ; 

At her lips my nectar drinking. 



FINIS 



Sir PThilip] Sidney]. 



1 1 fere end the Other Songs of variable verse in the first Quarto of 1591. 
The next Song first occurs in the Arcadia impression.] 



ELEVENTH SONG. 




Ho is it that this dark night, 
Underneath my window plaineth ? 
It is one who from thy sight, 
Being, ah ! exiled ; disdaineth 
Every other vulgar light. 



Why, alas ! and are you he ? 
, Be not yet those fancies changed ? 
Dear ! when you find change in me, 
Though from me you be estranged ; 
Let my change to ruin be. 



Well in absence this will die. 
Leave to see ! and leave to wonder! 
Absence sure will help, if I 
Can learn June )iiysclf to sunder 
From what in my heart doth lie. 



^StoSSS] Other Songs of variable verse. 579 

But time will these thoughts remove : 
Time doth work what no man knoweth. 

Time doth as the subject prove, 
With time still tli 'affection groweth 
In the faithful turtle dove. 

What if you new beauties see ! 
Will not they stir new affection ? 

/ will think thy pictures be 
(Image-like of saints' perfection) 
Poorly counterfeiting thee. 

But your reason's purest light 

Bids 5 r ou leave such minds to nourish ! 

Dear ! do reason no such spite ! 

Never doth thy beauty flourish 

More than in my reason's sight. 

But the wrongs love bears, will make 
Love at length leave undertaking. 
No, the more fools it do shake 
In a ground of so firm making, 
Deeper still they drive the stake. 

Peace ! I think that some give ear ! 
Come no more ! lest I get anger. 
Bliss ! I will my bliss forbear ; 
Fearing, Sweet ! you to endanger ! 
But my soul shall harbour thee. 

Well begone ! begone I say ! 

Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you. 

O unjust Fortune's sway ! 

Which can make me thus to leave you ; 

And from louts to run away. 

37* 



5 8o 




^ POEMS & SONNETS 

OF SUNDRT OTHER 
NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN 




TheAuthor of thisPoem,S[amuel].D[aniel]. 

0, wailing verse ! the infant of my love — 
MiNERVA-like, brought forth without a 

mother — 
That bears the image of the cares I prove ; 
Witness your father's grief exceeds all 
other. 
Sigh out a story of her cruel deeds, 
With interrupted accents of despair : 
A monument that whosoever reads, 
May justly praise and blame my loveless Fair* 

Say ! her disdain hath dried up my blood, 
And starved you, in succours still denying. 
Press to her eyes ! importune me some good ! 
Waken her sleeping cruelty with crying! 

Knock at her hard heart ! Say ! I perish for her! 
And fear this deed will make the world abhor her. 



j a "^;] Sonnets after Astrcphel dr c. 5S1 



S. Daniel. 
159 




SONNET I . 

F SO IT hap the offspring of my care, 
These fatal anthems and afflicted songs, 
I Come to their view, who like to me do fare ; 
May move them sigh thereat, and moan my wrongs. 

But untouched hearts ! with unaffected eye, 
Approach not to behold my soul's distress ! 
Clearsighted, you will note what is awry, 
Whilst blind ones see no error in my verse. 

You blinded souls ! whom hap and error lead. 
You outcast eaglets dazzled with the sun ! 
Ah you, and none but you, my sorrow read ! 
You best can judge the wrong that she hath done : 
That she hath done, the motive of my pain ; 
Who whilst I love, doth kill me with disdain. 



- 



SONNET II. 

Hese sorrowing sighs, the smokes of mine annoy, 
These tears, which heat of sacred lire distils; 
These are the tributes that my faith doth pay ; 
And these my tyrant's cruel mind fulfil. 

I sacrifice my youth and blooming years 
At her proud feet ; that yet respects no whit 
My youth, untimely withered with my tears ; 
By winter woes, for spring of youth unlit. 

She thinks a look may recompense my care, 
And so with looks prolongs my long lookt ease : 
As short the bliss, so is the comfort rare ; 
Yet must that bliss my hungry thoughts appease. 
Thus she returns my hopes to fruitless ever ; 
Once let her love indeed or eve me never ! 



582 Sonnets after A strophe l & c. [ 



S. Daniel 
159I 1 - 




SONN ET III. 

He only bird alone that Nature frames, 
When weary of the tedious life she lives 
By fire dies, yet finds new life in flames; 



Her ashes to her shape new essence give. 

When only I, the only wretched wight, 
Weary of life that breathes but sorrow's blasts ; 
Pursue the flame of such a beauty bright, 
That burns my heart ; and yet my life still lasts. 

O sovereign light ! that with thy sacred flame 
Consumes my life, revive me after this ! 
And make me (with the happy bird) the same 
That dies to live, by favour of thy bliss ! 

This deed of thine will show a goddess' power; 
In so long death to grant one living hour. 






SONNET IV. 

Ears, vows and prayers gain the hardest hearts : 
Tears, vows and prayers have I spent in vain. 
Tears cannot soften flint, nor vows convert. 
Prayers prevail not with a quaint disdain. 

I lose my tears, where I have lost my love, 
I vow my faith, where faith is not regarded, 
I pray in vain a merciless to move ; 
So rare a faith ought better be rewarded. 

Though frozen will may not be thawed with tears, 
Though my soul's idol scorneth all my vows, 
Though all my prayers be made to deafened ears, 
No favour though the cruel Fair allows ; 

Yet will I weep, vow, pray to cruel She : 

Flint, frost, disdain ; wears, melts and yields, we sec. 




Daniel. 1 C ~ ^ T „. „ 
? I59 ,J BONNETS AFTER AsTROPHEL &C. q8" 

SONNET V. 

]Hy doth my mistress credit so her glass 
Gazing her beauty, deigned her by the skies ? 
And doth not rather look on him, alas ! 
Whose state best shows the force of murdering eyes. 

The broken tops of lofty trees declare 
The fury of a mercy-wanting storm : 
And of what force your wounding graces are, 
Upon myself, you best may find the form. 

Then leave your glass, and gaze yourself on me ! 
That mirror shows the power of your face : 
To admire your form too much may danger be, 
Narcissus changed to flower in such a case. 

I fear your change ! Not flower nor hyacinth ; 
Medusa's eye may turn your heart to flint. 



SONNET VI. 

Hese amber locks are those same nets, my Dear 
Wherewith my liberty thou didst surprise. 
Love was the flame that fired me so near. 
The darts transpiercing were these crystal eyes. 

Strong is the net, and fervent is the flame, 
Deep is the stroke, my sighs can well report : 
Yet do I love, adore and praise the same ; 
That holds, that burns, that wounds me in that sort. 

I list not seek to break, to quench, to heal 
This bond, this flame, this wound that festereth so; 
By knife, by liquor or by salve to deal : 
So much I please to perish in my woe. 

Yet, lest long travels be above my strength 

Good Lady ! loose, quench, heal me now at length! 




584SONNETS AFTER A S TRO PHE L &C. [ 



S. DanieJ. 

1591- 




SONNET VII. 

Ehold what hap Pygmalion had, to frame 
And carve his grief himself upon a stone : 
My heavy fortune is much like the same, 
I work on flint, and that's the cause I moan. 
For hapless lo even with mine own desires, 
I figured on the table of my heart ; 
The goodliest shape that the world's eye admires : 
And so did perish by my proper art. 

And still I toil to change the marble breast 
Of her whose sweet Idea I adore: 
Yet cannot find her breathe unto my rest. 
Hard is her heart, and woe is me therefore. 
O blessed he that joys his stone and art ! 
Unhappy I ! to love a stony heart. 




SONNET VIII. 

Ft and in vain my rebel thoughts have ventured 
To stop the passage of my vanquished heart ; 
And close the way, my friendly foe first entered : 
Striving thereby to free my better part. 

Whilst guarding thus the windows of my thought, 
Where my heart's thief to vex mc made her choice; 
And thither all my forces to transport : 
Another passage opens at her voice. 

Her voice betrays me to her hand and eye, 
My freedom's tyrant, glorying in her art : 
But, ah ! sweet foe ! small is the victory, 
With three such powers to plague one silly heart. 
Yet my soul's sovereign ! since I must resign; 
Reign in my thoughts ! My love and life are thine! 



s - D S™\\] Sonnets after A strophel & c. 585 




SONN ET IX. 

Eign in my thoughts! fair hand! sweet eye! rare voice! 
Possess me whole, my heart's Triumvirate ! 
Yet heavy heart ! to make so hard a choice 
Of such as spoil thy whole afflicted state. 

For whilst they strive which shall be Lord of all, 
All my poor life by them is trodden down : 
They all erect their triumphs on my fall, 
And yield me nought ; who gains them there renown. 

When back I look, and sigh my freedom past, 
And wail the state wherein I present stand, 
And see my fortune ever like to last : 
Finding me reined with such a cruel hand, 

What can I do but yield ? and yield I do; 
And serve them all, and yet they spoil me too ! 




SONNET X. 

He sly Enchanter, when to work his will 
And secret wrong on some forespoken wight ; 
Frames wax in form to represent aright 
The poor unwitting wretch he means to kill : 

And pricks the image, framed by magic's skill, 
Whereby to vex the party day and night. 
Like hath she done, whose show bewitched my sight 
To beauty's charms, her lover's blood to spill. 

For first, like wax she framed me by her eyes ; 
Whose " Nays ! " sharp-pointed set upon my breast 
Martyr my life ; and plague me in this wise 
With ling'ring pain to perish in unrest. 

Nought could, save this, my sweetest fair suffice, 
To try her art on him that loves her best. 



586 Son n e t s a f ter A s tr o piie l 6f c. [ s - ^'J'; 




SONNET XI. 

Estore thy treasure to the golden ore ! 
Yield Cytherea's son those arks of love ! 
Bequeath the heavens, the stars that I adore ! 
And to the Orient do thy pearls remove ! 

Yield thy hands' pride unto the ivory white ! 
To Arabian odour give thy breathing sweet ! 
Restore thy blush unto Aurora bright ! 
To Thetis give the honour of thy feet ! 

Let Venus have the graces she resigned ! 
And thy sweet voice yield to Hermonius' spheres ! 
But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind 
To Hyrcan tigers and to ruthless bears ! 

Yield to the marble thy hard heart again ! 
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to pain. 



( ! 



SONNET XII. 

He tablet of my heavy fortunes here 
Upon thine altar, Paphian Power ! I place. 
The grievous shipwrack of my travels clear 
In bulged bark, all perished in disgrace. 

That traitor Love ! was pilot to my woe ; 
My sails were Hope, spread with my Sighs of Grief; 
The twin lights which my hapless course did show 
Hard by th'inconstant sands of false relief, 

Were two bright stars which led my view apart. 
A Siren's voice allured me come so near 
To perish on the marble of her heart : 
A danger which my soul did never fear. 

I.o, thus he lares that trusts a calm too much; 
And thus laic I whose credit hath been such. 



S. Daniel. 
Usgx.. 



Sonnets after A stro phel dr c. 587 




SONNET XIII. 

Y Cynthia hath the waters of mine eyes, 
The ready handmaids on her Grace attending, 
That never fall to ebb, nor ever die ; 
For to their flow she never grants an ending. 

The Ocean never doth attend more duly 
Upon his sovereign, the night wand'ring Queen ; 
Nor ever hath his impost paid more truly, 
Than mine, to my soul's Queen hath ever been. 
Yet her hard rock, firm rixt for aye removing, 
No comfort to my cares she ever giveth : 
Yet had I rather languish in her loving, 
Than to embrace the fairest she that liveth. 

I fear to find such pleasure in my reigning ; 
As now I taste in compass of complaining. 




SONNET XIV. 

F a true heart and faith unfeigned ; 
If a sweet languish with a chaste desire ; 
If hunger-starven thoughts so long retained, 
Fed but with smoke, and cherished but with fire ; 
And if a brow with Care's characters painted ; 
Bewray my love, with broken words half spoken, 
To her which sits in my thoughts' temple, sainted ; 
And lay to view my vulture-gnawen heart open : 

If I have wept the day and sighed the night, 
While thrice the sun approached his northern bound ; 
If such a faith hath ever wrought aright, 
And well deserved, and yet no favour found. 

Let this suffice ; the whole world it may see, 
The fault is hers, though mine the most hurt be. 



588 S O N N E T S A F T E R ASTROPHEL & C. [ S - 'Jg; 




SONNET XV. 

Ince the first look that led me to this error, 
To this thoughts' maze to my confusion tending ; 
Still have I lived in grief, in hope, in terror ; 
The circle of my sorrows never ending. 

Yet cannot have her love, that holds me hateful ; 
Her eyes exact it, though her heart disdains me. 
See what reward he hath that serves th'ungrateful ? 
So long and pure a faith no favour gains me. 
Still must I whet my young desires abated, 
Upon the flint of such a heart rebelling : 
And all in vain; her pride is so imated, 
She \ ields no place at all for Pity's dwelling. 

Oft have I told her that my soul did love her, 

And that with tears : vet all this will not move her. 



SONNET XVI. 




|Eigii but the cause! and give me leave to plain me. 
For all my hurt, that my heart's Queen hath 
wrought it ; 

She whom I love so dear, the more to pain me, 
Withholds my right, where I have dearly bought it. 

Dearly I nought that was so highly rated, 
Even with the price of blood and body's wasting; 
She would not yield that ought might be abated, 
For all she saw my love was pure and lasting : 

And yet now scorns performance of the passion; 
And with her presence JUSTICE overruleth. 
She tells me flat her beauty hears no action; 
And bo my plea and process she excludeth. 

What wrong she doth, the world may well perceive it: 
To accept my faith at first, and then to leave it. 



S. Daniel. 
?i59i-J 



S N X E T S A F T ER A S TROPHE L & C. 589 




SONNET X VII. 

Hilst BY her eyes pursued, my poor heart flew it 
Into the sacred bosom of my Dearest ; 
y|| She there, in that sweet sanctuary, slew it, 
When it had hoped his safety to be nearest. 

My faith of privilege could no whit protect it; 
That was with blood, and three years' witness signed : 
Whereby she had no cause once to suspect it, 
For well she saw my love, and how I pined. 

Yet no hope's letter would her brow reveal me, 
No comfort's hue which falling spirits erecteth ; 
What boots to laws of succour to appeal me ? 
Ladies and tyrants never laws respecteth. 

Then there I die, where I had hope to liven; 
And by her hand that better might have given. 



SONNET X V I 1 1 . 




|Ook in my griefs ! and blame me not to mourn, 
From thought to thought that lead a life so bad : 
Fortune's orphan ! Her's and the world's scorn ! 
Whose clouded brow doth make my days so bad. 

Long are their nights, whose cares do never sleep ; 
Loathsome their days, whom never sun yet joyed ; 
A pleasing grief impressed hath so deep, 
That thus I live both day and night annoyed. 

Yet since the sweetest root doth yield thus much, 
Her praise from my complaint I must not part : 
I love the effect, because the cause is such ; 
I praise her face, and blame her flinty heart. 

Whilst that we make the world admire at us ; 
Her for disdain, and me for loving thus. 




59Q Sonnets affer Astro ph e l & c. [ s - {^gj; 



SONNET XIX. 

Appy in sleep ; waking, content to languish ; 
Embracing clouds by night ; in day time mourn; 
All things I loathe save her and mine own anguish ; 
Pleased in my heart moved to live forlorn. 

Nought do I crave but love, death or my lady. 
Hoarse with crying, " Mercy ! " (Mercy yet my merit), 
So many vows and prayers ever made I ; 
That now at length to yield, mere pity were it. 

Yet since the Hydra of my cares renewing, 
Revives still sorrows of her fresh disdaining : 
Still must I go the summer winds pursuing, 
And nothing but her love and my heart's paining. 

Weep hours ! grieve days ! sigh months ! and still 

mourn yearly ! 
Thus must I do because I love her dearly. 



SONNET XX. 

F Beauty bright be doubled with a frown, 
That Pity cannot shine through to my bliss ; 
And Disdain's vapours are thus overgrown, 

That my life's light to me quite darkened is. 
Why trouble I the world then with my cries, 

The air with sighs, the earth below with tears ? 

Since I live hateful to those ruthful eyes ; 

Vexing with my untuned moan, her dainty ears. 
If I have loved her dearer than my breath, 

(My breath that calls the heaven to witness it) 

And still hold her most dear until my death ; 

And if that all this cannot move one whit : 

Yet let her say that she hath done me wrong, 
To use me thus and know I loved so long. 




s ' D ? a i59 e i':] Sonnets after Astrophel & c. 591 




SONNET XXI. 

Ome Death ! the anchor hold of all my thoughts, 
My last resort whereto my soul appealeth : 
For all too long on earth my Fancy dotes, 

While dearest blood my fiery passions sealeth. 
That heart is now the prospective of horror 

That honoured hath the cruel'st Fair that liveth; 

The crudest Fair that knows I languish for her, 

And never mercy to my merit giveth ; 

This is the laurel and her triumph's prize, 

To tread me down with foot of her disgrace ; 

Whilst I did build my fortune in her eyes, 

And laid my soul's rest on so fair a face. 

That rest I lost ; my love, my life and all : 
Thus high attempts to low disgrace do fall. 



SON NET XXII. 




F this be love, to draw a weary breath, 
To paint on floods till the shore cry to the air ; 
With prone aspect still treading on the earth. 
Sad horror ! pale grief ! prostrate despair ! 
If this be love, to war against my soul, 
Rise up to wail, lie down to sigh, to grieve me, 
W T ith ceaseless toil Care's restless stones to roll, 
Still to complain and moan, whilst none relieve me. 

If this be love, to languish in such care 
Loathing the light, the world, myself and all, 
With interrupted sleeps, fresh griefs repair; 
And breathe out horror in perplexed thrall. 
If this be love, to live a living death : 
Lo then love I, and draw this weary breath. 



592 Sonnets after A strop h el & c. [ 



S. Daniel. 
1591. 



SONNET XXIII 




Y years draw on my everlasting night, 
And Horror's sable clouds dim my life's sun ; 
That my life's sun, and Thou my worldly light 
Shall rise no more to me. My days are done ! 

I'll go before unto the myrtle shades, 
To attend the presence of my world's dear : 
And dress a bed of flowers that never fade , 
And all things fit against her coming there. 

If any ask, " Why that so soon I came ? " 
I'll hide her fault, and say " It was my lot." 
In life and death I'll tender her good name ; 
My life and death shall never be her blot. 

Although the world this deed of hers may blame ; 
The Elysian ghosts shall never know the same. 



SONNET XXIV. 




He star of my mishap imposed my paining 
To spend the April of my years in crying ; 
That never found my fortune but in waining. 
With still fresh cares my blood and body trying. 

Yet her i blame not, though she might have blest me ; 
But my Desire's wings so high aspiring : 
Now melted with the sun that hath possest me 
Down do I fall from off my high desiring. 
And in my fall do cry for mercy speedy, 
No piteous eye looks back upon my mourning ; 
No help I find, when now most favour need I : 
My ocean tears drown me, and quench my burning. 
And this my death must christen her anew, 
Whiles faith doth bid my cruel Fair, " Adieu ! " 




S-D ? a i n i e I:] S ONN ETS AFTER A STROPHEL &C. 593 



SONNET XXV. 

hear the impost of a faith not feigning, 
That duty pays, and her disdain extorteth : 
These bear the message of my woeful paining, 
These olive branches mercy still exhorteth. 

These tributary plaints with chaste desires, 
I send those eyes, the cabinets of love ; 
The paradise whereto my soul aspires, 
From out this hell, which my afflictions prove : 
Wherein, poor soul ! I live exiled from mirth, 
Pensive alone, none but despair about me. 
My joys' liberties perished in their birth, 
My cares long lived, and will not die without me. 
What shall I do, but sigh and wail the while ; 
My martyrdom exceeds the highest style. 



SONNET XXVI. 

Once may I see, when years may wreck my wrong, 
And golden hairs may change to silver wire ; 
_ And those bright rays (that kindle all this fire) 
Shall fail in force, their power not so strong. 

Her beauty, now the burden of my song, 
Whose glorious blaze the world's eye doth admire ; 
Must yield her praise to tyrant Time's desire : 
Then fades the flower, which fed her pride so long. 

When if she grieve to gaze her in her glass, 
Which then presents her winter-withered hue : 
Go you my verse ! go tell her what she was ! 
For what she was, she best may find in you. 
Your fiery heat lets not her glory pass, 
But Phcenix-like to make her live anew. 

Eng. Gar. I. 38 




594 Sonnets after A stro ph e l &c. [ 



3. Daniel. 
I59 1 - 




SONNET XXVII. 

Aising my hope on hills of high desire, 
Thinking to scale the heaven of her heart ; 
My slender mean presumes too high a part : 



For Disdain's thunderbolt made me retire, 

And threw me down to pain in all this fire. 
Where lo, I languish in so heavy smart 
Because th'attempt was far above my art : 
Her state brooks not poor souls should come so nigh her. 

Yet I protest my high aspiring will 
Was not to dispossess her of her right : 
Her sovereignty should have remained still, 
I only sought the bliss to have her sight. 

Her sight contented thus to see me spill, 
Framed my desires fit for her eyes to kill. 



FINIS 



[Samuel] Daniel. 




Content."] 5 O N N E T S AFTER AsTROPHEL &C. 595 




Canto primo. 

Ark all you ladies that do sleep ! 
The Fairy Queen Proserpina 
Bids you awake ! and pity them that weep '• 

You may do in the dark 

What the day doth forbid ; 

Fear not the dogs that bark, 

Night will have all hid. 



But if you let your lovers moan ; 

The Fair Queen Proserpina 

Will send abroad her fairies every one : 

That shall pinch black and blue 

Your white hands and fair arms ; 

That did not kindly rue 

Your paramours' harms. 

In myrtle arbours on the downs, 

The Fairy Queen Proserpina 

This night by moonshine, leading merry rounds, 

Holds watch with sweet Love, 

Down the dale, up the hill. 

No plaints nor griefs may move 

Their holy vigil. 

All you that will hold watch with Love, 

The Fairy Queen Proserpina 

Will make you fairer than Diana's dove. 

Roses red, lilies white, 

And the clear damask hue ; 

Shall on your cheeks alight. 

Love will adorn you. 
38* 



596 Sonnets after A s tr p ii el &c. [ 

All you that love ! or loved before ! 

The Fairy Queen Proserpina 

Bids you increase that loving humour more ! 

They that have not yet fed 

On delight amorous ; 

She vows that they shall lead 

Apes in Avernus. 



("Content. 
1591. 



Canto secundo. 



Hat fair pomp have I spied of glittering Ladies ; 
With locks sparkled abroad, and rosy coronet 
On their ivory brows, trackt to the dainty thighs 
With robes like Amazons, blue as violet, 
With gold aiglets adorned, some in a changeable 
Pale ; with spangs wavering taught to be movable. 




Then those Knights that afar off with dolorous viewing, 
Cast their eyes hitherward : lo, in an agony 
All unbraced, cry aloud, their heavy state rueing: 
Moist checks with blubbering, painted as ebony 
Black ; their feltred hair torn with wrathful hand : 
And whiles astonied, stark in a maze they stand. 



But hark ! what merry sound ! what sudden harmony ! 
Look ! look near the grove ! where the Ladies do tread 
With their Knights the measures weighed by the melody. 
Wantons ! whose traversing make men enamoured ; 
Now they fain an honour, now by the slender waist 
lie must her aloft, and seal a kiss in haste. 



Content 



'JJ;] Sonnets after Asirofiiel &C. 597 

Straight down under a shadow for weariness they lie 
With pleasant dalliance, hand knit with arm in arm; 
Now close, now set aloof, they gaze with an equal eye, 
Changing kisses alike ; straight with a false alarm, 
Mocking kisses alike, pout with a lovely lip. 
Thus drowned with jollities, their merry days do slip. 

But stay ! now I discern they go on a pilgrimage 
Towards Love's holy land, fair Paphos or Cyprus. 
Such devotion is meet for a blithesome age ; 
With sweet youth, it agrees well to be amorous. 
Let old angry fathers lurk in an hermitage : 
Come, we'll associate this jolly pilgrimage ! 



Canto tertio. 




Y love bound me with a kiss 
That I should no longer stay : 
When I felt so sweet a bliss, 
I had less power to pass away. 
Alas ! that women do not know, 
Kisses make men loth to go. 



Canto qua rto. 



|Ove whets the dullest wits, his plagues be such 
But makes the wise by pleasing, dote as much. 
So wit is purchased by this dire disease. 
O let me dote! so Love be bent to please, 




598 Sonnets after Astrophel &c. [^JJ 



Canto qui7ito. 




Day, a night, an hour of sweet content 
Is worth a world consumed in fretful care. 
Unequal gods! in your arbitrement ! 
To sort us days whose sorrows endless are ! 

And yet what were it ? as a fading flower ; 

To swim in bliss a day, a night, an hour. 

What plague is greater than the grief of mind? 
The grief of mind that eats in every vein, 
In every vein that leads such clods behind, 
Such clods behind as breed such bitter pain. 
So bitter pain that none shall ever find, 
What plague is greater than the grief of mind ? 

Doth sorrow fret thy soul ? O direful spirit ! 
Doth pleasure feed thy heart ? O blessed man ! 
Hast thou been happy once ? O heavy plight ! 
Are thy mishaps forepast ? O happy then ! 

Or hast thou bliss in eld ? O bliss too late ! 

But hast thou bliss in youth ? O sweet estate ! 



FINIS 



Content. 




Earl of Oxford. 



t?££] Sonnets after Astroihel &c. 599 



Megliora spero. 




Action that ever dwells in Court where 
wit excels, 

Hath set defiance. 
Fortune and Love have sworn that they 
were never born 

Of one alliance. 



Cupid which doth aspire to be god of Desire, 

Swears he "gives laws; 
That where his arrows hit, some joy, some sorrow it : 

Fortune no cause." 



Fortune swears "weakest hearts," the books of Cupid's arts, 

" turned with her wheel, 
Senseless themselves shall prove. Venture hath place in love. 

Ask them that feel! " 



This discord it begot atheists, that honour not. 

Nature thought good 
Fortune should ever dwell in Court where wits excel; 

Love keep the wood. 



So to the wood went I, with Love to live and die. 

Fortune's forlorn. 
Experience of my youth made me think humble Truth 

In deserts born. 



6oo Sonnets after Asjroiiiel &c. \ 



Earl of Oxford. 
?i 59 i. 



My saint I keep to me, and Joan herself is free, 

Joan fair and true ! 
She that doth only move passions of love with Love. 

Fortune ! adieu ! 

FINIS. 

E. O. [i.e. Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford.] 



[The author of the following final poem in this Collection of Newman's 
first Quarto of 1 591 is not indicated.] 




F floods of tears could cleanse my follies past 
And smokes of sighs might sacrifice for sin ; 
If groaning cries might salve my fault at last ; 
Or endless moan for error, pardon win : 

Then would I cry, weep, sigh, and ever 

moan 
Mine error, fault, sins, follies past and gone. 



I see my hopes must wither in their bud, 
I see my favours are no lasting flowers, 
I see that words will breathe no better good 
Than loss of time, and lightning but at hours. 
Then when I see, then this I say therefore, 
That favours, hopes and words can blind no more. 

FINIS. 




A 

TRUE RELATION 

OF A BRAVE ENGLISH 

STRATAGEM PRACTISED 

lately upon a sea town in Galicia, one of 

the kingdoms in Spain ; and most vali- 
antly and successfully performed by one English 
ship alone of thirty tons, with no 
more than 35 men in her. 

AS ALSO 
With two other remarkable 

Accidents between the English 

and Spaniards, to the glory of our 
Nation. 



JlAfTwjifc&lL 



Printed for Mercurius Brita?2icus, 
1626. 



A True Relation of a Brave English 

Stratagem practised lately upon a sea town in Galicia, one of 
the kingdoms in Spain ; and most valiantly and success- 
fully performed by one English ship alone of thirty 
tons, with no ?nore than 35 men in her. 

With two other remarkable Accidents between the 

English and Spaniards , to the glory 

of our Nation. 

Ou shall here, loving Countrymen ! receive 
a plain, full and perfect relation of a 
stratagem bravely attempted, resolutely 
seconded with bold English spirits, and by 
them as fortunately executed upon our 
enemies, the Spaniards : who, albeit upon 
what kingdom soever they once set but 
footing, they write Plus ultra', devouring it 
up in conceit, and feeding their greedy ambition that it is all 
their own. Yet this golden faggot of dominion may have 
many sticks plucked out of it, if cunning fingers go about to 
undo the band : as by this Galician enterprise may appear. 

A pregnant testimony hereby being given, that if the great 
warriors of the sea would join together, and thunder all along 
the Spanish coasts; the Castilian kingdoms might easily be 
shaken: when so poor a handful of our English being spread 
before one of their sea towns, was the forerunner of so terrible 
a storm to all the inhabitants. 

Such a brave mustering of all the gods of the Ocean into 
one conjoined army, would quickly make the great Dons to 
alter their proud and insolent poesy of Nun siijjicit orbis, "the 




604 Appeal to the gods of the ocean. [ Ma y ? l62 6: 

world is too little " to fill their belly (when the East Indies 
lies upon one of their trenchers, and the West Indies upon 
another), yea, and compel them to dwell quietly at home in 
their own hot barren country of Spain ; contented with a 
dinner of a few olives, a handful of raisins, and such poor 
trash : not intruding into other King's territories (especially 
these fruitful ones of ours) to eat up our fat beefs [oxen], veals 
[calves], muttons [sheep] and capons; victuals too good for such 
insatiable feeders, when whole countries — might they swallow 
down their fill — are nothing to be devoured at one meal. 

Come forth, therefore, you renowned English ! and by the 
example of a few countrymen of yours, plough up the furrows 
of your enemy's seas ! and come home ladened, as we have 
done, with spoils, honours, victory and richly purchased prizes. 

Fear not to fight ! albeit five Kings bring their men of war 
into the field : for you have a Joshua [? Charles I.] to stand 
up in your defence, and to bid them to battle. 

And when you go to draw your swords, or to discharge your 
cannon against the iron ribs of the Armadas of this potent 
and bloody Enemy: pray unto the LORD toward the way of the 
city which he hath chosen ! and toward the house which in 
that place is built for His name ! and He in heaven will hear 
your prayers and supplications, and judge your cause ; and 
deliver these wild boars and bulls of Tarifa into your toils. 

To arm you for action for your country, for your fames, for 
wealth, and the credit of your nation : whensoever it pleaseth 
GOD that you put to sea, may you be prosperous! and speed 
no worse than these have done ! whose story I am now going 
to set down. 

One Captain -Quaile, born in Portsmouth, desiring to 
attempt something for the honour of England and the benefit 
of himself and followers : by the license and authority of those 
in England, who might give him leave ; got a bark of Plymouth, 
which by him and his friends, was sufficiently furnished with 
men, victuals and munition. The bark being but of thirty 
tons, and the men in her to the number of 34 or 35. 

This captain and the resolute gang with him, went 
merrily to sea, and sailed to and fro ; without fastening on 
any purchase answerable to their expectation or defraying 
such a charge as they and their ship had been at. Their 
fortunes in England were not great, and if they should return 



Mayi6 2 6.J QUAILE AND HIS PINNACE OFF CrIS. 605 

home without some exploits, their estates would be less. 
Hereupon, the Captain discovering his mind to his Lieutenant, 
whose name was Frost; they two, after consultation between 
themselves, persuaded the rest of their company to try their 
uttermost adventures rather than like cowards to go back : 
who, hearing the Captain's resolution, were on fire to follow 
him through all dangers, happen whatsoever could. And so 
they clapped hands upon this desperate bargain, yet protesting 
and seriously vowing not to turn pirates; thereby to make 
booty either of their own countrymen or friends to the State. 

Good hope thus, and a prosperous wind filling their sails ; 
they hovered along the coast of Galicia, which lies upon the 
head of Portugal to the northward. In passing by which, 
the ship being clear [ ? of enemies] and the shores quiet ; the 
Captain commanded them to cast anchor before a certain town 
called Cris, which had a platform or fort with ordnance to 
defend it. And this was done at noon day. 

Then he, being perfect in the French tongue, wrote a letter 
in that language to the Governor or Captain of the fort, 
importing thus much. " That they were poor distressed 
Frenchmen, driven thither by some Turkish Men of War ; and 
flying to them (as to their friends) for succour : pretending 
their greatest want to be wood for firing, and fresh water to 
relieve them. Of both which necessaries, they knew that 
place to be abundantly stored ; and for which they would give 
any reasonable content." Thus riding at anchor in sight of 
the town, and their cock-boat being lost in a storm; they had 
no other device to convey the letter to the Spanish Commander, 
than by sending a sailor upon an empty hogshead, with an 
oar in his hand to guide him to land ; he being very skilful 
both in French, and in swimming. 

The Spaniards seeing a man making to them in that 
strange manner, thought verily they were men distressed 
indeed : and thereupon manning out a skiff to meet and 
receive him, they took him in. 

The letter spake his business to the Spanish Captain, who 
talking further in French to the mariner, and being thereupon 
certainly assured of their distress; determined to sell to them 
such commodities as they wanted at as dear a rate as he 
could : and for that purpose commanded another skiff to be 
manned out with certain Spaniards; who, suspecting nothing, 



606 The Spaniards surprised in the ship. [ May ? i6a6. 

hastened to go aboard the Pinnace, with their Captain in 
company. 

In the meantime, Captain Quaile had shut his portholes 
close and hid his ordnance ; discovering not above five men 
above the hatches, who seemed to carry sickly faces and weak 
bodies, and were all unarmed. The Spaniards were joyfully 
embraced and welcomed. Such poor victuals as they had 
aboard, were with arguments of much love set before them. 
Holland cheeses were cut in the middle ; and such wine and 
beer offered them, as they were furnished with. 

This entertainment carrying away all suspicion with it : 
Captain Quaile invited the Spanish Captain and the rest of 
his company to his cabin. In passing into which, the Spanish 
commander espied a piece of ordnance : at which, starting 
back, and, not half well pleased, demanding " why it lay 
there;" Quaile excused it and said "that it was all the 
protection they carried about them to defend them from 
dangers : " and so, with much cunning as he could, he drew 
by compliment and disguised fair language all the Spaniards 
into his cabin. Whither with good words he welcomed them, 
and saluted them with cans of wine : which, while they were 
tossing — albeit the Spaniard is the most temperate drinker 
in the world — Captain Quaile, with his foot giving a knock 
for more; that sign of the foot was a watchword to fetch up all 
mariners. Who, crying "St. George !" appeared in their full 
number, every man armed with a charged pistol and a short 
sword drawn in his hand. 

The Spaniards, astonished at this unexpected surprisal, 
seeing no remedy, yielded themselves ; and so were all taken 
prisoners : an assurance being given them by the English 
Captain — upon the oath of a soldier (his honour) and the 
faith of an Englishman (which to an enemy he scorns to 
break) — that not a Spaniard there should be in any danger 
for his life, so they would be quiet and silent ; otherwise 
death ! 

Certain fishermen were all this while round about them, at 
their labour ; yet perceived nothing. 

With all speed therefore that possibly could be used, 
Captain Quaile and his Lieutenant, making their prisoners 
sure; manned out the two Spanish skiffs with his English 
musketeers : every one of them lying down in the skiffs flat 



May 



\ 626 ] The English pillage the town. 607 



on his belly; none that might be mistrusted being seen, but 
such only as rowed the two skiffs. 

Then, with great circumspection (attended upon by a 
resolution to meet death face to face) they landed themselves ; 
and, active as fire, suddenly, with little or no danger at all, 
surprised the platform, and, with the same dexterity, were 
masters of the fort. For the act being quick as lightning, so 
amazed the Spaniards: that it took from them all apprehen- 
sion not only of fear, but of prevention or acknowledgment 
of that danger which trod upon their heels. So that Captain 
Quaile, what with his own success and the others' astonish- 
ment, in a short time, and without resistance, seized upon 
the ordnance of the platform, which turning and discharging 
upon the town, and his own bark likewise giving fire to her 
pieces on the other side: away ran the people, to the number 
of two hundred persons, besides women and children. At 
the noise of these sudden terrors, the fishermen likewise, 
cutting their nets, hastened as fast as they could to the 
shore; having more care to save themselves than to catch any 
fish. And so the people flying up into the country, the 
town was left naked, and let to new landlords. 

Who, meeting no Spaniards willing to be their tenants ; 
and the Englishmen themselves being loth to tarry among 
such bad neighbours : they rifled both the fort and the town, 
and had the pillaging of both for eight hours together. In 
which time, they hurried to their ship anything that was of 
value : and besides the abundance of much riches ; they 
brought away the ordnance of the fort, the bell out of the 
church, and the chalice. And so, without wrong to their 
persons, putting their Spanish prisoners into their own skiffs; 
to shore they sent them : with a warlike triumphing farewell 
from their own pieces; and are now with much honour 
arrived in England. 

If this example, noble Countrymen ! cannot give you 
sufficient encouragement: do but look back into the former 
ages, and take a brief survey what honourable attempts, 
exploits, undertakings and stratagems have in foreign 
countries been enterprized and achieved by the English. 
When brave ohn of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, &c, being 
but a subject, without borrowing or charging of the King's 



608 The mighty acts of Englishmen. [ Ma> ? lC26 . 

treasures ; out of his own purse and coffers, and assisted by 
his friends and such voluntary gentlemen as craved depen- 
dence upon his fortunes, without press or compelling any 
man, beating up his drums, levied so sufficient an army that 
with it he conquered all Spain, removed the usurper and 
reinstated the expulsed Don Pedro : and after by inter- 
changeable marriages, made himself and successive issue, 
competitors and allies to the Crown and Dignity Imperial. 

Of what honours our nation have purchased from the 
French, even their own Chronicles without the flattery of 
ours, give ample and sufficient testimony. Witness the 
battles of Poitiers and Cressy, fought by " the Invincible 
Soldier" (for the great terror, which he brought into France) 
called the Black Prince ; who, with inimitable valour, 
courage undaunted, and expedition almost beyond human 
apprehension, against infinite odds, and nothing in his own 
party to encourage him, save want of numbers and disadvan- 
tage of place : yet notwithstanding, not only disrouted their 
mighty armies, killing many and defeating all, but brought 
the King, Dauphin, and all the Prince Peers of the land, 
prisoners, and presented them at the feet of his father. 

The Scotch King, taking the advantage of the King of 
England then being in France, who lay at Calais ; made 
inroads and excursions into this land : whom the Queen 
Philippa — then destitute of all her nobility and gentry, as 
being then with the King her husband in France — met with 
an army of priests, husbandmen, artificers and some few 
gentlemen ; gave him battle, vanquished his army, took him 
prisoner, and added one thing more to the eternising of her 
husband's and son's famous and renowned valours. 

I omit the great battle fought by Henry V. at Agincourt, 
with many others : and lest I be taxed of [with] too great a 
digression, return to the former discourse; by me promised, 
and I make no question by you expected. 

In Lisbon, not long since, a young merchant, who for 
divers respects desires to have his name concealed, being in 
the company of certain Dons, and falling into discourse 
about the valour of several nations, they so far exceeded in 
the hyperboles of their own praise, that the)- blushed not to 
affirm that one Spaniard was able to beat two Englishmen 



Mayi6 2 6.] CAPTAIN WaRNER AND THE DUNKIRK SHIP. 609 

out of the field, which they in their braggadesme [brag- 
gadacio] enforced so far; that though the rest were silent, this 
young gentleman, not able to conceal a true English spirit, 
after some retort of language, there made a protestation, 
" That if it pleased the Governor to give him leave, he 
himself would undertake (making choice of his weapon) to 
fight singly against three of the proudest champions they 
could produce against him." To cut off circumstance ; the 
challenge was accepted. The Governor prepared the com- 
batants, with the time and place appointed. A great 
confluence of people assembled : where one young merchant, 
armed only with his sword and a Spanish pike, in the lists 
appeared, who by the three adversaries was boldly and 
resolutely charged. But GOD and his good cause defended 
him so well, that the combat continued not long till one of 
them he had laid dead at his foot ; and having received from 
them some few scratches with the loss of a small quantity of 
blood and without danger, he so actively and resolutely 
behaved himself against the survivors that they, after divers 
wounds from him received, began to quail in their former 
courage and fight more faintly and further off: which the 
Governor perceiving, commanded the combat to cease, and 
withal to guard the Englishman from the fury of the 
displeased multitude who could have found in their hearts to 
have plucked him in pieces. There calling him up to him, 
conveyed him safe to his house and, after much commenda- 
tion of his valour, very nobly secured him to his ship; wishing 
him for his own safety to be seen no more ashore : whose 
counsel he followed; and since with much envy from them 
and great honour to us, he is arrived in his own country. 

I desire to be tedious in nothing, but will acquaint you 
with another exploit ; no less remarkable than the former, 
performed in the beginning of this last month,* April : and 
thus it was. 

A worthy gentleman, one Captain Warner, with two small 
Pinnaces, was bound towards some part of the West Indies : 
neither of them being of above thirty tons burthen. He, being 

* It is clear from this, that this tract was written in May, 1626. The 
foregoing incident is a confused and inaccurate account of R. Peeke's 
brave act, which will be found, narrated by himself, on pages 621-643. 

Eng. Gar. I. 39 



610 Warner's most daring stratagem. [ M a y ? i626. 

thus at sea, was chased by a tall Man of War, a Dunkirker 
[coming from Dunkirk] ; who came towards them, as if she 
meant to overrun them at once and bury their ruins [fragments] 
in the bottom of the ocean. Which Warner perceiving, 
pretended to make away with one of his Pinnaces; as if he 
purposed to save a stake, and leave the other to the enemy's 
fury and spoils. The Dunkirker, not able to fasten on both 
at once, took the advantage of the first; intending when he 
had seized her to make like prize of the other: hails her, 
boards her ; his sailors and soldiers, being all greedy of booty, 
neglect their own ship; only busying themselves in the rifling 
of the other, where I leave them all busy at work. 

Which Warner perceiving, and not willing to slack so good 
an opportunity, takes advantage of the wind, suddenly casteth 
about [tacks] and seizeth upon the Dunkirk's ship, whose 
men were, most of them, aboard the other pinnace; boards 
her, takes her, mans her : and now being armed with her 
strength ; commands both his other Pinnace and all the 
enemies aboard her. By which stratagem, he not only 
ransomed his own, but subdued his enemies; made prize both 
of ship and goods, and took all the men prisoners. A noble 
encouragement to all the brave captains and commanders of 
our nation to try to imitate him in his resolution and valour. 

And thus, worthy Countrymen! youseethat notwithstanding 
the proud braves [bravados] of the Public Enemy, their 
scandals and calumnies with all the aspersions of disgrace 
that their malice can devise, to cast upon our Kingdom and 
country; maugre their invasions threatened on land or their 
naval triumphs boasted at sea : how the great Creator of all 
things (in whose sight pride, vainglory and ambition are 
abominable) can when He pleases, by the hand of the young 
man David stoop the stiff neck of the strongest Goliath. 
And, noble countrymen! may these few encouragements put 
into you the ancient courage of your ancestors ; whose 
memories through all seas, nations and languages, have been 
and ever shall be sacred to all posterities. Now is the time 
of acting, and to show yourselves as you have been ever 
held and esteemed; brave in attempting, and bold in per- 
forming. And so, without question, your expeditions shall 
be successful, as the fame of your virtues immortal. 

FINIS. 



6n 



Love Posies. 



The manuscript in which this Collection is found, was written 
about 1596. 



There is no smart 
Can turn my heart. 

I'll never be his, 
Whose ring this is. 

A small remembrance. 

Take me up, as I. 

There is a time. 

As black as a cony. 

You wot what I wish. 

Delayed too long. 

Never fainthearted. 

A foe, where you hate. 

Mirth means wells. 

A better were fitter. 

I am not glad, 
If you be sad. 

As true in love, 
As turtle-dove. 

So able, as willing. 

Faithful am I, 
So will I die 

Respect my mind, 
And not my gift. 

I require, 
Eut you retire. 

I will not refuse thee, 
Till life refuse me. 



39 



[Ha,-/. .US. 6910.] 

Though a gift be small, 
Yet goodwill is all. 

I give it thee 
To think on me. 

Sith hands are tied with hearts' 

consent, 
Let only death the knot prevent. 

Your mouse am I, 
So I will die. 

Thoughts keep me waking. 

Farewell ! till then. 

Chastity is a jewel. 

A mite for a million. 

No revel runs riot. 

It is done, what then ? 

Wilt thou ? whit not I ? 

A token to present 
The absent. 

In thee my choice, 
I do rejoice. 

A token of my goodwill. 

Rather die, 
Than faith deny. 

Chastity, my felicity. 

I love no honey. 

A friend's gift. 

Wear this for a remembrance. 

* 



6l2 



Love Posies 



[, 



6th Cent. 



Not the gift, 
But the giver. 

I present the absent. 

Too light to requite. 

I live I, if not I die. 

As brown as a berry. 

The hidden flame burnetii hottest. 

Your constancy 

Is my felicity. 

Hope is my only comfort. 
Forgetfulness breeds disdain. 
No chance shall alter mind. 
As faithful, as friendly. 
Accept my goodwill. 
Hold, lest I fall. 

slay not ! 

As you find, so use. 
Wantons waver ! 
A New Year's toy. 

1 would if I might. 
Love lives in loyalty. 
Accept my gift in loyalty. 
Accept my gift in goodwill. 
Desert deserveth. 
Deserve and then desire. 
Happy choice is my secret joy. 
I favour, as I find. 

In time, or never. 

Desire, what love may require. 

I require, 

But you retire. 

I hope to see 
You yield to me. 

If I may stay, 
Pass one day. 



Let me find thee 
In one agree. 

Disdain not me ! 
That am happy in thee. 

Death strike ! if 
She show spite. 

happy time ! 
When you yield mine. 

My troubled head 
Wisheth you his bed. 

A friend to one, 
Enemy to none. 

Not the gold, but the giver. 

My love is sure, 
Firm to endure. 

If you will me love, 

1 will it quickly prove. 

Never fear to love. 

We join our hearts in GOD. 

Faithful to one, 

And faithless to none. 

A friend to the end. 

Whilst I breathe, I hope. 

Yours by desert. 

More for remembrance, 
Than for recompense. 

To thee, a friend in all. 

Keep secret for me. 

As I love, so I like. 

Fancy flattereth me. 

If thou be well, all is well. 

No beauty without virtue. 

All my wits die in your decay. 

It is pain to part. 

Firm faith flourisheth. 

As you find me, so use me. 



i6th Cent 



Love Posies. 



61 



My heart is yours. 

Yours in heart. 

Let virtue be thy guide. 

Love and obey. 

Advised choice, admits no change. 

My joy I do enjoy. 

Love and Fortune's best conclu- 
sion. 

My choice is made, I am con- 
tent. 

Away ; you hurt me. 

Disdain doubleth death. 

Desire hath set my heart on fire. 

Last but best. 

I mourn till then, 

I know not when. 

Sweet ! wipe thine eyes ! 

I am fast bound his, 
That gave me this. 

The yoke of friendship. 

Dally, but do it not ! 

Faith flattereth not 

Caught and content. 

Seal me in thy heart ! 

With hope, my mind is eased. 

Goodwill is worth goodwill. 

By me to thee. 

Not mine but thine. 

As promise doth bind, 
Be faithful and kind. 

This ring is round and hath no 

end, 
So is my love unto my friend. 

If you deny, my heart will die. 

If you deny, I wish to die. 



I wish my faith could fancy 
please. 

With hope my mind is eased. 

Forget not him that thinks on 
you. 

It is good to fish in time. 

GOD's providence is my inherit- 
ance. 

Continue you, for I am true. 

The end of my hope. 

To me be true, as I to you. 

A constant mind, I hope to find. 

My choice, no change can like. 

Love envieth not. 

Redeem the time. 

Your faith is my freedom. 

Mine eye is pleased, 
Mine heart is eased. 

Not so able, as willing. 

Let pity plead my suit ! 

Naked truth is the anchor of 
credit. 

Careful to comfort thee. 

In trust, be just ! 

Though not rich, yet content. 

Link love with liking. 

Stand to your tackling ! 

Finish my desire ! 

My constancy continued, 
May not be removed. 

I choose not you, in hope to 
change. 

Love is a trouble. 

As GOD decreed, so we agreed. 

One pleased, both eased. 



614 



Love Posies 



16th Cent. 



True love hath led my heart to 

choose. 
My heart is dead, if you refuse. 
As faithful to thee, as may be. 
I vow to be thine ! 
Long wished, at last obtained. 
By desert worthy of praise. 
Restless I live. 

Loathing life yet living death. 
My secret hope in time may hap. 
No lack where love. 

Pity his part, 

Who presenteth thee his heart. 

Let love prevail, 
Till death doth fail. 

Let not absence forget friendship. 

Death is gain, life is pain. 

Let love increase ! 

When fortune frowneth, 
Then love is changed. 

The pledge of her remembrance. 

Bold force overcometh high 
things. 

Together, and for ever. 

Blessed are the dead 
That die in the LORD. 

Be true till death 
Doth take thy breath. 

Wherever I be, 
Think on me. 

Friends fail, but GOD never. 

Let no man part that GOD hath 
joined. 

Nothing but GOD above 
Can part my love. 

No good rometh of idleness. 



The courteous person will say 

well. 
Ever, or never. 

My rejoicing is repentance. 

Yours, or not his own. 

If virtue thou embrace, 

Thou needs must fear disgrace. 

No friend to faith in sickness or 
health. 

My faith unfeigned, my friend 
shall find. 

Requite my love. 

Remit my love. 

GOD guide the hand, 
Whereon I stand. 

Experientia docet. 

Bought wit is best. 

Out of sight, out of mind. 

Time trieth all things. 

Time tarrieth no man. 

By faith I live, and faith I give. 

O that I were as able as willing! 

Speak well, or else be mute. 

What joy to a contented mind? 

Live in love without mislike. 

The man that receiveth well, 
fareth not ill. 

No labour lost in doing well. 

A quiet wife prolongeth life. 

Live well, and die never; 
Die well, and live ever. 

Repentance deserveth pardon. 

GOD made my choice, 
To cause my joy. 

Fancy is fickle. 



16th Cent. J 



Lov e Posies. 



61^ 



Change not thy chosen friend ! 

Mutual consent in love affords 
happy content in life. 

That want denies, goodwill sup- 
plies. 

My body heartless, my grief end- 
less. 

Live, love and die 
In faith and constancy. 

As promise doth bind thee, 
So let me find thee. 

Gold pure, love a friend sure ! 

A merry heart is life. 

I give it thee 
To think on me. 

As you find me, so use me ! 

I wish you joy. 

Nothing but to be. 

Let patience conquer grief ! 

A merry heart, 
Puts by smart. 

I would I were 
With you, my Dear ! 

I would be glad, 
If you I had. 

If so I may, 

I will not say " Nay." 

I have done, 

If you yield not soon. 

Spent is time, 
And you not mine ! 

Remember me, 
As I do thee. 

If you be pleased, 
My heart is eased. 

Thy death is mine, 
My life is thine. 



That love hath wrought 
Is dearly bought. 
There is no pain 
To love in vain. 
No heart can starve, 
Where love doth carve. 

Good luck shall be my lot. 

The end doth try a faithful frieni 

Take in good part 
My loving heart ! 

When this you see, 
Remember me ! 

Love not for gain, 
True dealing is plain. 

Glad for your goodwill, 

Sad for [your] ill. 

Better dead, than doubtful. 

In trial trusty. 

Far off, yet not forgot. 

Remember me, as I love thee. 

When you see this, 
Wish me a kiss. 

I rest in hope, and time. 

Your stay, my wound. 

I am constant, and love ever. 

No bravery to beauty. 

Reward desert. 

Hope, heart's handmaid. 

I live to love. 

Try as gold, 
Fear to be bold. 

Cast my deserts ! 

Pity my passion ! 

Consent is sweet. 

Be resolute till death [ 

Now, or never ! 



6i6 



Love P o s i e s 



lc 



6th Cent. 



If once, for ever ! 
This, with me. 
Remember your friend ! 
Love to be loved ! 

To me have regard, 
And with love me reward. 
Suppose you love me ! 
Yours to command. 
Oh, that I might ! 

Do not to repent 
And so to be shent. 

My affection is my affliction. 

Firm friendship flourisheth. 

Help many, hurt not any. 

Mistrust not the true ! 

A friend to hold, 
Is better than gold. 

A friend to find, 
No time unbind. 

I joy to find, 

A constant mind. 

In silence I sorrow. 

Advised choice is void of change. 

In heart I him grave, 
His love-knot this gave. 

In my choice, 
I do rejoice. 
As joined in one, 
So joy in one. 

One quiet ; both happy. 

Stand fast in faith ! 

Love and fear GOl > ! 

( i< 'I ) hath appointed, I am con- 
tent. 

No earthly voice 

Shall change my chm< e, 



Never inconstant. 

Continue faithful ! 

Rather death, than false of faith. 

Be faithful and loving. 

Homely choice and happy joy. 

In GOD is my trust. 

True love is the bond of peace. 

Keep faith till death ! 

No hell to a dissembler. 

If part, I pine. 

No joy to heaven. 

Your perfect friend 
Till ground have end. 

Love unloved, labour ill lost. 
Time shall tell thee, 
How much I love thee ! 

Your wrong, my grief. 
No bliss so sweet as this. 
Let not the guiltless mourn ! 
My joy consisteth in hope. 
Poverty preventeth me. 
Myself and mine are only thine. 

My hue doth show 
My mistress' woe. 
Better never, if not ever. 
I mourn with silence. 
Contented with my hidden hap. 

I leigh ho ! 

Tread off my toe ! 

Beauty is brave, 
If love thou have. 

Let virtue guide ! 

Your goodness, my happiness. 

A pretty thing for a maiden. 

Hard heart ! adieu ! 



1 6th Cent 



Love Posies 



In silence, yours ! 

I see and say nothing. 

Until death ! 

Twixt life and death. 

Silent sorrow. 

Love is truth. 

Life in death. 

Still in hope. 

My faith is firm. 

Waver not ! 

To thee, a friend in all. 

Absent I am but for a time. 

And will you not 

Fall to my lot ? 

If I hap ill, 
My hope I spill. 

Seldom seen is soon forgot. 

When I was fit, 
I could not sit. 

He meant you his, 
I sent you this. 

One to one 
Is match alone. 
Give him his due, 
That is so true ! 

Denials breed my smart. 
Not too fast, 
But to last. 

Slow but sure. 

Hap what may, 
I list not stay. 

And why not I ? if thou agree. 
I die if thou deny. 
Have at all, 
Hap what shall. 



6l 7 



Fear GOD ! love will live ever. 
I nought do crave 
But you to have. 

Outward shape, 

Doth reason hate. 

Where faith doth abide 

There love doth guide. 
Faith absent, desires content. 
Fach good thing 
From GOD doth spring. 
No friendlier recompense 
Than true obedience. 
True love with continuance 
Keeps this in remembrance. 
Thou hast my heart, and shall. 
A knot-knit love. 
My words ! myself! 

Yours at midnight, take this in 
hand. 

No longer life 
Than faithful wife. 

I hope my good will help my 
grief. 

Be true in heart, 
Till death depart ! 

[i.e. part from one another.'] 

Let not your heart 

From your love start ! 

I like, I love, I live content, 

I made my choice not to repent. 

A pledge that binds 

Two hearts, two minds. 

My ring a toy, 

My wife my joy. 

Fides tit a, sj>cs meet. 

A gage to love, 

Not to remove. 



6i8 



Love Posies. 



I 



6th Cent. 



I still rejoice 

In my first choice. 

Obey and command ! 
Yield and conquer ! 

Pari jugo, dulcis tractus. 

Be faithful and loving ! 

Believe and live ! 

One and all, and one is all. 

Retire unstained ! 

Oh ! quando ! 

No more of that ! 

Say, but swear not ! 

I may not, if I would. 

For virtue, and not for wealth. 

I may and will not. 

Come, kiss me daintily ! 

One to one I wish alone. 

Climb not too high ! 

Thought is dear bought. 

My mind I frame 
To bear no blame. 

Unity increaseth amity. 

Hate not any ! 
Lest hated of many. 

Never dread to Jove a maid ! 

The summer is gay 
For maids to play. 

The shoe maketh me woo. 

Once chosen, never changing. 

No wealth to well content. 

Refuse not friendly faith ! 

The heart that is thine, 
I would it were mine. 

If I deserve, I ought to have. 



I pray you give my heart again ! 

That is desired of many, 
Is hardly kept of any. 

Faint heart delayeth too long. 

I like where I dare not love. 

Are you content ? 
I yield consent ! 

Know thyself! 

Keep a mean ! 

Restraint augments desire. 

I serve in secret. 

Dread no doubleness ! 

Be quick and ready ! 

Pity my passions ! 

Bent to content. 

My gain is grief. 

Record my love ! 

I am glad it likes you. 

The want of thee, 
Is grief to me. 

Your consent, 
My content. 

As joined to thee, 
So joy in me. 

Thy pitiless heart 
Hath wrought my smart. 

Resolve my doubts ! 

Death only shall separate. 

Live and enjoy ! 

Let constant love content ! 

Hope helpeth grief. 

Your faithful friend unto the end. 

Once mine, always thine ! 



16th Cent 



J 



Love Posies. 



Yours ever though never. 

No recompense, but remem- 
brance. 

My joy consisteth in hope. 

Two bodies, one heart 

I receive it thankfully. 

Think on the giver ! 

As I deserve, so I desire. 



619 



No time altereth me. 

Time trieth truth. 

For ever or never. 

A friend's gift. 

Still in hope ! 

Good hope upholds the heart. 

True love alone 

Joins two in one. 




620 



Robert Greene, M.A. 
Lam ilia's song. 

[Groatiworth of Wit] . 

Fie ! fie on blind fancy ! 
It hinders youth's joy. 
Fair virgins learn by me, 
To count love a tov. 



Hen Love learned first the A. B. C. of delight, 

And knew no figures nor conceited phrase ; 

He simply gave to due desert her right : 

He led not lovers in dark winding ways. 

He plainly willed to love, or flatly answered " No ! " 

But now who lists to prove, shall find it nothing so. 

Fie ! fie then on fancy ! 

It hinders youth's joy. 

Fair virgins learn by me, 

To count love a toy. 



For since'he learned to use the poet's pen, 
He learned likewise with smoothing words to feign : 
Witching chaste ears with trothless tongues of men ; 
And wronged faith with falsehood and disdain. 
He gives a promise now, anon he sweareth " No ! " 
Who listeth for to prove, shall find his changing so. 

Fie ! fie then on fancy ! 

It hinders youth's joy. 

Fair virgins learn by me, 

To count love a toy. 




Three to One. 

Being an English-Spanish combat performed 

by a Western Gentleman of Tavistock 

in Devonshire, with an English quarterstafT, 

against three Spaniards [at once] with rapiers 

and poniards; at Sherries [Xeres~\ in Spain, 

the 1 5 th day of November 1625: 

in the presence of Dukes, Condes, Marquises, 

and other great Dons of Spain ; being 

the Council of War< 

The author of this book, and the 
actor in this encounter ; 

R[ichard] Peeke. 



«§» 



Printed at London for L T. and are 
to be sold at his shop. 



62 





TO 
THE K ING'S 

MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 

Gracious Sovereign, 

F I were again in Spain, I should think no happiness 
on earth so great as to come into England ; and at 
your royal feet, to lay down the story of my dangers 
and peregrination : which I tell, as a late sea- 
wrecked man, tossed and beaten with many misfortunes ; 
yet, setting my weary body at last on a blessed shore: my 
hands now lay hold on your altar, which is to me a sanctuary. 
Here I am safe in harbour. 

That psalm of kingly David, which I sang in my Spanish 
captivity, 

When as we sate in Babylon &c. [Psal. cxxxvii.] 
I have now changed to another tune; saying, with the same 
prophet, 

Great is Thy mercy towards me, LORD ! for Thou hast 
delivered my sold from the lowest grave! [Psal. xvi. 16.] 
And, as your Majesty hath been graciously pleased both to let 



624 



The Epistle Dedicatory. [f„iy S;