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

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YEfi.HISTORY HATH TRIUMPHED 
OV£R TIME: WHICH BESIDES IT, 
NOTHING BUT ETERNITY HATH 
TRIUMPHED OVER'.'i-^^^ 

Sir ra.jaabiwrj. 




VI/RS AND MADRiaflLS 
THAT V/HISPER SOFTNESS 
IN CH/IMBERS:' 




PR 
1 /ai 

V'3 



Contents of tbc CbirU Oolume. 

PAGB 

John Caius, M.D. Of Enc:lish DogSytlie diversities, the 7Uimcs, the 
natures, and tlie properties. A short Treatise icritten in Latin 
by Johannes Caius of late Memory, Doctor of Physic in the 
University of Cambrids;e. (1536.) And /lew/y drawn into 
Jins^'-iish 6y Abraham Fleming, Student. (iS7'6.) 225 

William Patten, Londoner. The Expedition into Scotland of the 
most li'orthily fortunate Prince Eoiv.ARDfDuke of Somerset, 
uncle unto our most noble sovereign Lord^ the /\ing's Majesty 
Edward ilie VI., Governor of His Highnesses person, and 
Protector of His Grace's realms, dominions, and subjects ; made 
in the first year of His Majesty s most prosperous reign : and 
set out by way of Diary. (Jan. 1548.) ... ' 51 

Jan Huyghenvan Linschoten. Voyage^n a Portuguese carrack, 

to Goa,in i^^'^ A.D II 

Ralph Fitch's Voyage to the East Indies, and back 1583-1591 a.d. 

av'/// John Newberv's /t'//<?/-j ... 7 167 

Lyrics, Elegies, &^ c . Musica Transalpina. Edited 
A)/ Nicholas YoNGE. (Oct. 15S8.) , 32 

J. Eldred. The first Ens;lishmen luho reached India, overland. 

1583-1589^./). (.'1592.) 159 

Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. .Account of the four English- 
men at Goa. (?r594.) ',. ... 1S8 

Of the Viceroy of Portugal \^it 

Goa\ and his Government in India. (.'1594.) 300 

Dairy of occurre}tces in the 



Portuguese settlements in India, i^?i^-i^?,i, A.D. (?I594.) ... 304 

Return Voyage from Goa to 



Enkhuisen. 1588-1592.-!./?. (.'1594.) 399 

Samuel Daniel. Delia. (.'1594.) 599 

Edward Wright, Mathematician. The Voyage of the Earl of 

Cu.VBERLAND to the A::ores &!^c.,in \<fi^. (1599.) 368 

Anonymous. Early Seventeenth Century Poems 395 

Lyrics, Elegies, S.-'c. A Book of Airs. By Thomas 

Campion,,M.D. and Philip R0SSETER,Lutenist. (May 1601.) 197 



6 Contents of the Third Volume. 

/. y /! / c s , Elegies, 6-»c. Two Books of Airs. 
Thomas Campion, M.D. (1613.) 

The Third and Fourth Books of Airs. 



Thomas Campion, M.D. (? 1613.) 



By 

By 



269 



334 



C S. Britain's Buss, .or A Coiupuiation as well of the Chari^e of a 
Buss or Herrim; Fishint; Shipj as also of the Cain and Profit 
thereby. (1615.) 1 



621 



John Dryden. Dedicatory EpistU to 'X\\c')^\\?i\.'L?^Ci\^%. (.'1664.) 4S7 

vThe HonourabIc,Sir Robert Howard, Auditor of the Exchequer. 

/"n/izcer /£) Four new Plays. (? Mar. 1665) 494 

John Dryden. Of Dramatic Poesy, an Essay. C1667.) 501 

LThe llonouraljle.Sir Robert Howard, .Auditor of the Exchequer. 

Preface to Tiie great Favourite, or tlie Duke of Lerma. (1668.) 573 

John Dryden. ^Z'^(?/;c^<7/'AiiEssayofDramaticPoesy. (1668.) 579 

Andrew Marvell, M.P. The Garden. (Before 167S.) 156 

Thomas Ellwood. Relations with John Milton. (.'1713.)... 473 




FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS. 



PAGE 

A goddess so much 287 

All comforts despaired... 341 

All earthly pomp 275 

All looks be pale 284 

All my desire 361 

All our pride is but 224 

All that I sang 205 

All that dread His name 280 

All this, of whose large 344 

Aloft the trees 279 

And as her lute doth live 203 

And since I had 279 

And till we meet 213 

And would you see 213 

And would you fain 217 

And will you ask 217 

And whence can all 338 

And yet, I cannot 608 

Angels round attend ... 280 

Are you, what your fair 363 

As by the streams 279 

As in the night we see... 37 

As to the Roman 617 

At large, he wanders still 362 

A thousand Cherubim... 221 

Author of Light I revive 272 

Awakel awake! 281 

Awake 1 thou spring ... 343 

Ay me 1 that love should 220 

Beauty is but a blooming 223 

Beauty, sweet love 614 

Beauty is but a painted 363 

Beauty is not by Desert 220 

Because my Love 50 

Be it eitlier true or aptly 364 

Be not then of beauty ... 339 

Be thou then 347 

Blame not my cheeks ! 207 

Blow there t sweet 398 

Bravely decked ; come... 274 

Break now, my heart ... 341 

Britons! frolic at your... 274 

But as the bird that 50 

But from her bower 290 

But he that loves 215 

But if for this goodness 339 

But if lofty titles 347 

But love ! whilst that ... 609 

But my soul still surfeits 273 

But now heaven 27S 

But never fear her heart. 397 

But not so soon 47 

But, O, lest I religion... 221 

But O ye nights ! 2S1 

But, with grace 273 

But roofs, too hot 352 

But they whose cheeks... 207 



PACE 

But to let such dangers 346 

But 'tis the custom of you 396 

But when once Ihy 211 

But why accuse... 342 

But with me, wretch ! ... 49 

Care-charmer Sleep ! ... 616 

Cavern it up ! and keep.. 398 

Cleanse my soul 211 

Cleanse me, LORD ! .. 274 

Come away ! 297 

Come, you pretty 298 

Come ! O come 349 

Come, let us sound 211 

Come, cheerful day ! ... 281 

Command thy humour... 361 

Could I enchant 361 

Could my heart 349 

Cruel! unkind! 42 

Curst Babel's seed. 280 

Dames, of yore 357 

Dear ! if I with guile ... 361 

Death had entered .... 275 

Deeds from love 277 

Deeds meritorious 220 

Delia ! these eyes 611 

Diana's eyes are not ... 218 

Do recompense my love. 396 

Do not demand 217 

Do not admire 217 

Drawn with th'attractlve 615 

Echo daughter 206 

Even in those starry 208 

Every dame affects good 357 

Ever blooming 277 

Eyes that of earth 363 

Fain would I, my love... 290 

Faith, 'tis but afoolish... 360 

Fair Quiet ! Have 1 156 

Fair he is who vowed ... 293 

Fair I if you expect 205 

Fair is my love 603 

Fair! I confess 344 

Fair and lovely maid ... 612 

False hope prolongs 606 

False! then, farewell ... 337 

False Love ! now ^hoot ! 36 

Farewell, World! 282 

Fast to the roof 279 

Fates ! if you rule 205 

Fire ! fire ! fire ! fire ! ... 347 

Fire that must Hame ... 344 

First, Who taught 280 

Foes sometimes 337 

Follow thy fair aun ! ... 202 



PACE 

Follow her ! whose light 202 

Follow those pure 202 

Follow her I while yet... 202 

Follow your saint I 205 

Follow still I since so ... 203 

For all my comfort 219 

Forget thy griefs 216 

Fountain of health ! my 272 

Free beauty is not bound 291 

From me, all my friends 293 

From what part 39 

From her cave 282 

Get up ! get up ! 281 

Give beauty all her right 291 

Go burn these 346 

GOD, His peaceful .... 275 

Go ! Let alone my heart. 396 

Go ! turn away those ... 395 

Good men, show ! 292 

Good thoughts his only 210 

Grief, seize my soul I ... 204 

Griefs past recure, fools. 356 

Had he but loved 336 

Happy minds I 349 

Harden, now 288 

Havel seized my 209 

Heav'n is His throne ... 211 

He, only, can behold ... 210 

Her eyes, like angels ... 358 

Here at the fountain's ... 15S 

Her fair inflaming eyes 366 

Her grace I sought 289 

Her Lips with kisses rich 366 

Her must I love 341 

Her rosy cheeks 299 

Her roses, with my 289 

He the stars directs 2S0 

He that will hope #.. 222 

His ivory skin 2S4 

His youth was like 284 

How are my p -wcrs ... 338 

How eas'ly wert thou ... 287 

How fair an entrance ... 286 

How long shall I 613 

How oft have we 292 

How vainly, men 156 

How well the skilful 158 

I am not so foul or fair... 360 

I care not for these ladies 201 

1 do my love in lines ... 222 

If all would lead 200 

If all things 294 

If I hope, I pine 220 

If I love Amarillis 201 

It it be, alasj what then I 360 



8 First Lines of Poems and Stanzas 



PAGE 

If I urge my kind desires 214 

If love loves truth 341 

If she my faith 289 

If she forsake 221 

If thou longest 345 

If to one thou shalt 339 

If true desire ^. 212 

If weary, they prepare 344 

Ifwhy I love 217 

I must complain 364 

I must not grieve 614 

I must depart 41 

In every place, I find ... 39 

In her fair hand 223 

In love with you 397 

In Thy Word, LORD! 274 

In the mercies of our ... 273 

In vain he seeks 39 

I sang sometime 50 

I saw my lady weeping 41 

I, the King will seek ... 282 

I was full Tiear my fall... 50 

I will go die for pure ... 47 

Is my fojid sight 362 

Is she come? 298 

Is tlien the song 279 

It is a sweet delicious ... 213 

It is the heaven's bright 213 

It is a face of Death ... 213 

It is fair beauty's 213 

Jack and Joan 283 

Joan can call 283 

Joy so delights my heart 36 

Kind are her answers ... 339 

Kind inunkindness 222 

Kindness grown is 277 

Lady! your look 38 

Lady! that hand 38 

Lady, if you so spite me ! 46 

Lay down thy sandy ... 395 

Learn to speak first 365 

Leave prolonging thy ... 335 

Let him thai will be free 215 

Let others sing 616 

Let us then rejoice ! 281 

Lift up to heaven 278 

Lighten, heavy heart !... 282 

Like as from heaven ,.. 41 

Like as the lute 617 

Liquid and wat'ry 43 

Lo here, my heart 48 

Long have mine eyes ... 218 

Look, Delia ! how we... 608 

Lost is our freedom 340 

Lo there, the impost 619 

Love hath no fire 218 

Love and sweet beauty 216 

Love me or not 360 

Love can wondrous 276 

Love, they make 338 

Love one that only lives 223 

Luve in the bosom 364 

Love forbid that 362 

Lo, when back mine 278 

*' Maids are simple " ... 337 



PAGE 

" Meanwhile the mind... 157 

Men that but one 351 

Men that do noble 356 

Men when their affairs 351 

MistressI since you 208 

Most sweet and pleasing 276 

My Delia hath the 613 

My fortune hangs upon 207 

My heart! alas 45 

My object, now, must be 218 

My spotless love hovers 605 

My sweetest Lesbia ! .. 200 

My words have charmed 350 

Never love ! 351 

Never weather-beaten ... 277 

No eyes are like to thine 362 

No fault upon my love... 217 

No grave for woe 214 

No more may his 284 

No more can I, old joys 358 

None other fame 618 

No sad thought 398 

No white, nor red 15G 

Now let her change! 336 

Now must I part 49 

Now winter nights 342 

Now, you Courtly 283 

Now eac/i creature 620 

O be not grieved , 611 

O could she love ! 299 

O dear ! that I 291 

Oft do I marvel 607 

Oft have 1 sighed 336 

O Grief ! If yet my grief 36 

O grief ! O spite ! 340 

O happy man ! 296 

O had she not been fair 603 

Oh! if such a saint 292 

O let not beauty 223 

O Love ! where are thy 362 

Once again, AstreaI ... 357 

O never to be moved ! ... 340 

On you ! th' affections of 353 

Or if this be not 347 

Or that the Clue of Love 397 

O sweet deliiiht ! ......... 348 

O sacred SPRITEI 211 

Osad thought, his soul... 398 

O sweet kiss ! 45 

O that this last 397 

Other beauties 295 

O then we both will sit 362 

then love I, and draw 604 

O times ! O men ! 340 

O what unhoped 288 

O whither, poor 615 

O why had nature .- ... 342 

Out of my soul's depth... 273 

Palm tree the more 348 

Pity from every heart ... 363 

Powers above in clouds 224 

Praise is but the wind ... 362 

Prayers move the 344 

Pure Hymns 285 

Read in my face 612 

Remember, LORD ! ... 279 



PAG p. 

Reprove not love I 216 

Rescuel O rescue me ... 211 

Resi)ect my faith ! 355 

Rubies, and pearls 44 

Ruth forgive me 365 

Safer may we credit 338 

Saint of my heart! 344 

See how the Morning ... 294 

Seek the LORD ! 282 

See where she flies 206 

Shall I then hope 352 

Shall I come 346 

Shall then a trait'rous ... 220 

Shall I come if I swim... 219 

She hath often vowed ... 214 

She only doth not feel it 48 

She that, alone 288 

Should 1 then woo 296 

Should I, agricvcd 365 

Silly boy ! 'tis full 350 

Silly Trait'ress I 2i;8 

Since then I can 352 

Since now these clouds 334 

Since she, even she 364 

Sing a song of joy ! 280 

Sing we then secure ! ... 2S0 

Skilful anglers hide 305 

Sleep, angry beauty 350 

Sleep ! sleep! 42 

So back I straight 366 

So bitter is their sweet .. 286 

So far from my delight 48 

So gracious is thyself !... 42 

So many loves have 1 ... 295 

Some tell of stars 227 

Some there are 277 

Some, the quick eye 291 

Some little reason 343 

Some raised to rich 355 

Sometime when hope ... 44 

Sometime my hope 45 

So my dear freedom 352 

Sooner may you count .. 208 

So quick I so hut ! ;^ ^ i 

SoiTow can laugh ^cj 

So sweet is thy d'.s-.ov.n^ ■,~,c, 

So tired are all ;; -S 

Soul is the man jtij 

Sound out my vnice ! ... 4;^ 

Stay, stay, old Time !... 395 

Still in the trace 607 

Straight the Caves 278 

Straight to heaven 279 

Strive not yet... 276 

Such l©ve as this 348 

Such days as wear 285 

Such was that happy ... 158 

Summer, in winter 224 

Susanna fair, sumetime. 40 

Sweet love when hope... 37 

Sweet I come again 1 ... 212 

Sweet ! afford me then... 295 

That man needs neir:i.i . ) 

That holv Hymns. 205 

The cypress curtain 204 

The dove atone 293 

Thee, alone ! my hopes. 273 



First Lines of Poems and Stanzas. 9 



PAGE 

The fair young virgin ... 47 

1'he fair Diana 35 

'i'he higher trees 219 

The loss thus only mhie. 397 

'J he lover's tears 338 

The man of life upright 2og 

'Jhe man whose silent ... 209 

'J'licn, take this last 398 

'I'hen Pan, with his rude 359 

I'lien let my sufTerance 217 

'J'hen come you Fairies ! 346 

I'hen to her hands I flsd 366 

I'hen down my prayers 366 

Then, wilt thou speak.., zio 

The nightingale 43 

'I'he peaceful western ... 294 

There is a garden in her. 358 

There is none, O none,.. 295 

Therewith she, the babe 208 

I'liese that be certain ... 35 

These thorny passions... 361 

These plaintive verses... 602 

'J'hese ladies must have 202 

The sprites, that remain 217 

'Ihe shepherd answered. 44 

Ihese leaves I ofler you 270 

The tender graft 201 

'Jhe wolf his young ones 276 

Think'st thou to seduce 365 

Thirsis to die desired ... 39 

Thirsis that heat 40 

Thirsis enjoyed the 46 

This several and so 285 

This wrong, the God of., 359 

This is thy first 350 

This time doth well -^42 

Those clierries fairly do . 35S 

Those snary locks are ... 605 

Thou, poor heart 604 

Thou canst not die 610 

Thou bringst her home . 42 

Thou art not fair 206 

Thou all sweetness 349 

Ihou, that thy youth ... 201 

Thou joyest, fund l^oy ! 356 

Though you are young 200 

Though your strangeness 296 

Though briars breed 361 

Though far from joy ... 219 

I'hrice, toss these 346 

Throngs of masked 278 

Thus departing from this 355 

Thus those two lovers ... 40 

Thus, thy silly youth ... 345 



PAGE 

Thus till my happy sight 223 

Thus scorning all 210 

Thus [ resolve 348 

Thy rich state of twisted 272 

Thy voice is as an Echo 343 

Thy well-ordered locks 350 

'Tis childish to be caught 356 

'Tis thy beauty 339 

To love and cherish them 269 

To his sweet lute ; 359 

To music bent 275 

True love hath wings ... 396 

Truth, a rare flower 337 

'I'une thy music 276 

Turr: all thy thoughts to 367 

Turn back I you wanton 203 

Turn darkness into day 367 

Unhappy pen! and ill ... 618 

Unless there were 221 

Unto the boundless 601 

Vain men ! whose 2S6 

Veil, LovK, mine eyes ! 356 

View me. Lord ! a work 273 

Well can they judge 283 

We nuist not part 396 

Were my heart 337 

What patron could I . . . . 269 

What is a day 222 

What is it all that men... 343 

What pretty babes 344 

What wondrous life 157 

What means this folly ... 361 

What Saturn' did 294 

What doth my pretty ... 42 

What harvest half so ... 204 

Wliat harvest 293 

What then is love 223 

What heart can long ... 222 

What meaneth Love ... 37 

What heart's content ... 215 

Wheji 1 would thee 46 

When, with glor^■ 2S2 

When another h 1 "s 297 

When men shall iind ... 609 

When I compare my ... 296 

When Winter shows 610 

When thy joys were 345 

When we have run 157 

When I did err 336 

When I f^iTipare 352 

When si all I cease 41 




PACE 

When Laura smiles ... 2*8 

When thy story, long ... 273 

When timely death 200 

When to her hue a 203 

When the god of merry 2.1/ 

Wl,en thou must home 210 

^\"here shall I refuge ... 29J 

Where she, her sacred... 209 

Where are all thy 272 

Whether men do laugh 224 

Which, when after ages 295 

Whiist that She 6co 

Whilst Youth and Error 602 

While I, use of eyes ... 337 

Whilst the greatest 620 

Who wilt ascend 38 

Who can tell 346 

Why presumes thy 339 

Why should my firmness 299 

Why should 1 sing 606 

Why should our minds... 292 

Will you now so timely 209 

Wise she is 290 

Wise men, patience 276 

With thee, dance I will 345 

Within a greenwood ... 44 

■With cheerful voice 278 

Women, in frail beauty 295 

Women courted 291 

U'ojuhr 0/ these 599 

Worldly joys like 274 

Would my rival.. 297 

Wrest eveiy word 367 

■^'et be just 351 

Vet fled they not so fast 367 

Yet her deformed 221 

Yet, I speak and cry .., 221 

Vet if human larc 214 

"^'et, in spite of envy ... 273 

Vet love not me I 206 

Yet no art or caution ... 349 

Yet not churl, nor 360 

Yet, O yet, in vain 290 

Vet oft, my trembling ... 204 

Yet still I live 214 

You are fair 219 

You heavy sprites I 216 

You had the power 212 

Young am I 292 

Young and simple 359 

Your fair looks inflame 208 

Your wished sight 297 

ZerriiKus brings 49 



lO 




PREFACE, 

Ew 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 straitway passed away into 
litter forgetful ncss, there to remain till Doomsday; unless some 
effort like the present, shall restore it to the knowledge and enjoy- 
ment 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 
prose; which hardly any one would imagine to be in existence at all. 
Of many of the original impressions there survive but one or two 
copies, and these often are most dijficult 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 out of which modern historians have culled the most 
graphic touches of their most brilliant pages. In fact, the Series 
is, in regard 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. 









Vol. III. 

Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. 

Voyage, i?i a Portuguese carrack, to Goa, 
in 1583 A.D. 

\Discotirse of Voyages <5f^c., 159S.] 

This celebrated Narrative of a journey to India and back (besides being an 
Eye Witness description ot tlie economy of a Carraclc) contains precise 
information respecting Portuguese affairs in India, ata timewlien tlie 
already enormous wealtli of tlie Crown of Spain '.vas being rendered 
almost omnipotent by the vast additional treasures brought to Lisbon 
in the yearly Fleet of Portuguese carracks : and also, at its close, 
gives us a large account of the splendid doings of the English fleets 
off the Azores, in 15S9; including the last fight the Revenge, imiX 
the dying speech of its Commander, Vice Admiral Sir Richakd 
Gp ville. 



12 LiXSCIIOTEN STARTS OX HIS TRAVELS, [J-"-^' 



Linschoten. 
■594- 




Ei\G young and living idly in my native 
country, sometimes applying myself to the 
reading of histories and strange adventures, 
wherein I took no small delight ; I found 
my mind so much addicted to see and 
travel into strange countries thereby to 
seek some adventure, that in the end to 
satisfy m\self, I determined and was fully 
resolved, for a time, to leave my native country and my 
friends (although it grieved me) ; yet the hope I had to 
accomplish my desire together with the resolution taken, in 
the end, overcame my affection, and put me in good comfort 
to take the matter upon me ; trusting in GOD, that He 
would further my intent. 

Which done, being resolved, thereupon I took leave of my 
parents, who then dwelt at Enkhuisen; and being ready to 
embark myself, I went to a fleet of ships that as then lay 
before the Texel, staying for the wind to sail for Spain and 
Portugal : where I embarked myself in a ship that was 
bound for San Lucar de Barameda, being determined to 
travel unto Seville, where as then I had two brethren that 
had continued there certain years before ; so to help myself 
the better, and by their means to know the manner and 
custom of those countries, as also to learn the Spanish 
tongue. 

And the 6th of December in the year of our Lord 1576, we 
put out of the Texel, being in all about eighty ships ; and 
set our course for Spain : and the gth of the same month we 
passed between Dover and Calais. 

Within three days after, we had sight of Cape Finisterre, 
and the 15th of the same month, we saw the land of Cintra 
o'.herwise called Cape Roca ; from whence the river Tagus 
runneth into the main sea, upon the which river lieth the 
famous city of Lisbon : where some of our fleet put in, and 
left us. 

The 17th day, we saw Cape St. Vincent ; and upon 
Christmas day after, we entered into the river of San 
Lucar de Barameda ; where I stayed two or three days, 
and then travelled to Seville. On the first day of January 



J. H. V. L"'schoten.-| j^jjo ARRIVES AT Seville. 



I594-J 



[1577] following, I entered into the city, where I found one 
of my brethren ; but the other was newly ridden to Court, 
lying, as then, at Madrid. 

Although I had a special desire presently [at once] to 
travel farther ; yet for want of the Spanish tongue, without 
the which men can hardly pass through the country, I was 
constrained to stay there to learn some part of their language. 

In the meantime, it chanced that Don Henry, the last 
King of Portugal died : by which means a great contention 
and debate happened as then in Portugal ; by reason that 
the said King by his will and testament, made Philip [II. J 
King of Spain, his sister's son, lawful heir unto the Crown 
of Portugal. Notwithstanding the Portuguese — always 
deadly enemies to the Spaniards — were wholly against it, 
and elected for their King, Don Antonio, Prior of Ocrato, 
brother's son to the King that died before Don Henry : 
which the King of Spain hearing, presently prepared himself 
in person to go into Portugal to receive the crown ; sending 
before him the Duke of Alva with a tioop of men to cease 
their strife, and pacify the matter. So that, in the end, 
partly by force and partly by money, he brought the country 
under his subjection. 

Whereupon divers men went out of Seville and other 
places into Portugal ; as it is commonly seen that men are 
often addicted to changes and new alterations : among the 
which my brother, by other men's counsels, was one. First 
travelling to the borders of Spain, to a city called Badajos, 
standing on the frontiers of Portugal ; where they hoped to 
find some better means : and they were no sooner arrived 
there, but that they heard news that all was quiet in Portugal, 
and the Don Antonio was driven out of the country; and 
Philip, by the consent of the land, received for King. 

Whereupon my brother presently changed his mind of 
travelling to Portugal, and entered into service with an 
Ambassador that on the King's behalf was to go into Italy ; 
\N ith whom he rode : and arriving in Salamanca, he fell sick 
of a disease called tabardilla [the spotted fever], which at that 
time reigned [raged] throughout the whole country of Spain, 
whereof many thousands died ; and amongst the rest, my 
brother was one. 



14 Journeys to Liskon in 1577, and [■'• 



H. V. Lioschotcn. 
>594- 



Not long before, the plague was so great in Portugal, that, 
in two j-ears space, there died in Lisbon to the number of 
80,000 people. After which plague ; the aforesaid disease 
ensued, which wrought great destruction throughout the 
whole countiy of Spain. 



The 5th day of August in the same year, having some 
understanding in the Spanish tongue, I placed myself with a 
Dutch gentleman who had determined lo travel into Portugal 
to see the country, and stayed with him, to take a more 
convenient time for my pretended [intended] voyage. 

Upon the ist of September following, we departed from 
Seville : and passing through divers towns and villages, 
within eight days after, we arrived at Badajos, where I found 
my other brother following the Court. 

At the same time, died Anne of Austria, Queen of Spain — 
sister to the Emperor Rodolph [II. ] and daughter to the 
Emperor Maximilian [II.] — the King's fourth and last wife ; 
for whom great sorrow was made through all Spain. Her 
body was conveyed from Badajos to the Cloister of Saint 
Laurence in the Escorial ; where, with great solemnity, it 
was buried. 

We having stayed certain days in Badajos, departed from 
thence ; and passed through a town called Elvas, about two 
or three miles off, being the first town in the kingdom of 
Portugal ; for that between it and Badajos the borders of 
Spain and Portugal are limited. 

Erom thence, we travelled into divers other places of 
Portugal, and at the last arrived at Lisbon, about the 20th 
of September following; where, at that time, we found the 
Duke of Alva, as Governor there for the King of Spain : the 
wiiole city making great preparation for the coronation of the 
King, according to the custom of their countr}-. 

We being in Lisbon, through the change of air and the cor- 
ruption of the country, I fell sick: and during my sickness 
was seven times let blood [bled]; yet, by GOD's help, I 
escaped. 

Being recovered, not having much preferment under the 
gentleman, I left his service ; and placed myself with a 
merchant, \ ntil I might attain to better means. 



J.H.v.Lin«I.oten.-jg^^YS THERE FIVE YEARS, 1577-82. 15 

About the same time, the plague, not long before newly 
begun, began again to cease ; for the which cause the King 
till then had deferred his entrance into Lisbon : which being 
wholly ceased; upon the first day of May, anno 15S1, he 
entered with great triumph and magnificence into the city. 
Where, above all others, the Dutchmen had the best and 
greatest commendation for the beautiful shows : which were 
a gate and a bridge that stood upon the river side where the 
King must first pass as he went out of his galley to enter into 
the city; being beautified and adorned with many costly and 
excellent things most pleasant to behold. Every street and 
place within the city was hung with rich cloths of tapestry 
and arras : where they made great triumphs, as the manner 
is at all Princes' coronations. 

The same year, the 12th of December, the Duke of Alva 
died in Lisbon, in the King's palace; being High Steward ol 
Spain : who, during his sickness, for fourteen days, received 
no sustenance but only women's milk. His body, being 
seared and spicen [embalmed], was conveyed into his country 
of Alva. 

The same month, the King being yet at Lisbon, died Don 
Diego, Prince of Spain and Portugal, the King's eldest 
son. His body being embalmed, was conveyed to Madrid. 
After whose death, the King liad but one son named Don 
Philip, and two daughters living. 

About the same time, there arrived at Lisbon, the King's 
sister, widow to the deceased Emperor AL\ximilian ; and 
with her, one of her daughters, who being lame, was placed 
in a Monastery of Nuns. They with great triumph were 
likewise received into the city. 

After the death of Don Diego, the King's eldest son, all 
the Lords and Estates of Spain and Portugal, as well 
spiritual as temporal, assembled at Lisbon, and there, in 
the King's presence, according to the ancient custom and 
manner of the country, took their oaths of faith \ fealty] and 
allegiance unto Don Philip, the young Prince of Spain, and 
next heir and lawful successor of the King his father, in his 
dominions of Spain, Portugal, and other lands and countries. 

The next year, anno 1582, a great navy of ships was 
prepared in Lisbon, whose General [Admiral] was the 
Marquis of Santa Cruz. He was accompanied with the 



1 6 Enters the service of Abp. Fonseca. rJ- "• - unschoien. 

principal gentlemen and captains, both of Spain and Por- 
tui,'al; who, at their own costs and charges therein, to. show 
the great affection and desire they had to serve their Prince, 
sailed with the said Navy to the Flemish Isles [the Azores] 
to fight with Don Antonio; who lay about those isles with 
a fleet of Frenchmen, whose General [Admiral] was one 
PiiiLLiro Strozzi. 

These two fleets meeting together, fought most cruelly, to 
the great loss of both parts : yet in the end, Don Antonio 
with his Frenchmen were overthrown, and many of them 
taken prisoners. Among the which were divers gentlemen 
of great account in France : who, by the Marquis's com- 
mandment, were all beheaded on the island of St. Michael. 
The rest, being brought into Spain, were put into the galleys. 
Don Antonio escaped in a small ship ; and the General 
Strozzi also, who being hurt in the battle, died of the same 
wound. 

By this victor}-, the Spaniards were so proud, that great 
triumph was holden in Lisbon for the same ; and the 
Marquis of Santa Cruz received therein with great joy. 

Which done, and all things being pacified in Portugal, the 
King left his sister's son, Don Albertus Cardinal of Austria, 
Governor of Lisbon and the whole country ; and, with the 
Cardinal's mother, returned and kept Court at Madrid in 
Spain. 

T//e begi?t7ii?ig of my voyage i?ito the 
East 07' Portuguese hiclies. 

o 

[Faying at Lisbon, the trade of merchandise there 
not being great, by reason of the new and fresh 
disagreeing of the Spaniards and Portuguese; occa- 
sion was offered to accomplish my desire. 
There was, at that time, in Lisbon, a monk of Saint 
Dominic's order, named Don Frey Vincente de Fonseca, 
of a noble house : who, by reason of his great learning, had 
of long time been Chaplain unto Sebastian, King of 
Portugal, and being with him in the battle in Barbary 
where King Sebastian was slain, was taken prisoner, and 




J. H.v. Unsct.oien.-j 'Pjjj; Pleet qF CaRRACKS SETS SAIL. I 7 

from thence ransomed. Whose learning and good behaviour 
being known to the King of Spain, he made great account of 
him; placing him in his own chapel: and desiring to prefer 
him, the Archbishopric of all the Indies being void, with the 
confirmation of the Pope, he invested him therewith ; al- 
though he refused to accept it, fearing the long and tedious 
travel he had to make thither. But in the end, through the 
King's persuasion, he took it upon him ; with a promise, 
within four, or five years at the furthest, to recall him home 
again, and to give him a better place in Portugal : with the 
which promise he took the voyage upon him. 

I, thinking upon my affairs, used all the means I could to 
get into his service, and with him to travel the voyage which 
I so much desired : which fell out as I would wish. 

For my brother that followed the Court, had desired his 
master, who was one of His Majesty's Secretaries, to make 
him Purser in one of the ships that, the same year, should 
sail unto the East Indies : which pleased me well ; foras- 
much that his master was a great friend and acquaintance of 
the Archbishop's. By which means, with small intreaty, I 
was entertained in the Bishop's service ; and, amongst the 
rest, my name was written down : we being in all forty 
persons. 

And because my brother had his choice which ship he 
would be in, he chose the ship wherein the Archbishop sailed, 
the better for us to help each other: and, in this manner, we 
prepared ourselves to make our voyage. 

There were in all five ships, of the burden of 1,400 or 1,500 
tons each ship. Their names were, the admiral [i.e., the flag 
ship] Sail Felipe, the vice-admiral San jfago : these were two 
new ships, one bearing the name of the King, the other of 
his son. The other three were named the San Lorenzo, San 
Francisco, and our ship the San Salvador. 

Upon the 8th of April, being Good Friday, in the year of 
our Lord 15S3 (which commonly is the time when their 
ships set sail, within four or five daj's under or over), we, all 
together, issued out of the river of Lisbon and put to sea, 
setting our course for the island of Madeira : and so putting 
our trust in GOD (without whose favour and help we can 
do nothing, and all our actions are but vain) we sailed 
forwards. 

£.\\,. Cm. III. 3 



iS Tin: Pay ov the Officers and Men [J- "• v. Linschot. 



Iiotcn. 
594- 




7/je 7nanner and 07'(ler used i?i the s/iips 
in their Indian voyages. 

ijIlE ships are commonly cliarged with 400 or 500 
men at the least ; sometimes more, sometimes less, 
as there are soldiers and sailors to he found. 
When they go out, they are but lightly laden with 
only eertain pipes of wine and oil, and some small quantity 
of merehandise. Other things have they not, but ballast and 
vietuals for the company. For the most and greatest ware that 
is commonly sent into India are Rials of Eight [=436 rcis 
=5s. grf. thcn = £i 14s. 6.7. now. The present Mexican dollar: 
because the principal Factors for Pepper do every year send 
a great quantity of money therewith to buy pepper; as also 
divers particular merchants, it being the least ware [smallest 
ill bulk] that men can carry into India. So that in these Rials 
of Eight, they gain at least forty per cent. 

Wlien the ships are out of the river, and entered into the 
sea, all their men are mustered, as well sailors as soldiers ; 
and such as are found absent and left on land, being registered 
in the books, are marked by the Purser, that at their return 
they may talk with their sureties (for that every man putteth 
in sureties) : and the goods of such as are absent, being found 
in the ship, are presently brought forth and priced [appraised] 
and an inventory thereof being made, they are left to be 
disposed of at the Captain's pleasure. The like is done with 
the goods of those that die in the ship. But little cometh to 
the owner's hands, being embezzled and privily made away. 

The Master and Pilot have for their whole voyage forth 
and home again, each man 120 Milreis' [=^80 then=£^8o 

" The present Portuguese Milreis is a silver coin about 4^. 4}id. in 
value ; and is roughly calculated at 4K Milreis to the £1 sterling. But 
the Milreis referred to by LlNSCHOTKN was a gold coin, and as such is 
quoted by JOHN Mellis (at /. 155 of his edition of RoHERl' Record's 
Ground of Artels in 1586) among " the most usual gold coins throughout 
Christendom," <-is being worth x^s. 4//. 

The Portuguese Ducat was Two-fifths of the Milreis, and would be, 
proportionately, 5^. \ii. ; but LiNSCHOTEN, at /. 459 of the original 
English edition of 1598, quotes it at 5J. dd. \Ye shall, however, for uni- 
formity sake, herein take it (on Mellis's equivalent of 13^. ^l. for 
Milreis) at jJ'. \d. : and in estimating for corresponding value in the pre- 
sent day, shall multiply by Six. 

For Table of Portuguese coins at Goa, in 15S3-S7, sec/. 1S4. 



J. H. V. Liuschoten.-] q^ BOARD THE C A R R A C K S. I9 

now] every Milreis [=135. 4d.] being worth in Dutch money 
seven Guilders. And because the reckoning of Portuguese 
money is only in one sort of money called Rcis — whereof 
160 [=7'oughly 2s. then] are as much as a Keyser's Guilder or 
four [Spanish] Rials of Silver [cach=^roHf:;hIy 40 A'f;s=6rf. ihen] ; 
so that two Reis are four Pence, and One Rei, is two Pence 
of Holland. I have thought it good to set it down the better 
to show and make you understand the accounts they use by 
Reis in the country of Portugal. 

But returning to our matter, I say Master and the Pilot do 
receive beforehand each man 24,000 Reis [ = 24 Miliris=: 
£16 iJicn^£cjb now]. Besides that, they have both chambers 
under in the ship and cabins above the hatches ; as also 
" primage," and certain tons of freight. The like have all 
the other officers in the ship, according to their degrees ; and 
although they receive money in hand, yet it costeth them 
more in gifts before they get their places ; which are given by 
favour and goodwill of the Proveador, who is the Chief 
Officer of the Admiralty. 

Yet there is no certain ordinance for their pay, for that it 
is daily altered : but let us reckon the pay which is commonly 
given, according to the ordinance and manner of our ship 
for that 5'ear. 

The Chief Boatswain hath for his whole pay 50,000 Reis 
[=50 Milrcts=^£^^ 13.S. 4(f. tJicii=^£200 now], and receiveth 
10,000 Reis [=10 Milrcis = £6 13s. ^d. //}t'»— £40 now] in 
ready money. 

The Guardian, that is the Quarter Master, hath 1,400 Reis 
[=i8s. 8d. then^£^ 12s. now] the month ; and for freight, 
2,800 [=^£1 17s. 4^. tlicn=.£ii 4s. now] ; and receiveth 7,000 
Reis [=7 Milreis^^£4 13s. d,d. thcn=:^£28 now] in ready 
money. 

The Scto Piloto, which is the Master's Afate, hath 1,200 
Reis [=i6s. t]icn^£i\ i6s. now", which are three ducats [5s. 
4-d. each], the month; and as much freight as the Quarter 
Master. 

Two Carpenters and two Callafarcn [?] which help them, 
have, each man, four ducats [^£'^ 4s. then^^£7 4s. now] a 
month and 3,900 Reis [^^£2 I2S. thcn:=£i^ 12s. noia] freight. 

The Steward, that giveth out their meat and drink, and the 
Mcfiiihu [? Master at Arms] which is he that imprisoneth men 



20 The Provisioning of the Cauracks. [J- "• "• Linschoton. 

aboard, and hath charge of all the ammunition and powder, 
with the delivering forth of the same, have each man a 1,100 
Keis [^145. Sd. thcn = £^ Ss. nuiv] a month and 2,340 Reis 
[^jTi IIS. 2d. ihcii^£g 'js. now] of freight; besides their 
chambers, and freedom from customs : as also all other 
officers, sailors, pikemen, shot [Iiarqucbusiers] etc. have, every 
man after the rate, and everj' one that serveth in the ship. 

The Cooper hath three ducats [=i6j. od. thcH=£^ iGs. 
now] a month, and 3,900 Reis [=£2 J2s. ihcn=^£i^ 12s. now] 
of freight. 

Two Strinceros [ ? ], those are they which hoist up the 
mainyard by a wheel, and let it down again with a wheel, 
as need is, have each 1,000 Reis [=135. 4^. thcnz^£^ now] 
the month, and 2,800 Reis [=£i 17s. ^d. thcn^£ii 4s. now] 
of freight. 

Thirty-three Sailors have each man 1,000 Reis [=^135. 4^. 
ihcn=£^ noK<] the month, and 2,Soo Reis [=/"! 175. ^d. 
thc)i=£ii 4s. noic] freight. 

Thirty-seven Rowers have each man 660 Reis [^8s. gd. 
then^^£2 12s. 6d. now] the month, and 1,860 Reis [=;^i 4s. gd, 
thcn = £y Ss. bd.now] freight. 

Four Pagiens [Cabin boys], which are hoys, have with their 
freight, 443 Reis [=55. ii(f. tlicn^=£i 15s. 6d. now] the month. 

One Alaster Gunner and eight under him, have each man 
a different pay : some more, some less. 

The Surgeon likewise hath no certain pay. 

The Factor and the Purser have no pay but only their 
chambers, that is below under the hatches a chamber of 
twenty pipes (for each man ten pipes) whereof they make 
great profit ; and above the hatches each man his cabin to 
bleep in. 

These are all the officers and other persons which sail in 
the ship, which have for their portion every day in victuals, 
each man alike, as well the greatest as the least, if lbs. of 
biscuit, half a can of wine, a can of water ; and an nrroba, 
which is 32 [Englishl pounds of salt flesh the month, and 
some dried fish. Onions and garlic are eaten in the begin- 
ning of the voj'age, as being of small value. Other provisions 
as sugar, honey, raisins, prunes, rice and such like, are kept 
for those which are sick: yet they have but little thereof ; for 
the officers keep it for themseh'cs and spend it at their 



J. H. V. Linschoten.-j j,jjj Plej,-!' SEPARATE AT Madeira. 21 



1594' 



pleasure, not letting much go out of their fingers. As for the 
dressing of their meat, wood, pots, and pans ; every man must 
make his own provision. 

Besides all this, there is a Clerk and Steward for the King's 
soldiers that have their parts by themselves, as the sailors 
have. 

This is the order and manner of their voyage when they 
sail into the Indies : but when they return again, they have 
no more but each man a portion of biscuit and water until 
they come to the Cape of Good Hope; and from thence home, 
they must find their own provisions. 

The soldiers that are passengers, have nothing else but a 
free passage ; that is room for a chest under the hatches, and a 
place for their bed in the orlop deck : and may not come 
away without the Viceroy's passport, and yet they must have 
been five years soldiers in the Indies before they can have 
licence. But the slaves must pay freight for their bodies and 
customs to the King ; as in our voyage home again we will at 
large declare [sec p. 410]. 

Madeira to Mozambique. 

JIHe 15th of April 1583, we espied the island of Ma- 
deira and Porto Santo ; where the ships use [arc 
accustomed \ to separate themselves, each ship keep- 
ing on his course ; that they may get before each 
other into India for their most advantage, and to dispatch 
the sooner : whereby, in the night and by tides, they leave 
each other's company ; each following his own way. 

The 24th of April, we fell upon the coast of Guinea, which 
beginneth at g° N., and stretcheth until we come under the 
Equinoctial : where we have much thunder, lightning, and 
many showers of rain ; with storms of wind which pass swiftly 
over and yet fall with such force, that at every shower we are 
forced to strike sail, and let the mainyard fall to the middle 
of the mast, and many times clean down, sometimes ten or 
twelve times every day. There we find a most extreme heat, 
so that all the water in the ship stinketh, whereby men are 
forced to stop their noses when they drink ; but when we are 
past the I'^quinoctial it is good again. 




22 Skirmish with a French siiir. [•'■"■"■ ^'""'''°"'"' 



'594- 



The nearer we are unto the land, the more it stormeth, 
raineth, thundereth, and calmcth : so that most commonly 
the ships are at the least two months before they can pass 
the line. Then they find a wind which they name the 
" General Wind," and it is a south-east wind : but it is a 
side wind, and we must always be sideways in the wind al- 
most until we come to the Cape of Good Hope. 

And because that upon the coast of Brazil, about i8° S., 
lieth great flakes or shallows which the Portuguese call 
abrashos, that reach seventy miles into the sea on the right 
side; to pass them the ships hold up most unto the Coast of 
Guinea, and so pass the said flats. 

Otherwise, if they fall too low or keep inwards, they are 
constrained to turn again into Portugal, and are many times 
in danger of being lost. As it happened to our admiral [flag- 
ship] San Felipe : which, in the year 15S2, fell by night upon 
the flats, and was in great danger of being lost ; yet recovered 
again, and sailed back to Portugal. And now, this year, to 
shun the flats, she kept so near the Coast of Guinea thai by 
means of the great calms and rains, she was forced to drive 
up and down two months together, before she could pass the 
line; and came two months after the other ships into India. 
Therefore men must take heed and keep themselves from 
coming too near the coast to shun the calms and storms ; 
and also not to hold too far off, thereby to pass the flats and 
shallows : wherein consisteth the whole Indian voyage. 

The 15th of May, being about fifty miles northward of the 
Equinoctial line, we espied a French ship ; which put us all 
in great fear, by reason that most of our men were sick, as it 
commonly happeneth in those countries through the exceed- 
ing heat ; and further they are for the most part such as never 
have been at sea before that time, so that they are not yet 
able to do much. Yet we discharged certain great shot at 
him, wherewith (afterhe had played with us for a small time) 
he left us: so that presently we lost sight of him, wherewith 
our men were in better comfort. 

The same day, about evening, we descried a great ship, 
which we judged to be of our fleet, as we afterwards per- 
ceived : for it made towards us to speak with us, and it was 
the San Francisco, wherewith we were glad. 



j.H. V. LmschMon.-j ^jj^y PASS THE Cape of Good Hope. 23 

The 26th of May, we passed the Equinoctial line, which 
runneth through the middle of the island of St. Thomas, by 
the coast of Guinea : and then we began to see the South Star 
and to loose the North Star, and found the sun at twelve of 
the clock at noon to be in the north. After that we had a 
south-east wind called a " General Wind," which in those 
parts bloweth all the jear through. 

The 2gth of May, being Whitsunday, the ships of an ancient 
custom, do use to choose an Emperor among themselves, and 
to change all the Officers in the ship, and to hold a great feast 
which continueth three or four days together. Which we 
observing, chose an Emperor; and being at our banquet by 
means of certain words that passed out of some of their 
mouths, there fell great strife and contention among us : 
which proceeded so far that the tables were thrown down and 
lay on the ground [decks] and at the least a hundred rapiers 
were drawn — without respecting the Captain or any other ; 
for he lay under foot and they trod upon him : — and had killed 
each other, and thereby had cast the ship away ; if the Arch- 
bishop had not come out of his chamber among them, willing 
them to cease, wherewith they stayed their hands. Who 
presently commanded every man on pain of death, that all 
their rapiers, poniards, and other weapons should be brought 
into his chamber; which was done: whereby all things were 
pacified, the first and principal beginners being punished and 
laid in irons. By which means they were quiet. 

The 12th of June, we passed beyond the aforesaid flats and 
shallows of Brazil, whereof all our men were exceeding glad: 
for thereby we were assured that we should not, for that time, 
put back to Portugal again : as many do. Then the " General 
Wind " served us until we came to the Rio de la Plata : 
where we got before the wind to the Cape of Good Hope. 

The 20th of the same month, the San Francisco that so 
long had kept us company, was again out of sight. 

The nth of July after, our Master judged us to be about 
fift}' miles from the Cape of Good Hope : wherefore he was 
desired by the Archbishop to keep in with the land that we 
might see the Cape. It was then misty weather, so that as 
we had made with the land one hour or more, we perceived 
land right before us and were within two miles thereof, which 
by reason of the dark and misty weather we could no sooner 



24 G R E A T C A T C II O F F I S II. [J- ■■■ "• '■i"-''^;-; 

perceive: wliich put us in great fear, for our judgement was 
clean contrar}-; but the weatlier beginning to clear up, ^ve 
knew the land. For it was a part or bank of the point called 
False Cape, which is about fifteen miles on the side of the 
Cape of Good Hope towards Mozambique. 

The Cape of Good Hope lieth under 34° S. There we had 
a calm and fair weather, which continuing about half a day, 
we got with our lines great store of fish off the same land, in 
ten or twelve fathoms of water. It is an excellent fish, much 
like to haddocks. The Portuguese call them pcscados [i.e., 
fishes]. 

The 20th of the same month, we met again with the Saii 
Francisco, and spake with her ; and so kept company together 
till the 24th of July, when we lost her again. The same day 
we struck all our sails because we had a contrary wind, and 
lay to for two days still driving up and down ; not to lose any 
way. We were then against the liigh land of Natal ; which 
beginneth in 32° and endeth in 30° S. 

In this place they commonly use to take counsel of all 
the Officers of the ship, whether it is best for them to sail 
within or without the Island of Saint Lawrence [Maiiaf;ascar]. 
For that within that land, they sail to Mozambique, and from 
thence to Goa ; and sailing without it, they cannot come at 
Goa, by reason they fall down [ilrifl] by means of the stream 
[current], and so must sail unto Cochin, which lieth 100 miles 
lower than [south of] Goa. It is as the ships leave the Cape, 
that it is or is not good to make towards Mozambique : be- 
cause they cannot come in time to Goa by reason of the great 
calms tha't are within the island [i.e., of Madagascar]. They 
that pass the Cape in the month of July may well go to 
Mozambique, because they have time enough to refresh them- 
selves there, and to take in fresh water and other victuals ; 
and so lie at anchor ten or twelve days together : but such as 
pass the Cape in the month of August, do come too late and 
must sail about towards Cochin, thereby to lose no time; 
yet it is dangerous and much more cumbersome, for that 
commonly they are sick of swollen legs, sore bellies, and 
other diseases. 

The 30th of July, we were against the point of the cape 
called Cape Corrientes, which lieth under 24" S. There they 
begin to pass between the islands. 



J. II, V. I-insuhotcn. 
■594- 



Safe arrival at Mozambique. 25 



The 1st of August, we pjssed the flats called Ox haixos 
(Jos India that is " the flats of India" [now called Bassa da 
India], which are distant from Cape Corrientes, thirty miles ; 
and lie between the island of Saint Lawrence and the firm land. 
There is great care to be taken lest men fall upon them ; for 
they are very dangerous. Many ships have been lost there, 
and of late, anno 15S5, a ship coming from Portugal, called 
the San Jago (being admiral [flag-ship] of the fleet ; and was 
the same that, in its first voyage, went with us from Lisbon 
for vice admiral) : as in another place we shall declare [see 

P- 3ii]- 

The 4th of August, we descried the land of Mozambique. 
The next day, we entered into the road, and as we entered, 
we espied the aforesaid ship, called the San Jago, which 
entered with us, not above one hour after we had descried it; 
being the first time we had seen it since it left us at the 
island of Madeira, where we separated ourselves. 

There we likewise found two more of our ships, the San 
Lorenzo and the San Francisco, which, the day before, were 
come thither, with a small ship that was to sail to Malacca. 
Which ship commonly setteth out of Portugal a month before 
any of the ships do sail for India, only because they have a 
longer voyage to make : yet do they ordinarily sail to Mozam- 
bique to take in sweet water or fresh victuals, as their voyage 
falleth out or their victuals scanteth. If they go not thither, 
then they sail about the back [i.e., the cast] side of the island 
of Saint Lawrence ; not setting their course for the Mozam- 
bique. 

There were now four of our fleet in company together, 
and only wanted the San Felipe which had held her course 
so near the coast of Guinea, the better to shun the flats of 
Brazil, that she was so much becalmed that she could not 
pass the Equinoctial line for a long time after us ; neither yet 
the Cape of Good Hope without great storms and foul 
weather, as it ordinarily happeneth to those that come late 
thither : whereby she was compelled to compass about [go 
outside Madagascar] and came to Cochin about two months 
after we were all arrived at Goa; having passed through much 
foul weather and endured much misery, with sickness and 
diseases as swellings of the legs, the scorbutic, and pain in 
their bellies, etc. 



26 The Castle at Mozambique. [J- 



. V. Linschotcn. 
»S94. 



Mozainb'h 



que. 



r^TTjOzAMniQUE is a little island distant about half a 
iBNm i "'"'''^ from the firm land : for the firm land on the 
north stretcheth further into the sea than it doth. 
The ships harbour so near to the island and tiie 
fortress of Mozambique, that they may throw a stone out of 
their ships upon the land. They lie between the island and 
the firm land, which are distant about half a mile from each 
other; so that they lie there as safely as in a river or haven. 
The island is about half a mile in compass, and is flat land 
bordered about with a white sand. Therein grow many 
Indian palms or [cocoa-nut trees, and some orange, apple, 
lemon, citron, and Indian fig trees: but other kinds of h'uit 
which are common in India, are very scarce there. Corn with 
other grain, with rice and such necessary merchandise are 
brought thither out of India: but of beasts and fowls, as oxen, 
sheep, goats, swine, hens, etc., there is great abundance ; and 
they are very good and cheap. 

In the same island are found sheep of five quarters, for that 
their tails are so broad and thick, that there is as much flesh 
upon them as upon a quarter of their body; and they are 
so fat that men can hardly brook them. There are certain 
hens that are so black, both of feathers, flesh, and bones, that 
being sodden they seem as black as ink ; yet of a very sweet 
taste, and are accounted better than the others : whereof some 
are likewise found in India, but not so many as in Mozambique. 
Pork is there a very costly dish, and excellent fair and 
sweet flesh : and as by experience it is found that it far sur- 
passeth all other flesh, so the sick are forbidden to eat any 
kind of flesh but only pork, because of the excellency thereof. 
.They have no sweet water in the island to drink, but they 
fetch it from the firm land : and they use in their houses 
great pots which come out of India to keep water in. 

The Portuguese have therein a very fair and strong castle, 
which now about ten or twelve years past {i.e., about 1570] 
was fully finished: and it standeth right against the first 
of two uninhabited little islands, where the ships must 
come in, and is one of the best and strongest built of all the 



J. H. V. Li„scl.otcn.-j NifTj. TONS WEIGHT OF GoLD. 27 

castles throughout the whole Indies : yet have they but small 
store of ordnance and ammunition. There are also no more 
soldiers than the Captain and his men that dwell therein : but 
when occasion serveth, the married Portuguese that dwell in 
the island, which are about forty or fifty at the most, are all 
bound to help to keep the Castle, for that the island hath no 
other defence than only that castle. The rest lieth open, and 
is a flat sand. Round about within the castle are certain 
cisterns made, which are always full of water : so that they 
have water continually in the same for the space of one wliole 
year or more, as necessity requireth. 

The government of the Portuguese in the island is in this 
manner. 

They have every three years, a new Captain and a Factor 
for the King, with other Officers : which are all ofiices given 
and bestowed by the King of Portugal upon such as have 
served him in the Indian wars, in recompence of their services, 
every man according to his calling and degree : where they 
receive their pay and ordinary fees out of that which they get 
by force, for during their abode in those places, they do what 
pleaseth them. 

The Captain hath great profit, for there is another fortress, 
named Sofala, towards the Cape of Good Hope. By that 
fort is a certain mine named Monomotapa where is great 
store of gold : and withal a certain kind of gold called by the 
Portuguese botongoen onroempo or " sandy gold ; " for that it is 
very small, like sand, but the finest gold that can be found. 

In this fortress of Sofala, the Captain of Mozambique hath 
a Factor ; and twice or thrice every year, he sendeth certain 
boats, called pangaios, which sail along the shore to fetch gold 
and bring it to Mozambique. These pangaios are made of 
light planks and sewed together with cords, without any 
nails. 

The Captain maketh the commodity of his place within 
the three 3'ears' space that he remaineth there : which 
amountethto the value of 500,000 ducats [ = ;£'8o,ooo then, or, 
about -^480,000 noia], that is, nine tons of gold ; as, while we 
were there, the Captain, named NuNO Velio Pereira, him- 
self showed us ; and it is mostly in gold that cometh from 
Sofala and Monomotapa. 



28 Tin: Fleet sails, & separates again. ^ ""• 



Ltnschotcn, 
• S9+- 



From Mozambique, they carry into India, j:;old, ambcrf;ris, 
ebony wood, ivory, and many slaves, both men and women, 
who are carried thither because they are the strongest Moors 
in all the East countries, to do their filthiest and hardest 
labour, wherein they only use them. They sail from thence 
into India but once every year, in the month of August till the 
half of September ; because throughout the whole countries 
of India, they must sail with the monsoons. 

Once every year, there goeth and cometh one ship for the 
Captain to India, that carrieth and bringeth his merchandise. 
No man may traffic from thence into India, but only those 
that dwell and are married in Mozambique. Such as are un- 
married may not stay there, by special privilege from the King 
of Portugal granted to those that inhabit there, to the end 
the island should be peopled, and thereby kept and main- 
tained. 



Mozafftbique to Goa. 

11 E STAYED at Mozambique for the space of fifteen 
days, to provide fresh water and victuals for the 
supplying our wants. In the which time, divers of 
'^ our men fell sick, and died by reason of the un- 
accustomed air of the place, which of itself is an unwholesome 
land ; and has an evil air, by means of the great and un- 
measurable heat. 

The 2oth of August, we set sail with all our company, that 
is our four ships of one fleet that came for Portugal ; and a 
ship for the Captain of Mozambique whose three years were 
then finished. His name was Don Pedro de Castro ; in 
whose place the aforesaid NuNO Velio Pereira was then 
come. 

The said Captain Don Pedro returned with his wife and 
family again into India. For the King's commandment and 
and ordinance is, that after the expiration of their three years' 
office, they must yet stay three years more in India at the 
commandment of the Viceroy of India, in the King's service, 
at their own charges, before they may return into Portugal ; 
unless they bring a special patent from the King, that after 




J.H.v. Llnschoton.-j^p^p^jyjj AT GoA IN 1 66 D A V S. 29 

they have continued three years in their office they may re- 
turn into Portugjal again : which is very seldom seen, unless 
it be by special favour. Likewise no man may travel out of 
India, unless he has the Viceroy's passport ; and without it, 
they are not suffered to pass, for it is very narrowly looked 
into. 

The 24th August, in the morning, we descried the two 
Comoro Islands ; which lie from Mozambique northwards. 
On the south side of the principal island is a very high land, 
so high that in a whole day's sail with a good wind we could 
not lose the sight thereof. 

The same day, the ships separated themselves again, ac- 
cording to the ancient manner, for the occasions aforesaid. 

The 3rd of September, we once again passed the Equi- 
noctial line, and had sight of the North Star. 

The 4th of September, we espied a ship of our own fleet, 
and spake with him. It was the San Francisco, which sailed 
with us till the 7th day, and then left us. 

The 13th of September, we saw another ship, which was 
the San Jago; which sailed out of sight again and spake, 
not with us. 

The 2oth of September, we perceived many snakes swim- 
ming in the sea, being as great as eels : and other things 
like the scales of fish, which the Portuguese call viiitins 
(which are Half Rials of silver, Portuguese money, because 
they are like unto it), which swim and drive upon the sea in 
great quantities ; which is a certain sign and token of the 
Indian coast. 

Not long after, with great joy we descried land, and found 
ground in forty- seven fathoms deep. It was the land of 
liardes, which is the uttermost end and entry of the river of 
Goa; being about three miles from the city. It is a high land 
where the ships of India do anchor and unlade ; and from 
thence their wares are carried by boats to the town. That 
day we anchored out in the sea, about three miles from the 
land ; because it was calm and the flood tide was past : yet 
it is not without danger, and hath round about a fair and fast 
land to anchor in. 

The 2ist, being the next da_v, there came to us divers boats 
called ahnadias [canoes] which boarded us, bringing with them 
all manner of fresh victuals from the land, as fresh bread and 



30 Tkiumiiiant Entry intu tiii; Cnv. [■* 



[I. V. Linschoicn. 

■S9I- 



fruit : Some of the boatmen were Indians tliat had been 
christened. 

There came likewise a galley to fetch the Archbishop, and 
brought him to a place called Pangiin, which is in the middle 
way between Goa and the road of Bardes, and lieth upon 
the same river. Here he was welcomed and visited by the 
Viceroy of India, Don Francisco Mascarenhas, and by all 
the lords and gentry of the country, as well spiritual as 
temporal. The magistrates of the town desired him to stay 
there ten or twelve days^ while preparation might be made 
to receive him with triumph into the city, as their manner 
is : which he granted them. 

The same day, we entered the river into the roadfsteadj 
under the land of Bardes, being the 2ist of September 15S3, 
and five months and thirteen days after our putting forth of 
the river of Lisbon (including our stay of fifteen days at 
Mozambique) : which was one of the speediest and shortest 
voj'ages that, in many years before and since that time, was 
CN'cr performed. There we found the ship named San Lorenzo 
which arrived there a day before us. 

The 22nd day, the San Jago came thither ; and the next 
day after, arrived the San Francisco. 

There died in our ship, thirty persons : among which some 
were slaves, and one a High Dutchman, that had been one of 
the King of Spain's Guard. Every man had been sick once 
or twice, and had let blood. This is ordinarily the number 
of men that die in the ships ; sometimes more, sometimes 
less. 

About ten or twelve years before, it chanced that a Viceroy 
for the King, named KuY Lorenzo Detavora sailed for 
India, and had in his ship 1,100 men. There happened a 
sickness among them ; so that there died thereof to the 
number of 900, who were all thrown overboard into the sea, 
before they came to Mozambique ; the Viceroy himself being 
one. Which was an extraordinary sickness, and it is to be 
thought that the great number of the men in the ship was 
the cause of breeding the same. Therefore in these days 
the ships no longer take so many men with them : for with 
the number they do carry, they have stinking air and filth 
enough to cleanse within the ship. 

The 30th of September, the Archbishop, my master, with 



J. H. V. Linschoten.-j i_ooo,ooo Li!.s. OF Pepper IN EACH Ship. 3 1 

great triumph was brought into the town of Goa ; and by 
tlie gentlemen and rulers of the country led into the Cathedral 
Church, singing Te DEUM landamus ; and after many cere- 
monies and ancient customs, they conveyed him to his palace, 
which is close by the Church. 

The 20th of November, our admiral [flag ship] the San 
Felipe arrived at Cochin, without staying to land at any 
place ; having endured much misery by the means before 
rehearsed, and having been seven months and twelve days 
under sail. 

The last of the same month of November, the ships sailed 
from Goa to the coast of Malabar and Cochin, there to 
receive their lading of pepper and other spices. Some take 
in their lading on the coast of Malabar ; and some at Cochin, 
which can always lade two ships with pepper. The ships 
unlade all their Portuguese commodities in Goa, where the 
merchants and factors are resident ; and from thence sail 
along the coast to take in their lading. Each ship doth 
commonly lade 8,000 quintals of pepper, Portuguese \\'eight. 
Every quintal is 128 [English] pounds. Then they come to 
Cochin, whither the Eactors also do travel ; and lade in 
cloves, cinnamon, and other Indian wares, as in my voyage 
homeward [sec />. 407], I will particularly declare. 

In the months of January and Februar}', anno 1584, the 
ships with their lading returned from Cochin, towards 
Portugal ; with whom my brother went, because of his office 
in the ship : and I stayed with my master in India certain 
years to see and learn the manners and customs of the said 
lands, people, fruits, wares, and merchandise ; with other 
things, which, when time serveth, I will in truth set down, 
as I for the most part have seen it with mine eyes. 

[Forth? rest of Linschoten's narrative, see//*. iSS, 300, 304, 399.] 




Lyrics^ Elegies^ ^c.fro}ii Madrigals^ 
Cafizo?iets, &'c. 

Edited by Nicholas Yongr. 



7 THE Right Honourable 

GILBERT, Lord TALBOT, 

Son and Heir to the right liable and puissant George, 
Earl of Shreivsbury, Washford and Waterford; Earl 

Manhal of EngLind, Lord TALBOT, Furnif^l, Ferdune, 

Lot^'ElOFT and Strange of Blackma-e ; One of Her Mujaty^s 

most honourable Privy Council; 'Justice of the Forests and 

Chases by north [of] the river of Trent; and Knight 

of the most honourable Order of the Garter : 

Nicholas Yonge ivis/icth increase of /lonour, ivith all happiness. 

Right Honourable, 

I/a'CC I first began to keep house in this city, it hath been 
no small eomfort unto me, that a great number of Gentle- 
men and merchants of good account, as well of tliis 
realm as of foreign nations, have taken in good part such 
culeriainmcnt of pleasure, as my poor ability was able to afford 
them : both by the exercise of music daily used in my house ; and by 




I o JTsIs. J Lyrics, Elegies, & c . ' ^ 



00 



furnishing them icith books of that hind yearly sent mc out of Italy 
and other places. Which, being for the most part Italian songs, 
are for sweetness of air very well liked of all : but most in account 
vjith them that understand that language; as for the rest, they do 
either not sing them at all, or at the least with little delight. 

A nd albeit there be some English Songs lately set forth by a great 
master of music [W. Byrd, see Vol. \l.p. 71], which for skill and 
sweetness may content the most curious; yet because they are not 
many in number, men {delighted with variety) have wished for more 
of the same sort. For whose cause [sake] chiefly, I endeavoured to 
get into my hands all such English Songs as were praiseworthy : and 
amongst others, I had the hap to find in the hands cfsome of my good 
friends, certain Italian Madrigals, translated, most of them five 
years ago[\.Q., in 1583], by a Gentleman for his private delight {as 
not long before, certain Neapolitans had been Englished by a very 
honourable personage, and now a Councillor of Estate ; whereof I 
have seen some, but never possessed any). Finding the same to be 
singularly well liked, not only of those for whose cause I gathered 
them ; but of many skilful Gentlemen and other great musicians, 
who affirmed the accent of the words to be well maintained, the 
descant not hindered though in some few notes altered, and in every 
place the due decorum kept : I was so bold {being well acquainted 
with the Gentleman) as to intreat for the rest; who willingly gave 
me such as he had {for of some, he kept no copies), and also some 
others more lately done at the request of his particular friends. 

Now when the same were seen to arise to a just number sufficient 
to furnish a great set of books : divers of my friends aforesaid, 
, required with great instance to liave them printed ; wliercunto I was 
as willing as the rest, but coidd never obtain tlie Gentleman's con- 
sent, though I sought it by many great means. For his answer ivas 
ever, " That those trifles {being but an idle man's exercise, of an 
idle subject, written only for private recreation) would blush to be 
seen otJierwise tJian by twiliglit, mucJi more to be brongJit into the 
common view of all men." And seeing me still importunate ; he 
took his pen, and with an obstinate resolution of Jiis former speech, 
wrote in one of the books, these verses of the poet Martial, 

E.\G. G.4R. III. 3 



34 L \- R I c s , E I. i; G I i: s , & c . [. oc^°5u. 

Seras tutior ibis ad lucenias, 
H^ec hora est tua, dum furit Lypcus, 
Dum regnat rosa, dum madent capilli, 
Turn te vel rigidi kgant Catones. 

Wherefore I kept them, or most of them, for a long time by me, not 
presuming to put my sickle in another man's corn ; till such time as 
I heard that the same, being dispersed into many men's hands, were, 
by some persons altogether unknown to the owner, likely to be 
published in print. Which made me adventure to set this work in 
hand {he being neither privy nor present ; nor so near this place, as 
by any reasonable means I could give him notice) : wherein though 
he may take a just offence that I have laid open his labours ivithout 
his licence : yet since they were in hazard to come abroad by 
strangers, lame and imperfect by means of false copies, I hope that 
this which I have done to avoid a greater ill, shall deserve a more 
favourable excuse. 

But seeking yet a stronger string to my bow ; I thought good in 
all humble and dutiful sort to offer myself and my bold attempt to 
the defence and protection of your Lordship ; to whose honourable 
hands I present the same : assuring myself, that so great is the love 
and affection which he beareth to your Lordship, as the view of your 
name in the front of the books, will take aioay all displeasure and 
unkindness from me. And although this may be thought a greater 
boldness than the first (I being not anyway able to do your Lord- 
ship such a service, as may deserve so great a favour) yet I hope 
these Songs, being hitherto well esteemed of all, shall be so regarded 
of your Lordship, as I for them, and they for themselves, shall not 
be thought imxvorthy of your honourable defence. 

With which hope, I humbly commit your Lordship to the pro- 
tection of the Almighty ; wishing to the same, that increase of 
honour which your true virtue, derived from so noble and renoicned 
ancestors, doth worthily deserve. 

From London, the first of October, 1588. 

Your Lordship's most humble at commandment. 

N . Y O N G E . 



35 



Lyrics^ Elegies^ Mcfrom Madrigals^ 
Ca?izonets^ 



c. 






The whole of the poems from here to /. 50, are translations from the 
Italian into EngUsh by the unknown Enghsh gentleman, Lord Taleot's 
friend, referred to at page 33. The names of the original composers (who 
were all famous musicians in the Low Countries and Italy, previous to 
this date), are given, as they stand above each of the tunes in the 158S 
edition : but it is not clear whether they are authors of the Italian words 
here rendered into English, or of the iioies only ; or of both. 

NOE FAIGNIENT. 

Hese that be certain signs of my tor- 
menting, 
No sighs they be, nor any sigh so showeth ; 
I Those have their truce sometimes, these no 

relenting : 
Not so exhales the heat that in me gloweth. 
Fierce Love, that burns my heart, makes 
all this venting; 
While, with his wings, the raging fire he bloweth. 
Say, Love ! With what device thou canst for ever 
Keep it in flames, and yet consume it never? 




yy. 



JEAN DEMACQUE. 

He fair Diana never more revived 

Her lover's heart, that spied her in the fountain, 

While she her naked limbs in water dived ; 

Than me, the country wench, set by the mountain, 
Washing a veil, to clothe the locks refined, 
That on fair Laura's head, the gold resemble : 
Which made me quake, although the sun then shined; 
And every joint, with loving frost to tremble. 



36 LvRics, Elegies, &c. erom [^''•.Vc.Kfs: 



fi. r. A. PRENHSTINO {GIOVANM PIERLUIGI,DA PALESTRINA). 

Ov SO delights my heart, and so relieves me, 




When I behold the face of my beloved ; 

That any hard mischance or pang that grieves me, 

Is quite exiled, and presently removed. 

And if I might, to perfect up my pleasure, 

Without controlment, bestow mine eyes, where I repose my 
treasure : 

For a crown and a kingdom sure possessed, 

I would not change my state so sweet and blessed. 

G. p. A. PRENESTINO, 

Alse Love ! now shoot I and spare not 1 
Now do thy worst ! I care not I 

And to despatch me, 
Use all thine art ! and all thy craft to catch me ! 
For years amiss bestowed, and time consumed in vain 

pursuits, I languish ; 
That brought me nothing else, but grief and anguish : 
And now, at length, have vowed at liberty to live ; since to 

assail me, 
Both thy bow and thy brand, nought doth avail thee ! 
For from thee ! good nor ill, comfort nor sorrow, 
I will not hope nor fear, now, nor to-morrow. 





BALTHASAR D N A T 0. 

Grief ! If yet my grief be not believed. 
Cry with thy voice outstretched ! 
That her despiteful heart, and ears disdaining. 
May hear my just complaining. 
And when thou hast her told, my state most wretched; 
Tell her, " that though my heart be thus tormented, 
I could be well contented, 
If she, that now doth grieve me. 
Had but the least desire, once, to relieve me." 



'^'^ octob«'°'538j Madrigals, Canzonets, & c . 



67 




BALTHASAR DONATO. 

S IN the night we see the sparks revived. 
And quite extinct so soon as day appeareth ; 
So, when I am, of my sweet sun deprived, 
New fears approach, and joy, my heart forbeareth. 

But not so soon, she is again arrived ; 

As fear retireth, and present hope me cheereth. 

O sacred hght ! O turn again to bless me ! 

And drive away this fear, that doth oppress me ! 




G. p. A. PRENESTINO. 

Hat meaneth Love to nest him in the fair eyes admired, 
With lovely grace and heavenly sp'rit inspired, 

Of my mistress delightful ? 
Envious dames ! Confess ! and be not spiteful! 
Oh, fools ! do you not mind it ! 
That Love hath sought, (and never yet could find it) 
From the sun rising, till where he goes to rest him, 
A braver place than in her eyes to nest him ? 



A. PRENESTINO 




Weet love when hope was flow'ring 
With fruits of recompence for my deserving 
Reft was the price of all my faithful serving. 
spiteful death, accursed ! life most cruel! 
The first by wrong doth pain me, 
And all my hope hath turned to lamenting: 
The last against my will, here doth detain me. 
Fain would I find my jewel ! 
But death, to spite me more, is not consenting: 
Yet with a mild relenting, 
Tilethinks, within my heart, her place she holdeth ; 
And what my torment is, plainly beholdeth. 



jS L V K I c s , Elegies, & c . r r o m 



[Ed. by-N. Ynngc' 
L October is8B" 




MARC ANTONIO PORDENONE 

|Ady ! that hand of plenty 
I That gave unto the needful, 

Did steal my heart unhcedful. 

Sweet tiiief of love, so dainty ! 

What will you do by thieving, 

That rob when you are giving? 

But you do give so surely, 
That you may rob and steal the more securely. 

If sometime you be pleased 

That my poor heart be eased : 

You do it not to joy me ! 
But still by fresh assaults, quite to destroy me ! 




JACQUES D E WERT. 
I Id will ascend to heaven, and there obtain me. 
My wits forlorn, and silly sense decayed ? 
For since I took my wound, that sore doth pain me, 
From your fair eyes ! my sp'rits are all dismayed. 
Nor of so great a loss do I complain me 
If it increased not, but in some bounds be stayed : 
But if I still grow worse, I shall be 'lotted 
To wander through the world, fond and asotted. 



CORNELIUS VERDOONCK. 
Adv ! your look so gentle, so to my heart deep sinketh 
That of none other, nor of myself it thinketh! 
Why then do you constrain me 
To live in plaint, in pain and sadness ? 
When one sweet word may gain me 
Peace to my thoughts, and everlasting gladness! 




'^''octL^Js:] Madrigals, Canzonets, Szc. 



59 




FILIPPO DE MONTE [P H I L I P T E , D E M O N S] . 

Roil what part of the heaven, from what example 
Brought was the mould whence Nature liath deriveJ 
That sweet face, full of beauty ! in which she stri\ed 
To prove in earth her power above was ample. 

Was never nymph nor sj-lvan queen adored 

That so dainty fine locks in air displayed ? 

Nor heart divine, with so great virtue stored ? 

Yet by her looks, my life is all betrayed ! 

The Second Part. 

|N VAIN he seeks for beauty that excelleth, 
jThat hath not seen her eyes where Love sojourneth ; 
How sweetly here and there the same she turneth. 
He knows not how Love healeth, and how he quelleth : 
That knows not how she sighs, and sweet beguileth ; 
And how she sweetly speaks, and sweetly smileth. 

[? unknown]. 
N every place, I find my grief and anguish, 
Save where I see those beams that have me burned ; 
I'And eke mine eyes to floods of tears have turned : 
Thus in extremest pangs each hour I languish. 

O me, my shining r,tar ! so sweet and sacred ! 

Cause of all comfort! of this world, the jewel ! 

For want of thee ! my life, I have in hatred. 

Never was grief so great, nor death so cruel ! 




luca marenzio. 

HiRSis to die desired 

Marking her fair ej-es that to his heart was nearest 
And she, that with his flame no less was fired 
Said to him, " O heart's love! Dearest ! 

Alas, forbear to die now ! 

By thee, I live ! With thee, I wish to die too ! " 



i 



40 L Y R I C S, E L li G I !■: S , & C. F K O M ['^''•oaobcyisis: 

The Second Fart. 

[HiRsis that heat refrained 

j Wherewith in haste to die he did betake him 

^Thinking it death that life would not forsake him. 

And while his look full fixed he retained 

On her eyes full of pleasure ; 

And lovely nectar sweet from them he tasted : 

His dainty nymph, that now at hand espied 

The harvest of love's treasure, 

Said thus, with eyes all trembling, faint and wasted, 
" I die now ! " 

The shepherd then replied, "And I, sweet life! do die too!" 

The Third Part. 



Hus those two lovers, fortunately died 
Of death, so sweet, so happy, so desired. 
That to die so again their life retired. 




ORLANDO DI LASSO [ROLAND DE L A T T R E[ 
UsANNA fair, sometime of love requested 
By two old men, whom her sweet looks allured, 
Was in her heart full sad and sore molested 
Seeing the force her chastity endured. 

To whom she said, " If I, by craft procured, 

Do yield to you my body to abuse it, 

I kill my soul ; and if I do refuse it, 

You will me judge to death reproachfully ! 

But better it is, in innocence to choose it ; 

Than by my fault, t'offend my GOD on high ! " 



"•SeT^t] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 41 



NOE FAIGNIENT. 




Hen shall I cease lamenting? 
When shall my plaint and moaning, 

jjTo tunes of joy be turned ? 

Good Love ! Leave thy tormenting ! 
Too long thy flames, within my heart have burned ! 

grant, alas, with quickness 
Some little comfort, for so long a sickness ! 




luca marenzio 

]\IusT depart, all hapless : 
But leave to you my careful heart oppressed ! 

So that, if I live heartless. 
Love doth a work miraculous and blessed ; 

But so great pains assail me, 
That sure, ere it be long, my life will fail me. 





ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 

Saw my lady weeping, and Love did languish 
And of their plaint, ensued so rare consenting; 
That never yet was heard more sweet lamenting, 
Made all of tender pity and mournful anguish. 
The floods forsaking their delightful swelling, 
Stayed to attend their plaint. The winds enraged, 
Still and content, to quiet calm assuaged, 
Their wonted storming and every blast rebelling. 

The Second Part. 

Ike as from heaven the dew, full softly show'ring, 
Doth fall, and so refresh both fields and closes; 
Filling the parched flowers with sap and savour : 
So while she bathed the violets and roses 
Upon her lovely cheeks, so freshly flow'ring. 
The Spring renewed his force with her sweet fdvour. 



Lyrics, Elegies, & c 



F P n \r rEd. I>yN. Yimge. 
two .M [_ October 15S3. 




GIOVANNI I- E R R E T T I . 

O GRACIOUS is thy self! so fair ! so framed ! 
That whoso sees thee, witiiout an heart enflamecl, 
i'^ilher he lives not ; 
Or love's delight, he knows not. 




GIOVANNI FERRETTI 

RuEL ! unkind ! my heart thou hast bereft me ! 
And wilt not leave, while any life is left me ! 
And yet, still, will I love thee ! 




L U C A M A R E N Z I O . 

Hat doth my pretty darling ? 
What doth my song and chanting, 
That they sing not of her, the praise and vaunting ? 
To her! I give my violets and garland sweetly smelling, 
For to crown her sweet locks, pure gold excelling. 




STEP II AND FEE IS 

Leep! Sleep! mine only jewel ; 
Much more thou didst delight me ! 
Than my beloved, too cruel. 
That hid her face to spite me. 

TIic Second Part. 



pTou bring'st her home full nigh me ! 

While she so fast did fly me. 
By thy means ! I behold those eyes so shining 
Long time absented, that look so mild appeased. 

Thus is my grief declining ; 
Thou, in thy dreams, dost make desire well pleased. 
Sleep ! if thou be like death, as thou art feigned; 
A happy life, by such a death were gained. 



'^''oc.obe'rTsfa:] Madrigals, Canzonets. &c. 43 



GIANETTO DI PALESTINA 




OuND out my voice ! with pleasant tunes recording 

The new delight, that love to me inspireth ; 

Pleased and content with that my mind desireth. 

Thanked be love ! so heavenly joys affording. 
She that my plaints, with rigour long rejected, 
Binding my heart with those her golden tresses, 
In recompence of all my long distresses, 
Said, with a sigh, "Thy grief hath me infected!" 




LUCA MARENZIO 

louiD and wat'ry pearls. Love wept full kindly ; 

To quench my heart enflamed: 

But he, alas, unfriendly, 

So great a fire had framed ; 
As were enough to burn me, 
Without recomfort ; and into ashes turn me. 



ORLANDO DI LASSO. 

He nightingale, so pleasant and so gay, 

In greenwood groves, delights to make his dwellin: 

In fields to fly, chanting his roundelay ; 
At liberty, against the cage rebeUing : 

But my poor heart, with sorrows overswelling, 

Through bondage vile, binding my freedom short; 

No pleasure takes in these his sports excelling. 

Nor of his song, receiveth no comfort. 



4[ L V K I c s , E L E G 1 1: s , & c . from ['^''■ic.oi.ey""!:: 




GIOVANNI FERRETTI. 

I THIN a greenwood sweet of myrtle savour, 
When as the earth was with fair flowers revested ; 
I saw a sheplierd witii liis nymph that rested : 
Thus spake tlie nymph, with sugared words of favour, 

" Say, sweet love ! to thy love! Tell me, my darling ! 

Where is thy heart bestowed ? Where is thy liking?" 

The shepherd answered then, with a deep sighing. 
All full of sweetness, and of sorrow mixed. 
" On thee ! my dainty dear life ! my love is fixed ! " 
With that, the gentle nymph, full sweetly smiling, 
With kind words of delight and flat'ring gloses, 
She kindly kist his cheek, with lips of roses. 




RINALDO DEL MELLE. 

Ometime when hope relieved me, I was contented 
To see my star so sightly 
That shines so clear and brightly. 
since she first consented 
To leave the world, all earthly joy defying, 
Clouds of care all about my heart are flying. 
In vain, lament I ; since a veil now hideth 
The rarest beauty that on earth abideth. 




ALFONSO FERABOSCO 

Ubies, and pearls, and treasure ; 

Kingdoms, renown, and glory 
Please the delightful mind, and cheer the sorry : 

But much the greater measure 

Of true delight he gaineth, 
That for the fruits of love, sues and obtaineth. 




'^''■octKls;] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 45 

ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 

Sweet kiss ! full of comfort, O joy, to me envied ! 
So often sought, so oft to me denied ! 
For thee! my life is wasted ; 
Yet thee, I never tasted ! 
lips so false and wily 1 
That me to kiss provoked, and shrank so slily ! 

looks empoisoned ! O face ! Well may I fear thee ! 
That kill'st who thee behold'st, and comes not near thee. 

1 die a death most painful, killed with unkindness. 
Farewell ! Sweet lips disdainful ! 



ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 

Ometime my hope full weakly, went on by line an i 

leisure. 
But now it grows, to do my heart some pleasure. 
Yet that my hope decay not, by overmuch contenting, 
Love will not give my joys their full augmenting: 

But still, with some disaster 
Allays my bliss, that hope may be the faster. 





GERONIMO CONVERSI. 

Y HEART ! alas, why dost thou love thine enemy ? 
Laughing so merrily, she goes with gladness, 
To see thy grief and sadness. 

Cruel disdain 

Lasting pain 

No remedy 
Save most singular beauty, and little pity. 



46 Lyrics, Elegies, & c . from [^''■ooiobcTTi' 




ALFONSO FERAI3 0SC0 

Ady, if you so spite me ! 

Wherefore do you so oft kiss and delight me ? 

Sure, that my heart, opprest and overjoyed, 

May break, and be destroyed ! 
If you seek so to spill me ! 
Come kiss me, Sweet 1 and kill me ! 
So shall your heart be eased ; 
And I shall rest content, and die well pleased. 



Ca?itio Rusiica. 

GIOVANNI BATTISTA PINELLI DE GERARDIS. 

[Hen I would thee embrace, 

Tliou dost but mock me ! 
J And when I lament my case, 

Thou criest " Ty, hy ! " 

And " No, No, No!" still saith my pigsny. 





ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 
IIiRSiS enjoyed the graces, 
Of Chloris' sweet embraces ; 
Yet both their joys were scanted, 
For dark it was, and candle light they wanted : 
Wherewith kind Cynthia, in the heaven that shined, 
Her nightly veil resigned ; 
And that fair face disclosed, 
Where Love and Joy were met, and both reposed. 
Then each from other's looks, such joy derived ; 
That both, with mere delight, died and revived. 



^'SeT-sfs:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 



47 





•> 





WILLIAM EYRD. 

This is Dyrd's celebrated La I'crglnella, 

PTe fair young virgin is like the rose untainted 
In garden fair, while tender stalk doth bear it, 
Sole, and untoucht, with no resort acquainted; 
No shepherd nor his flock doth once come near it : 

Th'air, full of sweetness, the morning fresh depainted ; 

The earth, the water, with all their favours cheer it ; 

Dainty young gallants, and ladies most desired, 

Delight to have therewith their heads and breasts attired. 

The Second Part, 

|Ut not so soon, from green stock where it growed, 
The same is pluckt, and from the branch removed ; 
As lost is all from heaven and earth that flowed ; 
Both favour, grace and beauty best beloved. 
The virgin fair, that hath the flower bestowed 
(Which more than life to guard, it her behoved) 
Loseth her praise, and is no more desired 
Of those, that late unto her love aspired. 




luca marenzio 

Will go die for pure love ! 
Except rage and disdain come to recure love ; 
Since in reward of all my faithful serving 
My lady gives disgrace for well deserving : 
And in my flames sans measure. 
Takes her disport and pleasure. 
Unless some frost assuage this heat, and cure lov;> 
I will go die for pure love ! 



4S Lyrics, Elegies, & c . f r o m 



rKd. by N. V'onse. 
L October 158S. 




ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 

FAR from my cklight, what cares torment me ? 

Fields do record it, and valleys, woods, and mountains. 

And running rivers, and reposed fountains ; 

Where I cry out, and to the heavens lament me; 
None other sounds hut tunes of my complaining. 
Nymphs of the groves, or pleasant bird once heareth : 
Still recount I my grief and her disdaining. 
To every plant that groweth or blossom beareth. 



The Second Part, 



JHe only doth not feel it, O fields ! mountains! 
|0 woods ! O valleys ! floods and fountains ! 
O stay no more to hear a wretch appealing! 
that some one, this life and soul would sever ! 
And these mine eyes oppressed, would close for ever! 
For best were me to die; my love concealing. 



[? UNKNOWN.] 

HERE, my heart in keeping, 

1 leave with her that laughs to see me weeping. 
O, what comfort or treasure 

Is life, with her displeasure ? 
iSreak heart! and die then ! that she that still doth pain me, 
May live the more content, when grief hath slain me. 



^'STTJs;] Maduigals, Canzonets, &c. 49 



LUCA MARENZIO 




Ow MUST I part, my darling ! 
Of life and soul disseised, 
And love therewith is pleased. 
O, what a death is parting 1 
But if the fates ordain it, 
Who can refrain it ? 
O, what grief is now lacking ? 
Yet needs I must be packing, 
Farewell ! Sweet heart unfeigned ! 
I die, to part constrained. 




GERONIMO CONVERSI. 

Ephirus brings the time that sweet scenteth 
With flowers and herbs; and winter's frost exileth. 
Progne now chirpeth, and Philomele lamenteth. 
Flora, the garlands white and red compileth. 
Fields do rejoice, and frowning sky relenteth. 
Jove, to behold his dearest daughter, smileth. 
Th'air, the water, the earth to joy consenteth. 
Each creature now to love, him reconcileth. 



The Second Pari. 



JUt with me, wretch ! the storms of woe persever 
I And heavy sighs, which from my heart she slraineth, 
That took the key thereof to heaven for ever: 
So that singing of birds, and springtime flow'ring. 
And ladies' love that men's affection gaineth. 
Are like a desert, and cruel beasts' devouring. 

£a-c. Car. III. 4 



50 



Lyrics, Elegies, &c. 



rEd.byN.Yonge. 
L Ociober 15SS 




ALFONSO FERABOSCO. 

Was full near my fall, and hardly 'scaped, 
Through fond desire that headlong me transported: 
And with the darts, and with the nets I sported; 
That Love himself, for me devised and shaped. 

And if my reason, but a while, had stayed 

To rule my sense, misled and unadvised ; 

To my mishap, I had, no doubt, assayed 

What a death is, to live by love surprised. 

The Second Part. 

Ut as the bird that, in due time, espying 
rhe secret snares and deadly bush enlimed; 
Quick to the heaven doth mount with song and pleasure: 
Trains of false looks and faithless words defying, 
Mounting the hill so hard for to be climbed, 
I sing for joy of liberty the treasure. 




LUCA MARENZIO. 

Sang sometime the freedom of my fancy 
The fire extinct, the yoke and bonds subdued; 
With heart congealed, I quencht the burning frensy 
And with disdain the harmful bait eschewed. 
But, now, I wail my bonds and my enchaining, 
Naked, unarmed, in lovely nets engaged : 
Nor by tears can I find, nor by complaining, 
Mercy, nor comfort, nor my grief assuaged. 

The Second Part. 

Ecause my Love, too lofty and despiteful ; 
While I, with sighs, resound her name delightful, 
Doth smile ; when as the flame, my life depriveth. 
If I seek to break off the strings that bind me. 
The more I fly, the faster I do find me; 
Like a bird in the snare, in vain, that striveth. 



%/ THE 



6;cpet)ition into Scotland of t\)t most 

tDortljtlv fortunate pmut CDtoai'D, 5Bufic of 

^omcrisct, uncle unto our mo0t noble 0obc= 

reign lord, tl)e asing'^ jHaje^tv Edward tlje 

vi.^ (lB»oternor of Pjs i^igl)ne!S;3'j3 person, ants 

protector of l^iis dgfrace'js realms. Dominions 

anD suWectS} maoe in tbt jTirst gear of I^is 

Majesty's most prospccous reign : anD 

set out Ijg toaj? of Diary bj? 

C^. IPatten, lonDoner. 

VIVAT VICTOR. 




\Nto the Right Ho?iourahle Sir 
JFiLLUM PjGET, K?iight of the most 
jicble Order of the Garter^ Comptroller oj 
t/ie Kifigs Majesty's Household^ one of His 
Highness' s Privy Coimcil^ Chmicellor of the 
Duchy of La?icaste'r ; and his most 
benig7t fautor and patro7i : 
ff^iLLUM Patten most 
heartily wisheth 
felicity, 

(?) 




53 



jA viXG in these last wars against Scotland, that never 
were any ivith better success achieved, made notes of 
[the] acts there done, and disposed the same, since my 
coming home, into order of Diary, as foUotceth ; as 
one that would show some argument of remembrance, Right 
Honourable Sir! of your most benign favour that, as well while I 
was with the Right Honourable my very good Lord and late master, 
the Earl of Arundel, as also since, ye have vouchsafed to bear me: 
I have thought mcctcst to dedicate my travail unto your Honour. 

Hoiv smally I either am or have been, by any means, able to merit 
the same your gentleness, by so much the lcs% have I need here to 
shoic; as your humane generosity, your willing benignity andprompt- 
ness to profit all men, is unto all men so commonly known: for the 
which, your name and honour is so familiar and well esteemed with 
foreign princes abroad, and so worthily well beloved of all estates at 
home. For who was he, of any degree or country, that had any 
just suit or other ado with our late sovereign Lord, the King's 
Majesty deceased, (when His Highness, in these his latter years, for 
your approved wisdom, fidelity, trust, and diligence, had committed 
the special ministry and despatch of his weighty affairs unto your 
hands) that felt not as much then, as I have found since ? or who 
findcth not, still, a constant continuance thereof, where the equity of 
his suit may bear it? Right many, su7'e[ly], of the small know- 
ledge I have, could I myself reckon both of then and since, which 
here all willingly I leave unatiempted to do; both becausemy rehearsal 
shoidd be very unnecessary and vain to you that know them better 
than I ; and also that I should tell the tale to yourself. Whom, for 
the respect of your honour, as I have a reverence, with vanities from 
your grave occupations [not] to detain; so have I, for honesty's sake, 
a shame to be suspect[ed], by any means, to flatter. 



54 Dedication to Sir W. Paget, K.G. p'j-f,^,^; 

That same, your siuf^uhw liiiinaiiity wherewith ye are wont also 
so gently to accept all things in so thankful a part, and wherewith ye 
have bound me so straightly to yon, did first, to say the truth now, 
embolden me in this theme to set pen to the book ; and now after, in 
this wise, to present my work unto you. The which if it shall please 
your Honour to take well in worth, and receive into your tuition, as 
the thing shall more indeed be dignified by having such a patron 
than your dignity gratified by receiving so unworthy a present ; 
even so what fault shall be found therein I resume, asclearly coming 
of myself. But if ought shall be thought to be aptly said, pleasant, 
anything savouring of wit or learning, I ivould all men should 
knoio it as I acknowledge it myself, that it must wholly be referred 
to yon, the encouraging of whose favour hath ministered such 
matter to my wit, that like as Ovid said to Cesar of his, so may 
I say to you of mine — 
Fastor. I. Ingenium vultu statque caditque tuo. 

But noiv no further, with my talk, to trouble you. 

Thus, with increase of honour unto your Worthiness, most 
heartily, I wish the same continuance of health and wealth. 

Your most boundcn client and pupil, 

W. Pa t t e n. 




55 



«.» 





%^A PREFACE 

jscrbing, for mud) part, iiT^tcan oe argument, 
for tl)c matter of tl)e ^torv, en^uuig. 

Lthough it be not always the truest means 
of meeting, to measure all men's appetitesby 
one man's affection : yet hereof, at this time, 
dare I more than half assure me, that (even 
as I would l)e,in like case, myself) so is every 
man desirous to know of the manner and 
circumstances of this our most valiant vic- 
tory over our enemies, and prosperous success of the rest of 
our journey. The bolder am I to make this general judge- 
ment, partly for that I am somewhat by learning, ^y'.^^^/J''^' 
but more by nature instruct[ed] to understand the thirsty 
desire that all our kind hath to Know : and then, for that in 
every company, and at every table, where it hath been my hap 
to be, since my coming home, the whole communication was, 
in a manner, nought else but of this Expedition and wars in 
Scotland. Whereof, many to me then have ministered so 
many Interrogatories as would have well cumbered a right 
ripe tongued Deponent readily to answer ; and I indeed 
thereto, so hastily, could not. Yet, nevertheless, I blame 
them no more for quickness of question, than I would mj-self 
for slowness of answer. For considering how much in every 



56 The P r r. f a c e to the D i a r v pJL,K^'5^8: 

narration, tlie circumstances do serve for the perfect instruc- 
tion of them that do hear, I can easily think the same were 
as much desired of them to be heard, as necessary of me to be 
told. And specially of this, to say chielly, of the battle, being 
such a matter as neither the like hath been seen with eyes 
by any of this age now, nor read of in story of any j^ears past. 
So great a power, so well picked and appointed, so restful 
and fresh, so much encouraged by hope of foreign aid, at their 
own doors, nay, in the midst of their house, and at the worst, 
so nigh to their refuge; to be beaten, vanquished, put to 
flight, and slain, by so small a number, so greatly travailed 
and weary, so far within their enemies' land, and out of their 
own ; without hope, either of refuge or rescue. The circum- 
stances hereof, with the rest of our most Triumphant Journe}', 
which otherwise aptly, for unaptness of time, I could not 
utter by word of mouth, here mind I, GOD willing ! now to 
declare by letter of writing : not, as of arrogancy, taking upon 
me the thing which I myself must confess many can do 
better; but as, of good will, doing mine endeavour for 
that in me lieth, to make all men privy of that whereof it 
were meet no man were ignorant. As well because they may 
the rather universally be moved to pray, praise, and glorify 
the most merciful LORD, whose clemency hath so continu- 
ally, of these late years, vouchsafed to show His most benign 
favour towards us : as also to worship, honour, and have in 
veneration the reverend worthiness of our most honourable 
Council, by whose general sage consultations and circum- 
spect wisdoms, as friendship with foreign princes, and pro- 
vision for the enemy, hath been continued and made abroad ; 
we guarded from outward invasion or disturbance at home ; 
no prince, with obedience and diligence more nobly served ; 
nor no communalty with justice and mercy more sagely go- 
verned. Even so, by the special invincible virtue and valiant 
policy of my Lord Protector's Grace, we have first, and as it 
were in the entry of this most honourable and victorious 
Voyage, overturned many of our enemies' rebellious Holds; 



'ja^.'^'sTsG OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 57 

and then overcome the douhle of our nunibcr and strength in 
open field, by plain dint of sword ; slain so great a multitude 
of them, with so small a loss of our side; taken of their 
chiefest, prisoners ; won and keep a great sort [number] of 
their strongest forts ; built many new ; taken and destroyed 
their whole navy; and brought the townships in the hither 
parts of their bounds, above twenty miles in compass, into an 
honest obedience unto the King's Majesty. By the martial 
courage of his undaunted hardiness was this Expedition so 
boldly taken in hand ; by the presence and adventure of his 
own person was the same so warily and wisely conducted ; 
by the virtuous policy of his circumspect prow.ss was this 
Victory, or rather Conquest so honourably achieved: unto 
whose valiance and wisdom, I can entirely attribute so much, 
as to the furtherance of Fortune, nothing at all ; which, as 
Cicero proveth, is either a vain name, or not a.t ^'dim„at. a. 
all, or if there be, is ever subject, as the Platonics affirm, 
to wisdom and industry. The which indeed did so manifestly 
appear in the affairs of this Voyage, that like as in accounts, 
the several numbers of ten, twenty, thirty, forty, being cast 
together, must needs make up the just sum of an hundred: 
even so, such his Grace's providence, circumspection, courage, 
and order (do Fortune what she could) must needs have at- 
tained to such success of victory: that if the Romans were 
content to allow the honour of a Triumph to SciPio tit. livius. 
Africanns for overcoming Hannibal and Syphax ; and to 
M. Attilius Regulus, for vanquishing the Salentines; and, 
thereto, to set up images, the hi-hest honour they had, for a 
perpetual memory of M. Claudius Marcellus and Muxius 
ScEVOLA (the one but for killing Viridomax the French king 
in [the] field at the river of Padua, and for devising how Han- 
nibal might be vanquished, and overcoming but of ^'•™'- '"*• '" 
the only city of Sarragossa: and the other but for ^'IJ'/,;/' """■ 
his attempt to slay King Porsenna that besieged Rome) : 
what thanks then, what estimation, what honour and rever- 
ence condign, for these his notable demerits [merits] ought 



58 The Preface to the Diary ["'.^.I^^'jla. 

our Protector to receive of his ? Nay, what can we worthily 
i^ive him ? 

Ilowbeit, if we call to min.l, how first Allhallowentide 
was five year, [November] 15 p, his Grace, lying as Lord 
Warden in our Marches against Scotland, by the drift of his 
device, both the great invasion of the late Scottish King 
James V. was stoutly then withstood at Solmon Moss \Sol- 
way Moss], the King's death's wound given him, and the most 
part of all his nobility taken. How, the next year after, 
[1543! he, being accompanied by my Lord of Warwick and 
with but a handful [of men], to speak of, did burn both Leith 
and Edinburgh [sec Vol. \. p. 113] and returned thence trium- 
phantly home; but with an easy march travelling forty- 
four long miles through their mainland. Whose approved 
valiance, wisdom, and dexterity in the handling of our 
Prince's affairs, how can we be but sure that it did not 
smally advance or cause [bring] about the conclusion of an 
honourable peace between France and us, although it did not 
then strait ensue ? when his Grace in the same year, soon 
after his return out of Scotland, was deputed Ambassador to 
treat with the Bishop of Bellay and others the French King's 
Commissioners, at Hardilow Castle. 

In the year 1544, how his Grace, about August, so 
invaded the Scottish borders, wasted and burnt Teviotdale 
and their Marches, that even yet they forthink [grieve over] 
that inroad. 

In February [1545] then next, how, being appointed by 
our late sovereign Lord to view the fortifications in the 
Marches of Calais, the which his Grace having soon done 
with diligence accordingly, he so devised with my Lord the 
Earl of Warwick, then Lieutenant of Boulogne, and took 
such order with the garrisons there, that with the hardy 
approach of but seven thousand men he raised [the camp ofj 
an army of twenty-one thousand Frenchmen that had en- 
camped themselves over the river by Boulogne, and therewith 
then wan all their ordnance, carriage, treasure, and tents in 



^jan'!l;4".] ^^ '^'^^ EXPEDITION INTO Scotland. 59 

t!ieir camp, wholly as it stood ; with the lor.s but of one 
man. And from tlience, returning by land to Guisnes, wan 
in his wa}', within the gunshot and rescue of Ardes, the Castle 
of Outings, called otherwise, the Red Pile. 

How hereto, by his force, 15 1-5, was PicarJy invaded and 
spoiled, the forts of Newhaven, Blaknestes, and Boulogne- 
berg begun, built, and so well plied in work ; that in a few 
weeks, ere his departing thence, they were made and Icf; 
defensible. 

Calling to mind, I say, (I speak not of his unwearied 
diligence in the mean time) these his valiant incursions, his 
often overthrowings and notable victories over our enemies. 
And yet though this his last be far to be preferred above them 
all, having been so great, and achieving so much in so little 
time, the like not heard nor read of; and, but that there be 
so many witnesses, half incredible : yet is it none other sure 
but such as makes his Grace's virtue rather new again than 
strange, and rather famous than wonderful. We wonder not, 
ye wot! but at things strange and selJom seen or f^""^n'l'n"\cM 
heard; but victory to his Grace seems no less in?ivoy"whr.°e° 
common and appropried [appropriate] than heat to bP™.i'ck did 
the fire, or shadow to the body. That, like as the prophfyth:it 

' -^ ' then should 

well keeping of the Pallady in Troy was ever the 3,!°^J'4j 
conservation and defence of the city ; even so in T:'"^" that was 

-' ' ^ had out of tlie 

warfare the presence of his person is a certain city- This not 

^ ' unknown to 

safeguard of the host and present victory over the tjic- Greeks; 
enemy; for the which I have heard many, of right Ulvmes, in 

■' ' . -" ° the time of the 

honest behaviour, say that "for surety of themselves, sie^e there, 

•^ -^ . scaled the 

they had rather, in [the I field, be a mean soldier under tower waiis 

, . „ . I ,1 ^'■here the 

his Grace than a great captain under any other, image was 

,11 r • T kept, killed 

And, sureMy], but that by my prolession I am the warders, 

1111- 1, T • 1 1 and brought 

bound, and do believe all things to be governed, not the image 

IP lilt 1 auay with 

by fortune or hap (although we must be content, them. 

, p p Whereupon, 

m common speech to use the terms, 01 our lormers ihecny was 

r,7 ii'i\i 11 -1 r ^-^on after 

[predecessors] devised) but by the mighty power 01 destroyed. 
Almighty GOD, without whose regard a sparrow Matt. .x. 



6o T II E P K E F A C E TO T II E D I A R Y ['j'.,,!","'?: 

Ii,i;Iiletli not upon tlie ground, I could count his Grace a 
prince tliat way most fortunate of any living. 

But now remembering my religion, and what Fortune's 
force is, and hereto seeing his Grace's godly disposition and 
behaviour, in the fiercest time of war seeking nothing more 
than peace, neither cruel upon victor}', nor insolent upon good 
success, but Vvith mo^t moderate magnanimity, upon the re- 
spect of occasion, using, as the poet saith, 



Vjrgil. 



Parccre suhjcclis cl ihhdlarc snpcvhos. 



In peace again, wholly bent to the advancement of GOD's 
glory and truth, the King's honour, and the common's quiet 
and wealth. And herewith conferring the benefits and blessings 
ixxvi"'' """^ that, by the prophet David, the Lord assureth to all 
them that so stand in love and dread of Him: I am compelled 
to think his Grace, as least happy by Fortune, so most blessed 
by GOD ; and sent to us, both King and commons, as a 
Minister by whom the merciful majesty of the LORD, for 
our entire comfort, of both soul and body, will work His 
divine will. That, if, without offence, I may openly utter that 
which I have secretly thought, I have been often at a great 
muse with myself whether the King's Majesty, of such an 
uncle and Governor ; we, of such a Mediator and Protector, 
or his Grace again, of such a Prince and cousin, miglit most 
worthily think themselves happiest. 

But since I am so certain the excellency of his acts, and 
the baseness of my brain to be so far at odds, as ought that 
I could utter in his praise, should rather obscure and darken 
them, and, as it were, wash ivory with ink ; than give them 
their due light and life : let no man look that I will here 
enterprise to deal with the worthiness of his commendations, 
who, both have another matter in hand, and they again being 
such as might by themselves be an ample theme for a right 
good wit; wherein to say either little or insufficiently were 
better, in my mind, left unattempted and to say nothing at 
a'l. 



'^Ja^'iTtsG OF THE ExrEDITION INTO SCOTLAND. Cl 

Marry, an epigram made upon the citizens receiving of 
his Grace, and for gratulation of his great success and safe 
return, the which I had, or rather (to say truth and shame 
tlie devil, for out it will) I stole, perchance more familiarly 
than friendl}^ from a friend of mine ; I thought it not much 
amiss (for the neatness of making and fineness of sense, and 
somewhat also to serve, if reason would bear it, in lieu of my 
lack) to place here. 

Auspice nohilium {Dux inclyte) tiirba virornm. 
Utque alacris latos plcbs circumfusa per agros. 
Te pairiw paivcm comumni voce salutcnt. 
Scilicet et Romam victo sic hoste Camillus, 
Sic rediit victor ciomito POMPEIUS larba 
Ergo tuns fcli.x rcditus, prceseniia felix. 
Utque Angli,fusiqiie tiia gens ejfera Scotti 
Dextra, qua nunquam visa est victoria major 
Dei DEUS imperium per te cocamus in nnum: 
Simus et tmanimes per seciila cuncta Britanni, 

Though I plainly told ye not that my friend's name was 
Armigil Wade ; yet, ye that know the man his good 
literature, his wit and dexterity in all his doings, and mark 
the well couching of his clue, might have a great guess, of 
whose spinning the thread were. 

But why these wars by our late sovereign Lord, the King's 
Majesty deceased (a Prince most worthy of eterne fame, 
whose soul GOD have!), were, in his days, begun; and yet 
continued ? Forasmuch as by sundry publications of divers 
writings, as well then as since, the just title of our King unto 
Scotland, and the Scots often deceits, untruths of promise, 
and perjury hath been among other [things] in the same 
writings so manifestly uttered ; I intend not here now 
to make it any part of my matter, which is but onl}' a 
Journal or Diary of this Expedition into Scotland : wliertin 
I have digested out every day's deeds orderly, as they v, tie 



62 The P r e i- a c e to the D i a k \' [')J.f;,l 

done, with their circumstances, so nigh as I could, from the 
time of my Lord Protector's Grace's coming to Newcastle 
until our breaking up of the camp from Roxburgh. And 
herein I doubt not but many things, both right necessary and 
worthy to be uttered, I shall leave untold; but, surely', rather 
of ignorance than of purpose. Although indeed I know it were 
meetest for any writer in this kind to be ignorant of fewest 
and writing of most, yet trust I again it will be considered 
that it is neither possible for one man to know all, nor shame 
to be ignorant in that he cannot know. But as touching 
deeds well done, being within the compass of my knowledge ; 
as, so GOD help me ! I mind to express no man's for flattery, 
so will I suppress no man's for malice. 

Thus battle and field now, which is the most principal 
part of my matter, the Scots and we are not yet agreed how 
it shall be named. We call it Musselburgh Field, because 
that is the best town, and yet bad enough, nigh the place of 
our meeting. Some of them call it Seaton Field, a town there- 
nigh too, by means of a blind prophecy of theirs, which is 
this, or some such toy. 

Between Seaton and the sea 
Many a man shall die that day. 

Some will have it Fauxside Bray Field, of the hill (for so 
they call a Bray) upon the side whereof our Foreward stood, 
ready to come down and join. Some others will have it Under- 
esk [Inveresk] Field ; in the fallows whereof, they stood and we 
met. Some will have it Walliford Field : and some no "Field" 
at all, for that they say "there were so few [English] slain, and 
that we met not in a place by certain appointment, according 
to the order and manner of battle," with such like fond argu- 
ments. Marry, the hinderers of this meeting, I think for 
their meaning, have small sin to beshrew. The3^ of this 
haste, hoped to have had the whole advantage. For what they 
did appoint upon: without warning, then so early to dislodge, 
and so hastily to approach, who cannot judge? And whether 



^Jan''''i"48.] OF THE EXPEDITION INTO SCOTLAND. 6 



J 



they meant to make a Field of their fight, or meant to fight 
at ail or iiot, judge ye ! by this that after ye hear. 

Certain it is that against their assembly and our encounter 
(for they were not un[a] ware of our coming) in the former part 
of the year, they had sent letters of warning to the Estates of 
their realm ; and then caused the Fire Cross in most places 
of their country to be carried: whereof the solemnity is never 
used but in an urgent need, or for a great power, either for 
defence of themselves or invasion of us. And this is a Cross, 
as I have heard some say, of two brands' ends carried across 
upon a spear's point, with Proclamation of the time and 
place when and whither they shall come, and with how much 
provision of victail. Some others say, it is a Cross painted 
all red, and set for certain days in the fields of that Barony, 
whereof they will have the people to come ; whereby all, be- 
tween sixty and sixteen, are peremptorily summoned, that 
if they come not, with their victail according, at the time 
and place then appointed, all the land there is forfeited 
straight to the King's use, and the tarriers taken for traitors 
and rebels. 

By reason of which letters and Fire Cross, there were 
assembled in their camp, as I have heard some of themselves, 
not of the meanest sort, to confess, above twenty-six thousand 
fighting footmen, beside two thousand horsemen, " prickers" 
as they call them : and hereto four thousand Irish archers 
brought by the Earl of Argyle, All of which, saving cer- 
tain we had slain the day before, came out of their camp to 
encounter with us. Now, where they will have it no Field, 
let them tell their cards, and count their winning I and they 
shall find it a Field. Howbeit, by mine assent, we shall not 
herein much stick with them: since both without them the 
truth shall have place ; and also, by the courtesy of gaming, 
we ought somewhat to suffer, and ever let the losers have 
their liberty of words. 

But whatsoever it were. Field or no Field, I dare be bold 



64 The Preface to the Diarv [^j';.,!!',"';?: 

to say, not one of us all is any whit prouder of it than would 
bz the tooth that hath bit the tongue, otherwise than in 
respect that they were our mortal enemies, and would have 
done as much or more to us ; nor are nothing so fain to have 
Ijcaten them as enemies, as we would rejoice to receive them 
as friends; nor are so glad of the glory of this Field, as we 
would be joyful of a steadfast atonement [at-oiic-incnt (of one 
v.iind)]: whereby like countrymen and countrymen, like friend 
and friend, nay, like brother and brother, we might, in one 
pjrpetual and brotherly life, join, love, and live together, 
according as thereto, both by the appointment of GOD at 
the first, and by continuance of Nature since, we seem to 
have been made and ordained ; separate by seas, from all 
other nations; in customs and conditions, little differing; in 
shape and language, nothing at all. The which things other 
nations viewing in charts [maps] and reading in books ; and 
therewith hearing of this tumult, this fighting, these incur- 
sions and intestine wars between us, do thereat no less 
marvel, and bless them, than they would, to hear Gascoigny 
fight with France ; Arragon, with Spain ; Flanders, with 
Brabant ; or (to speak more near and naturally) friend with 
friend, brother with brother, or rather hand with hand. 

That no little, both wonder and woe it is to me, my 
To the Scots, countrymen ! for I can vouchsafe ye well the name ! 
to consider what thing might move ye? what tale might 
incense ye ? what drift, force ye ? what charm, enchant ye ? 
or what fury, conjure ye ? so fondly to fly from common sense, 
as ye should have need to be exhorted to that for the which 
it were your parts chiefly to sue ; so untowardly to turn 
from human reason as ye will be the hinderers of your own 
weals ; and so untruly to sever from the bonds both of pro- 
mise and covenant as ye will needs provoke your friends to 
plain revengement of open war! 

Your friends indeed, na\-, never wink at the word 1 that 
have so long before these wars foreborn our quarrels so just, 
that were so loath to begin, and since, that suffered so many 



^ai^'sTs:] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 65 

injuries unrevenged, entreating [treating] your men taken, not 
as captives of our mortal enemies, but as ambassadors of our 
dearest friends! 

O, how may it be thought to be possible that ye should 
ever forget, or else not ever remember the great munificence 
of our most magnificent Prince, our late King! that when, 
with most cruelty, by slaughter of subjects and burning of 
towns, your last king, Jamy, with all your nobility, AtAiihaiiow- 
had invaded his realm ; and, soon after, the invin- '''""''' '^^''' 
cible policy of my Lord Protector's Grace, the lying at Aln- 
wick, as Lord Warden of our Marches, by the sufferance of 
GOD's favour (which, thanks to His Majesty ! hath not yet 
left us), at Solom Moss, made them captive and thrall to our 
Prince's own will. With whom, for their deeds, if His 
Highness had dealt then as they had deserved, what should 
have blamed him ? or who could have controlled ? since what 
he could do, they could not resist : and what he should do, 
they had set him a sample [ait example]. 

But his Majesty, among the huge heap of other his princely 
virtues (being ever of nature so inclined to clemency as never, 
of will, to use extremity), even straight forgetting who they 
were, and soon forgiving what they had done ; did not only 
then receive them into His Highness's grace ; place every of 
them with one of his nobility or council, not in prison like a 
captive ; pardon them their raundsommes [ransoms], where- 
with, if they be ought worth, some Prince might have thought 
himself rich ; and hereto most friendly, for the time they were 
here, entertain them : but also, of his princely liberality, im- 
parting treasure at their departing to each of them all, did 
set them frank and free at their own doors ! Touching their 
silks, their chains, and their cheer beside ; I mind not here, 
among matters of weight, to tarry on such trifles. Marry, 
there be among us that saw their habit [dress] and port [state, 
or attendance], both at their coming and at their departing! 
Take it not, that I hit you here in the teeth, with our good 
turns ! (yet know I no cause, more than for humanity's sake, 

F.yc. (7.IR. II!. c 



66 The Preface to the Diary ['j^r^l^S; 

why j-e should be forborne !) but as a man may sometimes, 
without boast of himself, say simply the thin<^ that is true of 
himself, so may the subject without obbraid [upbraiding] of 
benefits, recount the bounty of his Prince's largesse : al- 
though, perchance, it were not much against manners flatly 
to break courtesy with them, who, either of recklessness for- 
get their friends' benignity, or else of ingratitude will not 
acknowledge it. 

To my matter now! What would Cyrus, Darius, or 
Hannibal, (noble conquerors, and no tyrants) in this case, 
have done? But why so far off? What would your own 
King Jamy have done? Nay, what King else would have done 
as our King did ? But somewhat to say more. As our Prince 
in cases of pity, was, of his own disposition, most merciful ; 
so wanted there not then of Councillors very near about His 
Highness, that showed themselves their friends ; and iur- 
thered his affects in that behalf to the uttermost : being thus 
persuaded, that as ye of the Nobility appeared men, neither 
rude of behaviour, nor base of birth ; so ye would never show 
yourselves inhuman and ingrate towards him, to whom je 
should be so deeply bound. 

And though since that time, GOD hath wrought His will 
upon His Majesty (a loss to us, sure[ly], worthy never enough 
to have been lamented ; but that His mercy hath again so 
bountifully recompensed us with an image so nigh represent- 
ing his father's majesty and virtues, and of so great hope and 
towardness) ; yet be there left us most of the Councillors we 
had, who, upon occasion, will bend both power and will to 
show you further friendship. In part of proof thereof, how 
many means and ways hath my Lord Protector's Grace, 
within his time of governance, under the King's Majesty that 
now is, attempted and used to shun these wars, and show 
himself your friend ? What policy hath he left unproved ? 
What shift unsought ? or what stone unstirred ? 

Touching your weals now ! Ye mind not, I am sure, to 
live lawless and headless, without a Prince ! but so to bestow 



^ar'T4s:] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 67 

your Queen, as whose Make must be your King ! And is it 
then possible ye can so far be seduced and brought to beheve, 
that in all the world there should be arty so worthy a Prince 
as our King ? as well for the nobility of his birth, for his rare 
comeliness of shape, his great excellency of qualities, his 
singular towardness to all godliness and virtues ! any likely 
to be so natural a Prince for you, as His Majesty born, bred 
and brought up under that hemisphere and compass of ele- 
ment, and upon that soil that both ye and we be all, any so 
meet for her, as your Princess's own countryman, a right 
Briton, both bred and born ? a Prince also by birth, of so 
great a power, and of so meet an age ? the joining of whom 
both the Kings, their fathers, did vow in their lives ; and ye, 
since, agreed upon in parliament, and promised also after their 
deaths? 

Than which thing, taking once effect, what can be more 
for your universal commodities, profits, and weals ? whereby, 
even at once, of foreign foes, ye shall be accepted as familiar 
friends! of weak, ye shall be made strong ! of poor, rich ! and 
of bond, free ! And whether this now be rather to be offered 
of us or sued for by you, I make yourselves the judges ! 
What we are able alone to do, both in peace and war, as 
well without you as against you, I need not here to brag. 
Yet seek we not the Mastership of you, but the Fellowship ! 
for if we did, we have, ye wot, a way of persuasion of the 
rigorous rhetoric, so vengeably vehement (as I think ye have 
felt by an Oration or two) that if we would use the extremity 
of argument, we were soon able so to beat reason into your 
heads or about your heads, that I doubt not ye would quickly 
find what fondness it were to stand in strife for the mastery 
with more than your match. 

We covet not to keep you bound, that would so fain have 
you free, as well from the feigned friendship of France (if I may 
call it any friendship at all, that for a few crowns do but stay 
you still in store for their own purpose) whereunto now, both 
ye seem subject, and your Queen ward (which friendship. 



68 The Preface to the Diary Pj:.„'^''"'8. 

nevertheless, whatsoever it be, we desire not ye should break 
with them, for the love of us; but only in case where ye 
should be compelled to lose either them or us, and, in that 
case, perchance, we may be content again to lose them for 
you) ; as well from the semblance or rather dissembling of 
this feigned friendship, I say, we covet to quit ye ! as also 
from the most servile thraldom and bondage under that 
hideous monster, that venemous aspis and very Antichrist, 
the Bishop of Rome, in the which, of so long time, ye have, 
and yet do most miserably abide! Whose importable pride 
and execrable arrogancy, as well most presumptuously against 
all the sacred Estates of Princes upon earth, as also most 
contumeliously against the High Majesty of GOD Himself; 
with fastidious and utter contempt, both of GOD and man, 
both the context and tenour of his own decrees, decretals, canons, 
and Exiravagants (made and conspired at the Congregations, 
Councils, and Synods, at sundry times, for the maintenance 
and augmenting of his Antichristian authority, in his Holi- 
ness's name assembled) [demonstrate]. And hereto his 
wicked blasphemy against GOD, his devilish dispensations 
against His Divine laws, his obstinate rebellion against all 
powers, his outrageous usurpation in Prince'-s lands, his cruel 
t3'ranny for keeping of his kingdom, his covert h3'pocrisy at 
at home, his crafty conspiracies abroad, his insatiable avarice, 
his subtle superstition, his mischievous malice, his privy 
theft, his open rapine, his sacred simony, his profane whore- 
dom, his ambition, sacrilege, extortion, idolatry, and poison- 
ings; with many other his cardinal virtues besides. And 
also the undoubted witness of Holy Writ, in both the Testa- 
ments, doth most certainly show, and plainly make clear to 
the eyes of all, if ye will not wilfully wink at that 3'e should 
o.//. xi. willingly see! Of him, hardily spake the prophet 
Daniel. He shall be lift up a high, and magnified against all 
that is GOD ; and shall speak presumptuous words, and shall be set 
in a course until wrath be fulfilled against him. In the same 
chapter. He shall set at nought the GOD of their fathers ; and 



^j;„r",548.] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 69 

shall be in the daliances and desires of women, and shall pass 
nought for GOD; but shall obstinately be stubborn, and rise against 
all. And the holy prophet Ezekiel. Thy heart was lift up 
very high, and saidest, "I am GOD, and sit in GOD's Cn/.xxvWi. 
seat;" where thou art but man, and not GOD, and nevertheless hast 
framed thy heart like the heart of GOD I The apostle Saint 
Paul also, in whom the graces of GOD did so plentifully 
abound, seemed not utterly to forget this prelate, when, in 
his Epistle to the Thessalonians, he said, The Lord 2 Thess. ii. 
Jesu shall not come till first there be a failing, and that wicked 
man be discovered, the Child of Perdition ; who is adversary and 
exalted against all that is called GOD, in such sort, as he sticks 
not to sit in the temple, vaunting himself that he is GOD. And 
addeth, a little after. Whom the Lord Jesu shall quell with the 
spirit of His holy mouth. 

Of him and his abominable behaviour is there much in 
both the Holy Testaments ; and a great deal more, ;„. , 
I must confess, than I know my cunning can Apo'^i 
recite ; so plain in sense, and easy to be under- 
stood, that if ye confer the words of the same with the acts 
of his life, ye shall have no more cause to doubt whether he 
be the only Antichrist ; than ye may have whether He were 
the only Christ, of whom Saint John the Baptist said. 
Behold the Lamb of GOD ! and the Centurion, This John i- 
was, siirejy], the very Son of GOD ! "^"- "'• 

I speak neither of spite, nor of speciality of this precious 
prelate, Paul IV,, that now is alone ; but of him and his 
whole ancestry, of these many years past. Of whom, sure[ly], 
who list to say aught, it were meet they said truth ; and who 
list to say truth, can say no good. For their acts by their 
office, and their lives by their profession, are not less certainly 
known unto all the world to be thus, than is the lion, as they 
say, by the paw; or the day, by the sunshine. The trees of 
that stock never bear other fruit. And therefore was it that 
neither the Greeks, the Ruthens [Russians], nor many nations 
in the East parts besides (whom we cannot but count 



Ezek. xxiii. 
J.xiv.jXvii,, 
xix. 



70 The Preface to the Diary [^j.;,r-\'5^8: 

Christians) could never be brouglit once so much as to taste 
Contrary to of ^^- ^"'^ would ncvcr abide the presumptuous 
whosr#«iv/f» usurpation of his insolent Impery ; but utterly, at 
'vi'f'c^y"^ the first, did wisely refuse the unwieldy weight of 
Matt. XI. 5Q heavy a burden, and the painful wringing of so 
uneasy a yoke. 

The Bohemians and Germans, of later years, have quite 
rejected, and cast him up. 

And we, at last, not so much led by the example of others' 
well doing, as moved by the mere mercy and grace of 
Almighty GOD; who (as, by David, He hath promised) is 
Psa. cxiv. ever at hand, and nigh to all them that call upon him 
in truth, and always ready to do that He came for, that is, to 
Matt, xviii. save that [which] was forelorn. Through the aid 
and goodness of His mighty power and eterne wisdom 
strengthening his worthy Champion, our late sovereign 
Lord ; and instructing his circumspect Council : have we, 
most happily, exterminated, and banished him our bounds. 
Whereby, as we have now the grace to know and serve but 
one GOD, so are we subject but to one King. He naturally 
knoweth his own people ; and we obediently know him our 
only Sovereign. His Highness's Estate brought and reduced 
from perdition, and in a manner subjection unto the old 
princely entire and absolute power again: and ours, redeemed 
from the doubt as to whom we should obey. The great 
polling and intolerable taxes of our money, yearly, both from 
His Majesty and us, now saved clearly] within his realm. 
Not fain, now, to fetch justice so unjustly ministered, as he 
that bids most (like Calais market), whatsoever be the cause, 
shall be sure of the sentence ; and that so far from home, 
and with so great cost of money and danger of life. Our 
consciences, now, quite unclogged from the fear of his vain 
terriculaments and rattle-bladders; and from the fondness of 
his trimtrams and gugaws [gcivgaws], his interdictions, his 
cursings, his damning to the devil, his pardons, his [as]soilings, 
his plucking out of purgatory, his superstitious sorts of sects 



^jk.ws4'd O'^ THE Expedition into Scotland. 71 

of religion, his canonization of saints, forbidding and licensing 
the eating of meat, singing and saying and wot not a word ! 
roving a procession, gadding a pilgrimage, worshipping of idols. 
Oblations and offerings of meats, of otes, images of Sjiim 
wax, bound pens and pins for deliverance of bad SaimMi-mviN. 

, Saint Agnes. 

husbands, for a sick cow, to keep down the belly, saintsvTH. 
and when " Kit had lost her key." Setting up candles to 
saints in every corner, and knakkynge [knockini^] of bead- 
stones [beads] in every pew, tolling of bells against tempests, 
Scala cceli masses, pardon beads, " Saint Anthony's bells," 
Tauthrie laces, rosaries, collets, charms for every disease, and 
sovereign suffrages for every sore : with a thousand toys else, 
of his devilish devices, that lack of opportunity doth let [hinder] 
me here to tell. 

We are, now, no more by them so wickedly seduced, to 
the great offence of GOD's dignity, and utter peril of our 
souls. Now, have we, by His divine power, wound ourselves 
out of the danger of His just indignation that we worthily 
were in for our former obstinacy and turning from His truth: 
and have received, with most humble thanksgiving, His 
Holy Word, whereof we have the free use in our own 
tongue. 

These goodly benefits, or rather GOD's blessings, if ye 
will yourselves ! shall we, with GOD's assistance, bring you 
to enjoy as well as ourselves ! but if ye will not, but be still 
stubborn in your ungodliness, refuse His graces that He 
daily offereth, wilfully wry so far from His truth, and be 
utterly obstinate in upholding the Antichrist 1 as, first, 
Daniel the prophet doth declare what ye are, and show j'ou 
the state ye stand in by these words. They shall magnify Him ! 
as many as have drunk of the wine of the wrath of GOD, and 
whose names are not written in the book of life ! Even so, think 
ye hardily that the just judgement, which the Head Priests 
and Seniors of the Jews (in answering Christ, unawares to 
themselves) did give of themselves, unto your confusion, shall 
be verified upon you ! which is, Without mercy, shall the LORD 



72 The Preface to the Diary Pj.^n'!","!!": 

Matt. xxi. undo [destroy] the evil, and set out his vineyard to 

other good husbands [husbandmenl, that will yield him fruit in 
due times. And that soon after himself said to them, 
Exod. c. Therefore the kingdom of GOD shall be taken from 
you, and be given to the nation that ivill do profit ! And hereto 
the sharp sentence of Saint Paul to be pronounced specially 
against you ! The Lord JESU, with the angels of his bliss, 
I Thess. ii. shall come from heaven in a flame of fire ; taking 
vengeance upon all them that will not know GOD, and obey the 
gospel of him our Lord Jesu Christ. They shall be punished 
by death for ever, from the glory of his virtue ; when he shall 
come to be glorified among his holy, and be wonderful in the eyes 
of all that believe. 

As well, nevertheless, that ye may be delivered from the 
beWd Tth'e dreadful danger of this most terrible sentence, as 
byT^r.^'a'' also that the LORD, of His immeasurable mercy, 
Ta'den'of""''' '^^^'^ ^nce vouchsafc to open your eyes, and waken 
mu""ncaria, ^'^"^ °u*^ °^ ^his drowsy Endymion's dream*, or 
kissedhim. ' rather this mortal Lethargy!, wherein by the biting 
cic. i. Tusc. of this most venemous aspis J, the Pope I say, ye do 
lamentably lie a slumber, being benumbed of all the 
limbs of your soul and lacking the use of all your spiritual 
senses. However, of grace, ye shall be moved to do, we shall of 
t A disease charity most heartily pray : for we do not so much 

coming of burnt , \ i i- ,■ . 

choier, com- remember our quarrel and forget our profession, 

pelling the , , . , , ^ 

patient to covet but that We can wish rather your amendment than 

nought but J 1 , • 1 

drowsy sleep, your dcstruction ! 

thing?, and to And hcreto that once also, \'e may see the 

be, as it were, • , , , . , . , , , , , 

in a trance. miserable subjection whereunto ye are thrall ! and 
xiii. ' ' ■ have the grace, to pray for grace to the LORD 
t Bitten with that ye may be quitted of that captivity, and be 

this serpent are , . . r j ' 

castinadeadiy made apt to reccivc the truth and His Holy Word, 

slumber, with j i i 

a stifflins; and and then to know who be your friends, and whether 

benumbingof .,, -.it-,, , , 

all parts; and wc Will you Well ! With whom by so many means, 

withayoxe,do . /^ /^r-. r 1 -ii i i . , . . - 

soon die. since CjOD, ol good will, hath so nigh joined you, 
seem not you, of frowardness, to sever asunder against the 



^kir''i'548:] Of THE Expedition into Scotland, ^t, 

thing that should be a general wealth and common concord, 
the provision of Nature, and ordinance of GOD I And against 
His Holy Word, which not all unaptly, perchance, here may 
be cited. 

Quos DE US conjtmxit, homo ne separet ! M.-itt, xix. 

The great mischiefs rising by this disunion and severing, 
and the manifold commodities coming by the contrary, being 
shortly by you had in considerance ; this marriage, I doubt 
not, between our Princes shall be consummated, all causes of 
quarrel ceased, atonement made between us, and a firm 
alliance of friendship for ever concluded. The which thing, 
as most heartily, for my part, I daily wish for; so have I good 
hope shortly to see, and herewith betake you to GOD ! 

But now to return out of my digression, for though I have 
been long a talking to my countrymen abroad in the North : 
yet were I loath to seem to forget my friends at home in the 
South ; and fare like the diligent servant that walks so 
earnestly on his master's errand, that, in the midst of his way, 
he forgets whither he goeth. 

Howbeit I might well, perchance, think it, even here, high 
time to leave [off] ; were it not that since I am in hand to utter, 
in this case, what I know, and nooseld [nourished] of my 
nurse never to be spare of speech : though I be but a bad 
evangelist, yet will I leave as few unwritten verities as I can. 

As my Lord's Grace, my Lord of Warwick, the other 
estates of the Council there, with the rest of the dignity of 
the army did, at our setting outward, tarry a few days at 
Berwick ; the well-appointing of the noblemen for their 
bands, and of the knights and gentlemen for themselves and 
servants, I mean specially of the horsemen ; which though, 
but at musters, was never showed of purpose, yet could it not, 
at that time, be hid, but be bright and apparent in every 
man's eye : and was, if I can ought judge, I assure you, for 
the goodly number of the likely men and ready horses ; for 
their perfect appointment of sure armour, weapons, and 



74 The Preface to the D i a u y [^ja^'^'^s: 

apparel; and their sumptuous suits of liverers [scrviiig-mcii] 
beside (whereof I must of duty, if I must of duty say truth, 
most worthily prefer and give the chiefest price and praise to 
my Lord Protector Grace's train, and to my Lord of War- 
wick's), was, I say, so generally such, and so well furnished: 
that both their duty toward their Prince, their love toward 
their country and to the rulers were there ; and hereto the 
ancient English courage and prowess, might have easily in 
this assembly been viewed. Men going out, never better, at 
any time, in all points, appointed ; never better beseen, with 
more courage and gladder will : whereof with speed (for no 
doubt our enemies had factors at this mart among us, though, 
as wisdom was, they did not openly occupy) the Scots had 
soon knowledge. And as they are merry men, and feat 
jesters hardily, they said, as we heard, " that we were very 
gay, and came belike a wooing." The which, though they 
Bpake dryly more to taunt the sumpt [sumptuoiisncss] of our 
show than to seem to know the cause of our coming ; yet said 
they therein more truly than they would kindly consider. 
For, indeed, even as they were ascertained by my Lord 
Grace's Proclamation, as well at and before our entry into 
their country, that the cause of our coming then, was nothing 
else but touching the performance of covenants, on both sides, 
about this marriage, that had been before time, on both sides, 
agreed upon ; which should be greatly for the wealths of us 
both: and not to make war, sure[ly], nor once to be enemy, 
but only to such as should appear to be hinderers of so godly 
and honourable a purpose. Even so, according to the promise 
of the Proclamation, neither force nor fire was used wittingly 
against any other, during all our time of abode in the country. 
Howbeit, the truth was so, that having doubt of the worst, it 
was wisely consulted so to go to commune with them as 
friends, as nevertheless, if needs they would, we might be able 
to meet them as foes : the which thing proved, after, not the 
worst point of policy. 

But what a marvellous unkind people were they, that where 



Taif^Ms] O^^ "^'"^ EXTEDITION INTO SCOTLAND. 75 

I . 

we came, as wooers come, not otherwise, but for good love and 

quiet; they to receive us with hatred and war! It was too 
much ungentleness and inhumanity, sure|ly], in such a case 
to be showed. Yet since we so quit [requited] them their Icind- 
ness ; and departed so little in their debt ; let us bear some- 
what with them ! Marry, I wot they were not all so well 
content with the payment. For the Earl Huntley (a 
gentleman of a great sobriety and very good wit, as by his very 
presence is half uttered), being asked of a man of Estate with 
us, by way of communication, as I heard, how " he bare his 
affection towards the joining of the two Princess ? " ^/Ji'nd^ed £e. 
" In gude faith," quoth he, " I wade it sud gae furth, 'jf/i.X'f'Yhit 
and baud well with the marriage: but I like not SaintPE.ER 

<-> having gotten 

this wooing." leaveofour 

<-> Liord to make a 

But now lest I may worthily be doubted by the "'''";■ "'-''^.^ 

J ■J J one first with a 

plot of my Prolos^ue to have made the form of my ^erygreat 

*■ , "^ ° , ■^ head, then with 

book" like the proportion of Saint Peter's man : I fn exceeding 

■■^ * ' httleneck : and 

will here leave off further process of Preface, and so forth, wUh 

' ' such nieiiuality 

fall to the matter. of proportion. 

-9? FINIS. 



^CERTAIN 

j^oble men auD otiKtjS, being jspccial 
. iSDfDiccr^ in tl)t0 cHjcpctsition. 

|He Duke of Somerset, my Lord Protector's Grace, 
General of the Army : and Captain of the Battle 
\the main body], having in it 4,000 footmen. 
The Earl of Warwick, Lord Lieutenant of 
the Army ; and having the Foreward, of 3,000 footmen. 




76 TiiK Oi-i-icKRs or the ExrEDinoN. n;r'"?8: 

The Lord Dackks, the Rereward, of 3,000 footmen. 

The Lord Grey of Wilton, Lord Lieutenant of Boulogne, 
High Marshal of the Army, and Captain General of all the 
Horsemen there. 

Sir Ralph Sadler Knight, Treasurer of the Army. 

Sir Francis Bryan Knight, Captain of the Light Horse- 
men, being in number, 2,000. 

Sir Ralph Vane Knight, Lieutenant of all the Men of 
arms and Demi-lances, being in number, 4,000. 

Sir Thomas Darcy Knight, Captain of all the King's 
Majesty's Pensioners and Men of arms. 

Sir Richard Lee Knight, Devisor [i.e., Engineer] of the 
fortifications to be made. 

Sir Peter Mewtys Knight, Captain of all the Hackbutters 
a foot, being in number, 600. 

Sir Peter Gamboa Knight, a Spaniard, Captain of 200 
Hackbutters on horseback. 

Sir Francis Fleming Knight, Master of the Ordnance. 

Sir James Wilford Knight, Provost Marshal. 

Sir George Blague and Sir Thomas Holcroft, Com- 
missioners of the Musters. 

Edward Shelley, my Lord Grey; Lieutenant of the 
Men of arms of Boulogne. 

John Bren, Captain of the Pioneers, being 1,400. [Sec 
Vol. II. p. 215]. 

C £Diriccr0 upoit tijc ^ca. 

C The Lord Clinton, Lord Admiral of the Fleet : which 
was of sixty vessels ; whereof the Galley and thirty - four 
more good ships were perfectly appointed for war, and the 
residue for carriage of munition and victail. 

Sir William Woodhouse Knight, his Vice Admiral. 

There in the Army, of great ordnance, drawn forth with 
us, by horses, Fifteen pieces. 

And of carriages; goo carts, besides many waggons. 



n 




THE STORY 



Saturday, 
the 2'jth of 
August [1547]. 




Y Lord Protector's Grace, 
(\\hom neither the length 
nor weariness of the way 
did any whit let [hinder], 
speedily to further that he 
had deliberately taken in 
hand) riding all the way 
from London, his own 
person, in post, accompanied by [Lord Grey] my Lord 
Marshal, and Sir Francis Bryan, was met a six mile on 
this side of Newcastle by my Lord Lieutenant [the Earl of 
Warwick], and Master Treasurer [Sir Ralph Sadler] (who 
for the more speedy despatch of things were come to town 
there, three or four days before), and all the nobles, knights, 
and captains of the army, on horseback, attending upon 
them. 

And coming thus to town, my Lord's Grace was honourably, 
for the dignity of the place, with gun shot and the presence 
of the Mayor, Aldermen, and commoners there, about three 
o'clock in the afternoon, received and welcomed : and lay at 
the house of one Peter Ryddell. 



/S The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj;.,r'''s48 



Sinulciy, the f^ R^K IIis clay morninj^, in the fields in the 

2^lh of August. ^ ^ north-east side of the tt>\vn, muster 
Qg SfetS was made of such Demi-lances and 
Light Horsemen as were come; 
whereat my Lord's Grace was himself, with my Lord Lieu- 
tenant and other of the council of the army. 

In the afternoon, came the Laird of Mangerton, with a 
forty Scottish gentlemen of the East borders, and presented 
themselves to my Lord, at his lodging : whom his Grace did 
gently accept. 

It should not be forgotten, and it were but for example's 
sake, how a new pair of gallows were set up in the market 
place ; and a soldier hanged for quarrelling and fighting. 



Monday, the 
2g//( 0/ August. 




Ll Captains with their bands, that had 
been mustered, were commanded 
for\vard. My Lord's Grace himself 
did early also then depart the town ; 
dined at Morpeth, twelve miles on the way ; and lay that 
night at Alnwick Castle, with Sir Robert Bowes Knight 
Lord Warden of the Middle Marches; being twelve miles 
further. Where neither lacked any store of guests, nor of 
good cheer to welcome them with ; in tlie provision whereof, 
a man might note great cost and diligence, and in the 
spending, a liberal heart. 



Tuesday, the 
30//; 0/ August. 




His da}', his Grace, having journeyed 
in the morning a ten mile, dined at 
Bamborough Castle ; whereof one 
Sir John Horsley KnightisCaptain. 
The plot of this castle standeth so naturally strong, that 
hardly can anywhere, in my opinion, be found the like. In- 
accessible on all sides, as well for the great height of the 
crag whereon it standeth ; as also for the outward form of 
the stone whereof the crag is, which, not much amiss per- 
chance, I may liken to the shape of long havens [a brush 
faggot bound with only one withe] standing on end with tiieir 
sharper and smaller ends upward. Thus is it fenced round 
about : and hath hereto, on the east side, the sea, at Hood, 
coming up to the hard walls. This castle is very ancient, and 
\ , was called in Arthur's day, as I have heard, Joyous Card. 



jan'^^Ms:] T n E English Army leaves Berwick. 79 



w 



Hitlier came my Lord Clinton from shipboard to my Lord. 

In the afternoon, his Grace rode to Berwick, fourteen miles 
further ; and there received with the Captains, garrisons, and 
with the officers of the town, lay in the Castle, with Sir 
Nicholas Strelley Knight, the Captain there. 



Wednesday.] 
the last of 
A ns:ust. 




UcH part of this day, his Grace occupied 
in consultation about orders and matters 
touching this Voyage and army. 
• This da}', to the intent we might save 
the store of the victail we carried with us in the army by 
cart, and to be sure rather, among us, to have somewhat too 
much than any whit too little; and also that we should 
not need to trouble our ships for victail till we came to the 
place, by my Lord's Grace appointed: every man of the army, 
upon general commandment, made private provision for 
himself, for four days' victail. 



Thursday, 
the first oj 
September. 




's Grace, with not many more than his own 
band of horsemen, rode to a town in the 
Scottish borders, standing upon the sea 
coast, a six mile from Berwick, and is 



called Eyemouth : where there runneth a river [Eye Mill 
water] into the sea, the which he caused to be sounded ; and 
perceiving then the same to be well able to serve for a haven, 
hath since caused building to be made there, whereof both 
Master and Captain is Thomas Goweji, Marshal of Berwick. 



Friday, 
the 2nd of 
September. 




Ton commandment generally given, by 

sound of trumpet, all save the council, 

departed the town ; and encamped a two 

— ' ilight-shots off, upon the sea-side, toward 



Scotland. 

This da}', my Lord Clinton with his fleet took the seas 
from Berwick toward Scotland, and herefore the rather, that 
though they might not have alwaj's wind at will to keep their 
course still with us; yet, and it were but with the driving of 
tides, they might, upon any our need of munition or victail, 
not be long from us. 



So Till-; Exrr.uiTioN into Scotland in 1547. pj':.,!!^ 



.'. rallen. 
1548. 



My Lord Lieutenant and Master Treasurer, who remained 
at Newcastle after my Lord's Grace, for tlie full despatch of 
the rest of the army, came this day to Berwick. 

Saturday, Ik C^ <|Y Lord Lieutenant, from out of the town, 
the ;^rd ofihSm 3 did camp in the field with the army. To 
Septcinbii-.Z^^U 3 the intent, the excuse of i}:;norance either 
L"i?a,ir .Tl| pj- ^[-|g cause of my Lord Grace's coming, 
or of his goodness to such of the Scots as should show them- 
selves to favour the same coming, might quite be taken from 
them ; his Grace's Proclamation, v^'hereof they could not but 
hear, was openly pronounced by Herald, after sound of 
trumpet, in three several places of our camp. 

Besides the mere matter of the journey, I have here to 
touch a thing, which seem it ever so light to other, yet is 
it of more weight to me, than to be let pass unspoken of. 

In the rnorningof this day, my Lord's Grace, walking upon 
the rampart of the town walls on the side towards Scotland, 
did tell, I remember, that, not many nights before he dreamt 
he was come back again to the Court, where the King's 
Majesty did heartily welcome him home, and every Estate 
else [also] : but yet him thought he had done nothing at all 
in this voyage : which when he considered the King's 
Highness's great costs, and the great travail of the great 
men and soldiers, and all to have been done in vain, the 
very care and shamefast abashment of the thing did waken 
him out of his dream. What opinion might we conceive 
of his waking thoughts? that even, dreaming, was moved 
with so pensive a regard of his charge towards his Prince, 
and with so humane a thought toward all men else! 

Howbeit, my mind is rather to note the prognostication and 
former advertence of his future success in this his enterprise, 
the which, I take it, was hereby then most certainly showed 
him : although, of right few, or rather of none, the same be 
so taken. That if, forensamplelike to this, I should rehearse 
Gen. xii. to you out of the Old Tcstainoit, how the seven plenti- 
ful years, and the seven years of famine in Egypt were plainly 
signified afore to Pharaoh bj' his dreams of seven fat oxen, and 
seven full ears of corn ; and by seven lean oxen that devoured 
the fat, and seven withered ears consuming the full ears. 
jtsTiNi//. .. And hereto, out of profane authors, howAsTVAGES, 



^jkn'^^i'sTs:] The Duke of Somerset's dream. 8i 

King of the Medians, was, many a day before, admonished 
that he should be overcome by a nephew* of his, as .Hisnamewas 
yet tlien ungotten and unborn, and lose his kingdom, '-'^'"-s- 
and this by a dream also, wherein he thought there sprang 
out of the womb of his daughter Mandane, josEi'nusrft 
a vine, by the spreading of whose branches xvi'i'.'-l///.'' 
all Asia was shadowed. And how Akchelaus, "'""•"■_ 
King of Cappadocia, was warned afore of his ban- valer.'/''.l 
ishment out of his country and kingdom by his p,;,"^';. ^j^ ,„>. 
dream of ten wheat ears, full ripe, that were eaten n'l'^ir.ca/: 
of oxen. And hereto the multitude of ensamples cceuus Ah- 
besides touching this case in Tully, Valerius '^^/Sh.'''""'' 
Maximus, Pliny the second, ;L.] Ccelius :Riche- ^'^''^"/i.v 
Kius] Rodiginiis, Suetonius, and in infinite authors mAxxiii. 
more ; they should be too cumberous and irksome both for me 
to write and you to read. 

The natural cause of which kind of prophecying, as I may 
call it, whether it come, as astronomers hold opinion, by the 
influence of the air or by constellation ; or else by sobriety of 
diet, and peculiar to the melancholic, as both sockjt/^s 
Plato and also physicians affirm; or by gift of Iv'yjf/. ix. 
GOD as divine judge : I trust I shall be borne with, 
although I do not here take upon me to discuss, but leave it 
for a doubt among them as I found it. 

Yet that there is such dignity and divinity in man's soul, 
as sometimes in dreams, we be warned of things to come ; 
both the learning of ancient philosophers, Iamdlicus 
Plotinus, Iamblicus, Mercurius, Trisme- '"e^Ji!""' 
GiSTUS, with many other doth avow: Holy,, 
Scripture and profane stories do prove ; and in lymanu. 
experience to them that do mark it, doth also show. 

But to this now, that my Lord's Grace dreamt one thing, 
and the contrary came to pass ; writers upon the exposition of 
dreams, and specially Artemidorous do make two lh: \. cnj>. w. 
special kinds of dreams. The one, Speculative, whereby we 
see things, the next day after (for the most part), much like as 
we saw them in dream : the other Allegoric, which warneth 
us, as it were by riddle, of things more than a day, at the least, 
after to come. And in these Allegoric dreams, he saith, 
" the head betokeneth the father, the foot the servant, the 
right hand signifieth the mother, the left, the wife," and so 

E.\G. G.IK. III. 6 



82 Tin: ExricnrnoN into Scotland ix 1547. Pja,^",'5,s: 

z/Aii.c./.i.vv. forth. And sometimes one contrary is meant bj' 
the other, as to seem for some cause to weep or be sorry is 
a token of gladness to come; and again to joy much is a 
j.iLm. cap. sign of care; to see foul water coming into the 
xxvii. house is a sign to see the house burning. Ai'OLLo- 

/./•*. iv. .vi/. NiDES, a surgeon, thought he went out, and wounded 
'"• many : and soon after he healed many. 

Of which sort of dreams, this of my Lord's Grace was, 
that showed that he had done nothing, and signified, as we 
may now be held to conster, he should do so much as it were 
scant possible to do more. Howbeit, as I would have no man 
so much to note and esteem dreams, as to think there are 
none vain, but all significative; a thing indeed, both fondly 
superstitious, and against the mind of GOD uttered in the 
Deut. xviii. Old Law : so would I have no man so much to 
contemn them as to think, we can at no time, be warned by 
them ; a thing also both of too much incredulity, and 
Actsii. against the promise of GOD rehearsed in the New 

joeiii. Law, by Peter out of the prophet Joel. 

But least, with my dreams, I bring you a sleep [asleep] ; I 
shall here leave them, and begin to march with the armv. 



Sunday, 
the 4th of 
September. 




Y Lord's Grace came from out of the 
town, and the army raised from out of 
the camp. 
And after this disposition of order. 
That Sir Francis Bryan, the Captain of Light Horsemen, 
with a four hundred of his band, should tend to the scout, a 
mile or two before ; the carriage to keep along by the sea- 
coast ; and the Men of arms and the Demi-lances (di\ided 
into three troops, answering the three Wards) so to ride, in 
array, directly against the carriages a two flight shot asunder 
from them. 

Our three Battles kept order in pace between them both. 
The Foreward, foremost; the Battle, in the midst; and the 
Kereward, hindermost : each Ward, his troop of horsemen, 
and guard of ordnance; and each piece of ordnance, his aid 
of Pioneers, for amendment of waj's, where need should be 
found. 

We marched a six mile, and camped by a village called 
Koston [? Ross], in the barony of Bonkendale. 



^Ja.!!^'s48:] S U M Jt O N I N G D U N G L A S C A S T L E. 83 

Monday, hifV CTJS E marched a seven mile, till we came to 
the ^th of ^YiV^ fi place called The Peaths Pease Bridge^. 
September. ^AO It is a valley running from a six mile 

' west, straight eastward and toward the 

sea ; a twenty score [400 yards] broad from bank to bank 
above, and a five score [100 yards] in the bottom, wherein 
runs a little river. So steep be these banks on either side, 
and deep to the bottom, that he who goeth straight down 
shall be in danger of tumbling; and the comer up so sure 
of puffing and pain. For remedy whereof, the travellers that 
way, have used to pass it, not by going directly, but by paths 
and footways leading slopewise : from the number of which 
paths they call it, somewhat nicely indeed, "The Peaths." 

A bruit [rinnonr], a day or two before, was spread among 
us, that hereat the Scots were very busy a working ; and 
how we should be stayed and met withal by them : where- 
unto, I heard mj' Lord's Grace vow that "he would put it in 
proof, for he would not step one foot out of his appointed 
course." 

At our coming, we found all in good peace. Howbeit the 
sideways, on either side, most used for ease, were crossed 
and cut off in many places with the casting of traverse 
trenches, not very deep indeed, and rather somewhat hinder- 
ing than utterly letting [preventing]. For whether it were 
more by policy or diligence, as I am sure neither of both did 
want, the ways, by the Pioneers, were soon so well plained, 
that our army, carriage, and ordnance were quite set over, 
soon after sunset, and there as then we pight [pitehed] our camp. 

But while our army was thus in passage, my Lord's Grace 
(willing to lose no time, and that the Scots, as well by deed as by 
bruit, should know he was come) sent a Herald to summon a 
castle of George Douglas, called Dunglas, that stood at 
the end of the same valley, nearer the sea, and a mile from 
the place of our passage. 

The Captain thereof, Matthew Home, a brother's son of 
Lord Home, upon this summons, required to speak with my 
Lord's Grace. It was granted, and he came. To whom, 
quoth his Grace, " Since it cannot be, but that ye must be 
witting, both of our coming into these parts, and of our 
Proclamation sent hither before and proclaimed also since ; 
and ye have not yet come to us, but keep this Hold thus : we 



54 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. pja.^","": 

have cause to take you as our mere enemy. And tlierefore, 
be ye at this choice (for we will take none advantage of your 
being here now) ! whether ye and your company will render 
your Hold, and stand, body and goods, at the order of our 
will ! or else to be set in it, as ye were : and we will assay, 
to win it as we can." 

The Captain, being brought in great doubt, about this 
riddle, what answer well to make, and what best to do; at last, 
stricken with the fear of cruelty that by stubbornness he should 
well deserve, and moved, again, with the hope of mercy that 
by submission he might hap to have, was content to render 
[surrender] all at his Grace's pleasure : and thereupon com- 
manded to fetch his companj', returned to the castle. 

In the time of tarrying for fetching his guard, we saw our 
ships, with a good gale and fair order, sailing into their Frith; 
which is a great arm of the sea, and runneth westward into 
their country above four mile. Upon this standeth Leith, 
Blackness, Stirling, and Saint John's road; and all the best 
towns else in the south part of Scotland. 

This Captain came, and brought with him his band to my 
Lord's Grace, which was of twenty-one sober soldiers, all so 
apparelled and appointed, that, so GOD help me ! I will say 
it for no praise, I never saw such a bunch of beggars come 
out of one house together in my life. The Captain, and six 
of the Worshipful of the Company were stajed, and com- 
manded to the keeping of the Provost Marshal, more, (hardly), 
to take " Monday's handsell " than for hope of advantage. 
The residue were licensed to " gae their gate," with this 
lesson that if they were ever known to practice or do aught 
against the army, while it was in the country, and thereupon 
taken, they should be sure to be hanged. 

After this surrender, my Lord John Grey, being Captain 
of a number (as for his approved worthiness, right well he 
might be) was appointed to seize and take possession of the 
Manor "with all and singular the appurtenances in and to 
to the same belonging." With whom, as it hapt, it was my 
chance to go thither. The spoil was not rich, sure[ly], but 
of white bread, oaten cakes, and Scottish ale ; whereof was 
indifferent good store, and soon bestowed among my Lord's 
soldiers accordingly. As for swords, bucklers, pikes, pots, pans, 
jarn, linen, hemp, and heaps of such baggage besides, they 



I 



^am^iMs:] Capture of Thornton and Innerwick. 85 

were scant stopped for, and very liberally let alone : but yet, 
sure, it would have rued any good housewife's heart to have 
beholden the great unmerciful murder that our men made of 
the brood geese and good laying hens that were slain there 
that day ; which the wives of the town had penned up in 
holes in the stables and cellars of the castle ere we came. 

In this meantime, my Lord's Grace appointed that the 
house should be overthrown. Whereupon [John Bren] the 
Captain of the Pioneers, with a three hundred of his labourers 
were sent down to it ; whom he straight set a digging about 
the foundation. 

In the town of Dunglas, which we left unspoiled and 
unburnt, we understood of their wives (for their husbands 
were not at home) that it was George Douglas's device 
and cost to cast those cross trenches at The Peaths ; and it 
stood him in four Scottish pounds, which are as much sterling 
as four good English crowns of five shillings a piece [^almost 
£10 ill all, noiv]. A meet reward for such a work ! 

Tuesday, I^^^Ui Ur Pioneers were early at their work again 
the 6th of I ^^ J about the castle ; whose walls were so 
September. I^^^J thick and foundation so deep, and thereto 

' ' set upon so craggy a plot, that it was not 

an easy matter soon to underdig them. 

Our army dislodged, and marched on. In the way we 
should go, a mile and a half from Dunglas northwards, there 
were two Piles or Holds, Thornton and Anderwick, [Inner- 
wick] both set on craggy foundation, and divided, a stone's 
cast asunder, by a deep gut, wherein ran a little river. 

Thornton belonged to the Lord Home, and was kept then 
by one Tom Trotter. Whereunto, my Lord's Grace, over 
night, for summons, sent Somerset his Herald. Towards 
whom, four or five of this Captain's prickers [Light horseman], 
with their gads ready charged, did right hastily direct their 
course : but Trotter both honestly defended the herald, 
and sharply rebuked his men ; and said, for the summons, 
" he would come and speak with my Lord's Grace himself." 

Notwithstanding, he came not ; but straight locked up a 
sixteen poor soldiers, like the soldiers of Dunglas, fast within 
the house, took the keys with him, and commanding them 
they should defend the house and tarry within (as they could 



86 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pjkn'^^'Jts: 

not get out) till his return, which should be on the morrow 
with munition and relief; he, with his prickers, pricked quite 
liis ways. 

Anderwick [Iniicncick] pertained to the Lord of Hami;le- 
TON [i.e. Hamilton], and was kept by his son and heir 
,_ , , (whom, of custom, they call, the Master of Hamble- 

J o be known ^ i-i -ii* 

ihat the scuis ton), and eight more with him ; gentlemen, for the 

call the son . , , , 

and hcii of most part, we heard say. 

TheMxs'tcr'of ^^y Lord's Grace, at his coming nigh, sent 

the house unto both these Piles; which, upon summons, 

whereof his r • i • i -i i ^t^i 

father Ls called rclusing to render, wci'e straight assailed. Ihorn- 
°' ' ton, by a battery of four of our great pieces of 

ordnance, and certain of Sir Peter Mewtvs's hackbutters to 
watch the loopholes and windows on all sides ; and Ander- 
wick, by a sort [company] of these hackbutters alone. Who 
so well bestirred them[selves], that where these keepers had 
rammed up their outer doors, cloyed and stopped up their 
stairs within, and kept themselves aloft for defence of their 
house about the battlements ; the hackbutters got in, and 
fired the underneath, whereby being greatly troubled with 
smoke and smother, and brought in desperation of defence, 
they called pitifully, over their walls, to my Lord's Grace, 
for mercy : who, notwithstanding their great obstinacy and 
the ensample others of the enemy might have had by their 
punishment, of his noble generosit}', and by these words, 
making half excuse for them, " Men may sometimes do that 
hastily in a gere [business], whereof, after, they may soon 
repent them," did take them to grace, and therefore sent one 
straight to them. But, ere the messenger came, the hack- 
butters had got up to them, and killed eight of them aloft. 
One leapt over the walls, and, running more than a furlong 
after, was slain without, in a water. 

All this while, at Thornton, our assault and their defence 
was stoutly continued : but well perceiving how on the one 
side they were battered, mined at the other, kept in with 
hackbutters round about, and some of our men within also 
occupying all the house under them, for they had likewise 
shopped [shut] up themselves in the highest of their house, 
and so to do nothing, inward or outward, neither by shooting 
of base [small cannon], whereof they had but one or two, 
nor tumbling of stones, the things of their chief annoyance, 



^n^fsTs"'] D U N G L A S C A S T L E B L O W N U P. 8/ 

whereby they might be able any while to resist our power or 
save themselves ; they plucked in a banner that afore they 
had set out in defiance, and put out over the walls, a white 
linen clout tied on a stick's end, crying all, with one tune, 
for " Mercy ! " but having answer by the whole voice of 
the assailers, " They were ti^aitors I It was too late ! " they 
plucked in their stick, and sticked [stuck] up the banner of 
defiance again, shot off, hurled stones, and did what else 
they could, with great courage on their side, and little hurt 
of ours. Yet then, after, being assured by our earnesty 
that we had vowed the winning of their hold before our 
departure, and then that their obstinacy could deserve no 
less than their death, they plucked in their banner once 
again, and cried upon " Mercy ! " And being generally 
answered, " Nay, nay I Look never for it ! for ye are arrant 
traitors ! " then, made they petition that " If they should 
needs die, j'et that my Lord's Grace would be so good to 
them, as they might be hanged : whereby they might some- 
what reconcile themselves to GOD, and not to die in malice, 
with so great danger of their souls ! " A policy, surC'l}!, in 
my mind, though but of gross heads, yet of a fine device. 
Sir Miles Partridge being nigh about this Pile, at the 
time, and spying one in a red doublet, did guess he should 
be an Englishman ; and, therefore, the rather came and 
furthered this petition to my Lord's Grace. Which then 
took effect. They came and humbled themselves to his 
Grace : whereupon, without more hurt, they were but com- 
manded to the Provost Marshal. 

It is somewhat here to consider, I know not whether the 
destiny or hap of man's life. The more worthy men, the 
less offenders, and more in the Judge's grace, were slain ; 
and the beggars, the obstinate rebels that deserved nought 
by cruelty, were saved. 

To say on now. The house was soon after so blown with 
powder, that more than one half fell straight down to 
rubbish and dust, the rest stood, all to be shaken with rifts 
and chinks. Anderwick was burned, and all the houses of 
office [servants' rooms], and stacks of corn about them both. 

While this was thus in hand, my Lord's Grace, in turning 
but about, saw the fall of Dunglas, which likewise was 
undermined and blown with powder. 



88 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pjan'!","" 

This done, about noon, we marched on, passing soon after 
within gunshot of Dunbar, a town standing long-wise upon 
the seaside : whereat is a castle, which the Scots count very 
strong, that sent us divers shots as we passed; but all in vain. 

Their liorsemen showed themselves in their fields beside 
us ; towards whom Barteville, with his eight men, all 
hackbutters on horseback (whom he had right well appointed), 
and John de Ribaude, with divers others, did make: but no 
hurt on either side, saving that a man of Barteville's slew 
one of them with his piece. The skirmish was soon ended. 

We went a four mile further, and having travelled that day 
a ten mile, we camped nigh Tantallon ; and hath, at night, 
a blind [false] alarm. 

Here had we, first, certain advertisement that the Scots 
were assembled in camp at the place where we found them. 

Wednesday, IK ^fc^J «J| Arching this morning a two mile, we came 
ihe yih of I KN^ B to a fair river called Lyn [tiow called 
September. Jol g^ (| Tync], running all straight eastward to 

' ' wards the sea. Overthis river there is a 

stone bridge, that they name Linton Bridge, of a town 
thereby on our right hand, and eastward as we went, that 
stands on the same river. 

Our horsemen and carriages passed through the water, for 
it was not very deep : our footmen over the bridge. The 
passage was very straight for an army ; and therefore the 
longer in setting over. 

Beyond this bridge, about a mile westward, for so me- 
thought, as then we turned, upon this same river, on the 
south side, stands a proper house and of some strength be- 
like. They call it Hailes Castle. It pertaineth to the Earl 
Bothwell; but was kept, as then, by the Governor's appoint- 
ment, who held the Earl in prison. 

Above the south side of this castle lieth a long hill east and 
west, whereupon did appear, in divers plumps, about three 
hundred of their prickers : some making towards the passage 
to be in wait there to take up stragglers and cut off the tail 
of our host. My Lord's Grace and my Lord Lieutenant 
did stay awhile [over] against the castle, upon a hill over 
which we should pass ; as well for the army, that was 
not all come, as also to see a skirmish that some of these 



^jam''i548;] The Earl of Warwick's services. 89 

prickers by coming over the river tovv'ards us, began to make, 
but did not maintain. Whereupon our Foreward marching 
softly afore, his Grace then took his way after : at whom, out 
of the Castle there were roundly shot off, but without hurt, 
six or seven pieces ; which before that (though some of our 
men had been very nigh) yet kept they all covert. 

In this meantime, did there arise a very thick mist, my 
Lord the Earl of Warwick, then Lord Lieutenant, as I told 
you, of the Army, did so nobly quit himself upon an adventure 
that chanced then to fall, as that his accustomedvaliance might 
well be acknowledged; whereby first, and first of all men (a 
little but not without purpose now to digress) being Lord 
Lieutenant of Boulogne next after it was won [in 1544I — 
beaten [battei'cd] on all sides, weak without, ill harbour within, 
and (now to say truth, for the danger is past) scant tenable 
as it was — did so valiantly defend it against the Dauphin 
then, and all his power; that, as I remember, was reckoned at 
fifty-two thousand. Of whom, in a camisado [? iiiglii attack] 
then, as they had slain many of our men and won the base 
[loivcr] town ; his Lordship killed above eight hundred, 
counted [accounted] of the best soldiers in all France ; drave 
the rest away ; and recovered the town from them again. 

And the next year after [1545], occupying his Office of 
Lord Admiral upon the sea, in person himself, what time the 
great Fleet of France, with all their galleys, which was no 
small power, came to invade our coasts ; he proferred battle 
unto the French Admiral and all his navy : which fight, I 
will not say how cowardly, he utterly refused. His Lordship 
repelled their force, and made them fain to fly back again home 
with their brags and cost in vain. 

And, the same year, but with a seven thousand, whereof 
not five thousand landed, maugre all France, he burnt 
Treport and divers villages there beside; and returned to 
ship again, with the loss but of one David Googan, and no 
more. 

And the year then next after, 1546, his diligence so well 
showed among the rest of the Commissiorers, that an 
honourable and friendly peace was concluded between France 
and us; his Lordship was sent over, by our late sovereign 
Lord, to receive the oath of the late French King, for con- 
firmation of the same peace. In which journey, how nobly, 



c,o The Exi'KinTioN into Scotland in 1547. PjL,k^'54s: 

he did advance his port [slate] for the King's Majesty's 
honour and estimation of tlie realm, and yet not above his 
degree, all men that saw it will easily confess with me, that it 
was too much then to be showed in few words here. 

Very few things else, to say truth, that have been any- 
where in these wars, against the enemy either nobly 
attempted or valiantly achieved, wherein his Lordship hath 
not been, either the tirst there in office or one of the fore- 
most in danger ; that if it fell so fit for my purpose to speak of 
his Lordship's honour at home, as it hath done somewhat to 
touch [on] his prowess abroad; I could, surejy^ for com- 
mendation thereof, move m3self matter, wherein I were able 
to say rather liberally much, than scarcely enough. 

But omitting that therefore, and to turn to my tale again, 
his Lordship regarding the danger our Kereward was in, by 
reason of the disorder, caused at this passage, by the thickness 
of this mist, and nighness of the enemj' ; himself, with scant 
a sixteen horse (whereof Barteville and John de Ribaude 
were two ; seven or eight light horsemen more, and the rest 
of his own servants), returned towards the passage, to see to 
the array again. 

The Scots perceiving our horsemen to have passed on 
before (and thinking, as the truth was, that some Captain of 
honour did stay for the looking to the order of his Rereward) 
keeping the south side of the river, did call over to some of 
our men to know, " Whether there were any nobleman nigh 
there?" 

They were asked, " Why they asked ? " 

One of them answered that " he was" such a man (whose 
name our men knew to be honourable among them), "and 
would come in to my Lord's Grace ; so that he might be sure 
to come in safetj'." 

Our )oung soldiers, nothing suspecting their ancient false- 
hood, told him that "my Lord Lieutenant, the Earl of War- 
wick was nigh there; by whose tuition, he should be safely 
brought to my Lord Grace's presence ! " 

They had conned their lesson, and fell to their practice ; 
which was this. 

Having come over the water, in the way that my Lord 
should pass, they had couched behind a hillock about a two 
hundred of their prickers, a forty had they sent beside, to 



Ti'^''>54s-] Lord Warwick's chase of Dandy Car. 91 

search where my Lord was: whom when they found, part of 
them pricked very nigh; and, these again, a ten or twelve of 
my Lord's small company, did boldly encounter, and drave 
them well nigh home to their ambush, flying, perchance, not 
so much for fear of their force, as for falsehood to trap 
[entrap] them. 

But hereby informed that my Lord was so nigh, they sent 
out a bigger number, and kept the rest more secret : upon 
this purpose, that they might either, by a plain onset, have 
distressed him; or that not prevailing, by feigning of flight, 
to have trained him under their ambush. And thus in- 
structiCd], they came pricking towards his Lordship apace. 

" Why," quoth he, "and will not these kna\'es be ruled ? 
Give me my staff [s/>C(2r] ! " With the \\hich, then, with so 
valiant a courage, he charg;ed at one, (as it was thought, 
Dandy Car, a Captain among them) that he did not only com- 
pel Car to turn, but himself chased him above twelve score, 
[i.e., 240 yards] together, all the way, at the spear point ; so 
that if Car's horse had not been exceeding good and wight 
\swift], his Lordship had surely run him through in this race. 
He also, with his little band, caused all the rest to flee amain. 

After whom then, as Henry Vane, a gentleman of my 
Lord's, and one of this company, did fiercely pursue ; four 
or five Scots suddenly turned, and set upon him. And though 
they did not altogether 'scape his hands, free ; yet by hewing 
and mangling his head, body, and many places else, they did 
so cruelly intreat [treat] him, as if rescue had not come the 
sooner, they had slain him outright. But saved as he was, 
I dare be bold to say, many a thousand in war or elsewhere, 
have died with less than half the less hurt. 

Here was Barteville run at sideling [sideways] and 
hurt in the buttock : and one of our men slain. Of Scots 
again, none slain; but three taken: whereof one was 
Richard Maxwell, hurt in the thigh. Who had been 
long in England, not long before, and had received right 
many benefits, as I heard himself confess, both of the late 
King's Majesty, and of my Lord Lieutenant, and of many 
other nobles and gentlemen in the Court beside ; and there- 
fore for his ingratitude and traiterous untruth threatened to 
be hanged. But as otherwise he had a great deal too much 
more than he deserved, so had he here somewhat too little: 



92 The Expedition into Scotland in iS47-[Z'J^^i's.' 

for Iiow my Lord's Grace bestowed him, I wot not; but 
hanged indeed he was not. 

To make mj' tale perfect : it is certainly thought that if my 
Lord Lieutenant had not thus valiantly encountered them ere 
they could have warned their ambush how weakly as he was 
warded, he had been beset round about by them, ere ever he 
could have been [a]ware of them or rescued of us ; where 
now hereby his Lordship showed his wonted worthiness, 
saved his company, and discomfited the enemy. 

Soon after, he overtook my Lord Protector, being as then 
set at dinner; to whom he presented these prisoners, and 
recounted his adventures. 

Whose Grace, in the meantime, had happed upon a fellow 
like a man, but I wot not of what sort ; small of stature, red 
headed, curled round about and shedded [parted] afore, of a 
forty year old, and called himself Knockes. To say some- 
what of his [bejhaviour, his coat was of the colour of a well 
burnt brick (I mean not black), and well worth twenty 
pence a broad yard. It was prettily fresed, half with an 
ado ; and hemmed round about very suitably with pasmain 
lace of green caddis [worsted ribbon]. Methought, he repre- 
sented the state of a sumner in some city or of a pedier in 
some borough. How far soever he had travelled that day, 
he had not a whit filed [defiled] his boots ; for he had none 
on. Harmless, belike, for he wore no weapon. He rode 
on a trotting tit [horse], well worth a couple of shillings ; the 
loss whereof, at his taking, he took very heavily ; yet did my 
Lord's Grace cause him to be set on a better. 

I take his learning was but small, but his utterance was 
great, sure[ly], for he never leaved babbling, very moist 
mouthed, and somewhat of nature disposed to slaver ; and 
therefore fain, without a napkin to wipe his lips, to supp at 
every word. Some said it was no fault in the man ; but the 
manner of the country. Indeed they have many moist mists 
there. No lack of audacity or store of wit ; for being taken, 
and brought in for a spy, and posed in that point, whither he 
went : neither by the honesty of his errand, nor goodness of 
his wit was he able to make any likely excuse. The tenour 
of his talk so tempered throughout, and the most of his 
matter so indifferently mingled, as, if they make him not 
both, it was hard for any there to judge whether they might 



Tan'^^'iMsO English courtesy to a Lady. 93 

count him a foolish knave or a knavish fool. At whom, my 
Lord's Grace and others had right good sport. 

As Barteville, that day, had riglit honestly served, so did 
the Lord's right honourably quite [requite] it. For straight 
upon the overtaking of my Lord's Grace, my Lord Lieu- 
tenant did get him a surgeon. Dressed he was, and straight 
after laid and conveyed in my Lord Grace's own chariot, that 
was both right sumptuous for cost, and easy for carriage. 
The rest that were hurt, Scots and others, were here also 
dressed. 

We had marched that day a nine mile, and camped at 
night, by a town upon the Frith, called Lang Nuddrey 
[Loni:^niddry]. 

Here we found a gentlewoman, some said a Lady, the wife 
of one Hugh Douglas. She was great with child, and, in 
a house of hers, there abode her good time of deliverance; 
and had with her, an ancient gentlewoman her mother, a 
midwife, and a daughter: whose estate, the council under- 
standmg, my Lord's Grace and my Lord Lieutentant took 
order, that all night, without danger or damage, she was well 
preserved. But soon after our departure in the morning, I 
heard that some of our northern prickers had visited her; 
not much for her profit, nor all for their honesty; that had 
they then been caught with their kindness, they should have 
been sure of thanks accordingly. Good people be they; but 
given much, as they say, to the spoil. 



Thursday, the IU/b RSkIjI^'^ morning, in the time of our dislodg- 
Siho/Scplein- B^ ^m ing, sign was made to some of our 
ber; beingoiir ^£ ^ ships (whereof the most part and 
Lady Day. l'M«--™a| chiefest [biggest] lay a ten or twelve 
mile in the Frith beyond us, over against Leith and Edin- 
burgh) that the Lord Admiral should come ashore to speak 
with my Lord's Grace. 

In the meantime, somewhat earl}', as our Galley was coming 
towards us, about a mile or more beyond our Cape, the Scots 
were very busy a wafting her ashore towards them, with a 
banner of Saint George that they had. But my Lord 
Lieutenant soon disappointed that policy: for making towards 
that place where my Lord Admiral should land, our men 



94 Inii Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^j: 



. Paltin. 

:in. I54«. 



on the water, I)y the siglit of his presence, did soon disctrn 
their friends from their foes. 

By and by then, my Lord Clinton, the Admiral, came to 
land: who, with my Lord Lieutenant rode back to my Lord's 
Grace ; among whom order was ta!<en, that our great ships 
should remove from before Leith, and lie before Musselburgh, 
and their camp : and our smaller vessels, that were victuallers, 
to lie nearer us. This thus appointed, my Lord Admiral 
rode back to take the water again. 

And as our army had marched onward a mile or two, there 
appeared upon a hill that lay longwise east and west, and on 
the south side of us, a six hundred of their horsemen 
prickers, whereof some were within a two ilight shot dircctU' 
against us, upon the same hill : but the most further off. 
Towards these, over a small bridge, for there ran a little 
river also by us, very hardily did ride about a dozen of our 
hackbutters on horseback, and held them at bay so nigh to 
their noses, that whether it were by the goodness of our men 
or badness of theirs, the Scots did not only not come down 
to them, but also I'cry courteously gave place, and fled to 
their fellows. And yet I know they lack no heart ; but they 
cannot so well away with these cracks [i.e., of their guns]. 

Our army went on, but so much the slower, because our 
way was somewhat narrow, by means of the Frith on the 
.one side, and certain marshes nigh on the other. 

The Scots kept always pace with us, upon their hill ; and 
showed themselves, upon sundry brunts, very crank and 
brag. At whom, as our captains did look to the ordering 
and arraying again of the Battles ; my Lord Protector's 
Grace appointed two field pieces to be turned. Each piece 
shot off twice, whereof one Gold, the Master Gunner there, 
discharged one, and did so well direct it, that, at his former 
shot, he struck off the leg of a black horse, right fair, and as 
it was thought the best in the company ; and, at his next 
shot, he killed a man. 

Hereb}', rather somewliat calmed than fully content, they 
went their ways; and we saw no more of them, till the time 
of our camping. 

Then showed they themselves very lordly aloft upon this 
hill again, over against us, as though they stood there to 
take a view of our camping and muster of our men. My 



^jai^'lHs:] T II E Army reaches Preston pans. 95 

Lord Marshal [Lord Grey] minding to know tlieir commis- 
sion, did make towards tliem witli a band of horsemen : but 
they went wisely their way, and would never abide the 
reasoning of the matter. 

In the way, as we came, not far from this place, George 
Ferrers, a gentleman of my Lord Protector's, and one of 
the Commissioners of the Carriages in the army, happened 
upon a cave in the ground ; the mouth whereof was so worn 
with the fresh print of steps, that he seemed to be certain 
there were some folk within : and having gone down to try, 
he was readily received with a hackbut or two. Yet he left 
them not till he had known, whether they would be content 
to yield and come out. Which they fondly ["/oo/;'s7!/vj refusing: 
he went to my Lord's Grace, and upon utterance of the 
thing, got licence to deal with them as he could; and so 
returned to them, with a score or two of pioneers. 

Three vents had their cave, which we were [ajware of. He 
first stopped up one. Another he filled full of straw and set 
it a fire ; whereat they within did cast water apace : but it 
was so well maintained without, that the fire prevailed, and 
they within, fain to get them, belike, into another parlour. 

Then devised we, for I happened to be with him, to stop 
the same up ; whereby we should either smother them, or 
find their vents, if they had any more. As this was done, at 
another issue, about a twelve score [240 yards] off, we might 
see the fume of our smoke to come out. The which con- 
tinued with so great a force and so long a while, that we 
could not but think they within, must needs get them out or 
smother. And forasmuch, as we found not that they did the 
one: we thought it for certain, they were sure of the other. 
So we had done that we came for, and so left them. 

By this time, our ships (taking mannerly their leave of 
Leith with a score of shot or more; and, as they came by, 
saluting the Scots, in their camp, also with as many) came 
and lay, according to appointment. 

We had gone this day about a five mile, and camped, to- 
wards night, nigh a town they call Salt Preston by the Frith 
[Prestonpaiis]. Here one Charleton, a man, before time, 
banished out of England, and continuing all the while in 
Scotland, came in, and submitted himself to my Lcrd's 
Grace ; who took him to mercy. 



96 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pja^^i's's; 



Friday, Ih-^-^hJIIis day is marked in the Calendar with 
the gtlt of wB ^ the name of Saint Gorgon ; no famous 
September. ^^ ^ saint, sure'lyl ; but either so obscure that 
' '"^ j j^^ n^an knows him, or else so ancient as 
every man forgets him. Yet were it both pity and blame 
that he should lose his estimation among us. And, methinks, 
out of that little that I have read, I could somewhat say to 
bring him to light again : but then I am in doubt what to 
make of him, a He-Saint, a She-Saint, or a Neuter; for we 
have all in our Calendar. Of the male and female saints, 
every leaf there showeth samples enough : and, as for the 
neuter, they are rather, I wot, unmarked than unknown, as 
Saint Christmas, Saint Candlemas, Saint Easter, Saint Whit- 
suntide ; and sweet Saint Sunday comes once a week. 

Touching my doubt, now. If the day bear name in the 
worship and memory of him whom the Preacher Horace 
doth mention in his first book of Sermons, by these words 

I saHmn. PastUlos RVFILLUS okt, GORGONIUS liircum. 

then may we be bold to believe it was a He-Saint; but yet a 
very sloven saint, and, belike, a nesty. 

If this name were calendared of Medusa Gorgon''' that had 
the hair of her head turned into adders, whom Perseus 
overcame and killed, as Doctor Ovid declares in his fourth 
book Of changes 

[L.-k iv.] GoiiGONiS angtiicoma: Perskus snperator, 

then may we be sure it was a She-Saint. But if it were in 
the honour of Pallas's shield, wherein this Medusa Gorgon's 
head was graven, as TiTUS Strozza (a devout Doctor, but of 
later days) doth say 

=•= Phorcus, King of the isles Corsica and Sardinia, had four draightcrs, 
ScYLLA, Medusa, Stenio, and Euriai.e, called Colons. Of whom, as 
Neptune had ravished Medusa Gorgon in the temple of Pallas : this 
goddeis for displeasure of the fact, changed all the hair of her head into 
snakes and adders ; and gave her a further gift of that whosoever saw 
her should be turned straight into stone. 

Perseus coveting to kill this monster, borrowed of Mercury his wings 
and falchion ; and struck off her head as she slept, and brought it with 
him ; which Pallas did after set in her shield : and it had the same 
power still after, as it had while she lived. 



^Ii^'iTis;] James of the S i n k - n o l e . 97 

GoRGONis an'^uicoince ccelatos ceffide vultiis, ^ 

Pallas habct. /eoIow. 

Then was it neither a He, nor a She, but a plain Neuter- 
Saint. And thus with the ancient authority of mere poetical 
Scriptures, my conscience is so confounded, as I wot not in 
the world what saint to make of him. 

James* of the Sink-hole, saving your reverence ! a friar, 
forsooth, that wrote the Legendaury, telleth me a • jAcontsoK 
very preposterous order in good cookery, of one 
Gorgon t and his fellow Dorotheus that were first l,,'^.'^' "^^ 
sauced with vinegar and salt, and after that, then «/. cxxviii. 
broiled on a girdiron [s^rid-iron]. But to be plain, as it is best 
for a man to be with his friends, he hath farced [stuffed] his 
book so full of lies, that it is quite out of credit in all honest 
company. And, for my part, I am half ashamed to say that 
I saw it : but since it is said, and somewhat to tell you what 
I saw, he makes me Thomas the traitor. Lupus the lecher, 
Peter the knave, if I may call a conjuror so, all thomas 
to be his high and holy saints in heaven ; and that zTw'sS^' "'' 
with such prodigal impudency, and so shameless ^,^,',',',.,vf'^^'' 
lying, as I may safely think he had either a Bull to ca. ix.xiiu. 
make saints of devils, or else a Placard to play the knave as 
he list. 

But as for Gorgon, be he as he may be, it makes no great 
matter : for he shall have my heart while he stands in the 
calendar ; he hath been ever so lucky ! But what saint so- 
ever he be, he is, sure[ly], no Scotsman's friend : but a very 
angry saint towards them. 

For, upon his day, thirty-four years past, they had a great 
overthrow by us at Flodden Field, and their King Jamy the 
P'ouRTH slain : and therefore is this day not smally marked 
among them. 

To tell our adventures that befell now upon it, I think it 
very meet that first I advertise how as we here lay. 

Our camp and theirs were either [each] within the sight 
and view of others [each other] ; and, in distance, as I guessed, 
a two mile and [a^ little more asunder. We had the Frith 
on the north ; and this hill, last remembered, as I said, on 
the south ; the west end whereof is called Fauxside Bray 
[now Falside Brae], whereupon standeth a sorry castle and 

E.VG.G.IR. III. 7 



qS The Exi'edition into Scotland in t 5 1 7- n'.n'!^"": 

half a score of houses of Hke wortliiness by it. We had west 
ward, before us, tliem lying in camp. 

Along this hill, being about a mile from us, were they veiy 
busy pranking up and down, all the morning: and fain would 
have been of counsel with the doings of our camp. We, 
again, because their army seemed to sit to receive us, did 
diligently prepare that we might soon go to them ; and there- 
fore kept our camp all that day : my Lord's Grace and the 
council sitting in consultation ; and the captains and officers 
providing their bands with store of victail and furniture of 
weapons, for furtherance whereof, our vessels of munition 
and victuals were here already come to the shore. 

The Scots continued their bravery on the hill ; the which 
we not being so well able to bear, made out a band of Light 
Horsemen and a troop of Demi-lances to back them. Our 
men gat up on the hill, and thereby, of even ground with the 
enemy, rode straight towards them, with good speed and 
order ; whom, at the first, the Scots did boldly countenance 
and abide; but, after, when they perceived that our men would 
needs come on, they began to prick [ride away], and would 
fain have begone ere they had told their errand. But our 
men hasted so speedily after, that, even straight, they were at 
their elbows, and did so stoutly then bestir them, that, what 
in the onset at the first, and after in the chase, which lasted 
a three mile, well-nigh to as far as the furthest of their camp 
on the south side, they had killed of the Scots, within a three 
hours, above the number of thirteen hundred, and taken the 
Master of Home, Lord Home's son and heir, two priests and 
six gentlemen (whereof one, I remember, by Sir Jacques 
Granado) : and all, upon the highest, and well nighest 
towards them, of the hill ; within the full sight of their whole 
camp. 

Of our side, again, one Spanish hackbutter was hurt : and 
Sir Ralph Bullmer Knight, Thomas Gower, Marshal of 
Berwick, and Robert Crouch (all Captains of several 
bands of our Light Horsemen, and men of right good courage 
and approved service) were taken at this time ; distressed by 
their own forwardness, and not by the enemy's force. 

After this skirmish, it was marvelled on their side, that we 
used so much cruelty; and doubted, on ours, that we had 
killed so many. Their marvel was answered, that they had 



^j;..!!''.'^":] Cavalry Fight on Falside Brae. 99 

picked the quarrel first themselves, and showed us a prece- 
dent at Paniarhough [Pcnial Hcugh] ; where, of late years, 
without any mercy, they slew the Lord Evers and a great 
company with him. Our doubt was cleared by the witness 
of their own selves, who confessed that there were two thou- 
sand that made out of their camp (fifteen hundred horsemen 
for skirmish and five hundred footmen to lie close in ambush, 
and be ready at need) and that of all these, for certain, not 
seven hundred returned home. 

After this skirmish, we also heard that the Lord Home 
himself, for haste in this flight, had a fall from his horse, and 
burst so the canell bone [collar hone] of his neck, that he 
was fain to be carried straight to Edinburgh, and his life was 
not a little despaired of. 

Then, also, my Lord'sGrace, my Lord Lieutenant, andother 
of tlie council, with b)it a small guard, did take, upon this 
Fauxside Bray (where the slaughter, as I said, was made), 
about half a mile south-east of them, full view of their camp: 
whereof the tents, as I noted them, were divided into four- 
several orders and rewes [rows] lying east and west, and a 
prickshot asunder; and mustered not unlike, as methought, 
unto four great ridges of ripe barley. 

The plot where they lay was so chosen for strength, as in 
all their country, some thought there was not a better. Safe 
on the south, by a great marsh ; and on the north by the 
Frith ; which side also they fenced with two field pieces and 
certain hackbuts a crock, lying under a turf wall. Edinburgh, 
on the west, at their backs : and eastward, between us and 
them, they were strongly defended by the course of a river, 
called the Esk, running north into the Frith ; which, as 
[though] it was not very deep of water, so [yd] were the 
banks of it so high and steep (after the manner of the Peathes 
mentioned in our Monday's journey), as a small sort [company] 
of resistants might have been able to keep down a great 
number of comers-up. 

About a twelve score [240 yards] off from the Frith, over 
the same river, is there a stone bridge, which they did keep 
also ; well warded with ordnance. 

From this hill of Fauxside Bray, my Lord's Grace, my 
Lord Lieutenant, and the others descended along before their 
camp ; within less than two flight shots into a lane or street 



TOO The Extkiution into Scotland in 1547. [^jL,!!''"'": 

of a thirty foot broad, fenced on eitlier side with a wall of 
turf, an ell in height ; which way did lead straight north- 
ward, and nigh to a church called Saint Michael's of Under- 
esk \Invercs!i], standing on a mean rising hill somewhat 
higher than the site of their camp. 

Thus this viewed, they took their return directly homeward 
to our tents. At whom, in the way, the Scots did often 
shoot : but with all their shots, and of all our company, they 
killed but one horse in the midst of three, without any hurt of 
the rider. 

And as my Lord's Grace was passed well nigh half the way 
homeward, a Scottish Herald, with a coat of his Prince's arms 
upon him as the manner is, and a trumpeter with him, did 
overtake his Grace, we thought, upon some errand ; and 
therefore every man gave them place to come, and say their 
errands: which, as I might guess, partly by the answers as 
follow, were these or to this effect. 

The Herald, first : " My Lord the Governor hath sent me 
to your Grace to inquire of prisoners taken, and therewith to 
say, that for the pity he hath of the effusion of Christian blood, 
which, by battle, must needs be shed ; and because your 
Grace hath not done much hurt in the country ; he is content 
ye shall return, as ye came, and will proffer your Grace honest 
conditions of peace." 

And, then, the trumpeter: " My Lord and master, the Earl 
of Huntley hath willed me to show your Grace that because 
[in order that] this matter may be the sooner ended, and with 
less hurt ; he will figlit with your Grace for the whole quarrel, 
twenty to twenty, ten to ten, or else himself alone with your 
Grace, man to man." 

My Lord's Grace, having kept with him m}' Lord Lieutenant, 
had heard them both thoroughl}', and then, in answering, spake 
somewhat with a louder voice than they had done their 
messages ; whereupon we, that were the riders by, thinking 
his Grace would have it no secret, were somewhat the bolder 
to come the nigher. The words whereof, as it seemed to me, 
were uttered so expeditely with honour, and so honourably 
with expedition as I was, for my part, much moved then to 
doubt whether I might rather note in them the promptness 
of a singular prudence, or the animosity [bravery] of a noble 
courage. And they were thus: 



^j.ur^MS.] George Douglas's feigned defiance. ioi 

" Your Governor may know that the special cause of our 
coming hither, was not to fight, but for the thing that sliould 
be tlie weal of both us and you : for, we take GOD to record ! 
we mind no more hurt to the realm of Scotland, than we do 
to the realm of England ; and therefore our quarrel being so 
good, we trust GOD will prosper us the better. But as for 
peace, he hath refused such conditions at our hands as we will 
never proffer again, and therefore let him look for none till, 
this way we make it ! 

"And thou, Trumpet! say to thy master! he seemeth to 
lack wit, to make this challenge to me, being, by the suf- 
ferance of GOD, of such estate, as to have so weighty a charge 
of so precious a jewel, the Governance of a King's person, and, 
then, the Protection of all his realms : whereb}', in this case, 
I have no power of myself; which, if I had, as I am true 
gentleman! it should be the first bargain I would make. 
But there be a great sort [number] here among us, his 
equals, to whom he might have made this challenge without 
refusal." 

Quoth my Lord Lieutenant to them both. " He showeth 
his small wit to make challenge to my Lord's Grace, and he so 
mean ! but if his Grace will give me leave, I shall receive it ; 
and, trumpeter ! bring me word thy master will so do, and 
thou shalt have of me a hundred crowns " [= £^o then = about 
^300 now]. 

" Nay," quoth my Lord's Grace, " the Earl Huntley is not 
meet in estate with you, my Lord! But, Herald ! say to the 
Governor and him also that we have been a good st:h->-\sthe 
season in this country ; and are here now but with a prop" 'erm 

11 1 IT "hereby the 

sober company, and they a great number: and 11 scotsdosig- 
they will meet us in field, they shall be satisfied //v//.-,'"«y'', or 
with fighting enough. And, Herald ! bring me word ^^•■""■'■'■■ 
they will so do, and, by my honour! I will give thee a thou- 
sand crowns [= ;^300 then = about ;f3,ooo now], 

" Ye have a proud sort among 3-ou, but I trust to see their 
pride abated shortly, and of the Earl of Huntley's too. I 
wis his courage is known well enough : but he is a glorious 
}'oung gentleman." 

This said, my Lord Lieutenant continued his requests that 
he might receive this challenge : but my Lord's Grace would, 
in no wise, grant to it. 



I02 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^jaiT^Ms! 

These messengers had their answers, and therewith leave 
to depart. 

It is an ancient order in war, inviolably observed, that the 
Heralds and trumpeters, at any time, upon necessar}' messages, 
may freely pass to and fro between the enemies, without hurt 
or stay of any, as privileged with a certain immunity and free- 
dom of passage : likewise that, during the time of any such 
message, hostility on both sides should utterly cease. 

The Scots, notwithstanding (what moved them, I know not, 
but somewhat besides the rules of staiis pucr ad mcnsaui) shot 
three or four shot at us, in the midst of this message doing ; 
but as hap was, wide enough. 

On the morrow after, they had everyone of their guns taken 
from them ; and put into the hands of them that could use 
them with more good manners. 

It becometh me not, I wot, apertly [openly] to tax their 
Governor, with the note [slur] of Dissimulation : for however 
he be our enemy, yet is he a man of honourable estate, and 
worthy, for aught I know, of the office he bears. 

Howbeit, touching this message sent by the Herald, to say 
as I think, I am fully persuaded he never sent it either because 
he thought it would be received by my Lord's Grace, whose 
courage, of custom, he knew to be such that would never 
brook so much dishonour as to travel so far to return in vain ; 
or else that he meant any sparing or pity of us, whom, in his 
heart, he had already devoured. But only to show a colour 
[appearance] of kindness, by the refusal whereof he might first, 
in his sight, the more justly, as he should list, use extremity 
against us; and then, upon victory, triumph with more glory. 
F'or he thought himself no less sure of victory than he was 
sure he was willing to fight. And that which makes me, in 
this case, now to be so quite out of doubt, were these causes; 
whereof I was after certainly informed. 

And they were, first, his respect of our only strength, as 
he thought, our horsemen : which (not so much upon policy 
to make his men hardy against us, as for that he plainly so 
took it) he caused to be published in his host, that " they 
were wholly but of very joung men, unskilful of the wars, 
and easy to be dealt witiial." 

And, then, his regard to the number and place of our 
power and his ; the which, indeed, were far unequal. 



^;.„'^^"^3;] Scots coming out to catch the English. 103 

And hereto, his assured hope of twelve galleys and fifty 
ships that he always looked to be sent out of France, to come 
in at our backs. 

He, with his host, made themselves hereby so sure of the 
matter, that in the night of this day, they fell aforehand to 
playing at dice for certain of our noblemen and captains of 
fame. For as for all the rest, they thought quite to despatch 
us, and were of nothing so much afraid as lest we should 
have made away out of the country ere they and we had met; 
bruiting among them, that our ships, the day before, removed 
from before Leith only to take in our footmen and carriages, 
to the intent our horsemen then, with more haste and less 
cumber, might thence be able to hie them homeward. For 
the fear hereof also, they appointed, this night, to have given 
us a camisado [night attack] in our camp, as we lay : whereof, 
even then, we happened to have an inkling ; and therefore 
late in the night, entrenched our carriages and waggon- 
borough, and had good scout without and sure watch within : 
so that if they had kept appointment (as what letted [h{>idcred\ 
them, I could not learn) they should not have been un- 
welcomed nor unlooked for. 

Yea, the great fear they had of our hasty departure made 
them so hasty, as the next morrow, being the day of the battle, 
so early to come towards us, out of their camp: against whom, 
then, though they saw our horsemen readily to make ; yet 
would they not think, but that it was for a policy to stay them, 
while our footmen and carriage might be stowed a shipboard. 

Marvellous men ! They would not believe there were any 
bees in the hive, till they came out and stang them by the 
nose. They fared herein (if I may compare great things to 
small, and earnesty to game) like as I have wist a good 
fellow, ere this, that hath come to a dicing board, very hastily 
thrusting, for fear lest all should be done ere he could begin ; 
and hath soon been shred [stripped] of all that ever he brought : 
but, after, when he hath come from the board with his hands 
in his bosom, and remembered there was never a penny in 
his purse, he could quickly find that the fondness was not in 
tarrying too long, but in coming too soon. 

We are warned, if we were wise, of these witless brunts, by 
the common proverb that saith, "It is better to sit still, than 
rise up and fall." But, belike, they know it not. 



I04 Tiiio Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj:,,^'."^?: 

In the ni,c;ht of this day, my Lord's Grace appointed that 
early in the next morning, part of our ordnance should be 
planted in the lane I spake of, under the turf wall next to 
their camp ; and some also to be set upon the hill, nigh to 
Underesk Church, afore remembered: and these to the intent 
we should, with our shot, cause them either wholly to re- 
move their camp or else much to annoy them as they lay. 
It was not the least part of our meaning, also, hereby to win 
from them certain of their ordnance that lay nearest this 
Church. 

It will be no great breach of order I trust ; though here I 
rehearse the thing that not till after, I heard touching the 
trumpeter's message from the Earl Huntley : which was, 
as I heard the Earl himself say, that he never sent the same 
to my Lord's Grace, but George Douglas, in his name. 
And this was devised by him, not so specially for any challenge 
sake, as that the messenger should maintain, by mouth, his 
talk to my Lord's Grace, while his eyes were rolling to toote 
[glance] and pry upon the state of our camp, and whether 
we were packing or not : as, indeed, the fellow had a very 
good countenance to make a spy. 

But my Lord's Grace (of custom, not using so readily to 
to admit any kind of enemy to come so nigh) had despatched 
them both, with their answers, as I said, ere ever they came 
within a mile of our camp. 

As I happed, soon after, to rehearse the exxuse of the Earl, 
and this drift of Douglas, a gentleman Scot that was a 
prisoner and present, sware " By the mis [mass] ! it was like 
enough : for he kenned George full well," and said " he was 
a meet man to pick quarrels for other men to fight for." 



To the intent I would show my good will to make all things 
us easy to the sense of the reader as my knowledge could 
instruct : and forasmuch as the assault, especially of our 
horsemen at the first ; their retire again : and our last onset, 
pursuit, and slaughter of the enemy cannot all be showed well 
in one plot : I have devised and drawn, according to my 
cunning, three several views of them [sec pp. 112, 113, 116, 
117], placed in their order, as follow in the battle. Wherein 
are also other towns and places remembered, such at that 



^an'!"''i548:] The TWO Armies MARCH TO EACH OTHER. 105 

time, I thought meet to mark ; and in my memory could 
since call to mind. No fine portraiture indeed, nor yet any 
exquisite observance of geometrical dimension ; but j'et neither 
so gross nor far from the truth, I trust, but they may serve for 
some ease of understanding. 

But since the scantness of room will not suffer me plainly 
and at length to write there every place's name, I am 
therefore fain instead of a name to set up a letter. The 
reader must be content to learn his A. B. C. again ; such as 
I have there devised for the expounding of the same views. 

They that list to learn ; I trust, in this pomt will not much 
stick with me : considering also that 

Ignoratis tcrminis, ignoratur ct ars. aristotle. 

If they know not my A. B. C, they cannot well know my 
matter: like as he that knows not Raymond's^"''."'"'."" 
Alphabet shall never come to the composition of '"-vi. 
his quintessence; what he shall do though, some practi- 
tioners do doubt. 

And minding to interrupt the process of the battle that 
foUoweth, with as few mean matters as I may ; I have 
thought good, to have written this here before. 

Saturday, the 
10th of September. 
The day of the 
battle."^ 




|His day morning, somewhat before 
eight o'clock, our camp dislodged : 
and our host march straight to- 
wards the Church of Underesk, as 
well for intent to have camped nigh the same, as for placing 
our ordnance, and other considerations afore remembered. 

The Scots, I know not whether more for fear of our depart- 
ing or hope of our spoiling, were out of their camp ; coming 
towards us, passed the river, gathered in array, and well nigh 
at this Church ere we were half way to it. 

They had quite disappointed our purpose ; and this, at the 
first, was so strange in our eyes, that we could not devise 
what to make of their meaning: and so much the stranger, 
as it was quite beside our expectation or doubt, that they 
would ever forsake their strength [strong position], to meet us 

'■■' This day was long after known in Scotland as "Black Saturday" : 
and the battle then fought, was the last conflict between the Scotch and 
the English, as separate nations. E. A. 



io6 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pja.!!''.",?; 

in field. But we, after, understood tliat they did not only 
thus purpose to do : but also to have assailed us in our camp, 
as we lay, if he had not been stirring the timelier. 

And to the intent, at this time, that as well none of their 
soldiers should lurk behind them in their camps, as also that 
none of their captains should be able to flee from their enter- 
prise : they had first caused all their tents to be let flat down 
to the ground ere they came out ; and they that had horses 
(as well nobles as others, a few expected), that were not horse- 
men, appointed to leave their horses behind them, and march 
on with their soldiers afoot. 

We came on speedily a both sides; neither, as yet, one 
whit ware [awaye] of [the] other's intent : but the Scots in- 
deed at a rounder pace. 

Between the two hillocks betwixt us and the Church, they 
mustered somewhat brim [exposed] in our eyes: at whom, as 
they stayed there awhile, our galley shot off, and slew the 
Master of Greym [Graham] with a five and twenty near by 
him : and therewith so scared the four thousand Irish archers 
brought by the Earl of Argyle ; that where, as it was said, 
they should have been a wing to the Foreward, they could 
never after be made to come forward. 

Hereupon, did their army hastily remove ; and from thence, 
declining southward, took their direct way towards Fauxside 
Bray. 

Of this. Sir Ralph Vane, Lieutenant of all our Horsemen, 
(as I think, he, first of all men, did note it) quickly advertised 
my Lord ; whose Grace thereby did readily conceive much 
of their meaning : which was to win of us the hill, and thereby 
the wind, and sun (if it had shined, as it did not ; for the 
weather was cloudy and lowering) ; the gain of which three 
things, whither [whichever] party, in fight of battle, can hap 
to obtain, hath his force doubled against his enemj'. 

In all this enterprise, they used, for haste, so little the help 
of horses, that they plucked forth their ordnance by draught 
of men ; which at this time began freely to shoot off towards 
us : whereby we were furthered warned that they meant more 
than a skirmish. 

Herewith began every man to be smitten with the care of 
his office and charge ; and thereupon accordingly to apply him 
about it. Herewith began still riding to and fro. Herewith 



^am^T+sO The English plan of battle. 107 

a general rumour and buzzing among the soldiers ; not unlike 
the noise of the sea, being heard afar off. And herewith, my 
Lord's Grace and the council, on horseback as they were, 
fell straight in consultation : the sharpness of whose circum- 
spect wisdoms, as it quickly spied out the enemy's intents, 
so did it, among other things, promptly provide therein to 
prevent them; as needful it was, for the time asked no leisure. 

Their device was thus. That my Lord Grey, with his 
band of Boulogners, with my Lord Protector's band, and my 
Lord Leiutenant's ; all to the number of an eighteen hundred 
men, on the East half: and Sir Ralph Vane, with Sir 
Thomas Darcy Captain of the Pensioners, and my Lord 
Fitzwalter with his band of Demi-lances ; all to the 
number of a sixteen hundred, to be ready and even with my 
Lord Marshal, on the West half : and thus, all these together, 
afore [before], to encounter the enemy a front : whereby 
either to break their array, and that way weaken their power by 
disorder; or, at the least, to stop them of their gate [march], 
and force them to stay, while our Foreward might wholly 
have the hill's side, and our Battle and Rereward be placed 
in grounds next that in order, and best for advantage. 

And after this, then that the same our horsemen should re- 
tire up the hill's side ; to come down, in order, afresh, and 
infest them on both their sides; while our Battles should 
occupy them in fight a front. 

The policy of this device, for the state of the case, as it was, 
to all that knew of it, generally allowed to be the best that 
could be : even so, also, taken to be of no small danger for 
my Lord Marshal, Sir Ralph Vane, and others the assailers; 
the which, nevertheless, I know not whether more nobly and 
wisely devised of the council, or more valiantly and willingly 
executed of them. 

For even there, with good courage taking their leaves of 
the council, my Lord Marshal requiring only that if it went 
not well with him, my Lord's Grace would be good to his wife 
and children ; he said, " he would meet these Scots ! " And 
so, with their bands, these captains took their way towards 
the enemy. 

By this, were our Foreward and theirs with a two flight 
shot asunder. The Scots hasted with so fast a pace, that it 
was thought of the most part of us, they were rather horse- 



io8 The ExrEDiTiON into Scoti-^^"^''^ '^' i547- [ ja..A""i": 

men than footmen. Our men, ag^'"' ^^'^''^ '^'i ^he more 
with speed. 

The Master of the Ordnance, to o"'" Ki'eat advantage, then 
plucked up the hill certain piece-^ > ^nd, soon after, planted 
two or three cannon of them we 1' "'K^ "Pon the top there ; 
wherehy, having so much the he'pof the hill, he might shoot 
nighest, over our men's heads, ^^ the enemy. 

As my Lord's Grace had so ' circumspectly taken order for 
the array and station cf the ^^>"my, and for the execution of 
every man's office besides; 'even as it is meetest that the 
head should be the highest/.' t^'it should well look about for 
the safeguard of all the oth/ei' members and parts ot the body ; 
so did his Grace, first p/erfectly appointed in fair harness 
[anuonr], accompanied w/'t'^ "o more, as I noted, than with 
Sir Thomas Challonei/ Knight, one of the Clerks of the 
Kino-'s Majesty's Privy/ Council, take his way towards the 
heiglit of the hill, to tAry ^Y the ordnance, where he might 
both best survey us a\K ^^^ succour with aid where he saw 
need ; and also, by h^^ presence, be a defence to the thing 
that stood weakest if P'ace and most in danger. The which 
thereby, how much fit did steed anon, shall I show._ 

As his Grace wa'''^ half up the hill, my Lord Lieutenant, 
as it chanced by l'''rn, he was ware [aK'uix] the enemy were 
all at a sudden sta'Y. and stood still a good while. The sight 
and cause hereof was marvellous to us all ; but understand- 
able of none. 

My Lord's Gr;''^ce thought, as indeed it most likely was, 
that the men ha''^ overshot themselves, and would fain have 
been home a°'ai^" > ^^d herewith said to this effect, " These 
men will surel Y come no farther. It were best to cast 
where we shou''^^ camp for, pain of my life I they will never 

fight ! " * 

It had been ^hardly, I wot not how bad, but I am sure no 
good device, fo^^ our power to have forsaken their ground, to 
assail them wjtiere they stood, so far from the hill that we 
had wellni'di '■won so hardly and should keep to so much 
advantao-e. Ar'''d in warfare, always, timely provision is 
counted "•rea^'- P°hcy. Hereto his Grace was sure that we 

were able b ctter and longer to keep our hill, than they their 

• ' r 

plain. 

As for f Jghting now, it might be more than likely to who- 



^jair^'iMs:] The Scotch Order of Battle. 109 

ever considered it, that their courage was quite quailed, and 
therefore that they had no will to come any further ; but 
would have been glad to have been whence they came. First, 
because, at that time, besides the full muster of our footmen 
(of whom they thought, we had none there ; but all to have 
been either shipped or a shipping): then, they saw plain that 
we were sure to have the gain of the hill ; and they, the 
ground of disadvantage, out of their Hold, and put from 
their hope. 

And hereto, for that their Herald gave my Lord's Grace no 
warning, the which by him, if tliey had meant to hght it 
out, who would not have presumed that (for the estimation 
of their honour) they would little stuck to have sent by him ; 
and he, again, and it had been but for his thousand crowns, 
would have been right glad to have brought ? 

These be the considerations that, both then and since, did 
persuade me, my Lord's Grace had good cause to say, " They 
would not fight ! " 

Howbeit hereunto if I wist and disclosed but half as much 
now, as, I am sure, of circumspection, his Grace knew then ; 
I do not doubt but I were able sufficiently to prove he might 
well be no less certain of that he had said, than any man, 
might be of an undone deed. The which, nevertheless, how 
true it was, the proof of the matter soon after did declare ; 
which was that the Scots ran quite their way [away] and 
would never tarry stroke with our footmen where the fight, 
on both sides, should have been showed. 

Notwithstanding, by this time considering, belike, the state 
they stood in, that as they had left their strength too soon, 
so, now to be [it was] too late to repent : upon a change of 
countenance, they made hastily towards us again, I know 
not (to say truth) whether more stoutly of courage, or more 
strongly of order; methought then, I might note both in their 
march. 

But what after I learned, specially touching their order, 
their armour, and their manner of fight, as well in going to 
offend, as in standing to defend : I have thought necessary 
here to utter. 

Hackbutters have they few or none : and they appoint their 
fight most commonly always afoot. 



no TiiK Expedition' into Scotland in 15.17. pjan'!^'5'S: 

They came to the field, all well furnish with jack [light 
iron jackets covered with ichitc leather] and skull [helmet], dagger, 
buckler, and swords all notably broad and thin, of exceed- 
ing good temper and universally so made to slice, that as I 
never saw any so good, so think I it hard to devise the better. 
Hereto, every man his pike; and a great kercher wrapped 
twice or thrice about his neck ; not for cold but for [against] 
cutting. 

In their array, towards the joining with the enemy, they 
cling and thrust so near in the fore rank, shoulder to shoulder 
together, with their pikes in both hands straight afore 
them; and their followers in that order so hard at their 
backs, laying their pikes over their foregoers' shoulders; that 
if they do assail undissevered, no force can well withstand 
them. 

Standing at defence, they thrust shoulders likewise so nigh 
together; the fore rank, well nigh to kneeling, stoop low 
before their fellows behind holding their pikes in both hands, 
and therewith on their left [arm] their bucklers ; the one end 
of the pike against their right foot, the other against the 
enemy breast high ; their followers crossing their pike points 
with them foreward ; and thus, each with other, so nigh as 
place and space will suffer, through the whole \\'ard so thick, 
that as easily shall a bare finger pierce through the skin of 
an angry hedgehog, as any encounter the front of their 
pikes. 

My Lord Marshal, notwithstanding, whom no danger 
detracted from doing his enterprise, with the company and 
order afore appointed, came full in their faces from the hill's 
side toward them. 

'J'l'e , Herewith waxed it very hot, on both sides, with 

«ar. pitiiul cries, horrible roar, and terrible thundering 

of guns besides. The day darkened above head, with smoke 
of shot. The sight and appearance of the enemy, even at 
hand, before. The danger of death on every side else. The 
bullets, pellets, and arrows flying each [every] where so thick, 
and so uncertainly lighting, that nowhere was there any 
surety of safety. Every man stricken with a dreadful fear, 
not so much, perchance, of death as of hurt; which things, 
though they were but certain to some, were yet doubted of 



Ti-^^'ms:] The Charge of the English Cavalry, i i i 

all. Assured cruelty at the enemy's hands, without hope of 
mercy. Death to fly, and danger to fight. 

The whole face of the field, on both sides, upon this point 
of joining, both to the eye and the ear, so heavy, so deadly, 
lamentable, outrageous, terribly confused, and so quite 
against the quiet nature of man : as if, to our nobility, the 
regard of their honour and fame ; to the knights and captains, 
the estimation of their worship and honesty; and generally 
to us all, the natural motion of bounden duty, our own safety, 
hope of victory, and the favour of GOD that we trusted we 
had for the equity of our quarrel ; had not been a more 
vehement cause of courage that the danger of death was 
cause of fear, the very horror of the thing had been able to 
make any man to forget both prowess and policy. 

But my Lord Marshal and the others, with present mind 
and courage, warily and quickly continued their course 
towards them : and my Lord's Grace was then at this post, 
by the ordnance aloft. 

The enemy were in a fallow field, whereof the furrows lay 
sideling towards our men. 

By the side of the same furrows, next us, and a stone's 
cast from them, was there a cross ditch or slough, which our 
men must needs pass to come to them : wherein many, that 
could not leap over, stack fast, to no small danger of them- 
selves, and some disorder of their fellows. 

The enemy, perceiving our men's fast approach, disposed 
themselves to abide the brunt ; and in this order, stood still 
to receive them. 

The Earl of Angus, next us, in their Foreward, as Captain 
of the same : with an eight thousand men ; and four or five 
pieces of ordnance on his right side, and a four thousand 
horsemen on his left. 

Behind him, somewhat westward, the Governor [with the 
Battle] with a ten thousand Inland men, as they call them ; 
counted the choicest men of their country. 

And the Earl Huntley in the Rereward, well nigh even 
with the Battle on the left side, with eight thousand men also. 
The four thousand Irish archers, as a wing to them both, last 
indeed in order, and first (as they said) that ran away. 

The Battle and Rereward were warded also with their 
ordnance, accordingly]. 



{ 12 



Vv^ETST^ 




EAST. 



113 



C ^l)t txpoMon Qi tl)c ilcttcr^ of t!)i0 Coble. 

A. Signifieth the place we camped in, before the battle. 

B. Our Rereward. 

C. Our Battle. 

D. Our Foreward. 

E. The square Close. 

F. The foot of the hillside. 

G. My Lord Protector's Grace. 
H. The Master of the Ordnance. 
I. Our Horsemen. 

K. The Slough. 

L. The lane and the two turf walls. 

M. Their Foreward, and horsemen by the same. 

N. Their Battle. 

O. Their Rereward. 

P. P. The two hillocks before the church. 

Q. St. Michael's of Underesk [Invercsk], 

R. Muskelborowe [Musselburgh]. 

S. Their horsemen at the end of Fauxside Bray. 

T. T. T. T. Their rows of Tents, 

V. The turf wall towards the Frith. 

W. Our Carriages. 

X. The Marsh. 

Y. Our Galley. 

Z. Edinburgh Castle. 



Clje 0igmfication of certain otijer notejs. 

• Signifieth a Footman. 

° a Horseman. 

I- a Hackbutter a foot. 

o a Hackbutter on horseback. 

^ an Archer. 

\ a Footmen slain. 

c/- a Horsemen slain. 

Ill The fallow field whereon their army stood. 

£.\-G. Gar. III. S 



114 Till; ExncDiTiuN INTO Scui LAND IN 1547. [%'!","^S: 



Edward Shelley, Lieutenant under my Lord Grey, of his 
band of Boulogners, was the first on our side that was over tliis 
slough, my Lord Grey next ; and so then after, two or three 
ranks of the former [leading' bands. But badly, yet, could 
they make their race ; b}- reason, the furrows lay travers to 
their course. That notwithstanding, and though there were 
nothing likely well to be able thus a front to come within them 
to hurt them, as well because the Scottish men's pikes were as 
long or longer than their staves [spears], as also for that their 
horses were all naked without barbs [breastplates] whereof, 
though there were right many among us, yet not one put on : 
forasmuch as at our coming forth in the morning, we looked 
for nothing less than for battle that day : j-et did my Lord, 
and Shelley, with the residue, so valiantly and strongly give 
the charge upon them, that, whether it were by their prowess 
or power, the left side of the enemy that his Lordship did set 
upon, though their order remained unbroken, was yet com- 
pelled to sway a good way back and give ground largely ; and 
all the residue of them besides, to stand much amazed. 

Before this, as our men were well nigh at them, they stood 
very brave and braggart, shake their pike-points, crying, 
" Come here, lounds [rascals] ! Come here, tykes [dogs] I 
Come here, heretics ! " as hardly they are fair mouthed me;i. 
Tliough they meant but small humanity; 3-et showed they 
hereby much civility : both of fair play, to warn ere they 
struck, and of formal order, to chide ere they fought. 

Our captains that were behind (perceiving, at eye [at a 
glance], that both by the unevenness of the ground, by the 
sturdy order of the enemy, and for that their ;own' fellows 
were so nigh and straight before them ; they were not able, to 
any advantage, to maintain this onset), did therefore, accord- 



^Jai^^'s4'8:] -^ Balaclava Charge in 1547. 115 

ing to the device in that point appointed, turned themselves, 
and made a soft [slow] retire up towards the hill again. 

Howbeit, to confess the truth, some of the number (that 
knew not the prepensed [aforctlwiight] policy of the council, in 
this case) made, of a sober advised retire, a hasty temera- 
rious flight. 

Sound to any man's ear as it may, I shall never admit, for 
any affection towards country or kin, to be so partial as will, 
wittingly, either bolster the falsehood or bury the truth : for 
honour, in my opinion, that way gotten, were unworthily won, 
and a very vile gain. Howbeit hereby I cannot count any lost, 
where but a few lewd soldiers ran out of array, without 
standard or captain; upon no cause of need, but a mere indis- 
cretion and madness. A madness, indeed ! For, first, the 
Scots were not able to pursue, because they were footmen : 
and, if they could, what hope by flight? so far from home 
in their enemy's land ! where there was no place of refuge ! 

My Lord Marshal, Edward Shelley, little Preston, 
Brampton, and Gerningham, Boulogners; Ratcliffe, the 
Lord Fitzwalter's brother ; Sir John CLERE'sson and heir ; 
DiGGES of Kent ; Ellerker, a Pensioner ; Segrave. Of my 
Lord Protector's band, my Lord Edward, his Grace's son. 
Captain of the same band; Stanley, Woodhouse, Coonlsby, 
Hokgill, Morris, Dennis, Arthur, and Atkinson ; with 
others in the forerank, not being able, in this earnest 
assault, both to tend [attend] to their fight afore, and to the 
retire behind : the Scots, again (well considering hereby how 
weak they remained) caught courage afresh, ran sharply for- 
ward upon them, and, without any mercy, slew every man 
of our men that abode furthest in press; a six more, of 
Boulogners and others, than I have here named: in all, to 
the number of twenty-six, and the most part, gentlemen. 



Ii6 



C?)e Second Cable 

%IjotDctf) tF)C placing of our fcotmcn; tfje slaughter 

of dEDtoarlJ ^DcHcj) anD tljc ctljcrs; tfjc retire 

of our tiaiiD of fjorsemcn up tljc fjill, 

ano t\)c OrcacI) of arrap of tlje 

stragglers from tfjcm. 

But touching the exposition of the notes and letters ; I 
refer the reader to the Table before \p. 113]. 



-T<3 3\ XA 




EAIT 



117 



%!)OtoinG tfjc coming into avrai? of cur Ijctscmcn upon 

t'dt IjiU again ; the placing of the liDacUDuttccs a= 

gainst the cncmi? ; the sfjooting of our atcfjcrs : 

anD tijcn the coming Bcten of our fjcr.scmcn 

after, about the cfjase ano slaugJjtcr 

of tfjC encmp. 

M. Signify the pil^es and weapons let fall by the Scots, in 
N. the place where they stood. 

O. As for the other characters, I refer the Reader again 
to the first Table [p. 113]. 








ii8 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^j,,^,"'?: 

Yet my Lord Grey and rri}' Lord Edward (as some fjrace 
was) returned, but neither all in safetj', nor without evident 
marks they had been there : for the one, with a pike through 
the mouth, was raced [torn] along from the tip of the tongue, 
and thrust that way very dangerously, more than two inches 
with the neck ; and my Lord Edward had his horse under 
him, wounded sore with swords, and I think to death. 

Like as also, a little before this onset, Sir Thomas Darcy 
upon his approach to the enemy was struck glancing wise, 
on the right side, with a bullet of one of their field pieces ; 
and thereby his body bruised with the bowing in of his 
harness, his sword hilts broken, and the forefinger of his right 
hand beaten flat: even so, upon the parting of this fray, was 
Sir Arthur Darcy' flashed at with swords, and so hurt upon 
the wedding finger of his right hand also, as it was counted 
for the first part of medicine to have it quite cut away. 

About the same time, certain of the Scots ran out hastily 
to the King's Majesty's Standard of the Horsemen, the 
which Sir Andrew Flammack bare ; and laying fast hold of 
upon the staff thereof, cried, " A King ! A King ! " that if 
both his strength, his heart, and his horse had not been 
good ; and hereto, somewhat aided, at this pinch, by Sir 
Ralph Coppinger a Pensioner, both he had been slain, and 
the standard lost ; which the Scots, nevertheless, held so 
fast that they brake and bare away the nether [lower] end of 
the staff to the burrell [ringl and intended so much to the 
gain of the standard, that Sir Andrew, as hap was, 'scaped 
home all safe, and else without hurt. 

At this business, also, was my Lord Fitzwalter, Captain of 
a number of Demi-lances, unhorsed ; but soon mounted again, 
escaped, yet in great danger, and his horse all [thatj he wan. 

Hereat further, were Cavarley, the Standard Bearer of the 
Men of Arms, and Clement Paston a Pensioner, each of 
them thrust into the legs with pikes; and Don Philip, a 
Spaniard, in the knee : divers others maimed and hurt ; and 
many horses sore wounded beside. 

C By this time, had our Foreward, accordingly, gotten the 
full vantage of the hill's side ; and, in respect of their march, 
stood sideling towards the enemy: who, nevertheless were 
not able, in all parts, to stand full square in array by reason 
that at the west end of them, upon their right hand and 



^jair^iMs:] Principal Officers of the Fokeward. 119 

towards the enemy, there was a square plot enclosed with turf, 
as their manner of fencing [making with walls] in those parts 
is ; one corner whereof did let the square of the same array. 
Our Battle, in good order, next them, but so as in continu- 
ance of array: the former part thereof stood upon the hill's 
side, the tail upon the plain. And the Rereward wholly upon 
the plain. 

So that by the placing and countenance of our army in 
this wise, we showed ourselves, in a manner, to compass them 
in, that they should, in no way 'scape us: the which, by our 
power and number, we were as well able to do, as a spinner's 
web to catch a swarm of bees. Howbeit, for heart and courage, 
we meant to meet with them, had they been as many more. 

Those indiscreet gadlings that so fondly brake array from 
the horsemen in the retire, as I said, ran so hastily through 
the orders and ranks of our Foreward, as it stood, that it did 
both disorder many, feared many, and was a great encourage- 
ment to the enemy. 

My Lord Lieutenant, who had the guiding of the Foreward, 
right valiantly had conducted them to their standing : and 
there did very nobly encourage and comfort them ; bidding 
them, " Pluck up their hearts ! and show themselves men ! for 
there was no cause of fear. As for victory, it was in their 
own hands, if they did abide by it ! and he himself, even 
there, would live and die among them ! " 

And surely, as his Worthiness alwa}'S right well deserveth, 
so was his Honour, at that time, worthily furnished with 
worthy captains. 

First, Sir John Lutterell, who had the leading of a 
three hundred of his Lordship's men, that were the foremost 
of this Foreward ; all with harness and weapon : and, in all 
points else, so well trimmed for war that, like as, at that 
time, I could well note my Lord's great cost and honour, for 
their choice and perfect appointment and furniture ; so did I 
then also consider Sir John Luttkell's prowess and wisdom 
for their valiant conduction, and exact observance i mean such a 
of order. Whom (knowing, as I know) for his wit, bTldaSvTe 
manhood, good qualities, and aptness to all gentle [h^^j^^jjl;'"';',^' 
feats besides; I have good cause to count both a hisbookof 
good Captain a warfare in field, and a worthy doth frame?'' 
Courtier in peace at home. 



I20 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pja„'!^"5S: 

Then in tlie same Foreward, Sir Morice Dexms, another 
Captain, who wisely first exhorting his men " to play the 
men, showing thereby the assurance of victory," and then to 
the intent they should be sure he would never shrink from 
them, he did with no less worship than valiance, in the 
liottcst of this business, alighted among them, and put his 
horse froni him. 

But if I should (as cause, I confess, there was enough) 
make here any stay in his commendation therefore, or of the 
forward courage of Sir George Haward, who bear the 
King's Majesty's Standard in the Battle ; or of the circum- 
spect diligence of Sir William Pickering and Sir Richard 
WiNGFiELD, Sergeants of the Band to the Foreward; or of 
the prompt forwardness of Sir Charles Brandon, another 
captain there ; or of the painful industry of Sir James 
WiLFORD, Provost Marshal, who placed himself with the 
foremost of this Foreward ; or of the good order in march of 
Sir Hugh Willoughby and William Dennis Esquire, 
both captains ; or of the present heart of John Challoner, 
a captain also in the battle ; or of the honest respect of 
Edward Chamberlain, Gentleman Harbinger [Quartcnnastcr\ 
of the Army, who willingly as then, came in order with the 
same Foreward; or of right many others in both these Battles 
(for I was not nigh the Rereward) whose behaviour and 
worthiness were, at that time, notable in mine eye (although 
I neither knew then all of them I saw; nor could since 
remember of them I knew) I might well be in doubt it should 
be too much an intrication to the matter, too great a tedious- 
ness to the reader. And therefore to say on. 

The Scots were somewhat disordered with their coming 
out about the slaughter of our men ; the which they did so 
earnestly then intend, they took not one to mercy. But 
more they were amazed at this adventurous and hardy onset. 
My Lord's Grace having before this, for causes aforesaid, 
placed himself on this Fauxside Bray, and thereby quickly 
perceiving the great disorder of these straggling horsemen, 
hemmed them in from further straying ; whom Sir Ralph 
Vane, with great dexterity, brought in good order and array 
again. 

And therewith, the rest of our strengths, by the policy of 



jl'n.'';''543"'] The Scotch first see the English Foot. 121 

my Lord's Grace, and the diligence of every captain and 
officer beside, were so opportunely and aptly applied, in their 
feat, that where this repulse by the enemy and retire of us 
were doubted by many, to turn to the danger of our loss : 
the same was wrought and advanced, according as it was 
devised, to our certainty of gain and victor}'. 

For, first, at this slough, where most of our horsemen had 
stood, Sir Peter Mewtys, Captain of all the Hackbutters 
afoot, did very valiantly conduct, and place a good number of 
his men, in a manner, hard at the face of the enemy. 
Whereunto, Sir Peter Gamboa, a Spaniard, Captain of a 
two hundred Hackbutters on horseback, did readily bring his 
men also : who, with the hot continuance of their shot, on 
both parties, did so stoutly stay the enemy, that they could 
not well come further forward. 

Then our archers that marched in array, on the right hand 
of our footmen, and next to the enemy, pricked them sharply 
with arrows, as they stood. 

Therewith, the Master of the Ordnance, to their great 
annoyance, did gall with hail shot and other [shot] out of the 
great ordnance directly from the hill top ; and certain other 
gunners, a flank, from our Rereward. Most of our artillery 
and missive engines then wholly thus at once, with great 
puissance and vehemency, occupied about them. 

Herewith, the full sight of our footmen, all shadowed from 
them before, by our horsemen and the dust raised ; whom 
then they were ware [aware], in such order, to be so near upon 
them. And to this the perfect array of our horsemen again 
coming courageously to set on them afresh. Miserable men I 
perceiving themselves, then all too late, how much too much 
they were misinformed, began suddenly to shrink. Their 
Governor, that brought them first to the bargain, like a 
doughty Captain, took hastily his horse that he might run 
foremost away. Indeed, it stood somewhat with reason that 
he should make first homeward that first made outward ; but, 
as some of them said, scant [scarcely] with honour, and with 
shame enough. The Earl of Angus and other chief captains 
did quickly follow, as their Governor led ; and vv'ith the fore- 
most, their Irishmen. 

Therewith then turned all the whole rout, kest [casi] down 
their weapons, ran out of their Wards, off with their jacks 



122 The ExrEDiTiON into Scotland in 1547. pj.:,„'^","^S: 

and with all that ever they might, betook them to the race 
that their Governor began. 

Our men had found them at the first (as what could 
escape so many thousand eyes?), and sharply and quickly, 
with an universal outcry, " They fly ! They lly ! " pursued 
after in chase amain : and thereto so eagerly and with such 
iierceness, that they overtook many, and spared indeed but 
few; as it might then hardly have been both folly and peril 
to have showed any pit}'. 

But when they were once turned ; it was a wonder to see 
how soon, and in how sundry sorts they were scattered. The 
place they stood on like a wood of staves [pikes] strewed on 
the ground as rushes in a chamber; impassable they lay so 
thick, for either horse or man. 

Here, at the first, they let fall all their pikes after 
that, everywhere, they scattered swords, bucklers, daggers, 
jacks, and all things else that either was of any weight, or 
might be any let to their course. Which course among 
them, they made specially three ways. Some along the 
sands by the Frith, towards Leith. Some straight towards 
]^dinburgh, whereof part went through the park there : in 
the walls whereof, though they be round about of flint stone; 
J et were there man}- holes already made. And part of them 
by the highway that leads along by Holy Rood Abbey. And 
the residue, and, as we noted then, the most of them towards 
Dalkeith : which waj', by means of the marsh, our horsemen 
were worst able to follow. 

Sundry shifts, some shrewd, some sorry, made they in their 
running. Divers of them in their courses, as they were ware 
aicare] they were pursued but of one, would suddenly back, 
and lash at the legs of the horse or foin ithnist] him in 
the belly. And sometime did the}' reach at the rider also: 
whereby Clement P.\ston in the arm, and divers others 
otherwise, were hurt in this chase. 

Some other lay flat in a furrow, as though they were dead, 
and thereby were passed by of our men untouched; as I heard 
say, the Earl of Angus confessed he couched till his horse 
happed to be brought him. Other some, to stay in the river, 
cowering down his body, his head under the root of a willow 
tree, with scant his nose above water for breath. A shift, 
but no succour, it was to many that had their skulls Jiclinds] 



T'"^'''543:] The Panic, and frightful Pursuit. 123 

on, at the stroke of the follower, to shrink their heads into 
their shoulders, like a tortoise into its shell. Others, again, 
for their more lightness, cast away shoes and doublets ; and 
ran in their shirts. And some were also seen in this race, to fall 
flat down all breathless, and to have run themselves to death. 

Before this, at the time of our onset, came there eastward, 
a live hundred of their horsemen, up along this Fauxside 
Bray, straight upon our ordnance and carriage. My Lord's 
Grace, as I said, most specially for the doubt of the same, 
placing himself thereby, caused a piece or two to be turned 
towards them ; with a few shots whereof, they were soon 
turned also, and fled to Dalkeith. But had they kept on, 
they were provided for accordingly. For one parson Keble, 
a Chaplain of his Grace's, and t\vo or three others, by and by 
discoverd four or five of the carts of munition, and therewith 
bestowed pikes, bills, bows and arrows to as many as came. 
So that of carters and others there were soon weaponed, there, 
about a thousand men ; whom parson Kedle and the others 
did very handsomely dispose in array, and made a pretty 
muster. 

To return now. Soon after this notable strewing of their 
footmen's weapons, began a pitiful sight of the dead corpses 
lying dispersed abroad. Some, with their legs off ; some but 
bought [limii-sirung] and left lying half dead: others, with the 
arms cut off; divers, their necks half asunder ; many, their 
heads cloven ; of sundry, the brains pasht [smashed] out ; 
some others again, their heads quite off: with a thousand 
other kinds of killing. 

After that, and further in the chase, all, for the most part, 
killed either in the head or in the neck ; for our horsemen 
could not well reach them lower with their swords. 

And thus, with blood and slaughter of the enemy, this 
chase was continued five miles in length westward, from the 
place of their standing, which was in the fallow fields of 
Underesk [Inveresk], unto Edinburgh Park, and well nigh to 
the gates of the town itself, and unto Leith ; and in breadth, 
nigh three miles, from the Frith sands, towards Dalkeith 
southward. In all which space, the dead bodies lay as thick 
as a man may note cattle grazing in a full replenished 
pasture. The river ran all red with blood : so that in the 
same chase were counted, as well bv some of our men that 



124 Tiiii Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^jin^-'','""' 

comewhat diligently did mark it, as by some of them taken 
prisoners, that very mucli did lament it, to have been slain 
above thirteen thousand. In all this compass of ground, 
v.hat with weapons, arms, hands, legs, heads, blood, and 
dead bodies, their flit^dit might have easily been tracked to 
every [each] of their three refuges. 

And for the smallness of our number, and the shortness of 
the time, which was scant five hours, from one till well nigh 
six, the mortality was so great, as it was thought the like 
aforetime had not been seen. Indeed, it was the better 
maintained with their own swords that lay each where 
[everywhere] scattered by the way ; whereof our men, as they 
brake one, still took up another. There was store enough : 
and they laid it on so freely, that right many among them, at 
this business, brake three or four ere they returned homeward 
to the army. 

I may well, perchance, confess that herein we used some 
sharpness, although not as much as we might have, and little 
courtesy : and yet I can safely avow, all was done by us as 
rather by sundry respects driven and compelled, than cither 
of cruelty or of delight in slaughter. And like, some way, 
to the diligent master that sharply sometimes, when warning 
will not serve, doth beat his scholar : not hardly [probably] for 
hate of the child or his own delight in beating, but for love, 
he would have him amend his faults or negligence ; and beats 
him once surely, because he would need to beat him no 
more. 

One cause of the correction we used, I may well count to 
be, the tyrannous Vow that they made, which we certainly 
heard of, that whensoever they fought and overcame, they 
would slay so many and spare so few : a sure proof whereof 
they plainly had showed at our onset before, where they 
killed all, and saved not a man. 

Another respect was to revenge their great and cruel 
tyranny at Panyar Hough [? Pcnial Heitgh], as I have said 
before, where they slew the Lord Eveks, whom otherwise 
they might have taken prisoner and saved ; and cruelly killed 
as many else of our men as came into their hands. 

We were forced yet hereto, by a further and very earnest 
regard, which was the doubt of the assembling of their army 
again; whereof a cantcl [fraction], for the number, had been 



^jai'^'sts;] The Gentlemen taken prisoners. 125 

able to compare with our whole host, wlicn it was at the 
greatest : and so, perchance, we should have been driven, 
with double labour, to beat them again, and make two works 
out of one ; whereas we well remembered that " a thing once 
well done, is twice done." 

To these, another, and not the meanest matter. The name of 
.was that their armour among them so little differed, t^teil'Yiu"" 
and their apparel was so base and heggarly : ^'e^'t'-'"'"" '■<■ 

I r cT T _/ / speech <is wc 

wherein the Lurdein was, in a mannei', all one do:. but a 
with the Lord; and the Lound with the La[i]rde: thc.lu'talcit, 
all clad alike in jacks covered with white leather ; |^£?^f,^"J7^,;ti, 
doublets of the same or of fustian ; and most un- 
commonly all white hosen. Not one! with either name of 
chain, brooch, ring, or garment of silk that I could v,'i'bin''or sudi 
see; unless chains of latten [pczatcr] drawn four ''k=. 
or five times along the thighs of their hosen, and doublet 
sleeves for cutting: and of that sort I saw many. This 
vileness of port [dress] was the cause that so many of their 
great men and gentlemen were killed; and so few saved. 
The outward show, the semblance and sign whereby a stranger 
might discern a villain from a gentleman, was not to be seen 
among them. As for words and goodly proffer of great 
ransoms, they were as common and rife in the mouths of the 
one as the other : and therefore it came to pass that after, in 
the examination and counting of the prisoners, we found we 
had taken above twenty of their villains to one of their 
gentlemen : whom no man need to doubt we had rather have 
spared than the villains, if we could have known any difference 
between them in the taking. 

And yet, notwithstanding all these our just causes and 
quarrels to kill them, we showed more grace, and took more 
to mercy, than the case on our side, for the causes aforesaid, 
did well deserve or require. 

For, beside the Earl Huntley who was appointed in good 
harness (likest a gentleman of any of them that I could hear 
of or see) who could not then escape because he lacked his 
horse ; and therefore happed to be taken by Sir Ralph Vane ; 
and beside the Lord of Yester: Hodby Hambleton [Hamil- 
ton], Captain of Dunbar; the Master of Sampoole [Sciiiplc]: 
the Laird of Wimmes, taken by John Bren ; a brother of 
the Earl of Cassil[i]s; besides one Moutrell, taken by 



126 The ExrEDiTiox into Scotland in 1547. Pj:,,^""'": 

uuu'^fliic CoRNELii'S, Comptroller of the Ordnance of this 
KnriofAK.^vtE amiy ; and one of the Camals [? Campbells], an 
rame'^ir"''" Irish p^entleman, taken by Edward Chamdeklatn ; 
li'C.M//-A7:/.fi '^^^ besides many other Scottish gentlemen more, 
likeas the E;>ri \vhose namcs and takers I remember not well, the 
Douglas, and prisoncrs accountcd by the MarshaTs book, were 
Hi-^ix'ev's is numbered to above fifteen hundred. 
Gordon. Toucliing the slaughter, surety] we killed nolh- 

hcraid'wls.iiso *"S ^0 many as, if w'e had minded cruelty so much, 
i:,kcn:but for the time and opportunity right well we might. 
i)ia«d° l"or my Lord's Grace, of his wonted mercy, much 

LordTo'Sc mo\-ed with the pity of this sight, and rather glad 
caii|^cdhim yf victory than desirous of cruelty, soon after (bv 
freely to i)e gucss) fivc o'clock. Stayed his Standard of his 
vvit'houtr.-lnMm Horscmcn, at the furthest part of their camp 
or loss. westward; and causedthe trumpetsto blowa retreat. 

Whereat also, Sir Ralph Sadler, Treasurer (whose great 
diligence at that time, and ready forwardness in the chiefest 
of the fray before, did wortliily merit no small commendation) 
caused all the Footmen to stay, and then, with much travail 
and great pains, made them to be brought into some order 
again. It was a thing not yet easily to be done, by reason 
they all, as then, somewhat busily applied their market, the 
spoil of this Scottish camp : wherein were found good pro- 
vision of white bread, ale, oaten cakes, mutton, butter in pots, 
cheese; and, in divers tents, good wine also. Good store, to 
say truth, of good victail, for the manner of their country. 

And in some tents among them, as I heard saj', were also 
found a dish or two, two or three goblets, or three or four 
chalices of silver plate: which the finders (I know not with 
what reverence, but hardly with some devotion) plucked out 
of the cold clouts and thrust into their warm bosoms. 

Here now, to sa}- somewhat of the manner of their camp. 
As they had no pavilions or round houses of a commendable 
compass : so were there few other tents with posts, as the 
used manner of making is ; and of these few also, none of 
above twenty foot in length, but most far under. For the 
most part, they were all sumptuously beset, after their fashion, 
with lleur de lys, for the love of France, some of blue buck- 
ram, some of black, and some of some other colours. 

These white ridges, as I called th;m, that, as we stood on 



^ji^r^Ms:] The Pursuit is stayed at 5 p.m. 127 

Fauxside Bray, did make so great a muster towards us, -which 
I did take then to be a number of tents : when we came, we 
found them to be a linen drapery, of the coarser camerick 
[canibi'ic] indeed, for it was all of canvas sheets. 

They were the tenticles or rather cabins and couches of 
their soldiers: which (much after the common building 
of their country besides) they had framed of four sticks, about 
an ell long a piece: whereof two fastened together at one end 
aloft, and the two ends beneath stuck in the ground an ell 
asunder, standing in fashion like the bow of a sow's yoke. 
Over two such bows, one, as it were, at their head, the other 
at their feet, they stretched a sheet down on both sides 
wliereby their cabins became roofed like a ridge, but scant 
shut at both ends; and not very close beneath, on the sides, 
unless their sticks were the shorter, or their wives the more 
liberal to lend them larger naperj'. Howbeit within they 
had lined them, and stuffed them so thick with straw, that as 
the weather was not very cold, when they were once couched, 
they were as warm as ' if j they had been wrapped in horsedung. 

The plot of their camp was called Edminston Edge, nigli 
Gilberton 1? Gihncrton], a place of the Lord of Brunston^e's, 
half a mile beyond Musselburgh, and a three mile on this side 
Edinburgh; and occupied in largeness, with divers tents and 
tenticles in sundry parts out of square, about a mile's com- 
pass. Wherein, as our men, upon the sound of retreat, at their 
retire, were somewhat assembled ; we all, with a loud and 
entire outcry and hallowing [holloaing], in sign of gladness and 
victory, made a universal noise and shout : whereof the 
shrillness, as we heard after, was heard unto Edinburgh. 

It was a wonder to see, but that as they say " many hands 
make light work " how soon the dead bodies were stripped, 
c\'en from as far as the chase went, unto the place of our onset, 
whereby the personages of the enemies might, by the wa}-, 
easily be viewed and considered : which for their tallness 
of stature, cleanness of skin, bigness of bone, with due pro- 
portion in all parts, I, for my part advisedly noted, to be 
such as but that I well saw that it was so, I would not have 
believed, sure Jy], so many of that sort to have been in all their 
country. 

Among them, lay there many priests and " Kirkmen," 
as they call them; of whom it was bruited among us, that 



128 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. pj.:,^'^?/,": 

there was a whole band of a three or four thousand : but 
we were afterwards informed that it was not altog;ether so. 

At the place of the charge given bj-us, at the first, we there 
found our horses slain all gored and hewn, and our men so 
ruefully gashed and mangled, in the head especially, as not one 
could, by the face, be known who he was. 

Little Preston was found there with both his hands cut 
(•ff by the wreasts [ivyists] ; and known to be him, for that it 
was known he had on each arm a bracelet of gold : for the 
which they so chopped him. 

Edward Shelley, alas, that worthy gentleman and valiant 
Captain ! lay all pitifully disfigured and mangled among 
them; and nothing discernable but by his beard. Of whom, 
besides the properties of his person, for his wit, his good 
qualities, his activities in feats of war, and his perfect honest}', 
for the which he was, by all men of all estates, so much 
esteemed and so well beloved : and hereto, for that he was my 
so near friend, I had cause enough here, without parsimony 
to praise his life and lament his death, were it not that the 
same should be too great a digression, and too much inter- 
ruption of the matter. 

But touching the manner of his death, I think his merit 
too much, to let pass in silence : who not inferior, in 
fortitude of mind, either unto the Roman CuRTius* or the 
two Decii : he, being in this business, foremost of all our 
men against the enemy : considering with himself, that as 
his hardy charge upon them, was sure to be their terror, and 
very likely to turn to the breach of their order; and herewith 
also that the same should be great courage to his followers 
that came to give the charge with him ; and pondering again 
that his turning back at this point, should cause the contrary, 

'■■ As there fell su'Ulcnh' in Rome, a r:reat dmigcoii, and s\vali0\\ing of 
ground, CURTIUS, a Roman Gentleman, for the pleasing of the gods, and 
that the same might cease, mounted on his horse and leapt down into the 
same, which then after closed up again. VALERIUS I\L\XIMUS, //. vi. en. vi. 

Decius Mus and PuisLlus Uecius his son. Consuls of Rome, as they 
should fight, the father against the Latins, and the son after that against 
the Samnites ; and were warned, by dream, that those armies should 
have the victory, whose Captains were first slain in field : they both ran 
willingly into the hosts of their enemies. They were slain, and their 
armies wan the field. 

Plutarch, De Decio fre^ara!. xxxvii. Et Livius dc P. Decio li. .x. 
dec. i. 



^in'^t'™:] Edward Shelley, Lord Grey, i 29 

and be great danger of our confusion, was content, in his 
King's and country's quarrel, in hopes the rather to leave 
victory unto his countrymen, thus honourably to take death 
to himself. 

Whom, let no man think ! no foolish hardness or weari- 
ness of life drave unto so hard an enterprise, whose sober 
valiance of courage hath often otherwise, in the late wars 
with France, been sufficiently approved before ; and whose 
state of living, I myself knew to be such as lacked nothing 
that might pertain to perfect worldly wealth. 

I trust it shall not be taken that I mean, hereby, to 
derogate fame from any of the rest that died there, GOD 
have their souls ! who, I wot, bought the bargain as dear as 
he : but only to do that in me may lie, to make his name 
famous who, among these, in my opinion, towards his 
Prince and country, did best deserve. 

Nigh this place of onset, where the Scots, at their running 
away, had let fall their weapons, as I said : there found we, 
besides their common manner of armour, certain nice 
instruments of war, as we thought. They were new boards' 
ends cut off, being about a foot in breadth and half a yard in 
length : having on the inside, handles made very cunningly 
of two cords' ends. These, a GOD's name ! were their 
targets against the shot of our small artillery ; for they were 
not able to hold out a cannon. 

And with these, found we great rattles, swelling bigger 
than the belly of a pottle [half gallon] pot, covered with old 
parchment or double paper, small stones put in them to make 
a noise, and set upon the end of a staff of more than two ells 
long. And this was their fine device to fray [frighten] our 
horses, when our horsemen should come at them. Howbeit, 
because the riders were no babies, nor their horses any colts ; 
they could neither duddle the one, nor affray the other. So 
that this policy was as witless, as their power forceless. 

Among these weapons, and besides divers other banners, 
standards, and pennons, a banner of white sarsenet was 
found, under which, it was said these " Kirkmen " came. 
Whereon was painted a woman, with her hair about her 
shoulders, kneeling before a crucifix ; and on her right hand, 
a church : after that, written along upon the banner, in great 
Roman letters, 

£.\i.. G.iR. III. n 



130 TiiK Expedition into Scotland in 1547. py-r-.^": 

A F F L I C T .E S P O N S .'E, N E O B L I V I S C A R I S ! 

which words declared that they would have this woman to 
signify the Church, Christ's Spouse, thus, in humble wise, 
making her petition unto Christ her husband that He 
would not now forget her, His Spouse, being scourged and 
persecuted ; meaning, at this time, by us. 

It was said it was the Abbot of Dunfermline's banner : 
but whether it were his, or the Bishop of Dunkeld's, the 
Governor's brother (they, I understand, were both in the field) ; 
and what the number of these " kirkmen " was ; I could not 
certainly learn. But, sure[ly], it was some devout Papist's 
device, that not only, belike, would not endeavour to do 
ought for atonement and peacemaking between us; but, all 
contrariwise, brought forth his standard stoutly to fight in 
field himself against us, pretexing [prctcndini^] this his great 
ungodliness thus bent towards the maintenance of a naughty 
quarrel, with colour [pretext] of religion, to come in aid of 
Christ's Church. 

Which Church, to say truth, coming thus to battle full 
appointed with weapon, and guarded with such a sort 
[company] of deacons to fight; however in painting he had set 
her out, a man might well think that, in condition, he had 
rather framed her after a curst quean that would pluck her 
husband by the pate, except she had her will; than like a 
meek spouse that went about humbly by submission and 
prayer to desire her husband's help for redress of things 
amiss. 

Howbeit for saving upright the subtilty of this godly man's 
device, it is best we take what he meant the most likely, 
that is, the Church malignant and Congregation of the 
Wicked, whereunto that Antichrist, the Bishop of Rome, is 
y<ihii ca. 2. husband, whom Christ said, as a thief, comes never 
but to steal, slay, and destroy; and whose good son, this 
holy Prelate, in his thus coming to the field, with his 
AFFLICTS, now showed himself to be. 

There was upon this Fauxside Bray (as I have before said, 
p. 97) a little Castle or Pile, which was very busy all the 
time of the battle, as any of our men came nigh it, to shoot 
at thejn with such artillery as they had ; wliich was none 
other titan hand-guns and hackbuts, and of them not a dozen 



^kn'!"\"48:] 13.000 Scots killed in the battle. 131 

either. Little hurt did they : but as they saw their fellows 
in the field thus driven and beaten away before their faces; 
they plucked in their pieces, like a dog, his tail ; and couched 
themselves within all mute. But, by and by, the house 
was set on fire : and they, for their good will, burnt and 
smothered within. 

Thus, through the favour of GOD's bounty, by the valiance 
and policy of my Lord Protector's Grace, by the forward 
endeavour of all the nobles and council there besides; and 
by the willing diligence of every captain, ofilicer, and true 
subject else : we, most valiantly and honourably, wan the 
victory over our enemies. 

Of whom, thirteen thousand were slain thus in field, of 
which number, as we were certainly informed by sundry and 
the best of the prisoners then taken, beside the Earl of 
LoGHEN [Louden] were the Lord Fleming, the Master of 
Greym [Graham], the Master of Arskyn [Erskine],i[\Q Master 
Ogleby [? Oglcvy], the Master of Avondale, the Master of 
Rouen[ 1 Rowan]; and many others of noble birth among them. 

There were slain of Lairds, Laird's sons, and other gentle- 
men, above twenty-six hundred : five hundred were taken 
prisoners, whereof many were also gentlemen ; among whom 
were there of name, as I have before named, the Earl 
Huntley, Lord Chancellor of the Realm there, the Lord 
of Yester, Hobby Hambleton [Hamilton], Captain of 
Dunbar; the Master of Sampoole [Scmple], the Laird of 
Wemmis, and a brother of the Earl of Cassil[i]s. 

Two thousand, by lurking and lying as though they were 
dead, 'scaped away in the night, all maimed and hurt. 

Herewith wan we of their weapons and armour more than 
we would vouchsafe to give carriage for : and yet were there 
conveyed thence, by ship, into these parts, of jacks specially, 
and swords, above thirty thousand. 

This night, with great gladness, and thanksgiving to GOD 
(as good cause we had), v>e pitched our camp at Edgebuckling 
Bray [Brae], beside Pynkersclough [Pinkie Cleiigh] ; and a 
mile beyond the place we camped at before. 

About an hour after that, in some token, as I took it, of 
GOD's assent and applause showed to us touching this 
victory ; the heavens relented and poured down a great 
shower of rain that lasted well nigh an hour : not unlike and 



132 TiiK Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^j.;„'^";^',3: 

according;, as after our late sovereign Lord's conquest of 
Boulogne, plentiful showers did also then ensue. 

And as we were then a settling, and the tents a-setting 
up, among all things else commendahle in our whole journey, 
one thing seemed to me an intolerable disorder and abuse. 
That whereas always, both in all towns of war and in all 
camps of armies, quietness and stillness, without noise, is 
principally in the night, after the watch is set, observed (I 
need not reason why) : our Northern prickers, the Borderers, 
notwithstanding (with great enormity, as thought me, and 
not unlike, to be plain, a masterless hound howling in a 
highway, when he hath lost him he waited on) some 
" hoop "-ing, some whistling, and most with crying, "A 
Berwick ! a Berwick I " "A Fenwick ! A Fenwick 1 " "A 
Bulmer! a BuLMER ! " or so otherwise as their Captains' 
name were, never ceased these troublous and dangerous 
noises all the night long. 

They said they did it to find out their captains and 
fellows; but if the soldiers of other countries [counties] and 
shires had used the same manner, in that case, we should 
liaveofttimeshad the state of our camp more like the outrage 
of a dissolute hunting, than the quiet of a well ordered army. 
It is a feat of war, in mine opinion, that might right well be 
left. I could rehearse causes (but that I take it, they are 
better unspoken than uttered, unless the fault were sure to 
be amended) that might show they move always more peril 
to our army but in their one night's so doing, than they 
show good service, as some saj', in a whole voyage. 

And since it is my part to be plain in my process, I will be 
the bolder to show what further I noted and heard. Another 
manner have they among them, of wearing handkerchers 
rolled about their arms, and letters broidered upon their 
caps. They said themselves, the use thereof was that each 
of them might know his fellow, and thereby the sooner 
assemble or in need to aid one another, and such like 
respects. Howbeit there were of the army among us (some 
suspicious men, perchance) that thought they used them for 
collusion ; and rather because they might be known to the 
enemy as the enemy are known to them, for they have their 
marks too : and so, in conflict, either each to spare the 
oihcr, or gently each to take the other. 



^ja.w54sn The disorder of the Borderers. i_ 



Indeed men have been moved the rather to think so, 
because some of their crosses [i.e., the bad^e of the English 
army, a red cross on a ivhite [ground] were so narrow, and so 
singly [slightly] set on, that a puff of wind might have blown 
them from their breasts : and that they were found, right 
often, talking with the Scottish prickers within less than 
their gad's [spear's] length asunder ; and when they perceived 
they had been spied, they have begun to run at one another. 
But so apparently perlassent [i.e., in a make believe manner], 
as the lookers on resembled their chasing, like the running 
at base in an uplandish town, where the match is made for a 
quart of good ale : or like the play in Robin Cook's school ; 
where because the punies may learn, they strike few strokes, 
but by assent and appointment. 

I heard some men say, it did much augment their sus- 
picion that way, because, at the battle, they saw these 
prickers so badly demean themselves, more intending the 
taking of prisoners than the surety of victory: for while 
other men fought, they fell to their prey ; that as there were 
but few of them but brought home his prisoner, so were 
there many that had six or seven. 

Many men, yet I must confess, are not disposed always to 
say all of the best; but are more ready, haply, to find other 
men's faults than to amend their own. Howbeit, I think, 
sure^lyl, as for our prickers, if their faults had been fewer, 
their infamy had been less. Yet say I not this so much to 
dispraise them ; as a means for amendment. Their captains 
and gentlemen again, are men, for the most part, all of right 
honest service and approved prowess : and such, sure[ly], as 
for their well-doing, would become famous, if their soldiers 
were as toward as they themselves be forward. 

As things fell after in communication, one question among 
others arose, " Who killed the first man this day, in field ? " 
The glory v.'hereof one Jeronimo, an Italian, would fain have 
had : howbeit it was, after, well tried, that it was one Cuth- 
BEKT MusGRAVE, a gentleman of my Lord of Warwick's, 
who right hardily killed a gunner at his piece in the Scots' 
Forward, ere ever they began any whit to turn. The fact, 
for the forwardness, well deserving remembrance ; I thought 
it not meet to let it slip in silence. 

This night, the Scottish Governor, when he once thought 



134 TiiF. Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj^r'."^; 

himself in some safety, with all speed, caused the Earl 
BoTiiWELL to be let out of prison : wliich whether he did it 
for the doubt he had that we would have released him, 
" willed he, nilled he " ; or whether he would show himself 
fain to do somewhat before the people, to make some 
amends of his former fault, I do not know: but this, sureily], 
rather for some cause of fear than for any good will ; which 
was well apparent to all men, in that he kept the Earl so 
long before in hold, without any just cause. 

Sunday, [CT6^^r<g]N THE morning, a great sort [company] 
the nth of J2E ^y of us rode to the place of onset, where 
September. ^ ^3 our men lay slain : and, what by gentle- 
' ' men for their friends, and servants for 

their masters, all of them that were known to be ours were 
buried. 

In the meantime, the Master and Officers of the Ordnance, 
did very diligently get together all the Scottish ordnance : 
which, because it lay in sundry places, they could not in 
[bring in] all overnight. And these were in number, a thirty 
pieces: whereof one culverin, three sakers, and nine smaller 
pieces were of brass; and of iron, seventeen pieces more, 
mounted on carriages. 

These things thus done. Somewhat afore noon, our camp 
raised. We marched along the Frith side, straight towards 
Leith ; and approaching nigh the same about three o'clock 
in the afternoon, we pight [pitched] our field [i.e., the camp] 
a prick shot on this side the town, being on the south-east 
half, somewhat shadowed from Edinburgh by a hill [Calton 
Hill], but the most of it lying within the full sight and shot 
of the Castle there, and in distance somewhat above a 
quarter of a mile. 

My Lord's Grace, guarded but with a small company, was 
come to Leith well-nigh half an hour before the army; which 
he found all desolate of resistance, or anybody else. There 
were in the haven that runneth unto the midst of the town, 
a thirteen vessels of divers sorts. Somewhat of oade, 
wines, wainscot, and salt were found in the town : but as 
but little of that, so nothing else of value. For how much of 
other things as could well be carried, the inhabitants, over- 
night, had packed away with them. 



^an'!'''s48.] The Army ^r a r c ii e s to L e i t h. 135 



My Lord Marshal and most of our horsemen were bestowed 
and lodged in the town. My Lord's Grace, my Lord Lieu- 
tenant, and the rest of the army in the camp. 



Monday, 
the 12th (if 
September. 




His day, my Lord's Grace with the council 
and Sir Richard Lee, rode about the 
town, and to the plots and hillocks, on 
either side, nigh to it, to view and con- 



sider whether the same, by building, might be made tenable 
and defensible. 



Tuesday, 
the 1 3 /A 0/ 
September. 




Ertain of our small vessels burnt King- 
horn, and a town or two more standing on 
the north side of the Frith, againstLeith. 
In the afternoon, my Lord's Grace rowed 



up the Frith a six or seven miles westward, as it runneth into 
the land ; and took in his way an island there, called Saint 
Colms Ins [Inchcolm] which standeth a four mile beyond 
Leith, and a good way nearer the north shore than the south : 
yet not within a mile, of the nearest. It is but half a mile 
about ; and hath in it a pretty Abbey (but the monks were 
gone), fresh water enough, and also conies [rabbits] ; and is 
is so naturally strong as but by one way it can be entered. 

My Lord's Grace considering the plot whereof, did quickly 
cast to have it kept : whereby all traffic of merchandise, all 
commodities else coming by the Frith into their land ; and 
utterly the whole use of the Frith itself, with all the havens 
upon it, should quite be taken from them. 



Wednesday, 
the i^tli of 
Scptciiibcr 




His day; my Lord's Grace riding back 
again, eastward, to view divers things 
and places, took Dalkeith in his way ; 
where a house of George Douglas's 
doth stand: and coming somewhat near it, he sent Somerset 
his Herald with a trumpet before, to know "Who kept it; and 
whether the keepers would hold it, or yield it to his Grace?" 
Answer was made, that " there were a sixty persons within, 
whom their master, lying there the Saturday at night, after the 
battle, did will that they, the house, and all that was in it, 
should be at my Lord Grace's commandment and pleasure." 
Whereupon the chiefest came out ; and, in the name of 



136 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj:„;i-\';;g: 

all the rest, humbled himself unto my Lord's will ; profcrrini,' 
his Grace, in his master's name, divers fair f^oshawks ; the 
which my Lord's Grace (how nobly soever he listed to show 
mercy upon submission, yet uttering a more majesty of 
honour than to base [abase] his generosity to the reward of 
his enemy) did, but not contemptuously, refuse. 

So, without coming in, passed by; and rode to the place 
where the battle was begun to be struck : the which having 
a pretty while overseen, he returned by Musselburgh, and so 
along by the Frith ; diligently marking and noting things by 
the way. 

Many were the houses, gentlemen, and others that, as 
well in his return as in his going out, upon submission, his 
Grace received into his protection. 

This day, my Lord's Grace, as well for countenance [the 
appearance] of building as though he would tarry long; as 
also to keep our Pioneers somewhat in exercise (wh.om a little 
rest would soon make nought), caused along the east side of 
Leith, a great ditch and trench to be cast towards the Frith : 
the work whereof continued till the morning of our departing. 

Thursday, W^^Hlj^ Lord Clinton, High Admiral, as I said, 
the i^ih "ylgK/w W of the Fleet, taking with him the Galley, 
Scpteinber. y^^ ^ whereof one Broke is Captain, and four 

or live of our smaller vessels besides, all 

well appointed with munition and men, rowed up the Frith 
a ten mile westward, to an haven town standing on the south 
shore, called Blackness, whereat, towards the water side, is 
a castle of petty strength : as nigh whereunto as the depth of 
water there would suffer, the Scots, for safeguard, had laid 
the Mary Willoughby and the Anthony of Newcastle; two tall 
ships which, with extreme injury, they had stolen from us 
beforetime, when there was no war between us. With these, 
lay there also another large vessel, called by them the Basse, 
and a seven more ; whereof a part were laden with merchan- 
dise. 

My Lord Clinton and his company, with right hardy 
approach, after a great conflict betwixt the castle and our 
vessels, by fine [sheer] force, wan from them those three ships 
of name ; and burnt all the lesidue, before their faces, as 
they lay. 



Y;„I;'i54'8'.] Rescue of English ships at Blackxkss. 137 



Friday, 
the 16th of 
September. 




He Laird of Brunston'e], a Scottish gentle- 
man who came to my Lord's Grace from 
their Council, for cause of communication 

" belike, returned to them ; having with 



him NoRROY a Herald and King of Arms of ours : who found 
them with the old Queen [Mary of Lorraine], at Stirling, 
a town standing westward upon the Frith, a twenty [vr 
rather forty] mile beyond Edinburgh. 

Saturday, 
the lyth of 
September. 




HEREwasa fellowtaken inourcamp,whom 
the Scots called " English William." 
An Englishman indeed, that, before time, 
having done a robbery in Lincolnshire, 
did run away into Scotland ; and, at this time, coming out of 
Edinburgh Castle as a spy for the Scots, was spied himsell 
with the manner, and hanged for his meed in the best wise 
(because he well deserved) upon a new gibbet somewhat 
beside our camp, in the sight both of the town and castle. 
GOD have mercy on his soul ! 

There is no good logicioner [logician] but would think, I 
think, that a syllogism thus formed of such a thieving major, 
a runaway minor, and a traiterous consequent must needs 
prove, at the weakest, to such a hanging argument. 

Sir John Luttkel Knight, having by my Lord's Grace 
and the council, been elected Abbot, by GOD's suflerance, 
of the monastery of Saint Colms In [Inchcolm] afore re- 
membered ; in the afternoon of this day, departed towards the 
island to be stalled [installed] in his see there accordingly : 
and had with him a Convent of a hundred hackbutters and 
fifty pioneers to keep his house and land there ; and two 
row barks well furnished with munition, and seventy mariners 
for them, to keep his waters. Whereby it is thought, he shall 
soon become a Prelate of great power. The perfectness of 
his religion is not always to tarry at home; but sometimes 
to row out abroad on a Visitation : and when he goeth, I have 
heard say, he taketh always his Sumners in his bark with 
him ; which are very open mouthed, and never talk but they 
are heard a mile off. So that either for love of his blessings, 
or fear of his cursings, he is likely to be sovereign over most 
of his neighbours. 

My Lord's Grace, this day giving warning that our de- 



138 TiiK Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pjaii^'^S: 

paiture should be on the morrow, and minding before (with 
iccompence somewhat according), to reward one Barton, 
that had played an untrue part ; commanded, over night, 
that his house in Leith should be set afire. And as the same 
was done, the same night about five o'clock, many of our 
soldiers that were very forward in firing, fired, with all haste, 
all the town besides : but so far forth, as I ma}' think, 
without commission or knowledge of my Lord's Grace as that 
right many horses, both of his Grace's and of divers others, 
were in great danger ere they could be then quitted from out 
[^0/ quit] of the town. 

Six great ships lying in the haven there, that for age and 
decay were not so apt for use, were then also set afire ; which 
all the night did burn with a great flame very solemnly. 

In the time of our camping here, many Lairds and gentle- 
men of the country nigh there, come to my Lord to require 
his protection : the which his Grace did grant to whom he 
thought good. 

This day also, came the Earl of Bothwell to my Lord's 
Grace, a gentleman of a right comely port and stature ; and 
hereto, of right honourable and just meaning and dealing 
towards the King's Majesty : whom my Lord's Grace did 
therefore, according to his degree and demerits, very friendly 
welcome and entertain. Having supped, this night, with his 
Grace ; he, after, departed. 

There stood south-westward, about a quarter of a mile 
from our camp, a monastery they call Holy Rood Abbey. 
Sir Walter Bonham and Edward Chamberlain got license 
to suppress it. Whereupon these Commissioners making 
their first Visitation there, found the monks all gone : but the 
church and much [a great] part of the house well covered 
with lead. Soon after, they plucked off the lead ; and had 
down the bells, which were but two : and, according to the 
statute [i.e., the English Act of Parliament for the suppression of 
the Monasteries], did somewhat hereby disgrace the house. As 
touching the monks ; because they were gone, they put them 
to their pensions at large. 

Sunday, h'^ftSfc'Jj Y Lord's Grace, for considerations moving 

the iSth of iK^ i him to pity, having, all this while, spared 

September. iKw^y Edinburgh from hurt; did so leave it: 

' but, Leith and the ships still burning, 



^^^.^"48.1 The Army RETURNS Bv Lauderdale. 139 

soon after seven o'clock in this morning, caused the camp to 
dislodge. And as W2 were parted from where we la)-, the 
Castle shot off a peal (with chambers hardly and all) of a 
twenty-four pieces. 

We marched south-eastward from the Frith, into the land- 
ward. 

But part of us kept the way that the chief of the chase was 
continued in ; whereby we found most part of the dead 
corpses lying very ruefully, with the colour of their skins 
changed greenish about the place they had been smitten in, 
and as there too above ground unburied. Many also, we 
perceived to have been buried in Underesk churchyard ; the 
graves of whom, the Scots had, very slily for sight, covered 
again with green turf. By divers of these dead bodies were 
there set up a stick with a clout, with a rag, with an old 
shoe, or some other mark for knowledge : the which we 
understood to be marks made by the friends of the dead 
party, when they had found him ; whom then, since they 
durst not for fear or lack of leisure, convey away to bury 
while we were in those parts ; they had stickt [stuck] up a 
mark to find him the sooner when we were gone. 

And passing that day, all quietly, a seven mile ; we 
camped early, for that night, at Crainston [Cranstoun] by 
a place of the Lord of Ormiston. 

This morning, his Grace making Master Andrew Dudley 
(brother unto the Earl of Warwick) a knight, as his valiance, 
sundrywhere tried, had well before deserved it, despatched 
my Lord Admiral and him, with ships full fraught with men 
and munition, towards the winning of a Hold in the east side 
of Scotland, called Broughty Crak [Broughty Castle] which 
standeth in such sort at the mouth of the river Tay, that 
being gotten, both Dundee, Saint John's Town, and many 
towns else (the best of the country in those parts, set upon 
the Tay) shall either become subject unto this Hold or else 
be compelled to forego their whole use of the river from 
having anything thereby coming inward or outward. 

Monday, jK'^^/fJIE went a ten mile, and camped toward 

the igih of ayiH^ night, a little a this side a market town 

September. ^uAo called Lauder : at the which, as we had 

^ iwnyrtHfffl j ii^ijigg^j j^Q friendly entertainment, so had 

we no envious resistance : for there was nobody at home. 



i^o The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj;„r\"'^3" 

Here as our tents were a pitchin!::^, a dozen or twenty of 
tlieir hedge-creepers, horsemen that lay lurking thereby (like 
sheep-biter curs to snatch up, and it were but a sorry lamb 
for their pre}) upon a hill, about half a mile south-east from 
us, ran at, and hurt one of our men. 

For acquittal whereof, my Lord's Grace commanded that 
three or four houses, such as they were, standing also upon 
a hill two flight shot southward from our camp, should be 
burnt. Thomas Fisher, his Grace's Secretary, rode straight 
thither, with a burning brand in his one hand and his gun in 
the other, accompanied with no more but one of his own 
men, and fired them all by and by [at once], I noted it, for 
my part, an enterprise of a right good heart and courage : 
peradventure, so much the rather, because I would not ghidly 
liave taken in hand to have done it so myself; speciall}' since 
part of these prickers stood then within a flight shot of him. 
Howbeit, as in all this journey, upon any likelihood of 
business, I ever saw him right well appointed, and as 
forward as the best ; so at the skirmish which the Scots 
proffered at Hailes Castles on Wednesday the 7th of this 
month, afore written [p. 90], I saw none so near them as 
he. Whereby I may have good cause to be the less in doubt 
of his hardiness. 

Here also as we were settled, our Herald Norrov returned 
from the Scots Council, with the Laird of Brunston and 
Ross their Herald : who, upon their suit to my Lord's Grace, 
obtained that five of their Council should have his Grace's 
safe conduct that, at any time and place, within fifteen days, 
during our abode in their country or at Berwick, the same 
live might come and common [commune] with five of our 
Council touching the matters between us. 



Tuesday, ft oT^ *~^^^ ^^^ Herald departed early with this 
the 20th of \ ^^^ safe conduct. Our camp raised, and we 
September, j ^^jH' went that day a seven mile to as far as 
'- ^ ^ Home Castle : where we camped on the 
west side of a rocky hill that they call Harecra[ilg; which 
standeth about a mile westward from the castle [noiv called 
Hirsil]. 

The Lord Home, as I said, lay diseased [ill] at Edinburgh, 



^ja^.'s™;] Surrender of Home Castle at Hirsil. 141 

of his hurt in his flight, at the Friday's skirmish before the 
battle. The Lady his wife came straight to my Lord's 
Grace, making her humble suit that like as his goodness had 
graciously been shown to right many others, in receiving 
them and their houses into his Grace's protection and 
assurance ; even so that it would please him to receive and 
assure her and her house, the castle. 

My Lord's Grace minding never otherwise but to assure 
her she should be sure so to forego it, turned straight her 
suit of assurance into communication of rendering. For 
my part, I doubt not but the terror of extremity by their 
obstinacy, and the profit of friendship by their submission 
was sufficiently showed her. The which, having well, belike, 
considered ; she left off her suit, and desire respite for con- 
sultation till the next day at noon : which having been 
granted her, she returned to the castle. 

They say, "a match well made, is half won." We were 
half put in assurance of a toward answer bj- the promise of a 
prophecy among the Frenchmen, which saiih 

Chateau qui park, ct fciiiinc qui ecout 
L'un vcut rendrc, ct V autre, 

and so forth. 

There were certain hackbutters that, upon appointment 
before, had beset the castle : who then had further command- 
ment given them, that taking diligent heed none should pass 
in or out without my Lord's Grace's licence, they should 
also not occupy [use] any shot or annoyance till upon further 
warninsr. 



Vr'cdncsday, 
the 2ist of 
September. 




His lady, in this mean time, consulted 
with her son and heir, prisoner with us; 
and with other her friends, the keepers of 
the castle: and, at the time appointed, 
returned this day to my Lord's Grace, requiring first a longer 
respite till eight o'clock at night, and therewith safe conduct 
for Andrew Home her second son, and John Home, Lord 
of Coldam Knowes [? Coioden Kuowes] a kinsman of her hus- 
band. Captains of this castle, to come and speak with his 
Grace in the meanwhile. 

It was granted her, whereupon these Captains, about three 



142 Tiirc Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^^'^'."'g: 

o'clock, came to his Lordship; and, after other covenants, 
with h)n;^ debating, on both parts agreed upon ; she and these 
Captains concluded to give their assent to render the castle, 
so far forth as the rest of the keepers would therewith be 
content. For two or three within, said they, were also in 
charge as well as they in keeping it. For knowledge of 
whose minds, my Lord's Grace then sent Somerset his Herald, 
with this Lady to the castle to them : who, as the Herald had 
made them privy of the Articles, would fain have had leisure 
for twenty-four hours longer to send to their Lord to Pldin- 
burgh to know his will: but being wisely and sharply called 
upon by the Herald, they agreed to the covenants concluded 
on before by their Lady and the Captains. 

Whereof part were, as I saw by the sequel, that they should 
depart thence, the next day morning, by ten o'clock, with bag 
and as much baggage as they could carry; saving that all 
munition andvictail were to be left behind them in the castle. 

Howbeit forasmuch as before their nation Iiad not been 
altogether so just of covenant, whereby we might have cause 
then firmly to credit their promise : my Lord's grace (provi- 
ding each way to be ready for them) caused this night, eight 
pieces of our ordnance fenced with baskets of earth, to be 
planted on the south side, towards the castle within power 
[range] of battery; and the hackbutters to continue their 
watch and ward. 

Thui'sdav |01m"rafefl His morning, my Lord's Grace having 
the 22nd 'of,^ ^ deputed my Lord Grey to receive the ren- 
Sebtembcr. 1^ ^ dering of the castle, and Sir Edward 
■ [t^p^^ Dudley, after, to be Captainof the same; 
they both departed to it : and, at the time set, Andrew Home 
and four others of the chiefest there with him, came out ; and 
yielding the castle, delivered my Lord the keys. 

His Lordship causing the residue (who were in all seventy- 
eight in number], to come out then, saving six or seven to 
keep their baggage within) entered the same, with Master 
Dudley and divers other gentlemen with him. He found 
there indifferent good store of victual and wine : and of ord- 
nance, two bastard culverins, one saker, and three falconets 
of brass ; besides eight pieces of iron. The castle standeth 
up on a rocky crag, at a proud height over all the country 



^an^^'s48.] The F o r t I f I c AT I o n at RoxnuRGii. 143 

about it ; well nigh fenced in on every side by marshes; with 
thick walls, almost round in form ; and which is a rare thing 
upon so high and stony a ground, a fair well within it. 

The keeping of this castle, my Lord betaking to Master 
Dudley accordingly, returned to my Lord's Grace at the 
camp. 

Pridav W^K^M^ raised [the camp], and came this 
the 2^r'd of aViVM morning to Roxburgh, a three mile from 
Sebtanber ^AO Home. Our camp occupied a great fallow 
• I 'l^^^ l {^g](j between Roxburgh, and Kelsey 
[Kelso] which stood eastward a quarter of a mile off, a pretty 
market town, but they were all gone forth there. 

My Lord's Grace, with divers of the council, and Sir 
Richard Lee (whose charge in this expedition specially was 
to appoint the pioneers each where in work as [iclwrcvcr] he 
should think meet ; and then, where my Lord's Grace 
assigned, to devise the form of building for fortification : 
whom surely the goodness of his wit and his great experience 
hath made right excellent in that science) went straight to 
Roxburgh, to cast [plan] what might be done there for 
strengthening. 

The plot and site thereof hath been, in time past, a castle : 
and standeth [nboitt a mile from Kelso] naturally very strong, 
upon a hill east and west, of an eight score [= 160 yards] in 
length and three score [ = 60 yards] in breadth, drawing to 
narrowness at the east end : the whole ground whereof, the old 
walls do yet environ. Besides the height and hardness to 
come to, it is strongly fenced, on either side, with the course 
of two great rivers, Tweed on the north, and Teviot on the 
south : both of which joining somewhat nigh together at the 
west end of it. The Teviot, by a large compass about the 
fields we lay in, at Kelsey doth fall into this Tweed : which, 
with great depth and swiftness, runneth from thence eastward 
into the sea at Berwick ; and is notable and famous for two 
commodities [ejspecially, salmon and whetstones. 

Over this, betwixt Kelsey and Roxburgh, there hath been a 
great stone bridge with arches, the which the Scots, in time 
past, have all to broken ; because [in order that] we should not 
come that way to them. 

Soon after my Lord's Grace's survey of the plot and deter- 



I (4 TiiK ExncniTioN ixro ScoTLAxn in 1547. Pj'.;„'!'','! 



ten. 
548. 



mination to do as much indeed for making it defensible as the 
shortness of tiie time and the season of the year could suffer : 
which was that one great trench of twenty feet broad, with 
depth accordingly, and a wall of like breadth and height, 
should be made across within the castle from the one sidewall 
to the other, and a forty foot from the west end ; and that a 
like trench and wall should likewise be cast a travers, within 
about a quoit's cast from the east end. And hereto that the 
castle walls, on either side, where need was, should be mended 
with turf, and made with loopholes as well for shooting for- 
ward as for Hanking at hand. The work of which device did 
make that besides the safeguard of these trenches and walls, 
the keepers li;an-isonl should also be much fenced by both the 
end walls of the castle. 

The pioneers were set awork, and diligently applied in the 
same. 

This day, the Laird of Cesforth [Cessford^, and many other 
Lairds and gentlemen of Teviotdale and their Marches there, 
having come and communed with my Lord's Grace, made us 
an " assurance," which was a friendship and, as it were, a 
truce; for that daj', till next day at night. 

This day, in the mean while their assurance lasted, these 
Lairds and gentlemen aforesaid, being the chiefest of the 
whole Marches and Teviotdale, came in again : whom my 
Lord's Grace, with wisdom and policy, without any fighting 
or bloodshed, did win into the obedience of the King's 
Majesty ; for the which they did willingly then also receive 
an oatii. Whose names follow. 



Laif 



ds. 



'llic I.aird of Cesforth. 
■J lie Laird of Fernyliurst. 
'11)0 I.aird of Greenhead. 
Ihc Laird of HunthilL 
'llie Laird of Huntley. 
'1 he Laird of Markstone by 

Mercside. 
Tlie Laird of lirowniedworth. 
The Laird of Orniiston. 



The Laird of Mallestaiiies. 

[!iJti/frstitiiL-\. 
The Laird of Walmosey. 
The Laird of Liiitun. 
Tlie Laird of I'.dgcrston. 
The Laird of Marlon \^Mc>lo>i\. 
The Laird of .Moxve. 
The Laird of RiddcU. 
The Laird of Jieamcrside. 



w. 



'jan^''i"r3.] The building of Roxburgh Castle. 145 



Ge7itleme7i. 



George Tromeull [Turnhull]. 

joiix hollydurton. 

RODERT Car. 

Robert Car, of Greyden. 

Adah Kirton. 

Andrew Meyther. 

Saunders Spurvose, of Erleston. 

Mark Car, of Litleden. 

George Car, of Faldenside. 

Alexander Macdowell. 

Charles Rotiierford. 



Thoiias Car, of the Yare. 
John Car, of Meintliorn. 
Walter Halyburton. 
Richard Hanganside. 
Andrew Car. 
James Douglas, of Cavers. 
James Car, of Mersington. 
George Hoppringle. 
William Ormiston, of Eiidmer- 

den. 
John Grimslow. 



!\Ian3' more there were, there, besides ; whose names also for 
that they remain in register with these, I have thought the 
less necessary to write here. 

My Lord's Grace did tender so much the furtherance of 
this work in the Castle [of Roxburgh], that, this day, as every 
day else during our camping there, his Grace did not stick to 
digvy^ith a spade above two hours himself. Whereby, as his 
Estate, suretly] was no more embased \lowered.] than the 
majesty of great Alexander, what time he set, ccrtius hi. 
with his own hands, the poor cold soldier in his own "'"• 
chair of Estate, to relieve him by his fire : so, by the example 
hereof, was every man so moved, that there were but few of 
the Lords, Knights, and gentlemen in the field, but with spade, 
shovel, or mattock, did their parts therein right willingly and 
uncompelled. 



Sunday, 
the 25th of 
September. 




His da}', began the Scots to bring victail 
to our camp ; for the which they were so 
well entreated and paid, that, during the 
time we lay there, we wanted none of the 



commodities their country could minister. 



Monday, 
the 26 tk of 
Scp'.anber. 



O KOTAELE thing, but the continuance 
of our work at the Castle. For further- 
ance whereof, order was taken that the 
Captains of footmen, each after other, 
should send up his hundred soldiers thither to work an hour's 
space. 

E.\j. CAR. III. 10 




146 TlIK Exl'KDITION INTO ScOTI.AND IN 1 547- [^j 



AV. Patten, 
an. 1343. 



Tuesday, 

the 27th 0/ 
Scptcntbcy. 




He Laird of Coldam Knowes [Cowdcn 
Knoxvcs] not having so fully kept his 
appointment, made at Home Castle, 
touching his coming again to my Lord's 
Grace at Roxburgh; Sir Ralph Vane, with a two or three 
hundred horse, about three o'clock in this morning, was sent 
to his house for him : which was a seven mile from us. The 
which charge, ^Lister Vane did so earnestly apply, as he was 
there, with his number, before si.\. But the Laird, whether 
he was warned thereof by privy scout or spy or not, he passed 
by another way; and, soon after seven, was with my Lord's 
Grace in the camp. Master Vane was welcomed : and having 
no resistence made, but all submission, and profer of good 
cheer (for so had the Laird charged his wife to do) ; soon 
after, returned to the camp. 

This day, my Lord's Grace was certified by letter from my 
Lord's Clinton and Sir Andrew Dudley, that, on the 
Wednesday last, being the 21st of this month, after certain 
of their shot discharged against the Castle of Broughty Crak, 
the same was yielded unto them. The which, Sir Andrew 
did then enter; and, after, keep as Captain. 



Wednesday, 
ihe 2Slh of 
Scptciiibcr. 




Scottish Herald, accompanied with cer- 
tain Frenchmen (that were, perchance, 
more desirous to mark our army, than to 
wit [hnoic] of our welfare) came, and de- 
claredfromtheirCouncil,that, within a sevennight [week] after, 
their Commissioners, to whom my Lord's Grace had before 
granted his safe conduct, should come and commune with 
our Council at Berwick: \Miose coming mj- Lord Lieutenant, 
Master Treasurer, and the other of our Commissioners did, so 
long while, there abide. 

But these Scots (as men that are never so just, and in 
nothing so true as in breach of promise and using untruth) 
neither came, nor, belike, meant to come. And yet surejy], 
I take this for no fetch of a fine device: unless the}^ mean 
thereby to win that they shall never need, after, to promise : 
htE/,it:r. using the feat of Arnu-S : who with his alwa3-s 
Mom. swearing, and his ever lying, at last, obtained that 

his bare word was as much in credit as his solemn oath : but 
his solemn oath no more than an impudent lie. Hosvever since 



^ja^'^iMs:] Honours given to the Chivalry. 147 



I am certain that sundry of them have showed themselves 
right honest ; I would be loath hereto be counted so unadvised 
as to arret [impute] the faults of many to the infamy of all. 

It was said among us, tliey had in the meantime received 
letters of consolation, and many gay offers from the French 
King : yet had that been no cause to have broken promise 
with the Council of a realm. Howbeit, as these letters were 
to them but an unprofitable plaster to heal their hurt then ; 
so are they full likely, if they trust much therein to find them 
a corzey [corasive] that will fret them a new sore. 

My Lord's Grace considering that of virtue and well doing, 
the proper need is honour (as well therefore for reward to 
them that had afore done well, as for cause of encourageTment] 
to others, after, to do the like), did, this day afternoon, adorn 
many Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, with dignities, as follow. 
The names and promotions of whom, I have here set in order, 
as they were placed in the Heralds' book. 

Bannerets, 

Sir Ralph Sadler, Treasurer. 

Sir Francis Bvran, Captain of the Lij^'ht Horsemen. 
Sir Ralph Vane, Lieutenant of all the Horsemen. 
These Knights were made Bannerets : a dignity above a Knight, and 
next to a Baron : whose acts I have partly touched in the stoty before. 



Kjitghts. 



The Lord Grey, of Wilton ; High 

Marshal. 
The Lord EuwARD Sevmour, my 

Lord Grace's son. 
Of these, the readers shall also find 

before. 
The Lord Thomas Howard, 
The Lord Walldike. 
Sir Tho.mas Uacres. 
Sir Edward Hastings. 
Sir Edmund Bridges. 
Sir John THYNNE,my Lord Grace's 

Steward of his Household. 
Sir Wiles Partridge. 
Sir John Conway. 
Sir Giles Poole. 
Sir Ralph Bagnolle. 
Sir Oliver Lawrence. 



Sir Henry Gates. 

Sir Thomas Chaloner, one of the 
Clerks of the King's Majesty's 
Privy Council, and in this 
army, a5 I might call him. 
Chief Secretary ; who, with his 
great pains and expedite dili- 
gence in despatch of tilings 
passing from my Lord's Grace 
and the council there, did make 
that his merit was not with the 
meanest. 

Sir Francis Fle.mming, Master of 
the Ordnance there. A gentle- 
man whom long exercise and 
good observance hath made in 
that leaf right perfect : where- 
unto, in this N'oyage, he joined so 



148 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [ j 



fW. Palten. 
"an. 1543. 



much heed and diligence, as it 
was well found how much his 
service did stead. 

Sir John Gke-SILAM. 

Sir Wll.l.l.vM SKirwiTII. 

Sir John Buttes. 

Sir George Blage. 

Sir Wn,Li.\M Francis. 

Sir Francis Knowi.es. 

Sir WlT.T.IAM Thordorow. 

Sir George H.wvard. 

Sir James Wileord. 

Sir KALrii Coppinger. But that 
1 have written in the Story [/>. 
120], with what forward hard- 
ness Sir George IlAWARDdid 
bear the King's Majesty's 
Standard in the battle ; and 
there also of the industrious 
pain of Sir jAMES WiLFORD 
[p. 120] ; and Sir Ralph Cop- 
pinger did aid, not smally, in 
safeguard of tlic Standard of 
our Horsemen [/>. i iS] ; I have 
been more diligent to have re- 
hearsed it here. 



Sir Thomas Wentwortii. 

Sir John Marven. 

Sir Nicholas Straunge. 

Sir Chari.es SrURTON. 

Sir Hugh Ascue. 

Sir Francis Salmin. 

Sir Richard Townley. 

Sir ]\Iaeriaduke Constable. 

Sir George Audley. 

Sir John Holcroet. 

Sir John Southworth. 

Sir Thomas Dasdy. 

Sir John Talbot. 

Sir Rowland Clerk. 

Sir John Horsely. 

Sir John Forster. 

Sir Christopher Dies, 

Sir Peter Negroo. 

Sir ALONSO DE VlLLE. 

Sir Henry Hussey. 

Sir James Granado. 

Sir Walter Bonham. 

Sir RonERT Brandling,- Mayor 
of Newcastle, and made Knight 
there, at my Lord Grace's re- 
turn. 



Three 
Spatiiards. 



As it is not to be doubted but right many more in the 
army, besides these, did also well and valiantly quit them 
(although their preferment was rather then deferred than 
their deserts yet to be forgotten) ; even so, among these were 
there right many, the knowledge of whose acts and demerits 
1 could not come by : and yet would have no man any more 
to doubt of the worthiness of their advancement, than they 
are uncertain of his circumspection and wisdom, who pre- 
ferred them to it. \M;creupon, all men may safely th.us far 
forth, without offence, presume ; that his Grace un\vorlhily 
bestowed this honour on no man. 

By this day, as Ro.\burgh was sufficiently made tenable 
and defensible (the which my Lord's Grace seemed half to 
have vowed to see, before he would depart thence) his Grace 
and the council did'first determine that my Lord Grey should 
remain upon the Borders there, as the King's Majesty's 
Lieutenant. And then took order for the forts, that Sir 
Andrew Dudley, Captain of Broughty Crak, had left with 
him, two hundred soldiers of hackbutters and others, and a 



^ji.J;-'"^":] The Expedition from tue West Marches. 149 

sufficient number of pioneers for his works ; Sir Edward 
Dudley, Captain of Home Castle, sixty hackbutters, forty 
horsemen, and a hundred pioneers ; Sir Ralph Bulmer, 
Captain of Roxburgh, three hundred soldiers, of hackbutters 
and others, and two hundred pioneers. 

Thursday, l^raw^S thixgs were thus concluded: and 

the 29//: of m^S^ warning given overnight that our 

September, being ^^^^ camp should, this da\', dissolve : 

Michaelmas Day. ' ' every man fell to packing apace. 

My Lord's Grace, this morning, was passed over the Tweed 
here, soon after seven o'clock. The best place whereof for 
getting over (which was over against the west end of our 
camp, and not far from the broken arches of the broken 
bridge) was yet, with great stones in the bottom, so uneven 
of ground ; and by reason of rain that lately fell before, the 
water was so deep and the stream so swift ; that right many 
of our horsemen and footmen were greatly in peril at their 
passage, and one or two drowned. Many carriages also 
were overthrown, and in great danger of being lost. 

My Lord's Grace took his way straight towards Newcastle; 
and thence homeward. 

My Lord the Earl of Warwick, my Lord Grey, and Sir 
Ralph Sadler, with divers others, rode towards Berwick, 
to abide the coming of the Scottish Commissioners. 

In the mean time of tarrying there, my Lord of Warwick 
did make five knights : 

Sir Thomas Nevil, the Lord Nevil's brother. 

Sir Anthony Strelley. 

Sir — Verney. 

Sir John Bartevile, a Frenchman. 

And another. 
But the Scots (like men though slipper in covenant, yet 
constant in usage, and therefore less blushing to break 
promise than custom) came not at all. Whereupon my Lord 
and the other of our Commissioners having tarried for them 
the full time of appointment, which was until the 4th of 
October; the next day after, departed thence homeward. 



In part of the meantime, while my Lord's Grace was thus 



150 The ExriiDiTioN into Scotland in 1547. [^jan"!""": 

doing tlie exploits in Scotland, as I have before wiilten ; the 
I'^ail of LiNXOS Len\0\ , with my Lord \\'harton', Lord 
\\'arden of our West Marches against Scotland, according as 
his Grace had before taken order, with a number of five 
thousand, entered Scotland by the West Marches; and, first 
passing a two mile, after a day's and night's defence, they 
won tlie Church of Annan: a strong place, and very noisome 
always unto our men, as they passed that way. There they 
took seventy-two prisoners, the keepers of the same; burnt 
the spoil, for cumhev ciiciinibyaiicc] of carriage; and caused 
the Church to be blown [up] with powder. 

Passing thence, a sixteen mile within the land ; soon after, 
they won a Hold called the " Castle of Milk " : the which 
they left well furnished with munition and men, and so 
returned. 

Divers other notable acts they did, here left unwritten of 
by me, because unknown to me : but as much as I certainly 
heard of, I have thought meet to add hereunto ; because I 
may well count them as part of this Expedition and Voyage. 




15' 





%^ A PERORATION 
unto tl)c gentle iScaDev, toitl) a 
!3l)ort rel)eav0al of tlje 
action Done. 

Have thus absolved my book : but neither 
with such speed as, perchance, it had been the 
office of him that would take upon him to write 
of this matter ; nor as the dignity of the argu- 
ment required publication. 

For it may well be thought a man that 
had been forth in no part of the voyage, 
with mean diligence might, in this space, have learned and 
written as much by inquiry at home. And since the power 
of time is, in each case, so great as things indifferently good, 
by choice of opportunity, are made much commendable ; and 
again, by coming out of season may be much disgraced : 
right small then may I take my merit to be, that come now 
so intempestively [out of time] to tell that tale, whereof all 
men's ears are full of, a four months before. 

Yet for excuse of my slackness (as who would not be 
blameless ?), trusting that my plain confession may the rather 
move you to take things to the better, I have thought it best 
to render you the very cause thereof. 

Which is, that after I had somewhat entered into this 
business, and thereby was compelled to consider the precise 



152 Pi:roration to the gentle Reader, pj.;,^'',"""; 

observance of deeds, words, and, in a manner, gestures ; the 
diligent marking of the situation of towns, castles, and 
churches ; of the lying of the hills, plains, and fields; of the 
course of rivers, of respect of winds ; and of infinite such 
other things that ought first to have been made there wliile 
they were a doing, and while a man had been at them (the 
which indeed, I h:id not so perfectly written in my notes; 
therefore was driven to stress my memory the more for 
calling the same to mind again) : and, herewith, regarding 
the great heed that ought to be had in rehearsal of circum- 
stances, and in placing of things in writing, accordingly as 
they were done, seen, or heard — I found the enterprise a great 
deal more weighty than the slenderness of my wit was able 
quickly to pass with. 

Howbeit, when, upon deeper consideration, I pondered 
with myself what a thing it was to make any Monument in 
this so prosperous a commonalty ; whereof the Governors are 
so absolutely wise, and wherein an infinite number of men 
are so finely witted and so profoundedly learned beside : I 
indcArt. rather regarded the counsel of the wise poet Horace, 
^°'*' who wills a man to keep his writings in his hands nine 

years (meaning a good while for correction) than to have any 
haste of publication, whereby at once I should lose my liberty 
of amendment. Which liberty, though, after, I might have 
never so well, yet because it is nothing so commendable to 
mend a fault as to make no fault ; I would gladly before have 
had the leisure to look that the thing might have passed as 
faultless from me, as my diligence could have made it. 

And surely, had it not been more for answering the expec- 
tation of some men of honour (who knew I was in hand with 
the matter; and who else, peradventure, might have doubted 
my diligence) than it was for mine own desire to have my 
doings to come soon abroad : I would have taken a better 
breath, ere they had come out yet. 

But since the chance is cast, and the word thus uttered 
cannot be called again ; whereby I have jeoparded [jeopardize] 



Ti-i^^'sTs:] A SrECiAL Correspondent's troubles. 153 

with your three hours' reading, to make you Censor of my 
three months' writing : judge ye, I pray you! as ye may with 
favour ! and conster my meaning to the best ! 

I know my need is to pray much. For I am not so fooHsh 
as to think myself so wise, that with a text all faultless, I 
can drive forth so long a process. But as I, for the time, 
liave endeavoured to say, rather as well as I can, than as 
well as can be ; so shall there be, for me, liberty to all men to 
write what else they can utter, either further or better : which 
if they do, I shall, with all my heart, become then as benign 
a reader to them, as I would wish you now to be here to me. 

To the intent now I would quite [be quit] from the cumber 
of inquiry or question, such as, haply, would wit, "What a 
do I had in the army ? or how I had any knowledge of that 
I have written?" I have thought it courtesy, not to be dan- 
gerous to show, that it pleased my very good Lord, the Earl 
of WAiiwiCK, Lieutenant of the Host (who thereby had power 
to n>ake Officers), to make me one of the Judges of the Mar- 
shalsy [i.e., in connection wiili the High Marshal of the Army, 
Lord Grey], as Master William Cecil, now Master of the 
Requests [and afterwards Lord BuRGHLFA'] was the other. 
Wliereby, we both (not being bound so straightl)', in days of 
travel, to the order of march ; nor otherwhile, but when we 
sat in Court, to any great aftairs) had liberty to ride to see 
the things that were done, and leisure to note occurrences that 
came. The which thing, as it chanced, we both did : but so 
far from appointment between us, as neither was witing of 
the other's doing till somewhat before our departure home- 
vvard. Marry, since my coming home, indeed, his gentlenesE 
])eiiig such as to communicate his notes to me, I have, I 
confess, been thereby, both much a certained [confirmed] in 
many things I doubted, and somewhat remembered [put in 
viind] of that which else I might hap to have forgotten. 

But now, forasmuch, as it hath pleased the most benign 



154 Pkroration to the gentle Reauer. [^j^,!!!-'',"'?: 

goodness of GOD, so favourably to aid us in these our affairs, 
and so mucii to tender the equity of our cause, as by His 
Minister, and our Head in this journey, My Lord Protector's 
Grace, we have turned our enemy's intents for destruction of 
us, unto their own confusion. And, first, overturned of their 
Holds, Dunglas, Thornton, Anderwick, and Annan Church; 
overcome them, with half of their number of thirty-two thou- 
sand men; slain fifteen thousand three hundred; maimed two 
thousand ; taken fifteen hundred ; burnt Leith and Kinghorn, 
as we might also more of their towns, if our Chieftain had 
been as willing as our captains were ready ; won the best 
part of their navy, and burnt the residue ; won from them, 
and keep in the midst of their land. Saint Coomes Inn and 
Broughty Crak, and thereby, but by our leave, keep them 
from their whole intercourse of merchants; won also and 
keep the Castle of Milk and Home Castle ; won of ordnance, 
in their forts and at the field, above eighty pieces; built 
Roxburgh Castle and Eymouth ; and gained unto the King's 
Majesty's obedience, all Teviotdale and their Marches : all 
this, in so short a time, as within twenty-five days, with so 
small a loss of our side, as of under the number of sixty 
persons in all the whole Voyage; 

And that, in this, the first year of our King's Majesty's 
dominion and rule : whereby, according to his singular to- 
wardness, else evident, we may well conceive an assured hope 
that His Highness too, shall have a most happy, and, with 
GOD'S grace, a long reign — 

I would wish and exhort that ye which were not there 
(for though ye were far from any danger of the loss, yet can 
ye not be but full partners of the winning) should effec- 
tually, with us (according as we all have cause) give and wish, 
first, glory and praise unto GOD, obedience and victory to 
our Sovereign, honour and thanks unto our Protector and 
Councilors [i.e., the Privy Council], worship to our Chivalry, 
commendation unto the rest that were out, and a better mind 
unto our enemies. 



Tan^^";;s:] Te D E UM I laudamvs. 155 

And I, trusting unto the benignity of yourgentle acceptance, 
vvho[ever] shall hap to be reader of this work (with such in- 
differency of request touching the same, as Horace made to 
his well beloved friend Numitius) shall thus take my leave of 
you 

Vive ! Vale ! si quid novisti redins istis, Ejut. i. 

Candidus imperii, si 11011, his utcre mcctim. 

Out of the Parsonage of Saint Mary's Hill, in London, this 
28th of January, 1548. 





Mprtnted in Lo?idon^ the last day of 

yune.y in the second year of the 

reign of our Sovereig?t Lord^ 

King Edward the VI. ; 

by Richard Grafton^ 

Prifiter to his most 

royal Majesty. 

M. D. X L V I 1 I. 



C[ Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum. 



1^6 



Andrew Marvel l, M.P. 
The Garcle?i. 




I. 

Ow vainly, men themselves cimaze 
To win the Palm, the Oak, or Bajs ! 
And their incessant labours see 
Crowned from some sinp;le herb or tree ; 
Whose short and narrow-verged shade 
Does prudently their toils upbraid : 
While all flowers, and all trees do close 
To weave the Garlands of Repose. 

II. 
Fair Quiet ! Have I found thee here I 
And Innocence, thy sister dear ! 
Mistaken long, I sought you then 
In busy companies of men. 
Your sacred plants, if here below. 
Only among the plants will grow ! 
Society is all but rude. 
To this delicious solitude. 

III. 

No white, nor red was ever seen 
So am'rous as this lovely green. 
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, 
Cut in these trees their mistress' name. 



[M'tsccUanh'S. iC^i.] 



y 



lle^"] The Garden. 157 

Little, alas, they know or heed 
How far these beauties, hers exceed. 
Fair trees ! wheresoe'er your barks I wound, 
No name shall, but your own be found ! 



IV. 

When we have run our passions' heat, 
Love hither makes his best retreat. 
The gods, that mortal beauty chase, 
Still in a tree did end their race. 
Apollo hunted Daphne so, 
Only that she might laurel grow ; 
And Pan did, after Syrinx speed, 
Not as a nymph, but for a reed. 

V. 

What wondrous life is this, I lead ! 
Ripe apples drop about my head ! 
The luscious clusters of the vine, 
Upon my mouth do crush their wine ! 
The nectarine and curious peach. 
Into my hands, themselves do reach ! 
Stumbling on melons, as I pass ; 
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass ! 

VI. 

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, 

Withdraws into its happiness. 

The Mind, that Ocean ! where each hind, 

Does straight its own resemblance iind : 

Yet it creates, transcending these, 

Far other worlds, and other seas ! 

Annihilating all that's made. 

To a green Thought in a green Shade. 



158 T UK Garden. [t^^::^ 

VII. 
Here at the fountain's sliding foot, 
Or at some fruit tree's mossy root ; 
Casting the Body's vest aside, 
My Soul into tlie boughs does glide. 
There, like a bird, it sits and sings ; 
Then wiiets and combs its silver wings : 
And, till prepared for longer flight. 
Waves in its plumes, the various light. 

VIII. 
Such was that happy garden state, 
While Man there walked, without a Mate : 
After a place so pure and sweet, 
What other Help could yet he meet ? 
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share 
To wander solitary there. 
Two paradises 'twere in one, 
To live in Paradise alone. 

IX. 

How well the skilful gard'ner drew, 

Of flowers and herbs, this dial new ! 

Where from above, the milder sun 

Docs through a fragrant zodiac run: 

And as it works, the industrious bee 

Computes its time as well as we. 

How could such sweet and wholesome hours 

Be reckoned, but with herbs and flowers ? 



159 



The first Englishmen who reached 
India, overland. 

1583-1589 A.D. 

We liavc nliendy given at Vol. I.,/. 130, a letter dated Goa, the loth 
of November, 1579, from the first Knglishman, who is known to have 
reached India by the Cape of Good Hope : respecting whom, sec further 
at//. 165, 170, 179, 1S6, 190. 

Hereafter follow the narratives and letters of the first Englishmen who 
(Sir John IMandeville always excepted) are known to have reached 
India, overland ; via Aleppo, Bagdad, liv.ssorah, and Ormiis. 

They all relate to quite an organized expedition of English traders, 
who were sent by two of the merchant princes of London at that time, 
with the clear intention, that some of them at least should reach the far 
East, and open a direct trade between India and England. 

These various accounts give us a perfect picture of life in the East, in 
the reign of Oucen Elizabeth. 



J 



OHN iiLDRED'j 7tarrative. 



[Hakluyt's Foj'iz^vs, ii. 1595.I 




Departed out of London in the ship called the 
Tiger, in the company of Master John Newijery, 
Master Ralph Fitch and si.x or seven other honest 
merchants, on Shrove Alonda}- [12 February] 1583 ; 
and arrived at TripoHs of Syria, the ist day of 
May next ensuing. At our landing, we went a Maying upon 
St. George's Island, a place where Christians dying on board 
the ships [at that place], are wont to be buried. 

In this city, our English merchants have a Consul, and our 
nation abide together in one house with him, called Foiidcghi 
Ingles, built of stone, square in manner like a cloister ; and 
every man hath his several chamber: as is the use there of all 
other Christians, of several nations. 



i6o Ai.Ei'PO, THE Grkat Turk's great mart, [^-"i'^; 

This town standcth under a part of the mountain of 
Lebanon, two English miles from the port : on the side of 
which port, trending; in form of a half moon, stand five block- 
iiouscs or small forts, wherein is some very good artillery ; 
and the forts are kept with about a hundred Janissaries. 
Right before this town from the seaward is a bank of moving 
sand, which gathereth and increaseth with the western 
winds, in such sort, that, according to an old prophecy among 
them, this bank is likely to swallow up and overwhelm the 
town : for every )-ear it increaseth, and eateth up many 
gardens; altliough they use all policy to diminish the same, 
and to make it firm ground. 

The city is about the bigness of Bristol, and walled about ; 
though the walls be of no great force. The chief strength of 
the place is in the Citadel, which standeth on the south side, 
within the walls, and overlooketh the whole town. It is 
strongly kept with two hundred Janissaries, and good artillcr3\ 
A river passeth through the midst of the citj', wherewith they 
water their gardens and mulberry trees, on which there grov/ 
abundance of silk worms ; wherewith they make a very great 
quantity of very white silk, which is the chief natural com- 
modity to be found in and about this place. 

This road ihnvcn] is more frequented with Christian mer- 
chants, to wit, Venetians, Genoese, Florentines, Marscillians, 
Sicilians, Raguseans, and lately with Englishmen, than any 
other port of the Turk's dominions. 

From Tripolis, I departed, the 14th of May, with a caravan ; 
passing, in three days, over the ridge of Mount Lebanon. At 
the end whereof, we arrived in a city called Mammah; which 
standeth on a goodly plain, replenished with com and cotton 
wool [i.e., cotton in the pod}. On these mountains, grow a 
great quantity of gall trees, which are somewhat like our oaks, 
but lesser and more crooked. On the best tree, a man shall 
not find a pound's weight of galls. This town of Hammah is 
fallen, andfallethmoreandmoretodecay, andat this day [1583] 
there is scarce one half of the wall standing : which hath 
been very strong and fair. But because it cost many men's 
li\-es to win it, the Turk will not have it repaired ; and hath 
written, in Arabic, over the Castle gate, which standeth in the 
midst of the town, these words 



■'•,'^"'"'1 Floating down the Euphrates. t6i 

Cursed be the father and the son that shall lay 
their hands to the repairing hereof. 

Refreshing ourselves one day here, we passed foiward with 
camels, three days more, until we came to Aleppo: where we 
arrived the 2ist of May. This is the greatest place of traffic, 
for a dry town [i.e., an inland toion, not on a great river] that 
there is in all these parts. For hither resort Jews, Tartars, 
Persians, Armenians, Egyptians, Indians, and many other sorts 
of Christians ; and enjoy freedom of their consciences, and 
bring thither many kinds of rich merchandise. In the midst of 
this town also, standeth a goodly Castle, raised on high, with 
a garrison of four or five hundred Janissaries. Within four 
miles round about, are goodly gardens and vineyards and 
trees, which bear goodly fruit near unto the side of the river, 
which is but small. The walls are about three English miles 
in compass ; but the suburbs are almost as much more. The 
town is greatly peopled. 

We departed from thence, with our camels, on the 31st of 
May, with Master John Nevvbery and his company ; and 
came to Bir in three days, being a small town situated 
upon the river Euphrates; where it beginneth first to take 
that name, being here gathered into one channel ; whereas, 
before, it cometh down in manifold branches, and therefore is 
called by the people of thecountry by a name which signifieth 
"a thousand heads." Here are plenty of victuals, whereof 
we all furnished ourselves for a long journey down the afore- 
said river. And according to the manner of those that travel 
by water, we prepared a small bark for the conveyance of 
ourselves and our goods. These boats are fiat bottomed 
because the river is shallow in many places : and when 
men travel in the months of July, August, and September, 
the water being then at the lowest, they are constrained to 
carry with them a spare boat or two to lighten their own 
boats, if they chance to fall on the shoals. 

We were eight and twenty days upon the water, between 
Bir, and Felugia [Ff/iya], where we disembarked ourselves and 
our goods. Every night, after the sun had set ; we tied our bark 
to a stake, went on land to gather sticks, and set on our pot 
with rice or bruised wheat. Having supped, the merchants lay 

E\G. GAR. III. n 



i62 TiiK Akai;s on t 11 !■: E u i' ii r at i: s. [ 



I. F.lilred. 
1 'S»' 



aboard tlic bark ; and the mariners upon the sliore's side, as 
near as they can unto the same. In many places upon tlie 
river's side, we met with troops of Arabs, of whom we bou,t;ht 
milk, butter, eg,^;s, and lambs; and gave them in barter (for 
they care not for money), glasses, combs, coral, amber, to 
hang about their arms and necks; and for churned milk, we 
gave them bread, and pomegranate peels wherewith they use 
[are accmtomcd] to tan their goats' skins, with which they 
churn. Their hair, apparel, and colour are altogether like to 
those vagabond Egyptians [Gipsies] which heretofore have 
gone about in England. All their women, without exception, 
wear a great round ring in one of their nostrils, of gold, 
silver, or iron, according to their ability; and about their arms, 
and the smalls of their legs they have hoops of gold, silver, or 
iron. All of them, as well women and children as men, are 
very great swimmers ; and oftentimes swimming, they 
brought us milk to our bark, in vessels upon their heads. 
Those people are very thievish, which I proved to my cost ; 
for they stole a casket of mine, with things of good value in 
the same, from under my man's head as he was asleep : and 
therefore travellers keep good watch as they pass down the 
river. The Euphrates at Bir is about the breath of the 
Thames at Lambeth ; and, in some places narrower, in some 
broader, it runneth very swiftly, almost as fast as the river 
Trent. It hath divers sorts of fish in it ; but all are scaled, 
and some are as big as salmon, like barbel. 

We landed at Felugia, the 2Sth of June, where we made 
our abode for seven days, for lack of camels to carry our goods 
to Babylon [Bagdad]. The heat, at that time of the year, is 
such in those parts, that men are loath to let their camels 
travel. This Felugia is a village of some liundred houses, 
and a place appointed for the discharging of such goods as 
come down the river. The inhabitants are Arabs. Not find- 
ing camels here : we were constrained to unlade our goods, 
and hired a hundred asses to carry our English merchandise 
only to New Babylon over a short desert; in crossing whereof 
we spent eighteen hours, travelling by night and part of the 
morning, to avoid the great heat. 

In this place which we crossed over, stood the old mighty 
city of Bab_\'lon, many old ruins whereof are easily to be seen 
by daylight: which I, John Eldred, have often beheld at 



^■y^slt] Description of Bagdad, in 15S3 a.d. 16 



J 



my good leisure : having made three voyages between the 
new city of Bab}lon and Aleppo, over this desert. 

Here also are yet standing the ruins of the old Tower of 
Babel, which, being Upon a plain ground, seemeth afar off 
very great ; but the nearer you come to it, the lesser and lesser 
it appeareth. Sundry times I have gone thither to see it, 
and found the remnants yet standing, above a quarter of a 
mile in compass, and almost as high as the stone work of 
[Saint] Paul's steeple in London ; but it showeth much 
bigger. The bricks remaining of this most ancient monu- 
ment be half a yard thick, and three quarters of a yard long; 
being dried in the sun only : and between every course of 
bricks, there lieth a course of mats, made of canes, which re- 
main sound and not perished, as though they had been laid 
within one year. 

The city of New Babylon joineth upon the aforesaid small 
desert where the old city was ; and the river Tigris runneth 
close under the wall: so they may, if they will, open a sluice, 
and let the water of the same run round about the town. It 
is above two English miles in compass ; and the inhabitants 
generally speak three languages, to wit, the Persian, Arabian, 
and Turkish tongues. The people are of the Spaniards' com- 
plexion : and the women generally wear in one of the gristles 
of their noses, a ring like a wedding ring, but somewhat 
greater, with a pearl and a Turkish stone set therein ; and 
this they do, be they ever so poor. 

This is a place of very great traffic, and a very great 
thoroughfare from the East Indies to Aleppo. The town is 
very well furnished with victuals which come down the river 
Tigris from Mosul, which was called Nineveh in old time. 
They bring these victuals and divers sorts of merchandise 
upon rafts borne upon goats' skins blown up full of wind, in 
the manner of bladders : and when they have discharged 
their goods, they sell the rafts for fire [wood] ; let the wind out 
of their goat-skins, and carry them home again upon their 
asses by land, to make other voyages down the river. The 
building here is mostly of brick dried in the sun ; and very 
little or no stone is to be found. Their houses are all flat- 
roofed and low. They have no rain for eight months together, 
nay, hardly any clouds in the sk}', night nor day. Their 
winter is in November, December, January, and February; 



1 64 Down t ii r. T i c lu s to B r s s o r a ii. [^/'''l^t,'': 

wliich is as warm as our summer in England, in a manner. 
This I know by good experience, because mj' abode at several 
times, in the city of Babylon \Ba<^dail], hath been, at the 
least, the space of two years. As we come to the city, we 
pass over the river Tigris, on a great bridge, made with boats 
chained together with two mighty chains of iron. 



From thence we departed in flat-bottomed barks, stronger 
and greater than those of Euphrates, and were twenty-eight 
days also in passing down this river to Balsora \Ihissorah : 
but we might have done it in eighteen or less, if the water 
had been higher. 

Upon the water's side stand, by the way, divers towns 
much resembling the names of ihe old prophets. The first 
town they call Ozeah, and another Zecchiah. 

Before we come to Balsora, by one day's journey, the two 
rivers Tigris and Euphrates meet ; and there standeth a 
castle called Curna [Kurnah] kept by the Turks; where ail 
merchants pay a small custom. Here the two rivers, joined 
together, began to be eight or nine miles broad. Here also 
it beginneth to ebb and flow ; and the water overflowing, 
maketh the country all about very fertile of corn, rice, pulse, 
and dates. 

The town of Balsora is a mile and a half in circuit. All 
the buildings, castles, and walls are made of brick, dried in 
the sun. The Turk hath here five hundred Janissaries, 
besides other soldiers, continually in garrison and pay : but 
his chief strength is of galleys ; which are about twenty-five 
or thirty, very fair, and furnished with goodly ordnance. 

To this port of Balsora, come, monthi}', divers ships from 
Ormus, laden with all sorts of Indian merchandise, as spices, 
drugs, indico [indigo], and Calicut cloth. These ships are 
usually from forty to sixty tons, having their planks sown 
together with cord made of the bark of date trees, and in- 
stead of Occam [oaktim], they use the shiverings [shreds] of 
the bark of the said trees ; and of the same also they make 
their tackling. They have no kind of iron work belonging 
to these vessels, save only their anchors. 

From this place, six days' sailing down the Gulf, they go 
to a place called Bahrem [Bahrein], in the midway to Ormus. 



V''.'s9y Tracking back up the Tigris, to Bagdad. 165 

There, they fish for pearls four months in the year, to wit, 
June, July, August, and September. 

My abode in Balsora was just six months [August 1583- 
Fcbniaiy 1584], during which time, I received divers letters 
from Master John NEVVBERvfrom Ormus: who, as he passed 
that way, with Her Majesty's letters to Zdahdim [the glorious] 
Akbar, King of Cambaia, and unto the mighty Emperor of 
China, was there treacherously arrested, with all his company, 
by the Portuguese ; and afterwards sent prisoner to Goa : 
where, after a long and cruel imprisonment, he and his com- 
panions were delivered, upon sureties not to depart the town 
without leave, at the suit of one Father Thomas Stevens 
[See pp. 170, 179, 186, igo; and Vol. I. p. 130], an English 
"religious" man, whom they found there. 

But, shortly after, three of them escaped, whereof one, 
to wit, Master Ralph Fitch, is since come into England. 
The fourth, who was a painter, called John Story, became 
"religious" in the College of Saint Paul in Goa; as we 
understood by their letters. 

I and my companion William Shales, having despatched 
our business at Balsora, embarked ourselves in a company of 
seventy barks, all laden with merchandise ; every bark having 
fourteen men to draw them, like our Western bargemen on 
the Thames : and we were forty-four days coming up the 
stream to Babylon. Where arriving, and paying our custom, 
we, with all other sorts of merchants, bought us camels, 
hired us men to lade and drive them ; furnished ourselves 
with rice, butter, biscuit, honey made of dates, onions, and 
dates : and every merchant brought a proportion of live 
muttons [sheep], and hired certain shepherds to drive them 
with us. We also brought us tents to lie in, and to put our 
goods under. In this our caravan were four thousand 
camels laden with spices and other rich merchandise. These 
camels will live very well two or three daj'S without water. 
Their feeding is on thistles, wormwood, magdalene, and 
other strong weeds which they find upon the way. The 
government and deciding of all quarrels and duties to be 
paid, the whole caravan committeth to one special[ly] rich 



1 66 40 DAYS ACROSS TlIK DESERT TO Al-ErPO. ^ ?' '^j^i 

mercliant of the company ; of whose honesty they conceive 
best. 

In passing from Babylon to Aleppo, we spent forty days : 
travelling twenty or twenty-four miles a day, resting our- 
selves commonly from two o'clock in the afternoon until 
three in the morning, at which time we began to take our 
journey. 

Eight days' journey from Babylon towards Aleppo, near 
unto a town called Heit [Hit], as we cross the river 
Euphrates by boats, about three miles from the town, there 
is a valley where are many springs [i.e., of bitumen] throwing 
out abundantly, at great mouths, a kind of black substance 
like unto tar, which serveth all the country to make staunch 
their barks and boats. Every one of these springs maketh a 
noise like unto a smith's forge in the blowing and puffing out 
of this matter, which never ceaseth, day or night; and the 
noise may be heard a mile off continually. The vale 
swalloweth up all heavy things that come upon it. The 
people of the country call it, in their language, Babil 
Gehenham, that is to say, " Hell Door," 

As we passed through these deserts, we saw certain wild 
beasts, as, wild asses all white, roebucks, wolves, leopards, 
foxes, and many hares ; whereof we chased and killed many. 
Aborise, the King of the wandering Arabs in these deserts, 
hath a duty of 405.[=;ri2 now] sterling, upon every camel's 
load ; which he sendeth his officers to receive of the cara- 
vans : and, in consideration hereof, he taketh upon him to 
conduct the said caravans, if they need his help, and to 
defend them against certain prowling thieves, 

I and my companion William Shales came to Aleppo 
with the caravan, the nth of June, 1584; where we were 
joyfully received, twenty miles distant from the town, by 
Master William Barret, our Consul, accompanied with his 
people and Janissaries. Who fell sick immediately, and 
departed this life, within eight days after : and elected, before 
his death, Master Anthony I^ate, Consul of our English 
nation, in his place ; who laudably supplied the same room 
three years. 

In which mean time, I made two more voyages to Babylon, 
and returned, by the way aforesaid, over the deserts of Arabia. 



Feb.isss] Queen Elizabeth's letter to Emp. Akbar. 167 

And afterwards, as one desirous to see other parts of the 
country, I went from Aleppo to Antioch, which is thence 
sixty English miles ; and from thence, went down to Tripolis : 
where, going aboard a small vessel, I arrived at Joppa, and 
travelled to Rama, Lycia, Gaza, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, to 
the river Jordan, and the sea or lake of Sodom, and returned 
back to Joppa ; and from thence, by sea, to Tripolis. Of 
which places, because many others have published large dis- 
courses, I surcease to write. 

Within a few days after, embarking myself at Tripolis, the 
22nd of December [1587], I arrived, GOD be thanked! in safety 
here, in the river Thames, with divers English merchants, 
the 26th of March 1588, in the Hercules of London ; which 
was the richest ship of English merchants' goods, that ever 
was known to come into this realm. 

*# 

Ralph Fitch'j Voyage to the 
East Indies and back 1583— 1591, a.d. 

IVI T H 

John Newbery'j letters. 

At the expense of some little repetition, Fitch's Narrative is printed 
entire, until his departure from Goa : after which all descriptions of 
places, &c., are omitted, and simply an outline of his travels given. The 
several letters are inserted in this Narrative, under their respective dates. 

Queen £^Li2;ABETH'g letter to 
THE £^|wperor Akbar. 

February, 1583. 

LiZABETH, by the grace of GOD, &c., to the most in- 
vincible, and most mighty Prince, Lord Zclabdim 
[the glorious] Akbar, King of Cambaia, invincible 
Emperor, &c. 
The great affection which our subjects have to visit the 
most distant places of the world {not without good loill and 




i68 Tin; OLi:t:N's i.i;tti;r to I'^MiKkuR of China, [wi.ijsj- 

inicntion to introduce the trade of merchandise of all nations, 
whatsoever they can; by which means, the mutual and friendly 
traffic of merchandise, on both sides, may come) is the cause 
that the bearer of this letter, John Newbery, jointly with 
those that be in his company, with a courteous and honest 
baldness, doth repair to the borders and countries of your 
Empire. We doubt not that your Imperial Majesty, through 
your royal grace, will favourably and friendly accept him. 
A nd that you would do it rather for our sake, to nuikc us 
greatly beholding to your Majesty, we should more earnestly, 
and ivith more words require it, if we did think it need- 
ful : but, by the singular report that is of your Imperial 
Majesty's humanity in these tittcrmost parts of the world, we 
are greatly eased of that burden ; and therefore we use the 
fewer and less words. Only we request that because they 
are our subjects, they may be honestly intrcated [treated] 
and received : and that, in respect of the hard journey, 
which they have undertaken to places so far distant; it 
would please your Majesty, with some liberty and security 
of voyage to gratify it with such privileges as to you shall seem 
good. Which courtesy if your Imperial Majesty shall, to our ■ 
subjects, at our requests, perform ; We, according to our royal 
honour, will recompense thesamewith as many deserts as we can. 
And hereii'ith. We bid your Imperial Majesty farewell. 

Queen ELi2;ABETH'g letter to 
THE £^mperor of China. 

LrzABETH, by the grace of GOD, Queen of England, 

&c. lilost Imperial and invincible Prince ! Our 

honest subject, JOHN Newbery, the bringer hereof, 

who, with our favour, hath taken in hand the voyage 

which now he pursueth to the parts and countries of your 

Empire; not trusting upon any other ground than upon the 

favour of your Imperial clemency and humanity, is moved to 

undertake a thing of so much difficulty, being persuaded that 

he having entered on so many perils, your Majesty xaill not 

dislike the same : especially if it may appear that it be not 

damageable unto your Royal Majesty ; and that to your 




?592'.] Nkwkery and Fitch start for the East. 169 



R. Fitch 



people it will bi'iiifr some profit. Of both which thinf^s he, 
not donhtiuf^, with more willing mind, hath prepared himself 
for his destiiiatcd voyage, unto us well liked of. 

For, by this means, we perceive that the profit, which, by 
the mutual trade, on both sides, all the princes, our neighbours 
in the West, do receive, your Imperial Majesty and those that 
be subject under your dominion, to their great joy and benefit, 
shall have the same : which consistcth in the transporting out- 
ward of such things, whereof we have plenty ; and in bringing 
in such things as zee stand in need of. It cannot otherwise be, 
but that, seeing we are born and made to have need one of 
another, and that we are bound to aid one another ; but that 
your Imperial Majesty will well like of it, and by your 
subjects with like endeavour will be accepted. 

For the increase whereof, if your Imperial Majesty shall 
add the security of passage, with other privileges most 
necessary to use the trade xvith your men, your Majesty shall 
do that wliich bclongeth to a most honourable and liberal 
Prince ; and deserve so much of Us, as by no continuance or 
length of time shall be forgotten. 

Which request of ours. We do most instantly desire to be 
taken in good part of your Majesty ; and so great a bcncj'it 
towards Us and our men. We shall endeavour, by diligence, to 
requite, when time shall serve thereunto. 

The God Almighty long preserve your Imperial Majesty ! 

N THE year of our Lord 1583, I, Ralph Fitch, of 
London, merchant (being desirous to see the 
countries of the East India), in the company of 
Master John Newbery, merchant, who had been 
at Ormus once before,* of William Leedes, 
jeweller, and James Story, painter — being chiefly set forth 
by the Right Worshipful Sir Edward Osborne, knight, and 
Master Richard Stapers, citizens and merchants of London 
—did ship myself in a ship of London, called the Tiger, 
wherein we went for Tripolis in Syria. 

And from thence, we took the way for Aleppo ; which we 
went in seven days with the caravan. 

■'■ Evidently Newberv first went out in the Bark Rcynohh in 1580 or 
1581 ; see/. 172. E.A. 



MMMy 




lyj J. Newiucrv's i.imicR to R. Hakluvt. [iiJ:;!:^'^!;; 

jVlAgTER JOHJM KeWBERY, FROJVl 

Aleppo, 2Sth JVIay, 15S3, to JVIa^ter 

F(lCHARD HaKLUYT OF OxFORD. 

Right well beloved, & my assured good friend, 

Heartily commend me unto you, hoping of your 

good health, &c. After we set sail from Gravesend, 

which was the 13th of February [15S3] last, we 

remained on the coast till the nth day of March, 

and that day we set sail from Falmouth, and never 

anchored till we arrived in the road of Tripolis in Syria, 

which was the last day of April last past ; where we 

stayed fourteen days. And the 20th of this present, we 

came hither to Aleppo; and, with GOD's help, within 

five or six days, go from hence towards the Indies. 

Since my coming to Tripolis, I have made very earnest 
inquiry, both there and here, for the book of Cosino- 
i^i'dphy of Abulfida Ismael ; but, by no means, can 
hear of it. Some say that possibly it may be had in 
Persia, but notwithstanding I will not fail to make in- 
quiry for it, both in Babylon and in Balsora ; and if I 
can find it in any of these places, I will send it you from 
thence. 

The letter which you delivered me for to copy out, 
that came from Master Thomas Stevens in Goa [Doubt- 
less the identical one we have printed in Vol. I. p. 130. 
Stevens arrived at Goa on the 4th November, 157c, idem 
p. 136], as also the note you gave me of Francis Fer- 
nandez the Portuguese ; I brought thence with me, 
among other writings, unawares. The which I have sent 
you here inclosed. 

Here is great preparation for the wars in Persia ; 
and from thence is gone the Pasha of a town named 
Rahemet, and, shortly after, goeth the Pasha of Tripolis 
and the Pasha of Damascus : but they have not with 
them all, above six thousand men from hence. They go 
to a town called Asmerome [ 1 Erzroum], which is three 
days' journey from Trebizond ; where they shall meet 
with divers captains and soldiers that come from Con- 



/gM^^^jg^:] His letter from Ai.i:rro, to L. Pooke. 171 

stantinople and other places thereabout : and then ^o 
all together into Persia. 

This year, many men go to the wars ; and so hath 
there every year since the beginning thereof, which is 
eight years or thereabouts: but very few of them return 
again. Notwithstanding, they get of the Persians; and 
make castles and holds in their country. 

I pray you ! make my hearty commendations to Master 
Peter Guillame, Master Philip Jones, and to Master 
Walter Warner, and to all the rest of our friends. 
Master Fitch hath him heartily commended unto you. 
So I commit you to the tuition of the Almighty, who 
bless and keep you ! and send us a joyful meeting! 

From Aleppo, the 28th of May, i5«S3. 

Your loving friend to command, in all that I may, 

John Newbery. 

JVIa^ter John Kewbery, fro)\i 
Aleppo, 29th JVIay, 15S3, to jVly\gTER 

J^EONARD POORE OF L(0ND0N. 

Right well beloved, 

Y hearty commendations unto you, and the rest of 
my friends remembered. 

My last, I sent you, was the 25th of February 
[1583] last, from Deal, out of the Downs. After which 
time, with contrary winds, we remained upon our own 
coast until the nth day of March : and then we set sail 
from Falmouth, and the 13th day, the wind came con- 
trary with a very great storm, which continued eight 
days ; and in this great storm we had some of our goods 
wet, but, GOD be thanked ! no great hurt done. 

After which time, we sailed with a fair wind within 
the Straits [of Gibralterl, and so remained at sea, and 
anchored at no place until our coming into the road of 
Tripolis in Syria; which was the last day of April [1583]. 
This was a very good passage. GOD make us thankful 
for it 1 

The 14th day of this present, we came from Tripolis, 
and the 20th day, arrived here at Aleppo ; and, with the 




\-]2 TiiK /v/-: y.vo/.ns & £.u.i.\r/:/ , at Tripolis. [4'May^5?i: 

liclp of GOD, to-monow or next day, we begin our 
voyajje towards Babylon and Balsora, and so into India. 
Our friend Master Bakkut hatli him commended to 
you : who hath sent you, in the Emanuel, a ball of nut- 
megs for the small trilles you sent him ; which I hope, 
long since, you have received. 

Also he hath, by his letter, certified you in what 
order he sold those things : whereof I can say nothing, 
because I have not seen the account thereof, neither 
ha\e demanded it : for ever since our coming here, he 
hath been still busy about the despatch of the ship i.e., 
the Tiger back to Eiif^land], and our voyage ; and I, like- 
wise, in buying of things here to carry to Balsora and 
the Indies. 

We have bought in currall [? coral] for twelve hundred 
and odd ducats [at 6 larincs (p. 184), i.e., 6s. each — £^60 
theii=about £2,160 nou'] and ambergreese for four hun- 
dred ducats L = ;fi20 thcn-=abont ;£"720 noiti], and some 
soap, and broken glass, with other small trifles : all 
which things I hope will serve very well for those places 
we shall go unto. 

All the rest of the account of the bark Reynolds was 
sent home in the Emanuel ; which was 3,600 ducats 
which is ;f200 more than it was rated [at]. For Master 
Staper rated it but [atl £1,100, and it is ;f 1,300 : so that 
our part is £200; besides such profit, as it shall please 
GOD to send thereof. Wherefore you shall do well, to 
speak to Master Staper for the account. 

And if you would content yourself to travel for three or 
four years, I would wish you to come hither ; or to go to 
Cairo, if any go thither. For we doubt not, if you remained 
there but three or four months, you will like so well of 
the place, that I think you would not desire to return 
again in three or four years. And, if it should be my 
chance to remain in any place out of England, I would 
choose this before all other that I know. My reason is, 
the place is healthful and pleasant, and the gains very 
good ; and, no doubt, the profit will be hereafter better, 
things being used in good order : for there should come 
in every ship the fourth part of her cargason \car^o] in 
money ; which would help to put away our commodities 



^j™^ ] From A l e r r o to B u s s o r a ii. 173 

at a very good price. Also, to have two very good ships 
to come together, would do very well : for, in so doing, 
the danger of the voyage might be accounted as little as 
from London to Antwerp. 

Master Giles Poktek and Master Edmund Porter 
went from Tripolis in a small bark, to Jaffa, the same 
day that we came from thence ; which was the 14th day 
of this present : so that, no doubt, but, long since, they 
are in Jerusalem. GOD send them and us safe return 1 

At this instant, I have received the account of Master 
Barret, and the rest of the rings, with 22 ducats, 2 
medins [at 40 mcdiiis the ducat of 6s. = £6 12s. ^d. ihcn=: 
about ^40 now], in ready money. So there is nothing 
remaining in his hands but a few books. With Thomas 
BosTOCK, I left certain small trifles ; which, I pray you, 
demand ! 

And so, once again, with m}' hearty commendations, 
I commit you to the tuition of the Almighty, who always 
preserve us 1 From Aleppo, the 2gth of May, 15S3. 
Yours assured, 

John N e w e e r y. 

Being in Aleppo, and finding good company : we went from 
thence to Bir, which is two days and a half travel with 
camels. 

Bir is a little town, but very plentiful of victuals : and 
near to the wall of the town, runneth the river Euphrates. 
Here we bought a boat : and agreed with a master and barge- 
men to go to Babylon. These boats be but for one vojage : 
for the stream doth run so fast downwards that they cannot 
return. They carry you to a town which they call Felugia, 
and there you sell the boat for a little money. That which 
cost you fifty at Bir, you sell there for seven or eight. 

From Bir to Felugia is sixteen days' journey. It is not 
good that one boat go alone : for if it should chance to break, 
you would have much ado to save your goods from the Arabs, 
which be always thereabouts robbing. In the night, when 
3-our boats be made fast, it is necessary that you keep good 
watch : for the Arabs that be thieves, will come swimming, 
and steal your goods, and flee away : against which a gun is 
very good, for they do fear it very much. 



\y.\ Lr.TTKR KROiM IjACnAD, TO L. POORK. [ J^ J'^.ly'lss'^j: 

In the river Euphrates, from Bir to Felugia, there be 
certain places where you custom (so many niedins for a 
Sonic or camel's lading;;; and certain raisins and soap) which 
are for the sons of Aboi^ise, who is Lord of the Arabs and all 
that great desert, and hath some villages upon the river. 
Felugia, where you unlade your goods which come from 
I5ir, is a little village, from whence you go to Babylon in 
a day. 

Babylon [Bagdad] is a town not very gfeat, but very popu- 
lous, and of great traffic of strangers ; for it is the way to 
Persia, Turkia [Tiirkcstan\ and Arabia ; and from thence, do 
go caravans for these and other places. Here is great store 
of victuals, which come from Armenia down the river of 
Tigris. 

Babylon, in times past, did belong to the Kingdom of 
Persia : but now is subject to the Turk. Over against 
Babylon, there is a fair village ; from whence you pass to 
Babylon, along a bridge made of boats, and tied to a great 
chain of iron : which is made fast on either side of the river. 
When any boats are to pass up or down the river, they take 
away certain of the boats until they be past. 

When there is great store of water in the Tigris, you may 
go from Babylon to Balsora, in eight or nine days. If there 
be small store, it will cost you the more days. 

fA A ^ T E R KeWBERY, FROM BaQDAD, 

3 0TH July, 15S3, to JvIa^ter 

L(EONARD POORE, OF JL,ONDON. 

Y LAST, I sent you, was the 2gth of May [1583] last 
past, from Aleppo, by Georqe Gill, the Purser of 
the Tiger, 
The last day of the same month, we came from 
thence; and arrived at Felugia, the 19th of June, which 
Felugia is one day's journey from hence. Notwith- 
standing some of our own company came not hither 
till the last day of the month ; which was for want of 
camels to carry our goods. For, at this time of the year, 
by reason of the great heat that is here, camels are very 
scant to be gotten. 




^^f^.'sfz'.] From Bussoraii to O 

And since our coming hither, we have found very 
small sales ; but divers say, that in winter, our com- 
modities will be very well sold. I pray GOD ! their 
words may prove true. I think cloth, kerseys, and tin 
have never been here at so low prices as they are now. 
Notwithstanding, if I had here so much ready money as 
the commodities are worth, I would not doubt to make 
a very good profit of this voyage hither, and to Balsora. 
By GOD's help, there will be reasonable profit made of 
the voyage; but, with half money and half commodities, 
may be bought here the best sort of spices and other 
commodities that are brought from the Indies ; and 
without money there is here, at this instant, small good 
to be done. 

With GOD's help, two days' hence, I mind to go 
from hence to Balsora ; and from thence, of force, I 
must go to Ormus, for want of a man that speaketh the 
Indian tongue. 

At my being in Aleppo, I hired two Nazaranies 
[? Ncstorians], and one of them hath been twice in the 
Indies, and hath the language very well : but he is a 
verj' lewd fellow, and therefore I will not take him with 
me. From Babylon [Bafi;dad] the 20th day of July, 15S3. 

Yours, 

John N e w b e r y. 

Balsora, in times past, was under the Arabs, but now is 
subject to the Turk. Some of them, the Turk cannot 
subdue : for they hold certain islands in the river Euphrates 
which the Turk cannot win of them. They be thieves, and 
have no settled dwelling : but remove from place to place, 
with their camels, goats, and horses ; wives and children and 
all. They have large blue gowns ; their wives' ears and 
noses are ringed very full of rings of copper and silver, and 
they wear rings of copper about their legs. 

Balsora standeth near the Gulf of Persia, and is a town of 
great trade for spices and drugs, which come from Ormus. 
Also there is great store of wheat, rice, and dates growing 
thereabouts; wherewith they serve Babylon and all the 
country, Ormus, and all the parts of India. 

I went from Balsora to Ormus, down the Gulf of Persia, 



];G L 1 : i' t i: r v r o m O li m f s , t d J . E [ , i^ r r, n. [/,■ J^,'" ';^?:: 



i:i a certain sliip made of boards, and sown toj:;etlicr with 
ciiiio, which is thread made of the husk of cocoa [nuts ; 
and certain canes or straw leaves sown upon the seams of 
the boards, which is the cause that they leak very much. 
And so having Persia always on the left hand, and the coast 
of Arabia on the right hand, we passed many islands: and 
among others, the famous island Baharem [Bahrein], whence 
come the best pearls; which be round and orient. 

Ormus is an island about twenty-five or thirty miles in 
circuit, and is the driest island in the world : for there is 
nothing growing in it, but only salt. For their water, wood, or 
victuals, and all things necessary, come out of Persia; which 
is about twelve miles from thence. All the islands there- 
about be very fruitful ; from whence all kinds of victuals are 
sent into Ormus. The Portuguese have a Castle here which 
standeth near unto the sea : wherein there is a Captain for 
the King of Portugal, having, under him, a convenient 
number of soldiers ; whereof some part remain in the Castle, 
and some in the town. 

In this town, are merchants of all nations, and many 
Moors and Gentiles. Here is very great trade of all sorts of 
spices, drugs, silk, cloth of silk, fine tapestry of Persia ; great 
store of pearls which come from the isle of Baharem and are 
the best pearls of all others ; and many horses of Persia, 
which serve all India. They have a Moor to their King, 
who is chosen and governed by the Portuguese. 

Here, very shortly after our arrival, we were put in prison, 
and had part of our goods taken from us by the Captain of tiie 
Castle, whose name was Don Matthias ve Albuqukkque. 
[See pp. 183, 189, 319, 331, 460.J 

John Kewbery, frojvi Oaf^u?, 2137 

3ePTEMBER, 158 3, TO J. £^LDRED AJND 
W. 3hALEP at BuppORAH. 

Right WELL beloved, & my assured good friends. 
Heartily commend me unto 3-ou ! hoping of your 
good health, &c. To certify of my voyage, after I 
departed from you, time will not permit : but the 
4th of this present we arrived here, and the loth, 




si's^ptT'^i?-:] Neweery's letters from Ormus prisox. J 77 

I with the rest, were committed to prison ; and about 
the n-'iddle of the next month, the Captain will send us all 
in his ship for Goa. 

The caus2 why we are taken, as they say, is that I 
brought letters from Don Antonio [who was living in 
England ivhcn the luritcr left] : but the truth is, Michael 
Stropene was the only cause ; upon letters that his 
brother wrote to him from Aleppo. 

GOD knoweth how we shall bs dealt withal in Goa ! 
and therefore if you can procure our masters [Sir 
Edward Osborne and Master Stapers] to send the 
King of Spain's letters for our releasement, you should 
do us great good : for they cannot with justice, put us 
to death. It may be that they will cut our throats, or 
keep us long in prison. GOD's will be done ! 

All those commodities that I brought liither, had been 
very well sold ; if this trouble had not chance. 

You shall do well to send with all speed a messenger, 
by land, from Balsora to Aleppo, to certify this mis- 
chance ; although it cost thirty or forty crowns [^=£9 
to £12 then=about £54 to £^2 now] that we may be the 
sooner released; and I shall be the better able to recover 
this again, which is now likely to be lost. 

I pray you make my hearty commendations, &c. 

From out of the Prison in Ormus, this 21st [day] of 
September, 15S3. 

John Kewbery, frojvI Ormu^, 24th 
September, 15s 3, to J. £^ldred and 

W. $HALEg AT BU^PORAH. 

He bark of the Jews is arrived here, two days past; 
by whom I know you did write : but j'our letters 
are not likely to come to my hands. 

This bringer hath showed me here very great 
courtesy ; wherefore, I pray you, show him what favour 
you may ! 

About the middle of next month, I think we shall 
depart from hence. GOD be our guide ! 

I think Andrew will go by land to Aleppo; wherein, 

EXG. Gar. III. I_j 




178 Sailing from O k m u s to G o a . l^\ ^lf^:_ 

I pray you, furtlicr liim what you may ! but if he should 
not go; then, I pray you, despatch away a messenger 
with as much speed as possibly you may. 

I can say no more; but do for me, as you would I 
should do for 50U, in the like cause ! And so with my 
very hearty commendations, &c. 

From out of the prison in Ormus, this 24th day of 
September, 

Yours, 

John Newdery. 

From Ormus, the nth of October, the Captain shipped us 
for Goa, unto the Viceroy; who, at that time, was Don 
Francesco de jMascharexhas. The ship wherein we were 
embarked for Goa, belonged to the Captain ; and carried 124 
horses in it. All merchandi:e carried to Goa in a ship 
wherein there are horses, pay no customs at Goa. The horses 
pay customs, the goods pay nothing : but if you come in a 
ship which bringeth no horses, you are then to pay eight in 
the hundred for your goods. 

The first city of India that, after we had passed the coast 
of Sind, we arrived at, upon the 5th of November, is called 
Diu : which standeth on an island, in the kingdom of Cam- 
baia, and is the strongest town that the Portuguese have in 
those parts. It is very little, but well stored with mer- 
chandise ; for here, they lade many great ships with divers 
commodities for the Straits of Mecca [the Red Sea], for Ormus, 
and other places : and these be shipped of the Moors and 
Christians; but the Moors cannot pass, except they have a 
passport from the Portuguese. 

Going from Uiu, we came to Daman, the second town of 
the Portuguese in the country of Cambaia; which is distant 
from Diu, forty leagues. Here is no trade but of corn and 
rice. They have many villages under them, which they 
quietly possess in time of peace ; but in time of war, the 
enemy is master of them. 

From thence, we passed by Basaim, and from Basaim to 
Tana. At both of which places, there is a small trade, but 
only of corn and rice. 

The loth of November, we arrived at Chaul ; which standeth 
in the firm land. There be two towns ; the one belonging 



^■/i'sS;] Imprisoned, and charged as spies. 179 

to tlie Portuguese, and the other to the Moors. That of the 
Portuguese is nearest to tlie sea, and commandeth the bay. 
It is walled round about. Here is great traffic for all sorts 
of spices and drugs, silk and cloth of silk, sandals, elephants' 
teeth [iiislis], much China work, and much sugar is made of 
the nut called Gagara. The tree is called the Palmer, 
which is the most profitable tree in the world. It doth 
always bear fruit, and doth yield wine, oil, sugar, vinegar, 
cords, coals. Of the leaves, are made thatch for the houses, 
sails for ships, mats to sit or lie upon. Of the branches, they 
make their houses, and brooms to sweep [with]. Of the 
tree, wood for ships. The wine doth issue out of the top of 
the tree. They cut a branch of a bough, and bind it hard ; 
and hang an earthen pot upon it, which they empty eveiy 
morning and evening, and still [distill] it and put in certain 
dried raisins, and it becometh very strong wine in a short 
time. 

Hither, many ships come from all parts of India, Ormus, 
&c. ; and many from Mecca. 

Goa is the principal city which the Portuguese have in 
India; wherein the Viceroy remaineth with his Court. It 
standeth on an island, which may be twenty-five or thirty 
miles about. It is a fine city ; and for an Indian town very 
fair. The island is very fair, full of orchards and gardens, 
and many palm trees; and hath some villages. Here be 
many merchants of all nations. And the Fleet which cometh 
every year from Portugal, which be four, five, or six great 
ships, cometh first hither. They come, for the most part, in 
September, and remain there forty or fifty days ; and then 
go to Cochin, where they lade their pepper for Portugal. 
Oftentimes, they lade one in Goa; and the rest go to Cochin, 
which is an hundred leagues southward from Goa. 

At our coming [30th of November], we were cast into the 
prison, and e.xamined before the Justice, and demanded for 
letters. We were charged to be spies ; but they could prove 
nothing against us. We continued in prison, until the 22nd 
of December: and then we were set at liberty; putting in 
sureties for 2,000 ducats [or rather Pardaos Xcraphincs, sec 
p. 187], not to depart the town, which sureties. Father 
Stevens, an English Jesuit (^vhom we found there) and 
another "religious " man, a friend of his, procured for us. 




i 



I So Letter from Gua, to L. Poore. [-i; ja'nT^X 

JotIN KeWDERY, from QoA, 20TH 

J A ;j U A Pv Y, 1 5 S 4 , TO jVl A ? T E R 

i^EOJ^ARD PoORE, OF 1(0ND0J^. 

This and the following letter were warily written ; so as not to compro- 
mise the writers with the Jesuit priests, if they had been detected and 
read. 

Y LAST I sent you, was from Ormus, whereby 
I certified j'ou, what was happened unto me and the 
rest of my company : which was that, four days 

^ after our arrival tliere, we were all committed to 
prison ; except one Italian who came with me from 
\leppo, whom the Captain never examined, but only de- 
manded "What countryman he was?" But I make 
account, Michael Stropene, who accused us, had 
informed the Captain of him. 

The first day we arrived there, this Stropene accused 
us that " we were spies sent from Don Axtonio," 
besides divers other lies : notwithstanding', if we had 
been of any other countr\' than of England, we might 
freely have traded with them. 

And although we be Englishmen, I know no reason 
to the contrary, but that we may trade hither and thither, 
as well as other nations. For all nations do and may 
come freely to Ormus ; as Frenchmen, Flemings, 
Almains [Germans], Hungarians, Italians, Greeks, Arme- 
nians, Nazaranies [Ncstoyiciiis', Turks and Moors, Jews 
and Gentiles, Persians, and Moscovites ; and there is 
no nation they seek to trouble, but ours: wherefore it 
were contrary to all justice and reason that they should 
suffer all nations to trade with them, and forbid us. 

But now I have as great libertj- as any other nation, 
except it be to go out of the country; which thing, as 
yet, I desire not : but I think, hereafter, and before it be 
long, if I shall be desirous to go from hence, that they 
will [shall] not deny me licence. 

Before we might be suffered to come out of prison, I 
was forced to put in sureties for 2,000 pardaos not to de- 
part from hence, without licence of the Viceroy. Other- 



/oj^r'^58^:] Arciibp. Fonseca helps the Englishmen. i8i 

wise, except this, we have as much liberty as any other 
nation; for I have our goods again, and have talcen a 
house in the chiefest street in the town, called the Rue 
Drctte, where we sell our goods. 

There were two causes which moved the Captain of 
Ormus to imprison us, and afterwards to send us hither. 
The first was because Michael Stropene had accused 
us of many matters, which were most false. And the 
second was that Master Drake, at his being at the 
Moluccas [ill 1580^ caused two pieces of the ordnance 
to be shot at a galleon of the Kings of Portugal, as they 
say. But of these things, I did not know at Ormus. 

In the ship that we were sent in, came the Chief 
Justice in Ormus, who was called the Avcador General 
of that place. He had been there three years, so that 
his time was now expired. This Aveador is a great 
friend to the Captain of Ormus ; and, certain days after 
our coming from thence, sent for me into his chamber 
[on board the shipl, and there began to demand of me 
many things, to which I answered. 

And, amongst the rest, he said that "Master Drake 
was sent out of England with many ships, and came to 
the Moluccas, and there laded cloves; and finding there 
a galleon of the Kings of Portugal, he caused two pieces 
of his greatest ordnance to be shot at the same." 

So, perceiving that this did greatly grieve them, I 
asked, " If they would be revenged on me, for that 
which Master Drake had done ? " 

To which, he answered, " No ! " although his meaning 
was to the contrary. 

He said, moreover, that " The cause why the Captain 
of Ormus did send me to Goa was, that the Viceroy 
should understand of me, what news there was of Don 
Antonio ; and whether he were in England, yea or no : 
and that it might be all for the best that I was sent 
thhher." Which I trust in GOD will so fall out, although 
contrary to his expectation. 

For had it not pleased GOD to put it into the minds of 
the Archbishop, and two Padres, Jesuits of Saint Paul's Col- 
lege, to stand our friends, we might have rotted in prison. 

The Archbishop is a very good man : who hath two 



i82 J. Storv extkrs tiik Jksl'its' College, [ijlr'rs?^: 

younf:; men Iiis servants. One of them was born at 
Hamburg, and is called Bernard Borgers 'p. 310^: and 
the other was born at Enkhuisen, whose name is John 
LiNSCOT [i.e., our old friend Jan Huyghen van 
Linscuoten]; who did us great pleasure. For by them, 
the Archbishop was, many times, put in mind of us. 

And the two good Fathers of Saint Paul's, who 
travailed very much for us, one of them is called Padre 
Mark, who was born in Bruges, in Flanders : and the 
• He was other was born in Wiltshire, in England, and 
N™w College, IS Called Ai^fr^; Thomas Stevens.- 
Oxford. Also, I chanced to find here a young man, 

who was born in Antwerp ; but the most part of his bring- 
ing up hath been in London. His name is Francis de 
Rea : and with him it was my hap to be acquainted in 
Aleppo ; who, also, hath done me great pleasure here. 

In the prison at Ormus, we remained many days. 
Also, we lay a long time at sea coming hither. Forth- 
with, at our arrival here [on 30 November], we were 
carried to prison : and, the next day after, were sent 
for before the Avcador, who is the Chief Justice, to be 
examined. When we were examined, he presently sent 
us back again to prison. 

And after our being there in prison thirteen days, 
James Story went [on 12 December] into the Monastery 
of Saint Paul ; where he remaineth, and is made one of 
the Company : which life he liketh very well. 

And upon St. Thomas's day [21 December], which 
was twenty-two days after our arrival here, I came out 
of prison; and the next day after, came out Ralph Fitcii 
and WiLLLVM Leedes. 

If these troubles had not chanced, I had been in 
possibility to have made as good a voyage as ever any 
man made with so much [such an amount of] money. 

Many of our things I have sold very well, both here 
and in prison at Ormus : for, notwithstanding, the 
Captain willed me, if I would, to sell what I could, 
before we embarked. So, with officers, I went divers 
times out of the Castle in the morning, and sold things ; 
and, at night, returned again to prison. All things that 
I sold, they did write : and at our embarking from 



sojlr^58^:]THEGOOD BARGAINS OF M. ALBUQUERQUE. 183 

thence, the Captain gave order that I should dehver all 
my money, with the goods, into the hands of the Scrivano, 
or Purser, of the ship ; which I did. The Scrivano made 
a remembrance, which he left there with the Captain, that 
myself with the rest, with money and goods, he should 
deliver into the hands of the Avcador General of India. 

But at our arrival here, the Avcador would neither 
meddle with goods nor money, for he could not prove 
anything against us ; wherefore the goods remained in 
the ship nine or ten days, after our arrival. And then, 
because the ship was to sail from thence, the Scrivano 
sent the goods on shore ; and there they remained a day 
and a night, and nobody to receive them. 

In the end, they suffered this bringer [the carrier of this 
letter] to receive them, who came with me from Ormus ; 
and put them into an house which he had hired for me, 
where they remained four or five days. 

But, afterwards, when they should deliver the money, 
it was concluded by the Justice that both money and 
goods should be delivered into the positor's [security's] 
hands, where they remained fourteen days [i.e., to ^Ih 
January, 1584] after my coming out of prison. 

At my being in Aleppo, I bought a fountain of silver 
gilt, six knives, six spoons ; and one fork trimmed with 
coral for 25 sequins [=;^i 5s. then = £y ids. now] : which 
the Captain of Ormus did take, and paid for the same 
20 pardaos [i.e., pardaos de larines]= 100 larins = ioo 
sequins [^£5 then^£^o noia] there or here. 

Also, he had five emeralds set in gold, which were 
worth 500 or 600 crowns [ = /i"i5o to £iSq then = about 
£^oc to 3^1,080 noia], and paid for the same 100 pardaos 
[=£2S then — £1^0 now]. 

Also he had 192- pikes [an Eastern measure of length] 
which cost in London 20s. the pike, and was worth 9 or 
10 crowns [£2 14s. or £3 then = ;f 16 4s. to £iS noiv] the 
pike: and paid for the same 13 larins [= izs. then = £2, 12s. 
now] a pike. 

Also he had two pieces of green kerseys, which were 
worth 24 pardaos[=£6 then— £^6 now] the piece ; and 
paid for them 16 pardaos [=£4 then — £2.\ now]. 



i84 

[It may be useful to give here the following TaMe of the EnJ;li^h vahies in Ehza- 
belh's reign, of the priiiciixil Coins rc'^errcd to in these I'^astcrn narratives, cNprcssed 
in Portuguese /iV«, on ti.e basis of llie gohl Milrcis= ly. 4(.'., see/. i8 ; with their 
equivalents in Spanish .)/<ii;i:ri/ies, at 374 to the /)»(•<!/ ordinarily passed for $s.6i/. 
English money, but here proportionately taken at 5s. 4d. 



Description of Coins; 



Portu'jiiesc, 

A'.vs. 
...= 1000 



English. 



= i6j 



jold ■) 
Goa> = 



Ccc = 96 



450 = 



450= 72 



= 436 ^ 



I 



= 375 = 60 



= 300 = 



The Portuguese Jlfi/n'is 
'I'he I 'eiiclnnulcr [? the gold 

Ducat of Venice], of G 

[=10 'J'aii^as]. 
The J\!x'ocia, of Goa [ = 81 

yrtW^-ilx] J 

The French Civion, in Europe = 
The (urrcnt or ordinary 

Ducat, in the Euphrates 

Valley 

The riciC of Eig!tt; which 

had three other names, 

the Jioyal of Eight, the 

Royal of Plate, and, in 

Goa, Pardao dc Kealc „ 
The Spanish and Portuguese 

Diuat 

The Pardao of Lariiics, of 

Ormus 

The Cruzado, of Malacca 

[ = 6 Tangas\ 

The Pardao Xeraphine, of \ 
__Goa [ = 5 Tatigas\ ... \ 
The Aeyser's Guilder, of 1 _ 

Holland J - 

The Teston, of Holland ...= 
Tlie Lariiie, of Ormus [4=1 

Pardao Xeraphine ; S = I 

Pardao de lariiies] 
The Scijuiii, at Ormus ; there ) 

taken as = the Za;7«t' ... f 
Tliegood {i.e., offullweight\ 1 

Taw^fr, of Goa J 

[The Tanga was the nionelaiy Unit at 
8= I Pagoda; 10=1 

The Spanish Rial of Silver 

[11 = I Ducat^ 

The .Sliver of Holland [10 = 

I Tesloii] 

The good Fiiitin o( G03. [15 

= 1 'Pniiga] 

A single Spanish Alaravedy 
Two Pence of Holland = a I 

single Portuguese Rei.. \ 
A single good Bazarueho [5 I 

= 1 Viiilii! ; 75 = I 'J'a)iga\ \ 



o = 133. 4d. 
o = 83. oi 



■o = Cs. 0(1. 
o = 03. Ci 



6r75 



, , fordinarih', asl 

400= 64-0 =1 g^ g^>; I 



57 •' 
300 = 48 

160 = 25 
100= 16 

75= 12 

i 
75= '2 

60 = 



'° =1 53, 

O = 53. Od. 

6 

O = 4s. Od. 

6 = (oidinarily, 2s.) 
o 

o = Is. Od. 

o = Is. Od. 



Sp,inish 
Vitcnts. A/iinz- 
-.'edies. 
= 2\ M-935 

= 1; or 561 

= 1? w 4.18-8 
= \\ w 42075 

= \l or 42075 

= ijjW404'6 
=1 or 374 



Martt-u-ilies, 
= 31S7S 

306 
= 255 
= 136 

= 85 
Cj75 

5' 



Goa : 5 = 1 Pardao Xeraphir.e ; 
Veiictiander.'] 



1 = 



40 


= 


10 


= 


< 


= 


I- IT. 


I 







•4 


(ordinarily, 6d.) 




34 


•6 




= 


S-5 


64 




= 


3 '4 


I S3 




= 


I 


16 




= 


•S5 



= ■128 



•6S] 



<F 



sj^n.^istG Fitch's letter from Goa, to L. Poore. 185 

Besides divers other trifles that the ofBcers and others 
had, in the Hke order; and some, for nothing at all. 

But the cause of all this, was Michael Stropene, 
who came to Ormus not worth a penny, and now hath 
30,000 or 40,000 crowns [ = ;{^g,ooo to £12,000 then 
= £54,000 to 5^72,000 Jtow], and he grieveth that any 
other stranger should trade thither but himself. But 
that shall not skill ! For, I trust in GOD ! to go both 
thither and hither, and to buy and sell as freely as he or 
any other. Here is very great good, to be done in divers 
of our commodities ; and in like manner, there is great 
profit to be made with commodities of this country, to 
be carried to Aleppo. 

It were long for me to write, and tedious for j'ou to 
read of all the things that have passed since my parting 
from you : but of all the troubles, since mine arrival in 
Ormus, this bringer is able to certify you. 

I mind to stay here : wherefore if you will write unto 
me, you may send 3'our letters to some friend at Lisbon; 
and from thence, loy the ships [carracks], they may be 
conveyed hither. Let the direction of j-our letters be, 
either in Portuguese or Spanish, whereby they may 
come the better to my hands. 

From Goa, this 20th day of January, 15S4. 

"F^ALPH Fitch, ff{om Qoa, 2 5th 

J.'^NUAF^Y, 15S4, TO JVIa^TER 

J-,EOMyARD PoORE OF 

I< J^ D N . 

Loving f r i e i-i d , 

Inge my departure from Aleppo, I have not written 
any letters unto you, by reason that at Babylon 
[Bagdad] I was sick of the flux [ ? diarrhaw]: and, 
being sick, I went from thence to Balsora [Bussorah\, 

which was twelve days' journey down the Tigris. 

Where we had extremely hot weather (which was good 




1 86 The Venetians are mad at the English. [,5 j^Vn.^'.'ja 



h 

534 



for my disease) ; ill fare, and worse lodging by reason 
our boat was pestered [crowded] with people. 

That which I did eat in eight days, was very small, 
so that if we had stayed two days longer upon the water, 
I think I had died. But coming to 13alsora ; presently 
I mended, I thank GOD! 

There we sta\ed fourteen days, and then we embarked 
ourselves for Ormus, where we arrived the 5th of 
September, and were put in prison the 9th of the same 
month, where we continued until the nth of October. 
And then, were shipped for this city of Goa, in the 
Captain's ship ; with 114 horses and about 200 men. 

Passing by Diu and Chaul where we went on land to 
water, the 20th of November; we arrived at Goa, the 
30th of the same month : where, for our better entertain- 
ment ! we were presently put into a fair strong prison ; 
where we continued until the 22nd of December. 

It was the will of GOD, that we found there two 
Padres, the one an Englishman, the other a Fleming. 
The Englishman's name, was Padre Thomas Stevens, 
the other's Padre Marco ; of the Order of St. Paul. 
These did sue for us unto the Viceroy and other Officers; 
and stood us in as much stead as our lives and goods 
were worth : for if they had not stuck to us, if we had es- 
caped with our lives, yet we had had a long imprisonment. 

After fourteen days' imprisonment, they offered us if we 
could put in sureties for 2,000 ducats [i.e., Pardaos 
Xcraphines], we should go abroad in the town : which, 
when we could not do, the said Padres found a surety 
for us, that we should not depart the country', without 
the licence of the Viceroy. 

It doth spite the Italians [i.e., the Venetiatis] to see us 
abroad : and many marvel at our delivery. The painter 
is in the Cloister of St. Paul, and is of their Order; and 
liketh it very well. 

While we were in prison, both at Ormus and here, 
there was a great deal of our goods pilfered and lost ; 
and we have been at great charges, in gifts and other- 
wise : so that a great deal of our goods is consumed. 
There is much of our things that will sell very well, and 
some we shall get nothing for. 



R. Filch, 
■ 1592 



] Andreas Taborer was their Surety. 187 



I hope in GOD, that, at the return of the Viceroy, wlio 
is gone to Chaul and to Diu, they sa}' to win a castle of 
the Moors ; whose return it is thought will be about 
Easter [March 1584], then we shall get our liberty, and 
our surety be discharged. Then I think, it will be our 
best way, either one or both to return : because our 
troubles have been so great, and so much of our goods 
spoiled and lost. [Was this a blind ? They evidently ivanted 
to go forward, as they actually did.] 

But if it please GOD, that I come into England ; by 
GOD's help ! I will return hither again. It is a brave 
and pleasant country, and very fruitful. 

For all our great troubles, yet are we fat and well 
liking [looking well] : for victuals are here in plenty, and 
good cheap. 

And here I will pass over to certify you of strange 
things, until our meeting : for it would be too long to 
write thereof. 

And thus, I commit you to GOD ! who ever preserve 
you, and us all I 

From Goa in the East Indies, the 25th of January, 1584. 
Yours to command, 

Ralph Fitch. 

Our surety's name was Andreas Taborer, to whom we 
paid 2,150 ducats [i.e., Pardaos Xeraphines^=£j^T,o ihen^= 
;;r3,58o now. This is probably the exact amount paid to the Surety: 
being the Pledge-money, and something for his trouble] : and still 
he demanded more. Whereupon [in March 1584] we made 
suit to the Viceroy and Justice "to have our money [the 2,000 
ducats] again ; considering they had had it in their hands 
nearly five months [November 1583, to March 1584] and 
could prove nothing against us." 

The Viceroy made us a very sharp answer, and said " We 
should be better sifted, before it were long; and that they had 
further matter against us ! " 

Wherepon we presently [instantly] determined rather to 
seek our liberties, than to be in danger to be slaves for ever in 
the country. For it was told us, we should have the strappado. 

Whereupon, presently [at once], the 5th day of April [Old 
Style], 1584, in the morning, we ran from the place: and, 




1 88 LlNSCHOTEX's ACCOUNT OF TIIIC ENGLISHMEN, ["""r'^^sg"- 

being set over the river, we went two days' journey on foot, 
not without fear, not knowing tlie way, nor having any 
guide : for we durst trust none. 

Continued in the Summ.iry, at/'. 194. 

Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. 
Account of the Four E7iglishme?i at Goa. 

As LiNSCHOTF.N snys 7\.\. p. 194, his infurmation about Aleppo and 
Ormuswas derived from James Story, the Enghsh house painter. 
But see/. 310. 

[Discourses 0/ V^'yagcs ^c.^ 1598.] 

N THE month of December {or rather on ^(h September, 
see p. 176 , anno 1583, there arrived in the town and 
island of Ormus, four EngHshmen ; who came from 
Aleppo in the country of Syria, having sailed out of 
England, passed through the Straits of Gibraltar to Tripolis, 
a town and haven lying on the sea-coast of Syria, where all 
the ships discharge their wares and merchandise, which from 
thence are carried by land to Aleppo, which is a nine-days' 
journey. 

In Aleppo, there are resident divers merchants and factors 
of all nations, as Italians, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Armenians 
Turks, and Moors ; every man having his religion apart, and 
paying tribute unto the Great Turk. In that town there is 
great traffic. For from thence, twice every year, there 
travelleth two caffyleii [caravans], that is, companies of people 
and camels, which travel into India, Persia, Arabia, and all 
the countries bordering on the same, and deal in all sorts of 
merchandise both to and from those countries. 

Three of the Englishmen aforesaid were sent by the com- 
pany of Englishmen that are resident in Aleppo, to see if 
they might keep any factors in Ormus ; and so traffic in that 
place, like as also the Italians, that is to say, the \'enetians, 
do: who have their factors in Ormus, Goa, and Malacca, and 
traffic there, as well for stones and pearls as for other wares 
and spices of those countries ; which from thence, are carried 
overland into Venice. 

One of these Englishmen had been once before in the said 
town of Ormus, and there had taken good information of 
the trade ; and upon his advice and advertisement, the other 



J. H. V. Lin-chorei^.-] J jjpj^jgQjjj^Pj^^ Qp j^^ EnGLISIIAT GoA. 189 

tliree were then come thither with him, bringing great store 
of merchandise with them, as cloths, saffron, all kinds of 
drinking-glasses and haberdashers' wares, as looking-glasses, 
knives, and such like stuff; and, to conclude, brought with 
them all kinds of small wares that may be devised. And 
although those wares amounted unto great sums of money ; 
notwithstanding it was but only a shadow or colour, thereby 
to give no occasion to be mistrusted or seen into. For their 
principal intent was to buy great quantities of precious 
stones, as diamonds, pearls, rubies, &c. : to the which end, 
they brought with them a great sum of money and gold ; and 
that very secretly, not to be deceived or robbed thereof, or to 
run into any danger for the same. 

They, being thus arrived in Ormus, hired a shop, and began 
to sell their wares; which the Italians perceiving (whose 
factors continue there, as I said before, and fearing that 
those Englishmen, finding good vent for their commodities 
in that place, would be resident therein, and so daily increase), 
did presently invent all the subtle means they could, to hinder 
them. And to that end, they went unto the Captain of Ormus, 
then called Don GoNSALO de Meneses [oy rather, Don M. de 
Albuquerque, see pp. 176, 1S3, 319, 331, 460], telling him 
that there were certain Englishmen come into Ormus that 
were sent only to spy the country : and said further that 
" they were heretics, and therefore," they said, " it was conve- 
nient they should not be suffered so to depart ; without being 
examined and punished as enemies, to the example of others." 

The Captain, being a friend unto the Englishmen, by 
reason that the one of them, who had been there before, had 
given him certain presents, would not be persuaded to trouble 
them : but shipped them, with all their wares, in a ship that 
was to sail for Goa ; and sent them to the Viceroy, that he 
might examine and try them, as he thought good. 

Where, when they were arrived, they were cast into prison : 
and first examined whether they were good Christians or not. 
And because they could speak but bad Portuguese ; and that 
two of them spoke good Dutch, having been certain years in 
the Low Countries, and trafficed there : a Dutch Jesuit (born 
in the town of Bruges in Flanders, that had resident in the 
Indies for the space of thirty years) was sent unto them to 
undermine and examine them. Wherein they behaved them- 



iQO Jesuits try to iseguiletiie English, p- "• "jLii 



nschotcn. 



selves so well, that they were holden and esteemed for good 
and catholic Romish Christians ; jet still suspected, because 
they wei'c strangers, especially Englishmen. 

The Jesuits still told them they should be sentprisoners unto 
Portugal, wishing them to leave off their trade of merchandise, 
and to become Jesuits : promising them thereby to defend 
them from all trouble. The cause why they said so, and 
persuaded them in that earnest manner was that the Dutch 
Jesuit had secretly been advertised of the great sums of 
money which they had about them, and sought to get the 
same into their fingers : for the first vow and promise they 
make, at their entrance into their Order, is, to procure the 
welfare of the said Order, by ichat means soever it be. 

Although the Englishmen denied them, and refused the 
Order, saying that "they were unfit for such places"; 
nevertheless they proceeded so far that one of them, being a 
painter (that came with the other three, to see the countries 
and to seek his fortune ; but was not sent thither by the 
English merchants), partly for fear, and partly for want of 
means to relieve himself, promised them to become a Jesuit : 
and although they knew and perceived well he was not any 
of those that had the treasure ; yet because he was a painter 
(whereof there are but few in India), and that they had great 
need of him to paint their church, which otherwise it would 
cost them great charges to bring one from Portugal, they 
were very glad thereof; hoping, in time, to get the rest of 
them, with all their money, into their fellowship. So that, 
to conclude, they made this painter, a Jesuit, where he con- 
tinued certain days; giving him good store of work to do, 
and entertaining him with all the favour and friendship they 
could devise ; and all to win the rest. But the other three 
continued still in prison, being in great fear, because they 
understood no man that came to them, nor any man almost 
knew what they said ; till, in the end, it was told them that 
certain Dutchmen dwelt in the Archbishop's house, and 
counsel given them to send unto them. 

Whereat they much rejoiced, and sent to me and to another 
Dutchman, desiring us once to come, and speak with them ; 
which we presently [at once] did. The\', with tears in their eyes, 
made complaint unto us of their hard usage, showing us from 
point to point, as is said before, why they were come into the 



J. II.v^Linschoten.-j Jjjg JeSUITS FIND THEM THE SuRETY. I9I 

country: withal desiring us, for GOD'ssake, if we might, by 
any means, help them, that they might be set at liberty upon 
sureties, being ready to endure what justice should ordain 
for them ; saying " that if it were found contrary', and that 
they were other than travelling merchants, and sought to find 
out further benefit by their wares, they would be content to be 
punished." 

With that, we departed from them, promising them to do 
our best : and, in the end, we obtained so much of the Arch- 
bishop, that he went unto the Viceroy to deliver our petition ; 
and persuaded him so well that he was content to set them at 
liberty, and that their goods should be delivered unto them 
again, upon condition that they should put in surety for 2,000 
pardaos [ = ^400 tlicn-=£2, \oo now] not to depart the country 
before other order should be taken with them. 

Thereupon, they presently found a citizen of the town, that 
was their surety for 2,000 pardaos, and they paid him [i.e., at 
first] 1,300 pardaos [=^260 thc>i=£i,^6o now] in hand; and 
because they said they had no more ready money, he gave 
them credit, seeing what store of merchandise they had, 
whereby at all times, if need were, he might be satisfied [but 
he was eventually paid 2,1^0 pardaos, see p. 187]: and by that 
means they were delivered out of prison, and hired them- 
selves a house, and began to set an open shop. 

So that thej' uttered much ware, and were presently well 
known among all the merchants, because they always respected 
gentlemen, specially such as bought their wares; showing 
great courtesy and honour unto them : whereby they won 
much credit, and were beloved of all men, so that every man 
favoured them, and was willing to do them pleasure. 

To us, they showed great friendship ; for whose sake, the 
Archbishop favoured them much, and showed them very good 
countenance, which they knew well how to increase, by offer- 
ing him many presents: although he would not receive them, 
neither would ever take gift or present at any man's hands. 
Likewise they behaved themselves very Catholic, and very 
devout, every day hearing mass with beads in their hands ; 
so that they fell into so great favour that no man carried an 
evil eye, no, nor an evil thought towards them. 

Which liked not the Jesuits, because it hindered them from 
that they hoped for, so that th.y ceased not still, by this 



192 Jesuits covet the Englishmen's money. ^^-'"^° 



jnscboten. 
504- 



Dutch Jesuit, to put them in fear, that tiiey should he sent 
into Portugal to the Kinf,', counselling them to yield them- 
selves Jesuits into their cloister, " which if they did," lie said, 
" they would defend them from all, in troubles." Saying 
further, "that he counselled them therein as a friend, and one 
that knew for certain, that it was so determined by the 
\'iceroy's Privy Council, which to effect," he said, "they 
stayed but for shipping 'i.e., the Carrach] that should sail 
for Portugal" : with divers other persuasions to put them in 
some fear, and so to effect their purpose. 

The Englishmen, on the contrary, durst not say anything 
to them, but answered that " the}', as yet, would stay awhile, 
and consider thereof," thereby putting the Jesuits in good 
comfort, as one among them, being the principal of them, 
called John Newbery, complained to me oftentimes, sa^-ing, 
" he knew not what to say or think therein; or which way he 
might be rid of those troubles." 

But, in the end, they determined with themselves, to depart 
from thence, and secretly by means of contrary friends, they 
emplo}ed their money in precious stones ; which the better 
to effect, one of them [William Leedes] was a jeweller, and 
for the same purpose came with them. Which being con- 
cluded among them, they durst not make known to any man; 
neither did they credit [trust] us so much as to show us their 
minds therein, although they told us all whatsoever they knew. 
But on a Whitsunday [FiTCH says on ^th April, 1584, O.S. ; see 
p. 187], they went abroad to sport themselves about three 
miles from Goa, in the mouth of the river, in a country called 
Bardes, having \\ith them a good store of meat and drink. 
And because they should not be suspected ; they left their 
house and shop, with some wares thereinunsold, in the custody 
of a Dutch boy by us provided for them, that looked unto it. 
This boy was in the house, not knowing their intent. 

Being at Bardes, they had with them a patamar, which is 
one of the Indian posts, which, in winter times, carry letters 
from one place to another ; whom they had hired to guide 
them. And because that between Bardes and the firm land 
there is but a little river, in a manner half dry, they passed 
over it on foot ; and so travelled by land: being never heard of 
again. It is thought they arrived in Aleppo, as some say; 
but they knew not certainly. Their greatest hopes was that 



^'"f'^^w":] S'r^^'^'^'LEAVESTnEjESUITS,& SETTLES AT GOA. 193 

John Newbery could speak Araljic, which is used in all those 
countries, or, at the least, understood : for it is very common 
in all places thereabouts, as French, with us. 

News being come to Goa, there was a great stir and 
murmuring among the people, and we much wondered at it : 
for many were of opinion that we had given them counsel so 
to do. And presently [instantly] their surety seized upon the 
goods remaining, which might amount unto above 200 
pardaos [=^^40 then^=£2^o noif] ; and with that, and the 
money he had received of the Englishmen, [apparently only 
the 1,300 Pardaos, keeping the 650 to himself], he went unto 
the Viceroy, and delivered it unto him : which the Viceroy 
having received, forgave him the rest. 

This flight of the Englishmen grieved the Jesuits most ; 
because they had lost such a prey, which they made sure ac- 
count of. Whereupon, the Dutch Jesuit came to us, to ask 
us if we knew thereof; saying, " that if he had suspected so 
much, he would have dealt otherwise. For that," he said, 
" he once had in his hand a bag of theirs wherein was 40,000 
Venesanders [or Venetianders]." Each Venesander being two 
'Pa.Yd3.os[i.e. = 8s, see p. 184. The amount icas therefore ;^i6,ooo 
then = £g6,ooo now]. Which was when they were in prison. 
" And that they had always put him in comfort to accomplish 
his desire. Upon the which promise, he gave them their 
money again : which otherwise they should not so lightly have 
come b}', or paradventure never," as he openly said. And in 
the end, he called them heretics and spies ; with a thousand 
other railing speeches which he uttered against them. 

[James Story], the Englishman that was become a Jesuit, 
hearing that his companions were gone, and perceiving that 
the Jesuits showed him not so great favour, neither used him 
so well as they did at the first, repented himself. And see- 
ing he had not, as then, made any solemn promise ; and being 
counselled to leave the house, and told that he could not 
want a living in the town, as alsothatthe Jesuits could not keep 
him there, without he were willing to stay, so that could not 
accuse him of anything, he told them flatly, that "He had no 
desire to stay within the Cloister" : and although they used all 
the means they could, to keep him there, yet he would not 
stay; but hired a house without the Cloister, and opened a 
shop where he had good store of work. And, in the end, 

JI.xo; G.iR. III. 13 



194 The 3 Englishmen separate at Agra. ['^■/.'j'J^: 

married a mestizo's daughter, of the town. So tliat he made 
his account to stay there, while lie Ii\'ed. 

By this EngHshman, I was instructed in all the ways, 
trades, and voyages of the country between Aleppo and 
Ormus : and of all the ordinances and common customs 
which they usually hold during their voyage overland ; as also 
of the places and towns where they passed. 

Since those Englishmen's departure from Goa [April 
15S4] there never arrived [until- November 1588, ichen 
LiNSCHOTEN left India ] any strangers, either English or 
others, by land in the said countries ; but only Italians, which 
daily traffic overland, and use continual trade, going and 
coming, that way. 

From the point of the three Englishmen's escape from Goa, we 
have only space to give the briefest outline of Frrcn's travels, from 
Hakluyt's Voyages. Tlicy met an Ambassador of the Emperor 
Akbar, and went with him to his Court at Agra. Where 

We stayed all three until the 28th of September, 1585. 

Then Master John Newbery went towards the city of 
Lahore : determining from thence, to go for Persia ; and 
then for Aleppo or Constantinople, which he could get soonest 
passage unto. [Apparently, he never reached England.] 

He directed me to go to Bengal and Pegu ; and did pro- 
mise me, if it pleased GOD, to meet in Bengal, within two 
years, with a ship out of England. 

I left William Leedes, the jeweller, in the service of the 
Emperor Akbar at Agra: who did entertain him very well ; 
and gave him a house, and five slaves, a horse, and every day 
six S.S. in money. 

I went from Agra to Satagam in Bengal, in the company 
of iSo boats laden with salt, opium, hinge, lead, carpets, 
and divers other commodities, down the river Jumna. 

From Agra, I came to Prage [now, Allahabad], where the 
Jumna entereth the mighty river Ganges, and loseth his name. 

From thence, we went to Benares; which is a great town. 

From Benares, I went to Patna, down the river Ganges, 
where, in the way, we passed many fair towns and a very 
fruitful country. 



R. Fitch, 



^,-.] FiTCII JOURNEYS TO PeGU AND MALACCA. 1 95 



From Patna, I went to Tanda, which standeth a league 
from the river Ganges. 

I was five months coming to Bengal ; but it may be sailed 
in a much shorter time. 

I went into the country of Couche, which is twenty-five 
days' journey northwards from Tanda. 

From thence I returned to Hooghly, which is the place 
which the Portuguese keepeth in the country of Bengal. It 
standeth 23' N., and a league from Satagam. They call it 
Porto Piqucno. 

Not far from Porto Piqueno south-westward, standeth an 
haven, which is called Porto Aiigcli, in the country of Orissa. 

From Satagam, I travelled by the country of Tippara to 
Porto Grande or Chatigan. 

From Chatigan in Bengal, I came to Catticola. 

From Batticola, I went to Serrepore [? Scraniporc], which 
standeth on the river Ganges. 

I went from Serrepore, the 2Sth of November, 15S6. for 
Pegu ; in a small ship or foist of one Albert Carvallos. 

P'rom Bengal to Pegu is ninety leagues. \\'e entered the 
bar of Negrais, which is a brave bar, and hath four fathoms 
of water where it hath least. Three days after, we came to 
Cosmin, which is a very pretty town. 

From the bar of Negrais to the city of Pegu is ten days' 
journey by the rivers. We went from Cosmin to Pegu in 
praus or boats. 

I went from Pegu to lamabey. It is twenty-five days 
journey north-east from Pegu. 

The loth January [1588J I went from Pegu to Malacca : 
and so came to Malacca the 8th of February, where the 
Portuguese have a castle, which standeth near the sea. 
[Then just relieved by the Portuguese, see p. 328. Afhuisen 
p. 429, must have been there at the same time as Pitch.] 

The 29th of March, 1588, I returned from Malacca to 
Martavan, and so to Pegu ; where I remained a second time 
until the 17th of September ; and then I went to Cosmin, 
and there took shipping. And passing many dangers, by 
reason of contrary winds, it pleased GOD that we arrived in 
Bengal in November following. Where I stayed, for want of 
passage, until the 3rd of February, 1589; and then I shipped 
myself for Cochin. 



196 FiTCII RETURNS HOME, BY GoA AND AlEITO. ['^i''";;',^ 

We arrived in Ceylon the 6th of March : where we staj'ed 
five days to water, and to furnish ourselves with other neces- 
sary provision. 

The nth of March, we sailed from Ceylon; and so doubled 
Cape Cormorin. From thence, we passed by Coulan [Quilon^, 
which is a fort of the Portuguese : whence cometh great store 
of pepper, which cometh for Portugal. Oftentimes, one of the 
carracks of Portugal ladeth there. Thus passing the coast, 
we arrived in Cochin, the 22nd of March. 

I remained in Cochin until the 2nd of November, which 
was eight months ; for there was no passage in all that time. 
If I had come two days sooner, I had found a passage pre- 
sently [at once]. 

From Cochin, I went to Goa ; where I remained three 
days. [A rather risky visit !] 

From Goa, I went to Chaul, where I remained twenty-three 
days. And there making my provision of things necessary 
for the ship, I departed from thence to Ormus : where I stayed 
for a passage to Balsora, fifty days. 

From Ormus, I went to Balsora or Basora ; and from 
Basora to Babylon [Bagdad] : and we passed the most part 
of the way up the Tigris by the strength of men by hauling 
the boat up the river with a long cord. 

From Babj'lon, I came by land to Mosul, which standeth 
near to Nineveh, which is all ruinated and destroyed. It 
standeth fast by the river Tigris. 

From Mosul, I went to Merdin [Mardin], which is in the 
country of the Armenians : but now a people, which they 
call Kurds, dwell in that place. 

From Merdin, I went to Orpha [Ui'falf, which is a very fair 
town; and it hath a goodly fountain full of fish; where the 
Moors hold many great ceremonies and opinions concerning 
Abraham. For they say, he did once dwell there. 

From thence, I w'ent to Bir, and so passed the river 
Euphrates. 

From Bir I went to Aleppo, where I stayed certain months 
for company, and then, I went to Tripolis ; where finding 
English shipping, I came, with a prosperous voyage to 
London: where, by GOD's assistance, I safely arrived the 
29th of April, 1591 : having been eight years out of my native 
country. 



i 



197 



Lyrics^ Elegies ^ &'c./rom Madrigals y 
Canzonets^ &'c. 

& 

h Book of Air?. 

B y 

Thomas Campion, M.D. & Philip Rosseter, Lutenist. 

Entered at Stationers' Hall on the 8th May, 1601. 

TO THE RIGHT 

VIRTUOUS AND WORTHY 
KNIGHT, SIR THOMAS MONSON. 

Sir, 

He general voice of your worthiness, and many 
particular favours which I have heard Master 
Campion, with dutiful respect, often acknowledge 
himself to have received from you, have em- 
boldened me to present this Book of A irs to your favour- 
able judgement and gracious protection ! Especially, be- 
cause the first rank of Songs are of his own composition, 
made at his vacant hours, and privately imparted to his 
friends : whereby they grew both public, and, as coin cracked 
in exchange, corrupted ; and some of them, both words and 
notes, unrespectively challenged [claimed] by others. In 




I gS Lyrics, E l k g i e s, & c. from [''■^uyT6o[: 

regard of wliich wrongs, though he liimsclf neglects these 
light fruits as superfluous blossoms of his deeper studies; yet 
hath it pleased him, upon my entreaty, to grant me the im- 
pression of a part of them: to which I have added an equal 
number of mine own. And this two-faced Janus, thus in one 
body united, I humbly intreat you to entertain and defend ! 
chiefly in respect of the affection which I suppose you bear 
him; who, I am assured, doth, above all others, love and 
honour you ! 

And, for my part, I shall think myself happy if, in any 
service, I may deserve this favour. 

Your Worship's humbly devoted, 

Philip Rosseter. 

TO THE READER. 

[See n similar Epistle by Dr. Campion, at/. 270.] 

\Hat Epigrams arc in Poetry, the same are Airs in 
Music : then in their chief perfection, when they are 
short and xcell seasoned. But to clog a light Song 
zvilh a long preludium, is to corrupt the nature 
of it. Many rests in music were invented, either for necessity 
of the fugue, or granted as an harmonical licence in songs oj 
many parts : hut in Airs, I find no use they have, unless it be to 
make a vulgar and trivial modidation seem to the ignorant, strange; 
and to the judicial, tedious. A naked A ir without guide, or prop, 
or colour but his own, is easily censured of every ear ; and requires 
so much the more invention to make it please. And as Martial 
speaks in defence of his short Epigrams; so may I say in the 
apology of A irs : that where there is a full volume, there can be 




'■'■•''••'"PS/Z:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 199 

no imputation of slwriness. The lyric pods among the Greeks and 
Latins were the first inventors of Airs, tying themselves strictly to 
the number and valne of their syllables: of which sort, you shall find 
here, only one song in Sapphic verse [p. 211] ; the rest are after the 
fashion of the time, ear-pleasing rhymes, without art. The subject 
of them is, for the most part, amorous : and ivhy not amorous 
songs, as well as amorous attires ? Or why not new airs, as well 
as new fashions ? 

For the Note and Tableture, if they satisfy the most, we have our 
desire ; let expert masters please themselves with better ! A nd if 
any light error hath escaped us ; the skilful may easily correct it, 
the unskilful will hardly perceive it. But there are some, who, to 
appear the more deep and singular in their judgement, will admit 
no music but that which is long, intricate, bated with fugue, 
chained with syncopation, and where the nature of every word is 
precisely expressed in the note : like the old exploded action in 
Comedies, when if they did pronounce Memem, they would point to 
the hinder part of their heads; if Video, put their finger in their 
eye. But such childish observing of words is altogether ridiculous : 
and we ought to maintain, as well in notes, as in action, a manly 
carriage; gracing no word, but that which is eminent and em - 
phatical. Nevertheless, as in Poesy we give the preeminence to the 
Heroical Poem ; so in Music, we yield the chief place to the grave 
and well invented Motet : but not to every harsh and dull confused 
Fantasy, where, in a multitude of points, the harmony' is quite 
drowned. 

Airs have both their art and pleasure : and I will conclude of 
them, as the poet did in his censure of Catullus the Lyric, and 
Virgil the Heroic writer : 

Tantum magna suo debet Verona Catullo : 
Quantum parva suo Mantua Virgilio. 



2 jo Lyrics, Elegies, & c. r u o m 



rr. Cimpion, M.D. 
L. Before May 1601, 



Lyrics^ Elegies^ ^c.frojn Madrigals^ 
Cafizonets^ &'c. 




$0Nq3 BY Thoma? Campioj^, JVl.D. 

lY SWEETEST Lesbia! Let us live and love! 

And though the sager sort our deeds re- 
prove, 

Let us not weigh them ! Heaven's great 
lamps do dive 

Into their west, and straight again revive: 

But soon, as once, is set our little light ; 

Then must we sleep one ever-during niglit ! 

If all would lead their lives in love like me, 
Then bloody swords and armour should not be ; 
No drum, nor trumpet, peaceful sleeps should move, 
Unless alarm came from the Camp of Love : 
But fools do live, and waste their little light ; 
And seek, with pain, their ever-during night. 

When timely death, my life and fortunes ends. 
Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends ! 
But let all lovers, rich in triumph, come, 
And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb ! 
And Lesbia ! Close up thou, my little light ! 
And crown with love, my ever-during night ! 




Hough you are young, and I am old. 
Though your veins hot, and my blood cold. 
Though youth is moist, and age is dry ; 
Vet embers live, when flames do die. 



'^BSor7M"y"6c°:] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, &C. 201 

The tender graft is easily broke, 
But who shall shake the sturdy oak ? 
You are more fresh and fair than I ; 
Yet stubs do live when flowers do die. 



Thou, that thy youth doth vainly boast ! 
Know, buds are soonest nipt with frost. 
Think that thy fortune still doth cry ! 
" Thou fool ! to-morrow thou must die ! " 



Care not for these ladies, 

That must be wooed and prayed : 

Give me kind Amarillis, 

The wanton countrj' maid ! 

Nature, art disdaineth, 

Her beauty is her own. 

Her, when we court and kiss, 
She cries, " Forsooth, let go ! " 
But when we come where comfort is, 
She never will say, " No ! " 



If I love Amarillis, 

She gives me fruit and flowers : 

But if we love these ladies. 

We must give golden showers. 

Give them gold, that sell love ! 

Give me the nut-brown lass ! 
Who, when we court and kiss. 
She cries, " Forsooth, let go 1 " 
But when we come where comfort is, 
She never will say, " No ! " 




202 LvKics, Elegies, &c. from ['■■BSr/MayVeii: 

These ladies must have pillows 
And beds, by strangers wrought; 
Give me a bower of willows. 
Of moss and leaves unbought ! 
And fresh Amarillis, 
With milk and honey fed ! 

Who, when we court and kiss, 

She cries, " Forsooth, let go ! " 

But when we come where comfort is, 

She never will say, " No ! " 






Ollow thy fair sun ! unhappy shadow ! 

Though thou be black as night, 

And she made all of light ; 

Yet, follow thy fair sun ! unhappy shadow ! 



Follow her ! whose light, thy light depriveth ; 

Though here thou liv'st disgraced, 

And she in heaven is placed : 

Yet, follow her, whose light the world reviveth ! 



Follow those pure beams ! whose beauty burneth, 

That so have scorched thee, 

As thou still black must be, 

Till her kind beams, thy black to brightness turneth. 



Follow her ! while yet her glory shineth : 

There comes a luckless night. 

That will dim all her light; 

And this, the black unhappy shade divineth. 



"iiSoTiJay"";] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 2oj 

Follow still ! since so thy fates ordained, 

The sun must have his shade, 

Till both at once do fade ; 

The sun still proved, the shadow still disdained. 




j 



Hen to her lute, Corinna sings, 

Her voice revives the leaden strings. 

And doth in highest notes appear. 

As any challenged Echo clear; 

But when she doth, of mourning speak, 

E'en with her sighs, the strings do break. 

And as her lute doth live or die, 

Led by her passion, so must I ! 

For when of pleasure, she doth sing, 

My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring ; 

But if she doth, of sorrow speak. 

E'en from my heart, the strings do break. 



Urn back ! you wanton flyer ! 

And answer my desire, 

With mutual greeting. 

Yet bend a little nearer! 

True beauty still shines clearer. 

In closer meeting. 

Hearts, with hearts delighted. 

Should strive to be united ; 

Each other's arms, with arms enchaining 

Hearts with a thought, 

Rosy lips with a kiss still entertaining. 



204 Lyrics. Elegies, &c. from ['^i!^Sl"vY(;o": 

What harvest half so sweet is, 

As still to reap the kisses 

Grown ripe in sowing ? '^"■^- "'3' 

And straight to be receiver 

Of that, which thou art giver ! 

Rich in bestowing? 

There's no strict observing. 

Of times, or seasons changing ; 

There, is ever one fresh spring abiding. 

Then what we sow with our lips, 

Let us reap, love's gains dividing I 



He cypress curtain of the night is spread, 

And over all, a silent dew is cast. 

The weaker cares, by sleep are conquered : 

But I alone, with hideous grief, aghast. 

In spite of Morpheus' charms, a watch do keep 

Over mine eyes, to banish careless sleep. 

Yet oft, my trembling eyes, through faintness, close, 
And then the Map of Hell before me stands ; 
Which ghosts do see, and I am one of those 
Ordained to pine in sorrow's endless bands: 
Since from my wretched soul, all hopes are reft; 
And now no cause of life to me is left. 



Grief, seize my soul ! for that will still endure. 
When my crazed body is consumed and gone ; 
Bear it to thy black den ! there, keep it sure ! 
Where thou ten thousand souls dost tire upon : 
Yet all do not afford such food to thee ! 
As this poor one, the worser part of me. 



'"Befor'Tay'i'^:] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z N E T 8, &C. 205 

|Ollo\v j'our saint ! Follow, with accents sweet ! 

Haste you, sad notes ! Fall at her flying fleet ! 

There wrapped in cloud of sorrow, pity move ! 

And tell the ravisher of my soul, I perish for her love ! 
But if she scorns my never ceasing pain ; 
Then burst with sighing, in her sight ; and ne'er return again 1 




All that I sang, still to her praise did tend ; 

Still she was first ; still she my songs did end : 

Yet she, my love and music, both doth fly, 

The music that her Echo is, and beauty's sympathy. 

Then, let my notes pursue her scornful flight ! 

Itshall suffice that they werebreathed ; and died for herdelight. 



Air! if you expect admiring? 
Sweet ! if you provoke desiring ? 
Grace, dear ! love, with kind requiting 1 
Fond 1 but if thy light be blindness ? 
False ! if thou affect unkindness ? 
Fly both love and love's delighting ! 
Then, when hope is lost, and love is scorned ; 
ril bury my desires, and quench the fires that ever 
yet in vain have burned. 



Fates ! if you rule lovers' fortune ? 
Stars ! if men your powers importune ? 
Yield relief by your relenting ! 
Time 1 if sorrow be not endless? 
Hope, made vain ? and pity, friendless? 
Help to ease my long lamenting ! 
But if griefs remain still unredressed, 
I'll fly to her again, and sue for pity, to renew my 
hopes distressed ! 



io6 Lyrics, Elegies, & c. from [■^ufSuy'/J^: 



1 







IIou art not fair ! for all thy red and wliite, 

l*"or all those rosy ornaments in thee ; 

Thou art not sweet ! though made of mere delight 

Nor fair nor sweet, unless thou pity me ! 

I will not sooth thy fancies I Thou shalt prove 

That beauty is no beauty without love. 



Yet love not me ! nor seek thou to allure 

My thoughts, with beauty; were it more divine ! 

Thy smiles and kisses I cannot endure, 

I'll not be wrapt up in those arms of thine ! 

Now show it, if thou be a woman right ! 

Embrace, and kiss, and love me, in despite ! 




Ee where she flies, enraged, from me ! 

\'iew her, when she intends despite 1 

The wind is not more swift than she. 

Her fury moved, such terror makes ; 

As to a fearful guilty sprite. 

The voice of heaven's huge thunder cracks : 

But when her appeased mind jiclds to delight, 

All her thoughts are made of joys, 

Millions of delights inventing ; 

Other pleasures are but toys. 

To her beauty's sweet contenting. 



"iiforrKo^;] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 207 

My fortune hangs upon her brow : 

For as she smiles or frowns on me, 

So must my blown affections bow ; 

And her proud thoughts too well do find, 

With what unequal tyranny. 

Her beauties do command my mind. 

Though, when her sad planet reigns, 

Forward she be ; 

She, alone, can pleasure move, 

And displeasing sorrow banish. 

May I but still hold her love, 

Let all other comforts vanish ! 



Lame not my cheeks! though pale with love they be. 
The kindly heat unto my heart is flown. 
To cherish it, that is dismayed by thee ! 
Who art so cruel and unstedfast grown ! 
For Nature, called for by distressed hearts. 
Neglects, and quite forsakes the outward parts. 

But they whose cheeks with careless blood are stained, 
Nurse not one spark of love within their hearts; 
And when they woo, they speak with passion feigned, 
For their fat love lies in their outward parts : 
But in their breasts, where Love his Court should hold. 
Poor Cupid sits, and blows his nails for cold. 



Hen the god of merry love, 
As yet in his cradle lay, 
Thus his wither'd nurse did say : 
" Thou a wanton boy wilt prove ! 
To deceive the powers above; 
For by thy continual smiling, 
I see thy power of beguiling ! " 





20S L V R I C S, E I, E G I IC S, & C. FROM 



LT. Cnmpion, M.n. 
Uefore May 1601. 



Tlicrewith she, the babe did kiss; 
Wlien a sudden fire outcame, 
From those burning lips of his, 
That did her, with love inflame. 
But none would regard the same ; 
So that, to her day of dying, 
The old wretch lived ever crying. 




IsTRESS ! since you so much desire, 
To i<now tlie place of Cupid's lire. 
In your fair shrine that flame doth rest 
Yet never harboured in your breast. 
It 'bides not in your lips so sweet, 
Nor where the rose and lilies meet ; 
But a little higher, a little higher ; 
There, there, O there lies Cupid's fire. 

Even in those starry piercing eyes, 
There, Cupid's sacred fire lies ! 
Those eyes, I strive not to enjoy, 
For they have power to destroy. 
Nor woo I for a smile or kiss. 
So meanly triumphs not my bliss ; 
But a little higher, a little higher ; 
I climb to crown my chaste desire. 




Our fair looks inflame my desire ! 

Quench it again with love ! 
Stay, strive not still to retire ! 

Do not inhuman prove ! 
If love may persuade. 

Love's pleasures. Dear ! deny not 
Here is a silent grovy shade, 

tarry then, and fly not ! 



"^IJe^orTMay Yfc!:] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, &C. 209 

Have I seized my heavenly delight 

In this unhaunted grove? 
Time shall now her fury requite, 

With the revenge of love. 
Then come ! Sweetest ! come I 

My lips with kisses gracing, 
Here let us harhour all alone, 

Die, die in sweet embracing! 

Will you now so timely depart. 

And not return again ? 
Your sight lends such life to my heart, 

That to depart is pain. 
Fear yields no delay, 

Secureness helpeth pleasure. 
Then, till the time gives safer stay, 

farewell ! my life's treasure I 




He man of life upright. 

Whose guiltless heart is free 
I'^rom all dishonest deeds. 

Or thought of vanity : 



The man whose silent days, 

In harmless joys are spent ; 

Whom hopes cannot delude. 
Nor sorrow discontent ; 



That man needs neither towers 

Nor armour for defence ; 
Nor secret vaults to fly 

From thunder's violence. 
Exo. GAK. Ml. 14 



no Lyrics, Elegies, &c. K ROM ['.^"'^/"y'U;; 

He, only, can behold, 

W'itli unaffriglited cjes, 
The horrors of the deep 

And terrors of the skies. 



Thus scorning all the cares, 

That fate or fortune brings ; 

lie makes the heaven his book. 
His wisdom, heavenly things. 



Good thoughts, his only friends; 

His wealth, a well-spent age: 
The earth, his sober Inn, 

And quiet Pilgrimage. 




Hkn thou must home, to shades of underground ! 

And there arrived, a new admired guest, 

'I'he beauteous spirits do engirt the round ! 

White loPE, blithe Helen, and the rest. 

To hear the stories of thy finisht love, 

From that smooth tongue, whose music, hell can move. 



Then, wilt thou speak of banquetting delights! 
Of masks and revels which sweet youth did make. 
Of tourneys and great challenges of knights, 
And all these triumphs, for thy beauty sake ! 
\\'hen thou hast told these honours done to thee ! 
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me ! 




'iefo'tay'dJ?:] MaDRIGALS, CaNZONETS, &C. 211 

OiME, let us sound with melody, the praises 
Of the King's King, th'omnipotent Creator, 
Author of number, that hath all the world 

In harmony framed. 



Heav'n is His throne perpetually shining, 

His divine power and glory, thence He thunders, 

One in All, and All still in One abiding, 

Both Father and Son. 

O sacred SPRITE! invisible, eternal, 
Ev'rywhere, yet unlimited, that all things 
Can'st in one moment penetrate, revive me ! 

O Holy SPIRIT! 

Rescue ! O rescue me from earthly darkness ! 
Banish hence all these elemental objects ! 
Guide my soul, that thirsts! to the lively fountain 

Of thy divineness ! 

Cleanse my soul, GOD ! thy bespotted image ! 
Altered with sin, so that heavenly pureness, 
Cannot acknowledge me ; but in thy mercies, 

O Father of grace ! 

But when once Thy beams do remove my darkness ; 
O then, I'll shine forth, as an angel of light, 
And record, with more than an earthly voice, Thy 

Infinite honours. 



FINIS. 



212 L V K I CS, E L E a I E S, & C. F R O 



M 



tV. kossctcr. 
il.y 



iiy i(k>i. 



SoNQp BY Philip T^oppetei^ 




Weet ! come again ! 

Your happy sight, so much desired, 
Since you from hence are now retired, 

I seek in vain : 
Still I must mourn, 

And pine in longing pain ; 
Till you, my life's delight, again 

Vouchsafe your wisht return ! 



If true desire. 

Or faithful vow of endless love, 
Thy heart inflamed, may kindly move 

With equal fire ; 
then my joys, 

So long distraught, shall rest, 
Reposed soft in thy chaste brea;.t, 

Exempt from all annoys. 



You had the power 

My wand'ring thoughts first to restrain ! 
You first did hear my love speak plain ! 

A child before ; 
Now it is grown 

Confirmed, do you keep it ! 
And let it safe, in your bosom sleep, 

There ever made jour own ! 



p. Roei^eter-T 
May 1601.J 



Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 

And till we meet, 

Teach absence inward art to find, 
Both to disturb and please the mind ! 

Such thoughts are sweet : 
And such remain 

In hearts whose flames are true ; 
Then such will I retain, till you 

To me return asrain ! 



2r 




Nd would you see my mistress' face ? 

It is a flowery garden place, 
^^'here knots of beauties have such '^race, 

That all is work, and nowhere space. 



It is a sweet delicious morn, 

Where day is breeding, never born; 

It is a meadow, j-et unshorn, 

Which thousand flowers do adorn. 

It is the heaven's bright reflex, 
Weak eyes to dazzle and to vex : 

It is th' Idea of her sex : 

Envy of whom doth world perplex. 

It is a face of Death that smiles, 
Pleasing, though it kills the whiles : 

Where Death and Love in pretty wiles, 
Each other mutually bqguiles. 



It is fair beauty's freshest youth, 
It is the feigned Elizium's truth: 

The spring, that wintered hearts reneweth ; 
And this is that my soul pursueth. 



2 14 Lyrics, Elect i; s, & c. f r o ^t TjuTX: 



^O GRAVE for woe, yet earth my watery tears devours, 
'jSighs want air; and burnt desires, kind pity's showers: 
jjstars hold their fatal course, my joys preventing. 
The earth, the sea, the air, the fire, the heavens vow 
my tormenting. 



Yet still I live, and waste my weary days in groans, 
And with woful tunes adorn despairing moans. 
Night still prepares a more displeasing morrow, 
My day is night, my life my death, and all but sense of 
sorrow. 



F I URGE my kind desires, 
She, unkind, doth them reject ; 
Women's hearts are painted fires. 
To deceive them that affect. 
I, alone, love's fires include ; 
She, alone, doth them delude. 

She hath often vowed her love ; 
But, alas ! no fruit I find. 
That her fires are false I prove. 
Yet, in her, no fault I find. 
I was thus unhappy born, 
And ordained to be her scorn. 

Yet if human care or pain, 
May the heavenly order change ; 
She will hate her own disdain. 
And repent she was so strange : 
For a truer heart than I, 
Never li\cd, nor loved to die. 




Mly".fo':] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 215 




Hat heart's content can he find, 

What happy sleeps can his eyes embrace, 
That bears a guilty mind ? 
His taste, sweet wines will abhor, 
No music's sound can appease the thoughts 

That wicked deeds deplore. 
The passion of a present fear, 

Still makes his restless motion there ; 
And, all the day, he dreads the night. 

And, all the night, as one aghast, he fears the morning 
light. 



But he that loves to be loved, 

And, in his deeds, doth adore heaven's power. 
And is with pity moved ; 

The night gives rest to his heart. 
The cheerful beams do awake his soul, 

Revived in every part. 
He lives a comfort to his friends, 

And heaven to him, such blessing sends, 
That fear of hell cannot dismay 

His steadfast heart that is [?j 




Et him that will be free, and keep his heart from 
care, 
Retired alone, remaining where no discomforts 
are. 
For when the eye doth view his grief, or hapless ear his 
sorrow bears, 
Th' impression still in him abides, and ever in one shape 
appears. 



2 I 6 L Y R I C S, E L E f: 1 E S, & C. F R () M [^*ft!l°;X[: 

Forget thy griefs, betimes ! Long sorrow breeds long pain, 

For joy far fled from men, will not return again ; 
O happy is the soul, which heaven ordained to live in endless 
peace I 
His life is a pleasing dream, and every hour his joys in- 
crease. 



You heavy sprites ! that love in severed shades to dwell, 

That nurse despair, and dream of unrelenting hell ; 
Come sing this happy song ! and learn of me the Art of True 
Content ! 
Load not your guilty souls with wrong ! and heaven, then, 
will soon relent. 




E PROVE not love ! though fondly thou hast lost 

Greater hopes by loving. 
Love calms ambitious spirits ; from their breasts 
Danger oft removing. 
Let lofty humours mount up on high, 

Down again like to the wind ; 
\\'hile private thoughts vowed to love, 
More peace and pleasure find. 

Love and sweet beauty make the stubborn mild, 

And the coward fearless ; 
The wretched miser's care, to bounty turns. 

Cheering all things cheerless. 
Love chains the earth and heaven, 

Turns the spheres, guides the 3'ears in endless peace. 
The flowery earth, through his power, 

Receives her due increase. 



p. Rnsseter, 
M 




"yT^,:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 217 

Nd would 3'ou fain the reason know, 
Why my sad eyes, so often flow ? 
My heart ebbs joy, when they do so, 

And loves the moon by whom thty c^o. 



And will you ask, " Why pale I look ? " 

'Tis not with poring on my book : 
My mistress' cheek, my blood hath took, 

For her, mine own hath me forsook. 

Do not demand, " Why I am mute ? " 

Love's silence doth all speech confute. 
They set the note, then tune the lute ; 

Hearts frame their thoughts, then tongues their suit. 

Do not admire, " Why I admire ? " 

My fever is no other's fire : 
Each several heart hath his desire; 
Else proof is false, and truth a liar. 

If why I love, you should see cause ! 

Love should have form like other laws, 
But Fancy pleads not by the claws, 

'Tis as the sea, still vext with flaws. 

No fault upon my love espy ! 

For you perceive not with my e3'e ; 
My palate, to your taste may lie. 

Yet please itself deliciously. 

Then let my sufferance be mine own ! 

Sufficeth it these reasons shown, 
Reason and love are ever known 

To fitj'htj till both be overthrown. 




2i8 Lyrics, Elegiks, &c. from [''-.M.IyT^;: 

Men Laura smiles, her sij^ht revives both ni;,'ht and 

day; 
The earth and heaven views with dehght, her wan. 
ton play : 

And her speech, with ever-flowing music, doth repair 
The cruel wounds of sorrow and untamed despair. 

The sprites, that remain in fleeting air, 

Affect, for pastime, to untwine her tressed hair: 

And the birds think sweet Aurora, Morning's Queen, doth 

shine, 
From her bright sphere, when Laura shows her looks divine. 

Diana's eyes are not adorned with greater power 
Than Laura's, when she Hsts awhile, for sport, to lower : 
But when she her eyes encloseth, blindness doth appear 
The chiefest grace of beauty, sweetly seated there. 

Love hath no fire, but what he steals from her bright eyes; 
Time hath no power, but that which in her pleasure lies: 
For she, with her divine beauties, all the world subdues. 
And fills with heavenly spirits, my humble Muse. 




fjONG have mine e^'es gazed with delight, 
Conveying hopes unto my soul ; 
In nothing happy, but in sight 
Of her, that doth my sight control : 
But now, mine eyes must lose their light. 

My object, now, must be the air ; 

To write in water, words of fire ; 

And teach sad thoughts how to despair : 

Desert must quarrel with Desire. 

All Were appeased were she not fair. 




%?aT.&lJ Madrigals, Canzon ETS, c:c, 219 

For all my comfort, this I prove, 
That Venus on the sea was born : 
If seas be calm, then doth she love ; 
If storms arise, I am forlorn. 
My doubtful hopes, like wind do move. 



Hough far from joy, my sorrows are as far, 

And I both between; 

Not too low, nor yet too high 

Above my reach, would I be seen. 

Happy is he, that so is placed. 

Not to be envied, nor to be disdained or disgraced. 

The higher trees, the more storms they endure. 
Shrubs be trodden down. 
But the mean, the Golden Mean, 
Doth only all our fortunes crown : 
Like to a stream, that sweetly slideth 
Through the flowery banks, and still in the midst his 
course guideth. 



Hall I come, if I swim ? Wide are the waves, you 
see ! 

Shall I come, if I fly, my dear Love ! to thee ? 

Streams, Venus will appease; Cupid gives me wings. 
All the powers assist my desire, 
Save you alone, that set my woful heart on fire ! 

You are fair, so was Hero, that in Sestos dwelt ; 

She a priest, yet the heat of love truly felt. 
A greater stream than this, did her love divide ; 

But she was his guide, with a light : 
So, through the streams, Leandek did enjoy her sight. 




220 LvRirS, El.EOIEfi, &C. FROM [ 



P. Rn";sclcr 
M.iy 1601. 




i]Y ME ! that love should Nature's work accuse, 
Where cruel Laura still her heauty views; 
River, or cloudy jet, or crystal bright, 
Are all but servants of herself, delight. 

Yet her deformed thoughts, she cannot see ; 

And that's the cause she is so stern to mc. 
Virtue and duty can no favour gain : 

A grief, death ! to live and love in vain. 




Hall then a trait'rous kiss or a smile, 

All my delights unhappily beguile ? 
Shall the vow of feigned love receive so rich regard ; 

When true service dies neglected, and wants his 
due reward ? 



Deeds meritorious soon be forgot. 

But one offence no time can ever blot; 
Every day it is renewed, and every night it bleeds, 

And with bloody streams of sorrow drowns all our better 
deeds. 

Beauty is not by Desert to be won ; 

Fortune hath all that is beneath the sun. 
Fortune is the guide of Love ; and both of them be blind : 

All their ways are full of errors; which no true feet can 
find. 




F I IIOPF,, I pine ; if I fear, I faint and die; 

So between hope and fear, I desperate lie. 
Looking for joy to heaven, whence it should come 

But hope is blind ; joy, deaf; and I am dumb. 



%?aTifo'.'.] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 221 

Yet, I speak and cry ; but, alas, with words of woe : 
And joy conceives not them that murmur so. 

He that the ears of joy will ever pierce, 

Must sing glad notes, or speak in happier verse. 




Nless there were consent 'twixt hell and heaven. 
That grace and wickedness should be combined ; 
I cannot make thee and thy beauties even ! 
Thy face is heaven ! and torture in thy mind ! 
For more than worldly bliss is in thy eye ; 
And hellish torture in thy mind doth lie. 

A thousand Cherubim fly in her looks; 

And hearts, in legions, melt upon their view : 

But gorgeous covers wall up filthy books, 

Be it sin to say, that so your eyes do you ? 

But, sure, your mind adheres not with your eyes ! 

For what they promise, that your heart denies ! 

But, 0, lest I religion should misuse ; 

Inspire me thou, that ought'st thyself to know ! 

(Since skilless readers, reading do abuse) 

What inward meaning, outward sense doth show ? 

For by thy eyes and heart, chosen and contemned! 

I waver; whether saved or condemned. 




F SHE forsake, I must die I 

Shall I tell her so ? 
Alas, then strait she will reply, 

" No ! no ! no ! no ! no ! " 
If I disclose my desperate sta'.c, 
She will but make sport thereat. 

And more unrelenting grow. 



222 



Lyrics, E i. r. c; i r. 



&c. 



!• k () M I ji.,j. ,^, 



What heart can long, such pains abide ? 

Fie upon this love 1 
I would adventure far and wide, 

If it would remove. 
But Love will still my steps pursue, 
I cannot, his ways eschew : 

Thus, still helpless, hopes I prove. 

I do my love in lines commend, 

But, alas, in vain ; 
The costly gifts, that I do send, 

She returns again : 
Thus still is my despair procured, 
And her malice more assured. 

Then come Death, and end my pain 1 




Hat is a day, what is a year 
Of vain delight and pleasure ? 

Like to a dream, it endless die'-, 
And from us like a vapour flics : 

And this is all the fruit that we find, 
Which glory in worldly treasure. 

Hi that will hope for true delight, 
With virtue must be graced ; 

Sweet folly yields a bitter taste, 
Which ever will appear at last ; 

But if we still in virtue delight, 
Our souls are in heaven placed. 




T\D in unkindness, when will you relent ? 

And cease with faint love, true love to torment ? 

Still entertained ; excluded still I stand. 

Her glove still hold, but cannot touch the hand. 



"""MaTS Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 223 

In her fair hand, my hopes and comforts rest : 
O might my fortunes, with that hand be blest ! 
No envious breaths then my deserts could shake ; 
For they are good, whom such, true love doth make. 

O let not beauty so forget her birth, 
That it should fruitless home return to earth ! 
Love is the fruit of beauty, then love one ! 
Not your sweet self! for such self-love is none. 

Love one that only lives in loving you ! 
Whose wronged deserts, would you with pity view ; 
This strange distaste which your affection sways. 
Would relish love : and you find better days. 

Thus till my happy sight your beauty views ! 
Whose sweet remembrance still my hope renews : 
Let these poor lines solicit love for me ! 
And place my joys, where my desires would be ! 




Hat then is love, but mourning ? 

What desire, but a self-burning, 
Till she, that hates, doth love return ? 
Thus will I mourn, thus will I sing, 

" Come away 1 come away, my darling ! " 



Beauty is but a blooming, 

Youth in his glory entombing; 
Time hath a while, which none can stay : 
Then come away, while thus I sing, 

" Come away ! come away, my darling ! 



2 24 



Lyrics, Elegies, & c . 



rP. Ros^ctcr. 
L May 1601. 



Summer, in winter fadeth ; 

Gloomy night, heavenly light shadeth : 
Like to the morn, are Venus' flowers ; 
Such are her hours ! Then will I sing, 
" Come away ! come away, my darling! " 




H ETHER men do laugh or weep, 
Whether they do wake or sleep, 
5j Whether they die young or old, 
Whether they feel heat or cold ; 
There is, underneath the sun. 
Nothing, in true earnest done. 



All our pride is but a jest ; 
None are worst, and none are best ; 
Grief and joy, and hope and fear, 
Play their pageants everywliLrc. 
Vain opinion all doth sway ; 
And the World is but a Play. 

Powers above in clouds do sit, 
Mocking our poor apish wit ; 
That so lamely, with such state, 
Their high glory imitate. 
No ill can be felt, but pain ; 
And that, happy men disdain. 

FINIS. 



^ 



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n<u(>f)i[>'w'')^ jii 



♦it 

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♦if 
♦if 



Of English Dogs, 

^/le (diversities^ the names ^ 
tfjc natures, anD tfjc propcitics. 

A Short 

Treatise writteji i7i Latiji 
by Johannes CAiusOf latC 

memory, Doctor of Ipbysic 

in ttjc Oniucrsitj? 

of CambriDgc. 

anil nctoli? DiMVun iiuo (Enfflisilj 

lij) Abraham Fleming 

Natiij'a et'iam in />rutis vim ostendit 
mam. 

Seen and allowed. 



4 C Imprinted at London ^ 

111' Eirljai-ti 3|ol)nc0, anH ai'c to lie % 

0olD obci: aijainsr ^. scpiil-- |! 

clji'es Ctjtiitlj Vuitljoiit ^ 

/PcVopre. ^ 

1576. ( 

ji- Ojj t-^c t)^'^ oj'j t)J^j c)jG c)^^ 



Jig;- 



3II si^slp^ps^^ipppplsljlj^: 




£;a-i;. ff.f;c. III. 



15 



[Of this first pybitcd English book on Dos^s^ tlie following are the 
principal parts omitted here. 
Abraham Fleming's Latin Epistola Dcdicatoria to Doctor Perne. 

The Alphabetical Index, dechiriiii; S^c. — E. A.] 



22: 







CA Prosopopoical Speech 
of the Book. 

Ome tell of stars th'infliience strange, 

S )me tell of birds which fly in th'air, 
Some tell of beasts on land which range, 
Some tell of fish in rivers fair, 
Some tell of serpents sundry sorts. 

Some tell of plants the full effect : 
Of English Dogs, I sound reports ; 

Their names and natures I detect. 
My forehead is but bald and bare. 

But yet my body 's beautiful : 
For pleasant flowers in me there are, 

And not so fine as plentiful. 
And though my garden plot so green, 

Of Dogs receive the trampling feet ; 
Yet is it swept and kept full clean, 
So that it yields a savour sweet. 

Abraham Fleming. 






228 



'T^ 



MBi Me. :M'e. m£t iiMi 



■^•»>->^-ct^-^^^^*^— ^^-<*^^«l>^«^^^^-^^*6^^^^ 




To the well disposed 
Reader. 

S EVHRV manifest effect proceedeth from some certain 
cause, so the penning of this present Abridgment 
(identic and courteous Reader) issued from a special 
occasion. For Conradus Genesrus, a man, whiles 
he lived, of incomparable knowledge and manifold experience, 
being never satisfied with the sweet sap of understanding ; 
requested Johannes Caius, a profound clerk and a ravenous 
devourer of learning (to his praise be it spoken, though the 
language be somewhat homely) to write a Breviary or Short 
Treatise of such dogs as were engendered within the borders 
of England. To the contentation of whose mind and the utter 
accomplishment of whose desire, Caius spared no study (for 
the acquaintance, which was between them, as it was 
confirmed by continuance, and established upon unfeigned- 
ness ; so was it sealed with virtue and honesty) withdrew 
himself from no labour, repined at no pains, forsook no 
travail, refused no endeavour, finally, pretermitted no oppor- 
tunity nor circumstance which seemed pertinent and requisite 
to the performance of this little libel [tract]. 

In the whole Discourse whereof, the book, to consider the 
substance, being but a pamphlet or scantling; the argument 
not so fine and affected, and yet the doctrine very profitable 
and necessary, he useth such a smooth and comely st}le and 
ticth his invention to such methodical and orderly proceed- 



A. Fleramg.-j ^ Q THE WELL DISTOSED ReADER. 2^9 

ings, as the elegantness and neatness of his Latin phrase 
(being pure, perfect, and unmingled) maketh the matter, which 
of itself is very base and clubbish, to appear, shall I say, 
tolerable ; nay, rather commendable and effectual. 

The sundry sorts of English dogs he discovereth so 
e\idently, their natures he rippeth up so apparently, their 
manners he openeth so manifestly, their qualities he declareth 
so skilfully, their proportions he painteth out so perfectly, 
their colours he describeth so artificially ; and knitteth all 
these in such shortness and brevity, that the mouth of the 
adversary must needs confess and give sentence that commen- 
dation ought to be his reward, and praise his deserved pension. 

An ignorant man would never have been drawn into this 
opinion, to think that there had been in England such 
variety and choice of dogs ; in all respects (not only for name, 
but also for quality) so diverse and unlike. But what cannot 
learning attain ? what cannot the key of knowledge open ? 
what cannot the lamp of understanding lighten? what 
secrets cannot discretion detect ? finally, what cannot expe- 
rience comprehend ? what huge heaps of histories hath 
Gesnerus hoarded up in volumes of large size ? Fishes in 
floods, cattle on land, birds in the air; how hath he sifted 
them, by their natural difference ? how closely, and in how 
narrow a compass, hath he couched mighty and monstrous 
beasts, in bigness like mountains; the books themselves being 
lesser than mole hills, [shew.] The life of this man was not so 
great a restority of comfort, as his death was an ulcer or wound 
of sorrow. The loss of whom, Caius lamented, not so much 
as he was his faithful friend, as for that he was a famous 
Philosopher; and yet the former reason (being, in very deed, 
vehement and forcible) did sting him with more grief, than he, 
peradventure, was willing to disclose. And though death be 
counted terrible for the time, and consequently unhapp}' : 
yet Caius avoucheth the death of Gesner most blessed, 
lucky, and fortunate, as in this book, intituled De lihvis 
propriis, appeareth. 



230 Tu Tin; \vi;i,L disposed Rkadek. ['^' '''"'s"!: 

But of these tvvo Eagles sufficient is spoken, as I suppose ; 
and yet little enough in consideration of their dignity and 
worthiness. Nevertheless little or mickle, something or 
nothing, substance or shadow, take all in good part ! my 
meaning is, by a few words to win credit to this work; not 
so much for mine own English translation as for the singular 
commendation of them, challenged of duty and desert. 

Wherefore, gentle Reader ! I commit them to thy memory ! 
and their books, to thy courteous censure! They were both 
learned men, and painful practitioners in their professions; 
so much the more therefore are their works worthy estima- 
tion. I would it were in me to advance them as I wish ; the 
worst (and yet both, no doubt, excellent) hath deserved a 
monument of immortality. 

Well, there is no more to be added but this, that as 
the translation of this book was attempted, finished, and 
published of good will (not only to minister pleasure, as 
to afford profit) ; so it is my desire and request that my 
labour therein employed may be acceptable ; as I hope it 
shall be to men of indifferent judgement. As for such as 
shall snar and snatch at the English Abridgment, and tear 
the Translator, being absent, with the teeth of spiteful envy; 
I conclude, in brevity, their eloquence is but currish, if I 
serve in their meat with wrong sauce, ascribe it not to 
unskilfulness in cookery, but to ignorance in their diet, for 
as the poet saith — 

Non satis est ars sola coquo, scrvire palato : 
Naniqiie coqiius duuiinl debet habere gulaiii : 

It is not enough that a cook understand ; 
Except his Lord's stomach, he hold in his hand. 

To wind up all in a watchword, I say no more, but " Do 
well ! and fare well ! " 

His and his friends ! 

A B K A n AM Fleming. 



231 





The first Section of this Discourse. 

C The Preat?ible or 'Entrance into this Treatise. 

Wrote unto you, well beloved friend Gesner! 
not many years past, a manifold history : con- 
taining the divers forms and figures of beasts, 
birds, and fishes; the sundry shapes of plants, 
and the fashions of herbs. 

I wrote moreover, unto you severally, a 
certain Abridgment of Dogs, which, in your 
Discourse upon "the forms of beasts in the second Order 
of mild and tameable beasts," where you make mention 
of Scottish dogs, and in the winding up of your letter 
written and directed to Doctor Turner, comprehending 
a catalogue or rehearsal of your books not yet extant, you 
promised to set forth in print, and openly to publish in 
the face of the world ; among such your works as are not 
yet come abroad to light and sight. But because certain 
circumstances were wanting in my Breviary of English 
Dogs, as seemed unto me, I stayed the publication of the 
same ; making promise to send another abroad, which might 
be committed to the hands, the eyes, the ears, the minds, and 
the judgements of the readers. 

Wherefore, that I might perform that precisely, which I 



232 Three Classes of English Dogs. 



r J. C;liu^. is^^ft. 
La. Fleming, 1576. 



promised solemnly, accomplish my determination, and satisfy 
your expectation ; which art a man desirous and capable of 
all kinds of knowledge, and very earnest to be acquainted 
with all experiments : I will express and declare, in due order, 
the grand and general kind of English Dogs, the difference of 
them, the use, the properties, and the divers natures of the 
same; making a tripartite division in this sort and manner. 
A gentle kind, serving the game [pp. 233- 

249, 263-2671. 
A homely kind, apt for sundry neces- 
sary uses [pp. 250-259, 267]. 
A currish kind, meet for many toys 
[pp. 260-262, 268-9]. 
Of these three sorts or kinds so mean I to intreat, that the 
first in the first place, the last in the last room, and the middle 
sort in the middle seat be handled. 



All English Dogs 
be either of 




Call them, universally, all by the name of English 
Dogs, as well because England only, as it hath in 
it English dogs, so it is not without Scottish ; as 
also for that we are more inclined and delighted 
with the noble game of hunting; for we Englishmen 
are addicted and given to that exercise, and painful pastime 
of pleasure ; as well for the plenty of flesh which our parks 
and forests do foster, as also for the opportunity and con- 
venient leisure which we obtain. Both [of] which, the Scots 
want. Wherefore seeing that the whole estate of kindly 
hunting consisteth principally 

In these ( In chasing the beast ) that f hunting ] 
two points \ In taking the bird J is in ( fowling J 

It is necessary and requisite to understand, that there are 
two sorts of dogs; by whose means, the feats within specified 
are wrought, and these practices of activity cunningly and 
curiously compassed. 



A. Fkmm'g: I576.] English Dogs — the Harrier. 



/One which rouseth the beast, and continueth 
Two kinds the chase. 
of dogs I Another which springeth the bird, and 
[ bewrayeth the flight by pursuit. 

Both which kinds are termed of the Latins, by one common 
name, that is, Canes Venaiici, "hunting dogs." But because 
we EngHsh men make a difference between hunting and 
fowHng : for that they are called by these several words, 
Vcnatio ct Aucnpiimi, so they term the dogs whom they use 
in these sundry games by divers names ; as those which serve 
for the beast, are called Vcnatici, the others which are used for 
the fowl, are called Ancupatorii [see pp. 242-246]. 

The first / The first in perfect smelling 



kind, called 
Vcnatici, I 
divide into 
five sorts. 



The second in quick spying 
The third in swiftness and quickness 
The fourth in smelling and nimbleness 
^ The fifth in subtilty and deceitfulness 



excel- 
leth. 



Of the dog, called an Harrier; in Latin, Leverarius. 

Hat kind of dog whom Nature hath endued with 
the virtue of smelling, whose property it is to use 
a lustiness, a readiness, and a courageousness in 
hunting ; and draweth into his nostrils the air of 



scent of the beast pursued and followed : we call by the 
word Sagax [i.e., keen scented], the Grecians by this word 
l')^i'evT >']<;, of tracing or chasing by the foot, or pLv/)\aTo<;, of 
the nostrils, which be the instruments of smelling. 

We may know this kind of dogs by their long, large, and 
bagging lips ; by their hanging ears, reaching down both sides 
of their chaps ; and by the indifferent and measurable pro- 
portion of their making. This sort of dogs, we call Leveravins, 
Harriers. 

That I may comprise the whole number of them in certain 
specialities, and apply to them their proper and peculiar 
names ; for so much as they cannot all be reduced and 
brought under one sort, considering both the sundry uses of 
them, and the difference of their service whereto they be 
appointed. 



34 Ex(;i.isii Docs—Tiiic Tkrriek. [ a. i'lJiiilllg' l^^s! 



Some foi 



Tlie liare. 
The fox. 
The wolf. 
The hart. 
The buck. 
The badger. 
The otter. 
The polecat. 
The lobster. 
The weasel. 
The cony, &c. 



Some for one thins;, and 
f some for another. 



As for the cony [rabbit], whom we have lastly set down ; we 
use not to hunt, but rather to take it, sometimes with the net, 
sometimes witii a ferret : and thus every several sort is notable 
and excellent in his natural quality and appointed practice. 

Among these sundry sorts, there be some which are apt to 
hunt two divers beasts, as the foxe other-whiles, and other- 
whiles the hare ; but they hunt not with such towardness, 
and good luck after them, as they do that whereunto Nature 
hath framed them, not only in external composition and 
making, but also in inward faculties and conditions : for 
they swerve oftentimes, and do otherwise then they should. 

Of a dog, called a Terrier ; in Latin, Terrarius. 

NoTHER sort there is, which hunteth the Fox and the 
Badger or Grey only, whom we call Terriers; because 
they (after the manner and custom of ferrets, in search- 
ing for Conies) creep into the ground, and by that 
means make afraid, nip, and bite the fox and the badger in 
such sort, that either they tear them in pieces with their teeth 
being in the bosom of the earth, or else haul and pull them, per- 
force, out of their lurking angles, dark dungeons, and close 
caves, or at least through conceived fear, drive them out of 
their hollow harbours : in so much that they are compelled to 
prepare speedy flight, and being desirous of the next, albeit 
not the safest refuge, are otherwise taken and entrapped 
with snares and nets laid over their holes to the same 
purpose. But these be the least in that kind, called Sagax. 





A. FkSng. ;5f6:] English Dogs—tiie Bloodiiuum). 235 
Oj the dog, called a Bloodhound ; in L^^"/;;, Sanguinarius. 

He greater sort which serve to hunt, having h'ps of a 
large size, and ears of no small length, do not cnly 
chase the beast whiles it liveth, as the others do of 
whom mention is above made ; but, being dead also 
by any manner of casualty, make recourse to the place where 
it lieth : having in this point an assured and infallible guide, 
namely, the scent and favour of the blood sprinkled here and 
there upon the ground. For whether the beast being wounded, 
doth notwithstanding enjoy life, and escapeth the hands of 
the huntsman ; or whether the said beast being slain is 
conveyed cleanly out of the park (so that there be some 
signification of bloodshed) these dogs, with no less facility 
and easiness than avidity and greediness, can disclose and 
betray the same by smelling: applying to their pursuit, agility 
and nimbleness, without tediousness. For which consideration, 
of a singular specialty they deserve to be called S.ingninarii, 
Blood-hounds. 

And albeit peradventure it may chance (as whether it 
chanceth seldom or sometimes, I am ignorant) that a piece 
of flesh be subtilly stolen and cunningly conveyed away, with 
such provisoes and pre-caveats as thereby all appearance of 
blood is either prevented, excluded or concealed ; yet this 
kind of dogs, by a certain direction of an inward assured 
notice and privy mark, pursue the deed doers, through long 
lanes, crooked reaches, and weary ways, without wandering 
away out of the limits of the land whereon these desperate 
purloiners prepared their speedy passage. 

Yea, the natures of these dogs is such, and so effectual is 
their foresight, that they can bewray, separate, and pick them 
out from among an infinite multitude and an innumerable 
company, creep they never as far into the thickest throng : 
they will find him out, notwithstanding he lie hidden in 
wild woods, in close and overgrown groves, and lurk in 
hollow holes apt to harbour such ungracious guests. More- 
over, although they should pass over the water, thinking 
thereby to avoid the pursuit of the hounds ; yet will not these 
dogs give over their attempt, but presuming to swim through 
the stream, persevere in their pursuit : and when they be 
arrived and gotten [on] the further bank, they hunt up and 



236 English Dogs — the Bloodhound, [a J-ic'i>>ing; '.576: 

down ; to and fro run they; from place to place, shift they; 
until they have attained to that plot of ground, where they 
passed over. And this is their practice, if, perdie, they cannot 
at first time, smelling, find out the way which the deed doers 
took to escape. So, at length, get they that by art, cunning, 
and diligent endeavour; wliich by fortune and luck, they can- 
not otherwise overcome. Insomuch as it seemeth worthily 
and wisely written by yKLiANUS in his First Book, and 
thirty-ninth Chapter, T6 erOvfxaTLKov koI BiaXeKTiKov, to be as it 
were naturally instilled and poured into this kind of dogs. 
For they will not pause or breathe from their pursuit until 
such time as they be apprehended and taken, which 
committed the fact. 

The owners of such hounds use [are accustomed] to keep 
them in close and dark channels in the daytime, and let them 
loose at liberty in the night season : to the intent that they 
might, with more courage and boldness, practise to follow the 
felon in the evening and solitary hours of darkness, when 
such ill-disposed varlets are principally purposed to play 
their impudent pageants and imprudent pranks. These 
hounds, upon whom this present portion of our treatise 
runneth, when they are to follow such fellows as we have 
before rehearsed, use not that liberty to range at will, which 
they have otherwise when they are in game, (except upon 
necessary occasion, whereon dependeth an urgent and 
effectual persuaison) when such purloiners make speedy way 
in flight ; but being restrained and drawn back from running 
at random with the leasse [leash], the end whereof the owner 
holding in his hand, is led, guided and directed with such 
swiftness and slowness (whether he go on foot, or whether 
he ride on horseback) as he himself in heart would wish, for 
the more easy apprehension of these venturous varlets. 

In the borders of England and Scotland (the often and 
accustomed stealing of cattle so procuring) this kind of dogs 
is very much used ; and they are taught and trained up, first 
of all to hunt cattle, as well of tbe smaller as of the greater 
growth ; and afterwards (that quality relinquished and left) 
they are learned to pursue such pestilent persons as plant 
their pleasure in such practices of purloining, as we have 
already declared. 

Of this kind there is none that takcth the water naturallv : 



A. /■ienJing.'syt] English Dogs — the Gazeiiound. 237 

except it please you so to suppose of them which follow 
the Otter ; which sometimes haunt the land, and sometime 
useth the water. And yet, nevertheless, all the kind of them 
boiling and broiling with greedy desire of the prey, which 
by swimming passeth through river and flood; plunge 
amidst the water, and pass the stream with their paws : 
Ijut this property proceedeth from an earnest desire where- 
with they be inflamed ; rather than from any inclination 
issuing from the ordinance and appointment of Nature. 
And albeit some of this sort in English be called Bmche, 
in Scottish Rachc : the cause hereof resteth in the she sex, 
and not in the genera! kind. For we Englishmen call 
bitches, belonging to the hunting kind of dogs, by the term 
above mentioned. 

To be short, it is proper to the nature of hounds, some to 
keep silence in hunting until such time as there is game 
offered. Other some, so soon as they smell out the place 
where the beast lurketh, to bewray it immediately by their 
importunate barking ; notwithstanding it be far off many 
furlongs, couching close in its cabin. And these dogs, the 
younger they be, the more wantonly bark they; and the more 
liberally, yet ofttimes without necessity: so that in them, by 
reason of their young years and want of practice, small 
certainty is to be reposed. For continuance of time, and 
experience in game, ministreth to these hounds not only 
cunning in running, but also, as in the rest, an assured 
loresight what is to be done ; principally, being acquainted 
with their master's watchwords, either in revoking or 
emboldening them to serve the game. 

Of the dog, called Gazeiiound ; in Latin, Agaseus. 

|His kind of dog, which pursueth by the eye, prevaileth 
little, or never a whit, by any benefit of the nose, 
that is by smelling ; but excelleth in perspicuity and 
sharpness of sight altogether: by the virtue whereof, 
being singular and notable, it hunteth the fox and the hare. 
This dog will choose and separate any beast from among a 
great flock or herd, and such a one will it take by election as 
is not lank, lean, and hollow, but well spread, smooth, full, fat, 
and round. It follows by the direction of the eyesight which 




238 ExGi.iSH Dogs— THE Greyhound, [a. /iomtn"s:l57«: 

indeed is clear, constant, and not uncertain. If a beast be 
wounded and gone astray ; this dog seeiveth after it by the 
steadfastness of the eye. If it chance peradventure to 
return bemingled with the residue of the fiock ; this dog 
spyeth it out by the virtue of his eye, leaving the rest of the 
cattle untouched, and after he hath set sure sight upon it he 
separateth it from the company and having so done never 
ceaseth until he hath wearied the beast to death. Our 
countrymen call this dog Agasawn, a Gaze Hound : be- 
cause the beams of his sight are so steadfastly settled and 
unmovably fastened. 

These dngs are much and usually occupied in the Northern 
parts of England more than in the Southern parts ; and in 
fieldy lands rather than in bushy and woody places. 
Horsemen use them more than footmen, in the intent that 
they might provoke their horses to a swift gallop (wherewith 
they are more delighted than with the prey itself) and that they 
might accustom their horse to leap over hedges and ditches, 
without stop or stumble, without harm or hazard, without 
doubt or danger, and so escape with safeguard of life. 

And to the end that the riders themselves (when necessity so 
constrained, and the fear of further mischief enforced) might 
save themselves undamnified [unharmed] and prevent each 
perilous tempest by preparing speedy flight, or else by swift 
pursuit made upon their enemies, might both overtake 
them, encounter with them, and make a slaughter of them 
accordingly. But if it fortune so at any time that this 
dog take wrong way, the master making some usual sign and 
familiar token, he returneth forthwith, and taketh the right 
and ready trace ; beginning his chase afresh, and with a 
clear voice and a swift foot followeth the game, with as 
much courage and nimbleness as he did at the first. 

Of the dog, called the Greyhound ; in Latin, Leporariiis. 

Here is another kind of dog which, for his incredible 
swiftness, is called Lr/o/"rtr/;/s, a Greyhound; because 
the principal service of them dependeth and con- 
sisteth in starting and hunting the hare: which dogs 
likewise are endued with no less strength than lightness in 
maintenance of the game, in serving the chase, in taking the 




A. kming: .'sa'] English Dogs— the Lf.viner. 239 

buck, the hart, the doe, the fox, and other beasts of semblable 
kind ordained for the game of hunting. But more or less, each 
one according to the measure and proportion of their desire; 
and as might and hability of their bodies will permit and 
suffer. For it is a spare and bare kind of dog (of iiesh, but 
not of bone) : some are of a greater sort and some lesser ; 
some are smooth skinned, and some are curled. The bigger 
therefore are appointed to hunt the bigger beasts, and the 
smaller serve to hunt the smaller accordingly. 

The nature of these dogs I find to be wonderful by the 
testimonial of histories. For as Jean Froissart the Historio- 
grapher in his 4. lib. reporteth. A Greyhound of King 
Richard the Second, that wore the crown, and bare the 
sceptre of the Realm of England ; never knowing any man, 
beside the King's person; when Henry, Duke of Lancaster 
came to the castle of Flint to take King Richard : the dog 
forsaking his former lord and master, came to Duke Henry, 
fawned upon him with such resemblances of goodwill and 
conceived affection, as he favoured King Richard before: he 
followed the Duke, and utterly left the King. So that by 
these manifest circumstances a man might judge this dog to 
have been lightened with the lamp of foreknowledge and 
understanding, touching his old master's miseries to come, 
and unhappiness nigh at hand: which King Richard himself 
evidently perceived ; accounting this deed of his dog, a 
prophecy of his overthrow. 

Of the dog, called Leviner or Lyemmer ; 

in Latin, Lorarius. 

NoTHER sort of dogs be there, in smelling singular, 
and in swiftness incomparable. This is, as it were, 
a middle kind betwixt the Harrier and the Grey- 
hound ; as well for his kind, as for the frame of his 
body. And it is called in Latin, Lovinarius, " a Levitate," of 
lightness ; and therefore may well be called a Lighthound. 
It is also called by this word Lorarius, a Loro [a thong], where- 
with it is led. This dog for the excellency of his conditions ; 
namely smelling and swift running, doth follow the game with 
more eagerness, and taketh the prey with a jolly quickness. 





240 Enclisii Dogs— the Tumiu.kr. [a. kSng! I"?. 



Of the dog, caU.cJ a Tiimbkr ; in Latin, Vertagus. 

Ills sort of dogs, which compasseth all by crafts, 
frauds, subtilties 'and deceits, we Englishmen call 
" Tumblers ; " because, in hunting, they turn and 
tumble, winding their bodies about in circle wise, 
and then fiercely and violently venturing upon the beast, doth 
suddenly gripe it, at the very entrance and mouth of their 
receptacles or closets, before they can recover means to save 
and succour themselves. 

This dog useth another craft and subtilty, namely, when 
he runneth into a warren, or fetteth a course about a cony 
[rabhityiun-ow, he hunts not after them, he [afjfrays them 
not by barking, he makes no countenance or shadow of 
liatred against them : but dissembling friendship and pre- 
tending favour, passeth by, with silence and quietness, 
marking and noting their holes diligently ; wherein, I warrant 
you ! he will not be overshot nor deceived. 

A\'hen he cometh to the place where conies be of a cer- 
tainty, he coucheth down close with his belly to the ground ; 
providing always by his skill and policy, that the wind be 
never with him but against him in such an enterprise ; and 
that the conies spy him not, where he lurketh. By which 
means he obtaineth the scent and savour of the conies, carried 
towards him with the wind and the air, either going to their 
holes, or coming out, either passing this way, or running that 
way: and so provideth by his circumspection, that the silly 
simple cony is debarred quite from his hole (which is the haven 
of their hope and the harbour of their health); and fraudulently 
circumvented and taken, before they can get the advantage 
of their hole. Thus having caught his prey he carrieth it 
speedily to his master, waiting his dog's return in some 
ci)n\-enient lurking corner. 

These dogs are somewhat lesser than the hounds, and 
they be lanker and leaner; besides that, they be somewhat 
prick eared. A man that shall mark the form and fashion of 
their bodies, may well call them mongrel Greyhounds, if 
they were somewhat bigger. But notwithstanding they 
countervail not the Greyhound in greatness; yet will he take 



ft. Fle?ning: l'?*:] EnGLISH DoGS — THE TlIIEVISH. 241 

in one day's space as many conies as shall arise to as big a 
burden and as heavy a load as a horse can carry : for deceit 
up and guile is the instrument whereby he maketh this spoil ; 
which pernicious properties supply the place of more 
commendable qualities. 




Of the dog, called the Thievish dog ; in Latin, 
Canis furax. 

Hii like to that whom we have rehearsed, is the 
Thievish Dog, which at the mandate and bidding of 
his master ileereth and leercth about in the night : 
hunting conies by the air, which is leavened with 
their savour ; and conveyed to the sense of smelling by the 
means of the wind blowing towards him. During all which 
space of his hunting he will not bark, lest he should be prejudi- 
cial to his own advantage. And thus watching and snatching 
up in course as many conies as his master will suffer him ; and 
beareth them to his master's standing. The farmers of the 
country, and uplandish dwellers, call this kind of dog a Night 
Cur ; because he hunteth in the dark. 

But let thus much seem sufficient for dogs which serve the 
game and sport of hunting. 



CA Dial pertaining to the First Section. 



Dogs 
serving as 
pastime of 
hunting 
beasts. 



are divided 
into 



Harriers. 

Terriers. 

Bloodhounds. 

Gazehounds. 

Leviners or 

Lyemmers. 

Tumblers. 

Stealers. 



In Latin, 
called 

Vcnaiici. 



Ei\G. Gar III. 



i5 



>42 




The Second Section or this Discourse. 



Of gentle dogs servi?2g the Hawk : and first 

of the Spaniel ; called in Latin, 

Hispaniolus. 

Ucn dogs as serve for Fowling, I think convenient 
and requisite to place in this Second Section of this 
Treatise. These are also to be reckoned and 
accounted in the number of the dogs which come of 
' a gentle kind ; and of those which serve for fowling. 

„, , f The first findeth game on the land. 

There be two sorts \ 




The other findeth game on the water. 

Such as delight on the land, play their parts, either by swift- 
ness of foot, or by often questing, to search out and to spring 
the bird for further hope of advantage ; or else by some secret 
sign and privy token bewray the place where they fall. 

The first kind of such serve The Hawk. 

The second The net, or train. 

The first kind have no peculiar names assigned unto them, 
save only that they be denominated after the bird which, by 
natural appointment, he is allotted to take, for the which 
consideration. 

I For the Falcon 1 
Some be called Dogsj The Pheasant [ and such like, 
i The Partridge J 

The common sort of people call them by one general word, 
namel}'. Spaniels. As though this kind of dogs came 



J 



A. Fia,l"s. 1576.] English Dogs— the Setter. 243 

originally, and first of all, out of Spain. The most part of 
their skins is white, and if they be marked with any spots, 
they are commonly red, and somewhat great therewithal, the 
hairs not growing in such thickness but that the mixture of 
them may easily be perceived. Other some of them be reddish 
and blackish ; but of that sort there be but a very few. 

There is also, at this day among us, a new kind of dog 
brought out of France (for we Englishmen are marvellously 
greedy gaping gluttons after novelties, and covetous cormo- 
rants of things that be seldom, rare, strange, and hard to get), 
and they be speckled all over with white and black, which 
mingled colours incline to a marble blue ; which beautifieth 
their skins, and affordeth a seemly show of comeliness. These 
are called French dogs, as is above declared already. 

The dog, called the Setter ; in Latin, Index. 

NoTHER sort of dogs be there, serviceable for Fowl- 
ing, making no noise either with foot or with tongue 
whiles they follow the game. They attend diligently 
upon their master, and frame their conditions to such 
becks, motions, and gestures, as it shall please him to exhibit 
and make ; either going forward, drawing backward, inclining 
to the right hand, or yielding toward the left. In making 
mention of fowls ; my meaning is, of the partridge and the 
quail. When he hath found the bird, he keepeth sure and 
fast silence, he stayeth his steps and will proceed no further; 
and with a close, covert, watching eye, layeth his belly to the 
ground, and so creepeth forward like a worm. When he 
approacheth near to the place where the bird is, he lays him 
down, and with a mark of his paws betrayeth the place of 
the bird's last abode ; whereby it is supposed that this kind of 
dog is called Index, " Setter," being indeed a name most 
consonant and agreeable to his quality. 

The place being known by the means of the dog, the fowler 
immediately openeth and spreadeth his net, intending to take 
them ; which being done, the dog at the accustomed beck or 
usual sign of his master riseth up by and by, and draweth 
nearer to the fowl that by his presence they might be the 
authors of their own ensnaring, and be ready entangled in 




244 English Dogs— the Water Spaniel. 



r I. Ca!us. 1536. 
I A. H ■ 



Klcming. 1576. 



the prepared net. Which cunning and artificial endeavour 
in a dog (being a creature dcme;tical, or household servant ; 
brought up at home with offals oT the trencher and fragments 
of victuals) is not much to be marvelled at, seeing that a 
hare — being a wild and skippish beast — was seen in England 
to the astonishment of the beholders, in the year of our Lord 
GOD 1564, not only dancing in measure, but playing with his 
former feet upon a tabaret, and observing a just number of 
strokes, as a practitioner in that art ; beside that, nipping 
and pinching a dog with his teeth and claws, and cruelly 
thumping him with the force of his feet. 

This is no trumpery tale nor trifling toy as I imagine and 
therefoie not unworthy to be reported, for I reckon it a 
requital of my travail, not to drown in the seas of silence any 
special thing, wherein the providence and effectual working 
of Nature is to be pondered. 

Of the dog, called the Water Spaniel, or Finder ; 
in Latin, Aquaticus, seu Inquisitor. 

Hat kind of dog whose service is required in fowling 
upon tlie water, partly through a natural towardness, 
and partly by diligent teaching, is endued with that 
propert}'. This sort is somewhat big, and of a measur- 
able greatness; having long, rough, and curled hair, not obtained 
by extraordinary trades, but given by Nature's appointment : 
yet nevertheless, friend Gesner! I have described and set him 
out in this manner, namely, pulled and knotted from the 
shoulders to the hindermost legs, and to the end of his tail, 
which I did for use and custom's cause; that being as it were 
made somewhat bare and naked, b}' shearing of such super- 
fluity of hair, they might achieve more lightness and swiftness, 
and be less hindered in swimmin'g, so troublesome and 
needless a burden being shaken off. 

This kind of dog is properly called Aquaticus, a "Water 
Spaniel" because he frequenteth and hath usual recourse to 
the water, where all his game and exercise lieth ; namely, 
waterfowls, which are taken by the help and service of them, 
in their kind. And principally ducks and drakes, whereupon 
he is likewise named " a Dog for the Duck," because in that 
quality he is excellent. With these dogs also, we fetch out of the 




A. t'laninj: Isa] English Dogs — the Fisher. 245 

water such fowl as be stung to death by any venomous worm. 
We use them also to bring us our bolts and arrows out of the 
water, missing our mark whereat we directed our level ; which 
otherwise we should hardly recover : and oftentimes they 
restore to us our shafts, which we thought never to see, touch 
or handle again, after they were lost ; for which circumstances 
they are called Inquisitorcs, " Searchers," and " Finders." 

Although the duck other whiles notably deceiveth both the 
dog and the master, by diving under the water : and also by 
natural subtilty ; for if any man shall approach to the place 
where they build, breed, and sit, the hens go out of their nest, 
offering themselves voluntarily to the hands, as it were, of 
such as draw nigh their nests. And a certain weakness of 
their wings pretended, and infirmity of their feet dissembled, 
they go so slowly and so leisurel}', that to a man's thinking it 
were no masteries to take them. By which deceitful trick, they 
do, as it were, entice and allure men to follow them, till they 
be drawn a long distance from their nests : which being 
compassed by their provident cunning, or cunning providence, 
they cut off all inconveniences which might grow of their 
return, by using many careful and curious caveats ; lest their 
often haunting bewray the place, where the j'oung ducklings 
be hatched. Great therefore is their desire, and earnest is 
their study to take heed, not only to their brood, but also to 
themselves. For when they have an inkling that they are 
espied, they hide themselves under turfs and sedges, 
wherewith they cover and shrowd themselves so closely and so 
craftily, that (notwithstanding the place where they lurk be 
found and perfectly perceived) there they will harbour without 
harm ; except the Water Spaniel, by quick smelling, discover 
their deceits. 

Of the dog, called the Fisher ; in Latin, 
Canis Piscator. 

He Dog called the Fisher, whereof Hector Boetheus 
writeth, which seeketh for fish by smelling among 
rock and stone ; assuredly, I know none of that kind in 
England, neither have I received by report that there 
is any such: albeit I have been diligent and busy in demanding 
the question, as well of fishermen, as also of huntsmen in that 




246 English Dog s — t he F i s 11 e k . [,\ |.-iSg: Hfi, 

bclialf, being careful and earnest to learn and understand of 
them if any such were : except that you hold opinion that the 
Beaver or Otter is a fish, as many have believed, and according 
to their belief affirmed ; and as the bird Pupine [? Puffin] is 
thought to be a fish, and so accounted. 

But that kind of dog which followeth the fish, to apprehend 
and take it ; if there be any of that disposition and property, 
whether they do this for the game of hunting, or for the heat 
of hunger, as other dogs do (which rather than they will be 
famished for want of food, covet the carcases of carrion and 
putrifying flesh) : when I am fully resolved and disburdened 
of this doubt, I will send you certificate in writing. 

In the mean season, I am not ignorant of that both 
tElianus and /Elius, call the Beaver, KwaTroTd/j.ioi', a Water 
Dog, or a Dog Fish. I know likewise thus much more, that the 
Beaver [Otter] both participate this property with the dog, 
namely, that when fish be scarce they leave the water and 
range up and down the land ; making an insatiable slaughter 
of young lambs until their paunches be replenished : and when 
they have fed themselves full of flesh ; then return they to the 
water, from whence they came. But albeit so much be granted 
that this Beaver is a dog ; yet it is to be noted that we reckon 
it not in the beadrow of English Dogs, as we have done the rest. 

The Sea Calf, in like manner, which our countrymen, for 
brevity sake, called a Seal, others, more largely, name a Sea 
Veal, maketh a spoil of fish between rocks and banks : but it 
is not accounted in the catalogue or number of our English 
Dogs; notwithstanding we call it by the name of Sea Dog, or 
a Sea Calf. 



And thus much for our dogs of the Second Sort, called in 
Latin Aucupatorii, serving to take Fowl, either by land or 
water. 
If A Dial PERTAINING to the Second Section. 



Dogs 


\ 


serving 


are 


the dis- ■ 


divided 


port of 


into 


Fowling. 


\ 



Land Spaniels. 
Setters. 
Water Spaniels 
or Finders. 



called in 

Latin 

CancsA u 

^cupatorii. ^ 



The Fisher 
is not of their 
number; 
but several. 



A. f lem^n|: I576!] EnGLISH DoGS THE SPANIEL GENTLE. 247 

f^ rTi rC^ eOi r5i f"t r?-t tJh r'St rC^ rT- r3i rji rji r^ r^ p2t r&i rCi r?^ 



The Third Section of this Abridgment. 




siftinj 



Ow followeth, in due order and convenient place, 
our English dogs of the third Gentle Kind, what 
they are called, to what use they serve, and what 
sort of people plant their pleasure in them : which 
because they need no curious canvassing and nigh 
we mean to be much the briefer. 




Of the delicate, neat, and pretty kind of dogs, called the 

Spaniel gentle, or the Comforter ; in Latin, 

Meliteus or Fotor. 

Here is, besides those which we have already de- 
livered, another sort of Gentle Dogs in this our 
English soil, but exempted from the order of the 
residue. The dogs of this kind, doth CALLI^rACHUS 
call Mclilaos, of the island Mclita, in the sea of Sicily (which 
at this day is named Malta ; an island, indeed, famous and 
renowned, with courageous and puissant soldiers valiantly 
fighting under the banner of Christ, their unconquerable 
Captain), where this kind of dog had their principal beginning. 
These dogs are little, pretty proper, and fine ; and sought 
for to satisfy the delicateness of dainty dames, and wanton 
women's wills, instruments of folly for them to play and 
dally withal, to trifle away the treasure of time, to withdraw 
their minds from more commendable exercises, and to content 
their corrupted concupiscences with vain desport. A silly shift, 
to shirk irksome idleness ! These puppies the smaller they 
be, the more pleasure they provoke, as more meet playfellows 



248 English Dogs — the Spaniel gentle, [a. k^,'h's: Ij'^l 

for mincing mistresses to bear in their bosoms, to keep 
company withal in their chambers, to succour with sleep in 
bed, and nourish with meat at board, to lay in their laps, and 
lick their lips as they ride in their waggons : and good reason 
it should be so,for coarseness with fineness hath no friendship ; 
but featness with neatness iiath neiglibourhood enough. That 
plausible proverb verified upon a tyrant, namely "that he 
loved his sow, better than his son," may well be applied to 
this kind of people; who delight more in dogs, that are 
deprived of all possibility of reason, than they do in children 
that be capable of wisdom and judgement. But this abuse, 
peradventure, reigneth where there hath been long lack of 
issue ; or else, where barrenness is the best blossom of beauty. 



The virtue which remainelh in the Spaniel gentle, 
otherwise called the Comforter. 



Otwithstanding, many make much of those pretty 
puppies called " Spaniels gentle " ; yet if the question 
were demanded what property in tliem they spy, 
which should make them so acceptable and precious in their 
sight? I doubt their answer would be long a coining. But 
seeing it was our intent to travail in this Treatise, so that 
the reader might reap some benefit by his reading, we will 
communicate unto you such conjectures as are grounded 
upon reason. And though some suppose that such dogs are 
fit for no service, I dare say, by their leaves ! they be in a 
wrong box. 

Among all other qualities, therefore, of Nature, which be 
known (for some conditions are covered with continual and 
thick clouds, that the eye of our capacities cannot pierce 
through them) we find that these little dogs are good to assuage 
the sickness of the stomach, being often times thereunio 
applied as a plaster preservative [!j or borne in the bosom of 
the diseased and weak person [I] which effect is performed 
by their moderate heat. Moreover, the disease and sickness 
changeth his place and entereth — though it be not precisely 
marked — into the dog [!j which to be no untruth. Experience 
can testify. For this kind of dogs sometimes fall sick, and 
sometimes die, without any harm outwardly enforced ; which 



A. ne^ni^g! J"^:] Englisii Dogs — THE Spaniel gentle. 249 

is an argument that the disease of the gentleman or gentle- 
woman or owner whatsoever, entereth into the dog by the 
operation of heat intermingled and infected. 



And thus have I hitherto handled dogs of a Gentle Kind, 
whom I have comprehended in a triple division. Now it 
remaineth that I annex, in due order, such dogs as be of a 
more homely kind. 

A Dial pertaining to the Third Section. 

In the Third /Spaniel 
Section is con- gentle 
tained one kind-' or the 
of dog, which is " Com- 
called the forter." 



.A chamber corn- 


gen- 


It is panion, 


rally 


also 4 A pleasant play- 


-called 


called fellow, 


Can is 


\A pretty worm, / 


delicatus. 




250 



4i, Jk^ J^ J-v. .4i. J-^ Ji^ 4^ ^^ -4i> V.4- »^ ~ 4i- 4i. -^ ^ 4" -:^ -^ 4^ 

■> -^ -^ V (^ V Y 'r V V T V V V V V V V V T 



The Fourth Section of this Discourse. 



Dogs of a coarse kind, serving for many necessary 

uses called in Latin Canes rustici ; and first 

of the Shepherd's Dog; called in 

Latin, Canis Pastoralis. 

Dogs of the (The Shepherd's Dog 1 These two are 

coarser sort are (The Mastiff or Bandog] the principal. 

He first kind, namely, the Shepherd's Hound, is very 
necessary and profitable for the avoiding of harms 
and inconveniences wliicli may come to men, by 
the means of beasts. The second sort serve to 
succour against the snares and attempts of mis- 
chievous men. 

Our Shepherd's Dog is not huge, vast, and big ; but of an 
indifferent stature and growth, because it hath not to deal 
with the bloodthirsty wolf; sithence [since] there be none in 
England ; which happy and fortunate benefit is to be 
ascribed to the puissant Prince Edgar; who (to the intent 
that the whole country might be evacuated and quite cleared 
from wolves) charged and commanded the Welshmen, who 
were pestered with these butcherly beasts above measure, to 
pay him yearly tribute: which was (note the wisdom of the 
King ! ) three hundred wolves. Some there be, which write 




A-FiSil^s;] English t)0GS — the Shepherd's Dog. 251 

that LuDWALL Prince of Wales paid yearly to King Edgar 
three hundred wolves in the name of an exaction, as we 
have said before: And that by the means hereof, within the 
compass and term of four years, none of those noisome and 
pestilent beasts were left in the coasts of England and 
Wales. This Edgar wore the royal crown, and bare the 
imperial sceptre of this kingdom, about the year of our Lord, 
nine hundred and fifty nine. Since which time, we read that 
no wolf hath been seen in England, bred within the bounds 
bounds and borders of this country. 

Marry, there have been divers brought over from beyond 
the seas, for greediness of gain and to make money, for 
gazing and gaping, staring and standing to see them ; being 
a strange beast, rare, and seldom seen in England. 

But to return to our Shepherd's Dog. This dog either at 
the hearing of his master's voice, or at the wagging and 
whistling in his fist, or at his shrill and hoarse hissing, 
bringeth the wandering wethers and straying sheep into the 
selfsame place where his master's will and wish is to have 
them : whereby the shepherd reapeth this benefit, namely, 
that with little labour and no toil or moving of his feet, he 
may rule and guide his flock, according to his own desire ; 
either to have them go forward, or stand still, or to draw 
backward, or to turn this way, or to take that way. For it 
is not in England, as it is in France, as it is in Flanders, 
as it is in Syria, as it is in Tartaria, where the sheep follow 
the shepherd : for here, in our country, the shepherd follows 
the sheep. And sometimes the straying sheep, when no 
dog runneth before them, nor goeth about or beside them, 
gather themselves together in a flock, when they hear the 
shepherd whistle in his fist, for fear of the dog (as I imagine) : 
remembering this (if unreasonable creatures may be reported 
to have memory) that the dog commonly runneth out at his 
master's warrant, which is his whistle. This have we 
oftentimes diligently marked, in taking our journey from 
town to town. When we have heard a shepherd whistle, we 
have reined, in our horse and stood still a space, to see the 
proof and trial of this matter. Furthermore with this dog 
doth the shepherd take sheep for the slaughter, and to be 
healed if they be sick ; no hurt nor harm in the world, done 
to the simple creature. 




English Dogs — the Mastiff, [a. Lmins; I"*: 

Of the Mastiff or Bandog; called, in Latin, 
Villaticus or Cathenarius. 

Ills kind of do^, called a Mastiff or Bandop;, is vast, 
huge, stubborn, ugly, and eager; of a heavy and 
burdenous body, and therefore but of little swifiness; 
terrible, and frightful to behold ; and more fierce and 
fell than any Arcadian cur, notwithstanding, they are said to 
have their generation of the violent lion. 

They are called Villntici, because they are appointed to watch 
and keep farm places and country cottages sequestered from 
common recourse, and not abutting upon other houses by 
reason of distance; when there is any fear conceived of thieves, 
robbers, spoilers, and niglitwanderers. They are serviceable 
against the fox, and the badger; to drive wild and tame swine 
out of meadows, pastures, glebelands, and places planted with 
fruit ; to bait and take the bull by the ear, when occasion so 
requireth. One dog, or two at the uttermost, are sufficient 
for that purpose, be bull never so monstrous, never so 
fierce, never so furious, never so stern, never so untameable. 
For it is a kind of dog capable of courage, violent and 
valiant, striking cold fear into the hearts of men : but 
standing in fear of no man ; in so much that no weapons will 
make him shrink, or abridge his boldness. 

Our Englishmen (to the intent that their dogs might be 
the more fell and fierce) assist nature with art, use, and 
custom. For, they teach their dogs to bait the bear; to bait the 
bull, and other such like cruel and bloody beasts (appointing 
an overseer of the game) without any collar to defend their 
throats : and oftentimes they train them up in fighting and 
wrestling with a man, having (for the safeguard of his liie) 
either a pikestaff, a club, or a sword. And by using [accustom- 
ing] them to exercise as these, their dogs become more sturdy 
and strong. 

The force which is in them surniounteth all belief; the fast 
hold which they take with their teeth exceedeth all credit. 
Three of them against a bear, four against a lion are sufficient, 
both to trymastcrieswith them, and utterly to overmatch them. 

Which thing, Henry the Seventh of that name. King of 
England (a Prince both politic and warlike) perceiving on a 
certain time, as the report runneth ; commanded all such 



A. kmi'^s. I^;';] English Dogs— the Mastiff. 253 

dogs (how many soever they were in number) sh.oiild be 
hanged; being deeply displeased, and conceiving great disdain, 
than an ill favoured rascal cur should, with such violent 
villainy, assault the valiant lion king of beasts. An example 
for all subjects worthy remembrance, to admonish them that 
it is no advantage to them to rebel against tlie regiment o{ 
their ruler; but to keep them within the limits of loyalty. 

I read an history answerable to this, of the selfsame 
Henry, who having a notable and an excellent fair falcon, 
it fortuned that the King's Falconers, in the presence and 
hearing of His Grace, highly commended his Majesty's Falcon, 
saying, " that it feared not to intermeddle with an eagle, it 
was so venturous and so mighty a bird"; which when the 
King heard, he charged that the falcon should be killed 
without delay: for the selfsame reason, as it may seem, 
which was rehearsed in the conclusion of the former history 
concerning the same King. 

This dog is called, in like manner, Catlicnnrius, a Caihena, 
of the chain wherewith he is tied at the gates, in the day 
time; lest being loose, he should do much mischief: and yet 
might give occasion of fear and terror, by his big barking. 
And albeit Cicero, in his oration Pro S. Ross had been of this 
opinion, that such dogs as bark in the broad daylight should 
have their legs broken ; yet our countrymen on this side of the 
seas, for their carelessness of life, " setting all at cinque and 
sice," are of a contrary judgement. For the thieves rogue 
up and down in every corner, no place is free from them; no, 
not the Prince's Palace, nor the countryman's cottage. In 
the day time, they practise pilfering, picking, open robbing, 
and privy stealing ; and what legerdemain lack they ? not 
fearing the shameful and horrible death of hanging. The 
cause of which inconvenience doth not only issue from 
nipping need and wringing want ; for all that steal are not 
pinched with poverty: but some steal to maintain their 
excessive and prodigal expenses in apparel ; their lewdness of 
life, their haughtiness of heart, their wantonness of manner, 
their wilful idleness, their ambitious bravery, and the pride 
of the saucy Salacones /^eyaXoppiji'Tuv vain glorious and 
arrogant in behaviour, whose delight dependeth wholly to 
mount nimbly on horseback, to make them leap lustily, 
spring and prance, gallop and amble, to run a race, to \\ ind 



254 English Dogs — the Keeper Dog. [a. fiSg; !"*: 

in compass, and so forth ; living altogether upon the fatness 
of the spoil. Othersome there be which steal, being thereto 
provoked by penury and need, like masterless men applying 
themselves to no honest trade, but ranging up and down, 
impudently begging; and complaining of bodily weakness, 
where is no want of ability. 

But valiant Valentine the Emperor, by wholesome laws 
provided, that such as having no corporal sickness, sold 
themselves to begging, pleaded poverty with pretended 
infirmity, cloaked their idle and slothful life with colourable 
shifts and cloudy cossening, [cozening;] should be a perpetual 
slave and drudge to him, by whom their impudent idleness 
was bewrayed and laid against them in public place ; lest 
the insufferable slothfulness of such vagabonds, should be 
burdenous to the people; or, being so hateful and odious, 
should grow into an example. 

Alfred, likewise, in the government of his commonwealth, 
procured such increase of credit to justice and upright dealing 
by his prudent acts and statutes, that if a man travelling by. 
the highway of the country under his dominion, chanced to 
lose a budget full of gold, or his capcase farced [stuffed] with 
things of great value, late in the evening; he should find it 
where he lost it, safe, sound, and untouched the next morning; 
yea, which is a wonder, at any time for a whole month's space 
if he sought for it, as Ingulphus Croyladcnsis, in his History, 
recordtth. But in this our unhappy age ; in these I say, our 
devilish days, nothing can escape the claws of the spoilers; 
though it be kept never so sure within the house; albeit the 
doors be locked and bolted round about. 

This dog, in like manner, of Grecians is called oLxovpo^. 

Of the latinists, Canis Cultos ; in English, 
the Dog Keeper. 

Orrowing his name of his service : for he doth not 
only keep farmers' houses ; but also merchants' 
mansions, wherein great wealth, riches, substance, 
and costly stuff is reposed. And therefore were 
certain dogs found and maintained at the common costs 
and charges of the citizens of Rome in the place called 
Capitolium, to give warning of thieves' coming. 




A. kmins.' I576:] English Dogs — the Mooner. 



25s 



This kind of dog is also called, in Latin, Can is 
Laniarius; in English, the Butcher Dog. 

CALLED for the necessity of his use, for Iiis service 
affordeth great benefit to the Butcher; as well in 
following as in taking his cattle, when need con- 
straineth, urgeth, and requireth. 




This kind of dog is likewise called, in Latin, 
Molossicus or Molossus. 

Fter the name of a country in Epirus, called 

Molossia, which harboureth many stout, strong, 

and sturdy dogs of this sort : for the dogs of that 

country are good indeed, or else there is no trust 

to be had in the testimonies of writers. 




This dog is also called, in Latin, Canis Mandatarius ; 
a Dog Messenger or Carrier. 

PoN substantial consideration, because, at his master's 
voice and commandment, he carrieth letters from 
[I place to place ; wrapped up cunningly in his leather 
collar, fastened thereto, or sewed close therein : 
who, lest he should be hindered in his passage, useth these 
helps very skilfully; namely, resistance in fighting if he be not 
overmatched, or else swiftness and readiness in running away, 
if he be unable to buckle with the dog that would fain have a 
snatch at his skin. 




This kind of dog likeivise called, in Latin, Canis 
Lunarius ; in English, the Mooner. 

EcAUSE he doth nothing else but watch and ward at 
an ynche, wasting the wearisome night season with- 
out slumbering or sleeping; hawing and wawing at 
the moon (that I may use the word of Nonius) ; a 
quality in mine opinion strange to consider. 





256 English Dogs— the Tixker's Cur. [a. kmiig: I",: 

This kind of dog is also called, in Latin, Aquarius ; 
in English, a Water Dy-awer. 

JINd these be of the greater and the weightier sort, 
I drawing water out of wells and deep pits, by a wheel 

which they turn round about, by the moving of their 

burthenous bodies. 

This kind of dog is called, in like manner, 

Canis Sarcinarius ; in Latin, aiul may 

aptly be Englished, a Tinker's Cur, 

EcAUSE, with marvellous patience, they bear big 
budgets fraught with tinker's tools and metal meet 
to mend kettles, porridge-pots, skillets, and chafers, 
and other such like trumpery ; requisite for their 
occupation and loitering trade : easing him of great burden, 
which otherwise he himself should carry upon his shoulders ; 
which condition hath challenged unto them the foresaid name. 
Besides the qualities which we have already recounted, 
this kind of dogs hath this principal property ingrafted in 
them, that they love their masters liberally and hate 
strangers despitefully ; whereupon it followeth that they are 
to their masters, in travelling, a singular safeguard : defend- 
ing them forcibly from the invasion of villains and thieves, 
preserving their lives from loss, and their health from hazard, 
their desli from hacking and hewing, with such like desperate 
dangers. For which consideration they are meritoriously 
termed 




In Latin, Canes defensores ; Defending Dogs, 
in our mother tongue. 

i]F IT chance that the master be oppressed, either by a 
multitude, or by the greater violence and so be beaten 
down that he lie grovelling on the ground : it is 
proved true by experience, that this dog forsaketh 
not his master ; no, not when he is stark dead. But, enduring 
the force of famishment and the outrageous tempests of the 
weather, most vigilantly watcbeth and caretully keepeth the 




A i'Sg. 'isS English Dogs — tpie Defending Dog. 257 

dead carcase many days; endeavouring, furthermore, to kill 
the murderers of his master, if he may get any advantage. 
Or else by barking, by howling, by furious jarring, snarring, 
and such like means betrayeth the malefactor; as desirous to 
have the death of his aforesaid master vigorously revenged. 

An example hereof, fortuned within the compass of my 
memory. The dog of a certain wayfaring man travelling from 
the city of London directly to the town of Kingston (most 
famous and renowned by reason of the triumphant coronation 
of eight several Kings), passing over a good portion of his 
journey, was assaulted and set upon by certain confederate 
thieves laying in wait for the spoil in Come Park; a perilous 
bottom, compassed about with woods too well known for the 
manifold murders and mischievous robberies there com- 
mitted. Into whose hands, this passenger chanced to fall ; 
so that his ill luck cost him the price of his life. 

And that dog, whose sire was English (which Blondus 
registereth to have been within the banks of his remembrance) 
manifestly perceiving that his master was murdered (this 
chanced not far from Paris) by the hands of one which was 
a suitor to the same woman, whom he was a wooer unto ; did 
both bewray the bloody butcher, and attempted to tear out 
the villain's throat, if he had not sought means to avoid the 
revenging rage of the dog. 

In fires also, which fortune in the silence and dead time of 
the night, or in stormy weather of the said season, the 
older dogs, bark, bawl, howl, and yell, yea, notwithstanding 
they be roughly rated : neither will they stay their tongues 
till the household servants awake, rise, search, and see the 
burning of the fire; which being perceived they use voluntary 
silence, and cease from yolping. This hath been, and is 
found true by trial, in sundry parts of England. 

There was no fainting faith in that dog, which when his 
master, by a mischance in hunting stumbled and fell, toppling 
down a deep ditch, being unable to recover of himself; the 
dog signifying his master's mishap, rescue came, and he was 
hauled up by a rope : whom the dog seeing, almost drawn up 
to the edge of the ditch, cheerfully saluted, leaping and 
skipping upon his master, as though he would have embraced 
him ; being glad of his presence, whose longer absence he 
was loath to lack. 

ENa. Car. III. i>j 



258 English Dogs — the Defending Dog. [a. lii^lig! Is^e: 

Some do^s there be, which will not suffer fiery coals to lie 
scattered alyoiit the hearth, but with their paws will rake up 
the burning coals ; musing and studying first with themselves 
how it might conveniently be done. And if so be, that the 
coals cast too great a heat, then will they bury them in 
ashes; and so remove them forward to a fit place with their 
noses. 

Other dogs be tliere, which execute the office of a farmer 
in the night time. For when his master goeth to bed to 
take a natural sleep, And when 

A liundi'cd bars of brass and iron bolts 
Make all iliings safe from starts and from revolts. 
Wlicn Janus keeps the gate with Argus eye, 
That dangers none approach, nc mischiefs nigh, 

As Virgil vaunteth in his verses. Then if his master 
biddeth him go abroad, he lingereth not, but rangeth over all 
his lands himself, h'ing there about, more diligently, I wis 
{think], than any farmer himself. And if he lind anything 
tliere, that is strange and pertaineth to other persons besides 
his master; whether it be man, woman, or beast, he driveth 
them out of the ground : not meddling with anjthing, which 
doth belong to the use and possession and use of his master. 
But how much faithfulness, so much diversity there is in 
their natures. 

/ Which bark only with free and open throat, but 
For there! will not bite, 
be some I Which do both bark and bite. 

V Which bite bitterly before they bark. 

The first are not greatly to be feared. Because they 
themselves are fearful ; and fearful dogs (as the pro\-erb 
importeth) bark most vehemently. 

The second are dangerous. It is wisdom to take lieed of 
them, because they sound, as it were, an Alarum of an 
Afterclap ; and these dogs must not be over much moved or 
provoked, for then tliey take on outrageously as if they were 
mad, watcb.ing to set the print of their teeth in the flesh. 
And these kind of dogs are fierce and eager by nature. 

The third are deadh-. b^or they fiy upon a man, without 



A. Hcml"g: 'isS English Dogs — the Defending Dog. 259 

utterance of voice, snatch at him, and catch him by the 
tliroat, and most cruelly bite out collops of flesh. Fear 
these kind of curs! if thou be wise and circumspect about 
thine own safety ! for they be stout and stubborn dogs, and 
set upon a man, at a sudden, unawares. 

By these signs and tokens, by these notes and arguments, 
our nen discern the cowardly cur from the courageous dog; 
the bold from the fearful, the butcherly from the gentle and 
tractable. Moreover they conjecture that a whelp of an 
ill kind is not worth the keeping ; and that no dog can serve 
the sundry uses of men so aptly and so conveniently as this 
sort of whom we have so largely written already. 

For if any be disposed to draw the above-named services 
into a table, what man more clearly and with more vehemency 
of voice giveth warning, either of a wasteful beast or of a 
spoiling thief, than this ? who by his barking, as good as a 
burning beacon, foreshoweth hazards at hand. What manner 
of beast, stronger ? what servant to his master, more loving ? 
what companion, more trusty ? what Watchman, more 
vigilant? what Revenger, more constant? what Messenger, 
more speedy? v/hat Water Bearer, more painful? finally 
what Pack Horse, more patient ? 

And thus much concerning English dogs, first of the 
Gentle Kind, secondly to the Coarser Kind. Now it remaineth 
that we deliver unto you the dogs of a mongrel or currish 
kind, and then will we have performed our task. 



TA Dial pertaining tot he Fourth Section. 

DoEfS 



compre- 
hended 

in the 

Fourth 

Section 

are 

these 



The Shep- 
herd's dog 

The Mastiff 
or Bandog 



which 


The Keeper or 




hath 


Watchman. 




sundry 


The Butcher dog. 


Called 


names. 


The Messenger 


in 


derived 1 
from ] 


or Carrier. 


I Latin 
1 Canes 


The Mooner. 


sundry 


The Water 


Rus- 


circum- 


Drawer. 


tici. 


stances, 


The Tinker's Cur. 




as 


['The Fencer. ' 





26o 



^^^iifx^Vi^y^^^iTf^^^^^v-^^^^it:^^^^ 



The Fifth Section of this Treatise. 

Containing curs of the mongrel and rascal sort ; 

and first of the dog, called, in Latin, 

Admonitor; and of lis in English, 

Wap or Warner. 

|F SUCH dogs, as keep not their kind ; of such as 
are mingled out of sundry sorts not imitating the 
conditions of some one certain species, because 
they resemble no notable shape, nor exercise any 
worthy property of the true perfect and gentle 
kind ; it is not necessary that I write any more of them : but 
to banish them as unprofitable implements, out of the bounds 
of my book : unprofitable I say for any use that is commend- 
able, except in entertaining strangers with theii" barking in the 
da}time, giving warning to them of the house, that such and 
such be newly come. Whereupon, we call them Admonishing 
Dogs ; because, in that point, they perform their office. 




Of the dog, called Turnspit ; in Latin, Veruversator. 

Here is comprehended under the curs of the coarsest 
kind, a certain dog excellent in kitchen service. For 
when any meat is to be roasted, they go into a wheel ; 
which they turning round with the weight of their 
bodies ; and so diligently look to their business, that no drudge 
nor scullion can do the feat more cunningly. Whom the 
popular sort hereupon call, Turnspits ; being the last of all 
those which we have first mentioned. 





A. Fie'^'iing: JfjsG English Dogs — the Dancer. 261 

Of the dog, called the Datjcer ; in Latin, 
Saltator or Tympanista. 

Here be also dogs among us, of a mongrel kind, 
which are taught and exercised to dance in measure 
at tlie musical sound of an instrument ; as, at the 
just stroke of the drum, at the sweet accent of the 
cithern, and tuned strings of the harmonious harp : showing' 
many pretty tricks by the gesture of their bodies. As, to stand 
bolt upright, to lie iiat upon the ground, to turn round as a 
ring holding their tails in their teeth, to beg for their meat ; 
and sundry such properties, which they learn of their vaga- 
bondical masters, whose instruments they are to gather gain 
withal in city, country, town, and village. As some which 
carry old apes on their shoulders in coloured jackets, to move 
men to laughter ; for a little lucre. 

A start to outlandish dogs ; in this conclusion not 
impertinent to the Author s purpose. 

JSe and custom hath entertained other dogs of an out- 
landish kind, but a few and the same being of a pretty 
bigness, I mean Iceland dogs, curled and rough all 
over; which by reason of the length of their hair 
make show, neither of face nor of body. And yet these curs, 
forsooth, because they are so strange are greatly set by, 
esteemed, taken up, and made of, many times in the room of 
the Spaniel Gentle or " Comforter." 

The natures of men are so moved, nay rather married to 
novelties; without all reason, wit, judgement or perseverance, 

EpSjjiev aWoTpt&v, irapopoifiev <iv'^'yevet<i. 
Outlandish toys we take with delight; 
Tilings of our own nature we have in despite : 

Which fault remaineth not in us concerning dogs only, but 
for artificers also. And why ? It is too manifest that we 
disdain and contemn our own workmen, be they never so 
skilful, be they never so cunning, be they never so excellent. 
A beggarly beast brought out of barbarous borders, from 
the uttermost countries northward, &c. ; we stare at, we 




262 Iceland, and outlandish Dogs. [a. kSg! ["e! 

ptaze at, we muse, we marvel at ; like an Ass of Cumanum, 
like Thales witli the brazen shanks, like the Man in the 
Moon. The which default, Hiptockates, marked when he 
was alive, as evidently appeareth in the beginning of his 
book Ilepl ayiJ.o>v, so intituled and named. And we, in our 
work, entitled De Ephemera Britannica; to the people of 
England, have more plentifullj' expressed. 

In this kind, look which is most blockish, and yet most 
waspish, the same is most esteemed ; and not among citizens 
only, and jolly gentlemen ; but among lusty lords also, and 
noblemen, and dainty courtiers ruffling in their riotous rags. 

Further, I am not to wade in the ford of this Discourse ; 
because it was my purpose to satisfy your expectations with a 
short Treatise, most learned Con'KAD ! not wearisome for me 
to write, nor tedious for you to peruse. 

Among other things, which you have received at my hands 
heretofore, I remember that I wrote a several description of 
the Getuiian dog ; because there are but a few of them, and 
therefore very seldom seen. As touching dogs of other kinds, 
you yourself have taken earnest pain, in writing of them both 
lively, learnedly, and largely. But because we have drawn this 
Libel more at length, than the former which I sent you; and 
yet briefer than the nature of the thing might well bear, re- 
garding your more earnest and necessary studies ; I will con- 
clude ; making a rehearsal notwithstanding (for memory's 
sake) of certain specialities contained in the whole body of 
this my Breviary. 

And because 3-ou participate principal pleasure in the 
knowledge of the common and usual Names of Dogs, as I 
gather by the course of your letters : I suppose it not amiss 
to deliver unto you a short table containing, as well the Latin 
as the English names; and to render a reason of every 
particular appellation, to the intent that no scruple may 
remain in this point, but that everything may be sifted to the 
bare bottom. 

A Dial pertaining to the Fifth Section. 
Dogs contained in [The Wap or Warner 



., ■ , . -n,' I 1 Ti T •.- I eallcd in Latin 

this last Dial - I he lurnspit \ ^ „ • • 

r.^ ,, U^i T-. Lanes hnalici, 

or 1 able are \ 1 he Dancer ) 



263 




A Supplement or Addition, containing a 

demonstration of Dogs' Names, how 

they had their original. 



Ie names contained in the General Table, 
forsomuch as they signify nothing to you, 




being a stranger, and ignorant of the 



English tongue, except they be interpreted : 
as we have given a reason before of it in 
Latin words, so mean we to do no less of 
the English; that everything may be mani- 
fest unto your understanding. Wherein I intend to observe 
the same order, which I have followed before. 



The Names of such Dogs as he contained 
in the First Section. 

Agax, in English, Hound, is derived of our English 
word " hunt." One letter changed into another, 
namely, T into D, as "hunt," "luind": whom, if 
you conjecture to be so named of j-our country 
word Hnnde which signifieth the general name 
because of the similitude and likeness of the words; I 
will not stand in contradiction, friend Gesner ! for so much 




Dos 



264 The Names of English Dogs. [a.fiSIiIw^ 

as we retain among us at this day many Dutch [Gcniian] 
words which the Saxons left at such time as they occupied 
this country of Britain. Thus much also understand ! that 
as in your language hiinde is the common word, so in our 
natural tongue dog is the universal ; but hound is particular 
and a special; for it signifieth such a dog only as serveth to 
luint, and therefore it is called a hound. 



Of the Gaze Hound. 

He Gaze Hound, called, in Latin, Agasam, hath his 
name of the sharpness and stedfastness of his eye- 
sight. By which virtue, he compasseth that which 
otherwise he cannot by smelling attain. As we have 
made former relation, for to gaze is earnestly to view and behold, 
from whence fioweth the derivation of this dog's name. 




Of the Grey Hound. 

He Greyhound, called Leporarins, hath his name of 
this word Gre, which word soundeth, Gradiis in Latin, 
in English degree. Because among all dogs they are 
the most principal occupying the chiefest place ; 

and being simply and absolutely, the best of the gentle kind 

of hounds. 





Of the Levyner or the Lyemmer. 

His dog is called a Levyner, for his lightness, which in 
Latin, soundeth Levitas. Or a Lyemmer, which word 
is borrowed of Lyemme, which the Latinists name 
Lormn : and wherefore we call him a Levyner of this 
word Levitas ; as we do many things besides. Why, we derive 
draw a thousand of our terms out of the Greek, the Latin, and 
the Italian, the Dutch, the French, and the Spanish tongue? 
Out of which fountains indeed, they had their original issue. 
How many words are buried in the gra\-e of forgetfulness, 
grown out of use, wrested awry, and perversely corrupted, 
by divers defaults ; we will declare at large, in our book 
intituled, Syniphonia vocum Britannicariun. 



A.kmlng:;;?^:] The Names of English Dogs. 265 




Of the Tumbler. 

MoNG hounds, the Tumbler, called, in Latin, Vcriagus, 
is the last, which cometh of this word " Tumbler"; 
flowing first of all out of the French fountain. For 
as we say Tumble, so the}', Tiunbicr ; resei"ving one 
sense and signification: which the Latinist comprehend under 
this word Vcrtcre. So that we see thus much, that Tiunbicr 
cometh of Tumhier, the vowel, I, changed into the liquid L, 
after the manner of our speech ; contrary to the French and 
Italian tongue. In which two languages, a liquid before a 
vowel, for the most part is turned into another ivurl; as, may 
be perceived in the example of these two words implcrc and 
piano, for iinpicrc and piano. L before E, changed into I ; and 
L before A, turned into I, also. This I thought convenient, 
for a taste 1 



The Names of such Dogs as be contained 
in the Second Section. 



Fter such as serve for hunting, orderly, do follow 
such as serve for hawking and fowling. Among 
which the principal and chiefest is the Spaniel, 
called in Latin Hispaniolus, borrowing his name of 
Hispania, Spain ; wherein we Englishmen not pro- 
nouncing the aspiration H, nor the vowel I, for quickness 
and readiness of speech say, roundly, A Spaniel. 




Of the Setter. 

He second sort of this Second Division and second 
section : is called a Setter, in Latin Index. Of the 
word Set, which signifieth in English that which the 
Latinists mean by tliis word Locum dcsii^navc, the 

reason is rehearsed before more largely [p. 243] ; it shall not 

need to make a new repetition. 





266 The Names ov English Dogs. [a. kSg: IIa 

Of the Water Spaniel or Finder. 

IIh Water Spaniel consequently followcth, called in 
1 atin Aqualku?.,\\\ Enj^lish a Water Spaniel; which 
name is compound of two simple words, namely. 
Water, whicii in Latin soundeth Aqua, wherein he 
swimmcth; And Spain, f//.s/'j;n'(;, the countryfrom whencethey 
came. Not that England wanteth such kind of dogs ; for they 
are naturally bred and ingendered in this country : but because 
they bear the general and common name of these dogs, since 
the time they were first brought over out of Spain. And we 
make a certain difference in this sort of dogs, either for 
something which in their voice is to be marked, or for 
something which in their qualities is to be considered. As 
for an example, in this kind called the Spaniel, by the 
apposition and putting to of this word Water; which two 
coupled together sound Water Spaniel. 

He is also called a Finder, in Latin Inquisitor, because 
that by serious and secure seeking, he findeth such things as 
be lost ; which, word Find, in English, is that, which the 
Latin mean by the verb Invcnirc. This dog hath this name 
of his property, because the principal point of his service 
consisteth in the premises. 

T//c' Names of such Dogs as he contained 

in the Third Section. 

Ow leaving the surview of hunting and hawking 
dogs; it remaincth that we run over the residue, 
whereof some be called, fine dogs, some coarse, 
other some mongrels or rascals. The first is the 
Spaniel gentle called Canis Mclitccus, because it is 
a kind of dog accepted among gentles, nobles, lords, ladies, 
&c., who make much of them vouchsafing to admit them so 
far into their company, that they will not only lull them in 
their laps, but kiss them with their lips, and make them 
their pretty playfellows. 

Such a one was Gorgon's little puppy, mentioned by Theo- 
critus in SiracHsis,who taking his journey, straightly charged 




V, 



A. nemt"g: 5576.] TiiE Names OF Englisii Dogs. 267 

and commanded his maid to see to his dog as charily and 
warily as to his child ; to call him in always, that he wandered 
not abroad, as well as to rock the babe asleep, crying in the 
cradle. This puppilly and peasantly cur (which some, 
frumpingly, term Fisting Hounds) serve in a manner to no 
good use ; except, as we have made former relation, to 
succour and strengthen quailing and qualming stomachs, to 
bewray baudery and filthy abominable lewdness. Which a 
little dog of this kind did in Sicilia, as ^lianus in his 
7th book Of beasts, and 27th chapter recordeth. 

♦ft 

The Names of such Dogs as he contained 

in the Fourth Section. 

j]F DOGS, under the coarser kind, we will deal first 
with the Shepherd's Dog, whom we call the Ban- 
dog, the Tydog, or the Mastiff. The first name is 
imputed to him for service qiioniain pa&tori famula- 
tur; because he is at the Shepherd his master's 
commandment. The second, a Ligaiuciilo, of the Band or 
chiiin wherewith he is tied. The third, a Sagina, of the fatness 
of his body. For this kind of dog which is usually tied, is 
mighty gross, and fat fed. I know this, that Augustinus 
NiPiius, calleth this Mastimts, which we call Masthnis. And 
that Aleertus writeth how the Lyciscns is engendered by a 
bear and a wolf. Notwithstanding that, the selfsame author 
taketh it, for the most part, pro Molosso. A dog of such a 
[that] country. 





The Names of such Dogs as he contained 

in the Fifth Section. 

F MONGRELS and rascals somewhat is to be spoken. 
And among these of the Wapp or Turnspit : which 
name is made of two simple words, that is, of Tttrn, 
which in Latin soundeth I'Vr/tTt'; and of >;/)/; which 
is veru, ov spcde. For the English word inclinetli 



268 The Names of English Dogs. 



r. J, Ca.'"5. 1536. 
LA. rlcming. 1576. 



closer to the Italian imitation: Ventversator, Turnspit. He 
is called also Waupe, of the natural noise of his voice, Wan, 
which he maketh in barking. 

But for the better and the readier sound, the vowel «, is 
changed into the consonant,/); so that for ]\'aup we say Wapp. 
And yet I wot well that NoNiu.s borroweth his Banhari of the 
natural voice Ban, as the Grecians do their Bav^eiv of Wau. 

Now when you understand this, that Saltare in Latin 
signifieth Dansayc, in English ; and that our dog thereupon 
is called a Dancer, and in the Latin Saltator : you are as far 
taught, as you were desirous to learn. 

And now suppose I, there remaineth nothing, but that your 
request is fully accomplished. 

The winding up of this work called the 
Supplement, &c. 

iHus, friend Gesner ! you have, not only the kinds 
of our country dogs, but their names also ; as well 
in Latin as in English ; their offices, services, diver- 
sities, natures, and properties : that j'ou can 
demand no more of me in this matter. And albeit I have 
not satisfied your mind peradventure (who suspectest all 
speed in the performance of your request employed, to be 
mere delays), because I stayed the setting forth of that imper- 
fect pamphlet which, five jears ago [1531], I sent to you as to 
a private friend for your own reading, and not to be printed, 
and so made common : yet I hope, having, like the bear, 
licked over my young, I have waded in this work to your 
contentation ; which delay hath made somewhat better and 
hevTepai if>povTiSe<; " after wit " more meet to be perused. 

The End of this Treatise. 

FINIS, 




269 



Lyrics^ Elegies^ &'c.^ frofn Madrigals^ 
Ca?izo?ietSy &'c. 



Two BoOKp OF AlRp. 

I. Divine and JVIoral $ONqp. 
II. IhIqmt Conceit^ of X^OYERp. 

BY 

Thomas Campion, M.D. 

Apparently printed about 1613, after the death of Prince Henry. Sec 
the alhision to Prince Charles, afterwards Charles I.,/. 275. 

To the Right H.07iourable^ both in 
birth and virtue, Francis, 

Earl of C U M B E R L A N D, 

Hat patron could I choose, great Lord ! but 3-ou ? 
Grave words, your years may challenge as thcii 
own : 
And every note of music is your due. 
Whose house, the Muses' Palace I have known. 

To love and cherish them, though it descends, 
With many honours more, on you in vain : 

Preceding fame herein with you contends, 
Who hath both fed the Muses, and their train. 




3 70 L V r. I c s , E L E (; I E s , Sec. from l^' ^""l'""- Vcl^; 

These leaves I offer j'Oii, Devotion might, 
Herself, lay open. Read them ! or else hear 

How gravel)', with their tunes, they yield delight 
To anj' virtuous, and not curious ear I 

Such as they are, accept them ! noble Lord I 
If better, better could iny zeal afford. 

Your Honour's, 

Thomas C a m p i o n. 



%, 




To the Reader. 

IUt of many Soiii^s u'hicli, partly at the request oj 
friends, partly for uiy oivii recreation, fjere by me, lont^ 
since, composed: I have noia enfranchised a few; 
sending them forth, divided according to their different 
subjects, into several books. The first arc grave and pious : the 
second, amorous and light. Fur he that, in publishing any icork, 
hath a desire to content all palates, must cater for them accord- 
ingly. 

Non omnibus unum est 
Quod placet, Li: spinas coUigit, ille rosas. 

These A irs ivere,for the most part, framed, at first, for one voice 
rcilh the lute or viol : but, upon occasion, they have since been 
filled li'ilh more parts, which whoso please, may use; who like 
not, may leave. Yet do we daily observe, that when any shall 
sing Treble to an instrument : the slanders by will be offering at 



T. Campion, M.D.-j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 271 

an inward part out of their own nature ; and, true or false, out it 
must, though to the perverting of the whole harmony. Also, if 
ive consider well, the Treble tunes {which are with us, commonly 
called Airs) are but Tenors mounted eight notes higher ; and 
therefore an inward part must needs well become them, such as 
may take up thewhole distance of the diapason, and fill up the gaping 
between the two extreme parts ; whereby though they are not three 
parts in perfection, yet they yield a sicectncss and content, both to 
the ear and the mind; which is the aim and perfection of Music. 

Short Airs, if they be skilfully framed, and naturally expressed, 
are like quick and good Epigrams in Poesy ; many of thcin 
shoci'ing as much artifice, and breeding as great difficulty as a 
larger poem. 

Non omina possumus omnes 

said the Roman Epic Poet ; but some there are, who admit 
only Ereuch or Italian Airs; as if every country had not Ids 
proper A ir, which the people thereof naturally usurp in their 
music. Others taste nothing that comes forth in print; as if 
Catullus or Martial's Epigrams ivere the icorse for being 
published. 

In these English Airs, I have chicfiy aimed to couple my words 
and notes lovingly together; which will be much for him to do, 
that hath not power over both. The liglit of this, will best appear 
to h-im who hathpaysed [weighed] our Monosyllables and Syllables 
combined : both of which, are so loaded with consonants, as that 
they will hardly keep company with swift notes, or give the vowel 
convenient liberty. 

To conclude ; my own opinion of these Songs, I deliver thus. 

Omnia nee nostris bona sunt, sed nee mala libris ; 
Si placet hac cantes, hac quoque lege legas. 

Farewell. 



272 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. campion, m.i>. 



Lyrics J Elegies^ ^c.frojn Madrigals ^ 
Ca?izo?2etSy &'c. 

THE FIR ST BOOK. 

Divine /^nd JVIof^al $onq3. 

Uthor of Light ! revive my dying sprite ! 
Redeem it from the snares of all confounding 
night ! 

LORD ! light me to Thy blessed way ! 
For blind with worldly vain desires, I 

wander as a stray. 
Sun and moon, stars and under lights I see ; 
But all their glorious beams are mists and darkness, being 
compared to Thee ! 

Fountain of health ! my soul's deep wounds recure ! 
Sweet showers of pity, rain ! wash my uncleanness, pure ! 

One drop of Thy desired grace, 
The faint and fading heart can raise, and in joy's bosom place. 

Sin and death, hell and tempting fiends may rage : 
But GOD, His own will guard; and their sharp pains and 
grief, in time, assuage. 





Here are all thy beauties now, all hearts enchain- 



ing? 



\\'hither are thy flatterers gone, with all their 



fe 



ignmg .'' 



All fled ! and thou, alone, still here remaining ! 

Thy rich state of twisted gold to bays is turned ! 
Cold, as thou art, are thy loves ; that so much burned ! 
Who die in flatterers' arms, are seldom mourned. 



T. Campion, M.D.-| lyi ^ p p^ J (, ^ L S, CaNZONETS, &C. 2/3 

Yet, in spite of envy, this be still proclaimed, 

That none worthier than thyself, thy worth hath blamed ; 

When their poor names are lost, thou shalt live famed ! 

When thy story, long time hence, shall be perused; 
Let the blemish of thy rule be thus excused, 
" None ever lived more just, none more abused." 




Ut of my soul's depth, to Thee ! my cries have 

sounded. 
Let Thine ears, my plaints receive ! on just fear 
grounded. 

LORD ! shouldst Thou weigh our faults, who's not con- 
founded ? 

But, with grace. Thou censurest thine ! when they have erred. 
Therefore shall Thy blessed Name be loved and feared. 
Eveij to Thy throne ! my thoughts and eyes are reared. 

Thee, alone 1 my hopes attend ; on Thee ! relying. 
In Tliy sacred word! I'll trust : to Thee ! fast flying, 
Long ere the watch shall break, the morn descrying. 

In the mercies of our GOD, who live secured, 
May of full redemption rest in Him assured ; 
Their sin-sick souls, by Him shall be recured. 




Exc. Gap. Ill 



Iew me, LORD ! a work of Thine. 
Shall I then lie drowned in night ? 
Might Thy grace in me but shine! 
I should seem made all of light. 

But my soul still surfeits so. 
On the poisoned baits of sin ; 
That I strange and ugly grow. 
All is dark and fdul within. 
i8 



2 74 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. trom [T- c-.i-bn, m.u 

Cleanse me, LORD ! that I maj- kneel 
At tliine altar, pure and white. 
They tliat, onee, Tiiy mercies Lei ; 
Gaze no more on earth's deliy;lil. 

Worldly joys, like shadows, fade. 
When the heavenly light appears : 
15ut the covenants Thou hast made 
Endless ; know nor days, nor years. 

In Thy Word, LORD i is my trust. 
To Thy mercies, fast I lly ! 
Though I am but clay and dust ; 
Yet Thy grace can lift me high ! 




|Ravely decked ; come forth, bright Day ! 
Thine Hours, with roses, strew thy way; 

As they well remember. 
Thou received shalt be, with feasts ! 
Come, chiefest of the British guests, 

Thou Fifth of November ! 
Thou, with triumph, shalt exceed. 

In the strictest Ember ; 
For, by thy return, the LORD records His blessed deed. 

Britons ! frolic at your board ! 

But, first, sing praises to the LORD, 

In your congregations ! 
He preserved your State alone ! 
His loving grace hath made you one 

Of his chosen nations ! 
But this light must hallowed be 

With your blest oblations ! 
I'raise the LORD ! for only great and meicifulTs He. 



. campio%Rr.D.j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 275 

Death had entered in the gate, 
And Ruin was crept near the State ; 

But Heaven all revealed. 
Fiery powder, hell did make, 
Which ready long the flame to take, 

Lay, in shade concealed. 
GOD us helped, of His free grace : 

None to Him appealed ; 
For none was so bad, to fear the treason, or the place. 

GOD, His peaceful monarch chose. 
To Him, the mist He did disclose; 

To Him, and none other: 
This He did, O King! for thee. 
That thou, thine own renown mightest see ! 

Which no time can smother. 
May blest Charles, thy comfort be! 

Firmer than his brother. [thee ! 

May his heart, the love of peace and wisdom learn of 



MUSIC bent, is my retired mind, 

And fain would I, some Song of Pleasure sing; 

Hut in vain joys, no comfort now I find : 

From heavenly thoughts, all true delight doth spring 

T hy power, O GOD ! Thy mercies, to record ; 

Will sweeten every note, and every word. 

All earthly pomp or beauty to express. 

Is but to carve in snow ; on waves to write. 

Celestial things, though men conceive them less, 

Yet fullest are they in themselves of light. 

Such beams they yield, as know no means to die ; 

Such heat they cast, as lifts the spirit high. 




-6 Lyrics, Elegies, &c, 



F R o M [■'■• '-■••'y'''"' Vs °: 




jIUne thy music to thy heart! 
Sing joy with thanks, and so thy sorrow! 

Tliouf;h Devotion needs not Art ; 
Sometimes of the poor, the rich may biirrow. 

Strive not \'et for curious ways ! 
Concord pleasetli more, tlie less 'tis strained ; 

Zeal affects not outward praise, 
Only strives to show a love unfeigned. 

Love can wondrous things effect; 
Sweetest sacrihce, all wrath appeasing ! 

Love, the Highest doth respect, 
Love alone, to Him is ever pleasing. 

OsT sweet and pleasing are th}' ways, O GOD ! 

Like meadows decked with crystal streams, and 
flowers. 

Thy paths, no foot profane hath ever trod ! 
Nor hath the proud man rested in Thy bowers ! 
There, lives no vulture, no devouring bear : 
But only doves and lambs are harboured there. 

The wolf his young ones, to their prey doth guide ; 
The fox his cubs, with false deceit endues ; 
The lion's whelp sucks from his dam, his pride ; 
In hers, the serpent, malice doth infuse: 
The darksome desert all such beasts contains; 
Not one of them in Paradise remains. 





Isij men, patience never want; 
(iood men, pity cannot hide : 
Feeble spirits only vaunt 
Of revenge, the poorest pride. 
He alone, forgive that can. 
Bears the true soul of a man. 



T. Can,pion, M.nj M A I) R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 277 

Some there are, debate that seek ; 
Making trouble their content : 
Happy if they wrong the meek, 
Vex them that, to peace are bent : 
Such undo the common tie 
Of mankind, Society. 

Kindness grown is, lately, cold ; 
Conscience hath forgot her part: 
Blessed times were known of old, 
Long ere Law became an Art. 
Shame deterred, not Statutes tlien; 
Honest love was law to men. 

Deeds from love, and words that flow, 
Foster like kind April showers: 
In the warm sun, all things grow, 
Wholesome fruits and pleasant flowers. 
All, so thrives his gentle rays, 
Whereon human love displays. 



lEvER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, 

I • • 

]Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more ; 

jJjjJThan my wearied sprite now longs to lly out of my 

troubled breast. 

O come quickly, sweetest LORD ! and take my soul to 

rest ! 

Ever blooming are the joys of heaven's high Paradise, 
Cold age deafs not there our ears, nor vapour dims our eyes : 
Glory there, the sun outshines ; whose beams the Blessed only 
see. 
O come quickly, glorious LORD ! and raise my sprite to 
Thee ! 




L V u I (• s , E 1. 1'. G 1 1-. s , & c . FROM [''■■ ^■••>'5'pi<"'. 



M.D. 

16.3. 




I IT up to heaven, sad wretch ! thy heavy sprite ! 
W'hat though thy sins, tliy due destruction tlireat ? 
Ihe LORD exceeds in merc)', as in might. 
His ruth is greater, though thy crimes be great. 
Repentance needs not fear the heaven's just rod. 
It stays, even thunder, in the hand of GOD. 

With cheerful voice to Him, then cry for grace ! 
Thy Faith, thy fainting Hope, with Prayer revive ; 
Remorse for all that truly mourn hath place ; 
Not GOD, but men, of Him themselves deprive : 
Strive then ! and He will help : call Him ! He'll hear. 
The son needs not the father's fury fear. 




O, when back mine eye, 
Pilgrim-like, I cast : 
3J\^'hat fearful ways I spy, 
Which, blinded, I secureh' past 1 

But now heaven hath drawn 

From my brows, that night ; 
As when the day doth dawn. 
So clears my long imprisoned sight. 

Straight the Caves of Hell, 

Dressed with flowers 1 see : 
Wherein False Pleasures dwell. 
That, winning most, most deadly be. 



Throngs of masked fiends, 
Winged like angels, fly. 
Even in the gates of friends. 
In fair disguise, black dangers lie. 




T. ca„,pio„, M^D.-] Madrigals, Canzonets, & c. 279 

Straight to heaven I raised, 

My restored sight : 
And, with loud voice, I praised 
The LORD of ever-during light. 

And since I had strayed 

From His ways, so wide : 
His grace I humbly prayed, 
Henceforth to be my guard and guide. 



S DY the streams of Babylon, 
I'ar from our native soil we sat ; 
.Sweet Sion ! thee we thought upon, 
And every thought a tear begat. 

Aloft the trees, that spring up there, 
Our silent harps we pensive hung. 
Said they that captived us, " Let's hear 
Some song, which you in Sion sung ! " 

Is then the song of our GOD fit 
To be profaned in foreign land ? 
Salem ! thee when I forget. 
Forget his skill may my right hand ! 

Fast to the roof, cleave may my tongue, 
If mindless I, of thee be found ! 
Or if, when all my joys are sung, 
Jerusalem be not the " ground." 

Remember, LORD! how Edom's race 
Cried, in Jerusalem's sad day ; 
Hurled down her walls, her towers deface. 
And, stone by stone, all level lay. 



2 So LvKics, Elegies, & c. ekom ['••^•^7i°".M^J]; 

Curst Babel's seed ! For Salem's sake, 
Just ruin, yet, for thee remains! 
Blest shall they be, thy babes that take; 
And 'gainst the stones, dash out their brains! 




In'G a song of joy ! 

Praise our GOD with mirth ! 
His flock, who can destroy? 
Is He not LORD of heaven and earth? 



Sing we then secure ! 

Tuning well our strings; 
With voice, as echo pure, 
Let us renown the King of Kings! 

First, Who taught the day 

From the East to rise; 
Whom doth the sun obey, 
When, in the seas, his glories dies ? 

He the stars directs 

That, in order, stand : 
Who, heaven and earth protects ; 
But He that framed them with His hand ? 

Angels round attend, 

Waiting on His will. 
Armed millions, He doth send 
To aid the good, or plague the ill. 

All that dread His name, 
And His 'hests observe; 
His arm will shield from shame: 
Their steps from truth shall never swerve. 



T. Campion, M.D. 



^,5,'^:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 28 i 

Let us then rejoice ! 

Sounding loud His praise : 
So will He hear our voice ; 
And bless, on earth, our peaceful days. 




Wake ! awake ! thou heavy sprite, 
That sleep'st the deadly sleep of sin ! 
Rise now ! and walk the ways of light ! 
'Tis not too late yet to begin. 

Seek heaven, early ! seek it, late ! 

True Faith still finds an open gate. 

Get up ! get up ! thou leaden man 1 
Thy track to endless joy or pain, 
Yields but the model of a span ; 
Yet burns out thy life's lamp in vain ! 

One minute bounds thy bane, or bliss: 
Then watch and labour, while time is ! 




Ome cheerful day! part of my life, to me: 

For while thou view'st me, with thy fading light ; 

Part of my life doth still depart with thee ! 

And I still onward haste to my last night. 
Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly: 
So, every day we live, a day we die. 

But O ye nights ! ordained for barren rest. 
How are my days deprived of life in you ! 
When heavy sleep, my soul hath dispossest, 
By feigned death, life sweetly to renew. 
Part of my life in that, you life deny 1 
So, every day we live, a day we die. 



2 82 L Y R I C S . E L E C; I K S , & C. FROM {J- '^•^'J'""™' 'Ji,'] 




r.UK the LORD ! and in His ways persLver! 

O faint not! but, as eagles, Hy ! 

For His steep hill is high : 
Then striving, gain the top, and triumph ever! 

^\'hen, with glory, there, thy brows are crowned ; 

New joys so shall abound in thee ! 

Such sights, thy soul shall see ; 
That worldly thoughts shall, by their beams be drowned. 

Farewell, World! thou mass of mere confusion I 
False Light, with many shadows dimmed ! 
Old Witch, with new foils trimmed ! 

Thou deadly Sleep of Soul, and charmed Illusion 1 

I, the King will seek ! Of Kings adored. 

Spring of light ! Tree of grace and bliss 1 

Whose fruit so sovereign is ; 
That all who taste it, are from death restored. 




Ighten, heavy heart ! thy sprite ! 
The joys recall, that thence are fled ! 
Yield thy breast some living light ! 

The man that nothing doth, is dead. 
Tune thy temper to these sounds ; 

And quicken so, thy joyless mind! 
Sloth, the worst and best confounds : 

It is the ruin of mankind. 

From her cave, rise all distastes, 

Which unresolved Despair pursues ; 
Whom, soon after. Violence hastes 
Herself, ungrateful, to abuse. 
Skies are cleared with stirring winds. 
Th'unmoved water moorish grows. 
Every eye much pleasure finds, 

To view a stream that brightly flows. 



T. Cnmpion, M.D. 



^'c^}.] Madrigals, Canzonets, & c. 2S3 




AcK and Joan, they think no ill, 

!!ut loving live, and merry still; 

Do their week-days' work, and pray 

Devoutly on the holy day : 

Skip and trip it on the green, 

And help to choose the Summer Queen ; 

Lash out, at a country feast. 

Their silver penny with the best. 



Well can they judge of nappy ale, 

And tell, at large, a winter tale ; 

Climb up to the apple loft. 

And turn the crabs till they be soft. 

Tib is all the father's joy, 

And little Tom, the mother's boy. 

All their pleasure, is Content ; 

And Care, to pay their yearly rent. 

Joan can call, by name, her cows, 
And deck her windows with green boughs ; 
She can, wreathes and tuttyes make, 
And trim with plums a bridal cake. 
Jack knows what brings gain or loss ; 
And his long flail can stoutly toss : 
Makes the hedge, which others break ; 
And ever thinks, what he doth speak. 



Now, you Courtly Dames and Knights ! 
That study only strange delights ; 
Though you scorn the homespun gray. 
And revel in your rich array : 
Though your tongues dissemble deep. 
And can your heads from danger keep ; 
Yet, for all your pomp and train, 
Securer lives the silly swain. 




284 L V lu c s , E I. E c; I k s , & c. f k o m [' ■ '-■•''7'""' '^,'j°-. 



I.L looks be pale, hearts cold as stone, 
l*"ur IIally now is dead, and gone ! 

IIallv, in whose sight, 
Most sweet sight ! 

All the earth late took delight. 
Every eye, weep with me ! 
Joys drowned in tears must be. 



His ivory skin, his comely hair, 
His rosy cheeks, so clear and fair : 

Eyes that once did grace 
His bright face. 

Now in him, all want their place. 
Eyes and hearts weep with me I 
For who so kind as he ? 



His youth was like an April flower, 
Adorned with beauty, love, and power. 

Glory strewed his way ; 
Whose wreathes gay. 

Now are all turned to decay. 
Then, again, weep with me ! 
None feel more cause than we. 



No more may his wished sight return, 
His golden lamp no more can burn. 

Quenched is all his flame. 
His hoped fame, 

Now, hath left him nought but name. 
For him, all weep with me ! 
Since more, him none shall see. 



T. Campion, M.D.-j M A D R I G A L s, Canzonets, &c. 2S5 

To the Right Noble a?td Virtuous Henry^ 
L.ord C LiFFORD ^so?t and heir to the Rio-lit 
Honourable Francis^ Earl of Cumberlaa 




D. 



UcH days as wear the badge of holy red, 
i\re for Devotion marked and Sage Delight ; 

The vulgar Low-days undistinguished, 
Are left for Labour, Games, and Sportful Sights. 

This several and so differing use of time, 
Within th'enclosure of one week we find ; 

Which I resemble in my Notes and Rhyme, 
Expressing both in their peculiar kind. 

Pure Hymns, such as the Seventh Day loves, do lead ; 
Grave age did justly challenge those of me : 

These Weekday Works, in order that succeed. 
Your youth best fits ! and yours, young Lord ! they be ! 
As he is, who to them, their being gave ; 
If th'one, the other you, of force, must have. 
Your Honour's 

Thomas Campion. 




To the Reader. 

II AT holy Hymns, with lovers' Cares arc knit, 
Vioth in one quire here ; Thou mayest think' t nufil ! 
]\liy dost not blame the Stationer as ivell, 
Wlio, in the same shop, sets all sorts to sell ? 
Divine with styles Profane, Grave shelved with Vain, 
And sonic matched worse. Yet, none of him coniflain ! 



286 Lyrics, li l e c; i e b , «^ c. r k o m ['' ^''7" 



un, M ir 
6.> 



Lyrics^ Elegies^ ^cfroni Madrigals^ 
Canzo7iets^ &'c. 

THE SECOND BOOK, 




L(IQHT CoNCElTg OF L(OVEf^g. 

i|AiN MEN ! whose follies make a god of 
love ; 
Whose blindness, beauty doth immortal 

deem. 
Praise not what you desire, but what you 

prove ! 
Count those things good, that are ; not those 
that seem ! 
I cannot call her true, that's false to me ; 
Nor make of women, more than women be. 

How fair an entrance breaks the way to lo\e ! 
How rich of golden hope, and gay deliglit I 
What heart ? cannot a modest beauty move ! 
Who seeing clear day, once, will dream of night ? 
She seemed a saint, that brake her faith with me ; 
But proved a women, as all other be. 

So bitter is their sweet, that True Content, 

Unhappy men, in them may never find : 

Ah! but icilhout them, none. Both must consent, 

Else uncouth are the joys of either kind. 

Let us then praise their good, forget their ill ! 

Men must be men ; and women, women still. 



T. camp.un, M.R j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 287 



fOw eas'ly wert thou chained, 
['"ond heart ! by favours feigned ? 

j Why lived thy hopes in grace, 
Straight to die disdained? 



PI 



But since th'art, now, beguiled 
By love, that falsely smiled : 
In some less happy place, 
Mourn alone exiled ! 
My love still here increaseth, 
And with my love, my grief; 
While her sweet bounty ceaselh, 
That gave my woes relief. 
Yet 'tis no woman leaves me, 
For such may prove unjust ; 
A goddess thus deceives me ! 
Whose faith, who could mistrust ? 



A goddess so much graced. 

That Paradise is placed 

In her most heav'nly breast, 

Once by LoVE embraced. 

But Love, that so kind proved, 

Is now from her removed : 

Nor will he longer rest. 

Where no faith is loved. 

If powers celestial wound us, 

And will not yield relief; 

Woe then must needs confound us, 

For none can cure our grief. 

No wonder if I languish. 

Through burden of my smart. 

It is no common anguish, 

From Paradise to part ! 




288 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from ['•^'T""' Vc"; 

Arden, now, thy tired heart, with more than flinty 

rage ! 
Ne'er let her false tears, henceforth, thy constant grief 
assuage ! 
Once, true happy days thou saw'st, when she stood firm and 

kind, 
Both as one, then, lived ; and held one ear, one tongue, one 

mind. 
But, now, those bright hours be fled, and never may return ; 
What then remains, but her untruths to mourn ! 

Silly Trait'ress ! Who shall, now, thy careless tresses place ? 
Who, thy pretty talk supply ? Whose ear, thy music grace ? 
Who shall thy bright eyes admire ? What lips, triumph with 

thine ? 
Day by day, who'll visit thee, and say "Th'art only mine ! " 
Such a time there was, GOD wot ! but such shall never be. 
Too oft, I fear, thou wilt remember me ! 




\\'iiAT unhoped for sweet supply ! 

O what joys exceeding ! 
What an affecting charm, feel I, 

I'rom delight proceeding! 
That which I long despaired to be; 

To her I am, and she to me. 



She that, alone in cloudy grief, 

Long to me appeared : 
She now alone, with bright relief, 

All those clouds hath cleared. 
Both are immortal and divine : 

Since I am hers, and she is mine. 



, Campion, M.D 



^/s";] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 289 




Here she, her sacred bower adorns, 

The rivers clearly flow ; 
The groves and meadows swell with flowers. 

The winds all gently blow. 
Her sun-like beauty shines so fair ; 

Her spring can never fade. 
Who then can blame the life that strives 

To harbour in her shade ? 

Her grace I sought, her love I wooed, 

Her love though I obtain ; 
No time, no toil, no vow, no faith, 

Her wished grace can gain. 
Yet truth can tell my heart is hers ; 

And her, will I adore ! 
And from that love when I depart, 

Let heaven view me no more ! 

Her roses, with my prayers shall spring, 

And when her trees I praise : 
Their bows shall blossom, mellow fruit, 

Shall straw her pleasant ways. 
The words of hearty zeal have power 

High wonders to effect ; 
O why should then her princely ear 

My words or zeal neglect ? 



If she my faith misdeems, or worth , 

Woe worth my hapless fate ! 
For though time can my truth reveal, 

That time will come too late. 
And who can glory in the worth, 

That cannot yield him grace ? 
Content, in every thing is not ; 

Nor joy in every place. 
Exc. CAR. 111. ig 



290 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [1'- campion, urn. 

But from her bower of joy, since I 

Must now excluded be ; 
And she will not relieve my cares, 

Which none can help, but she : 
My comfort, in her love shall dwell, 

Her love lodge in my breast ; 
And though not in her bower, yet 1 

Shall in her temple rest. 




AiN would I, my love disclose, 
Ask what honour might deny; 
But both love and her I lose. 
From my motion, if she fly. 
Worse than pain is fear to me. 
Then hold in fancy, though it burn ! 
If not happy, safe I'll be ; 
And to my cloistered cares return. 



Yet, yet, in \ain I strive. 
To repress my schooled desire ; 
More and more the flames revive. 
I consume in mine own fire. 
She would pity, might she know 
The harms that I for her endure. 
Speak then ! and get comfort so, 
A wound long hid, grows most recure. 



Wise she is, and needs must know 
All th'attempts that beauty moves : 
Fair she is, and honoured so, 
That she, sure, hath tried some loves. 
If with love I tempt her then, 
'Tis but her due to be desired. 
What would women think of men, 
If their deserts were not admired ? 



. Campion, M.I). 
J 



^/cij] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 291 




Women courted, have the hand 

To discard what they distaste : 

But those dames, whom none demand, 

Want oft what their wills embrace. 

Could their firmness iron excel, 

As they are fair, they should be sought : 

When true thieves use falsehood well ; 

As they are wise, they will be caught. 

IvE beauty all her right ! 

She's not to one form tied ; 

Each shape j-ields fair delight, 

Where her perfections 'bide. 

Helen, I grant, might pleasing be ; 

And Ros'mond was as sweet as she. 

Some, the quick eye commends; 

Some, smelling lips and red ; 

Pale looks have many friends, 

Through sacred sweetness bred. 
Meadows have fiowers, that pleasure move ; 
Though roses are the flowers of love. 

Free beauty is not bound 

To one unmoved clime : 

She visits every ground, 

And favours every time. 
Let the old loves, with mine compare; 
Wy vSovereign is as sweet and fair ! 



Dear! that I with thee might live, 
From human trace removed ! 
Where jealous care might neither grieve, 
Yet each dote on their loved. 
While fond fear may colour find, love's seldom pleased ; 
But, much like a sick man's rest, it's soon diseased. 




292 L V R I C S , E L i: G I E S , & C. I- R O M ['^^ ^■''7'°"' ^6°: 

Why should our minds not mingle so, 
When love and faith are plighted : 
That either might the others know, 
Alike in all delighted ? 
\\'hy should frailty breed suspect, when hearts are fixed ? 
Must all human joys, of force, with grief be mixed ? 

How oft have we, ev'n, smiled in tears, 

Our fond mistrust repenting? 
As snow, when heavenly fire appears, 
So melt love's hate, relenting. 
Vexed kindness soon falls off, and scon returneth : 
Such a flame, the more you quench the more it burneth. 



OoD men, show ! if you can tell. 
Where doth Human Pity dwell ? 
I'ar and near, her I would seek. 
So vext with sorrow is my breast. 
" She," they say, " to all, is meek ; 
And only makes th'unbappy blest." 

Oh ! if such a saint there be, 
Some hope yet remains for me : 
Prayer or sacrifice may gain 
From her implored grace, relief; 
To release me of my pain, 
Or, at the least, to ease my grief. 

Young am I, and far from guile. 
The more is my woe the while : 
Falsehood, with a smooth disguise, 
My simple meaning halh abused : 
Casting mists before mine eyes, 
By which my senses are confused. 




T. Campion, M.D.J M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C, 29^ 

Fair he is, who vowed to me, 

That he only mine would be ; 

But, alas, his mind is caught 

With every gaudy bait he sees : 

And, too late, my flame is taught, 

That too much kindness makes men freeze. 

From me, all my friends are gone, 
While I pine for him alone ; 
And not one will rue my case, 
But rather my distress deride : 
That I think, there is no place, 
Where Pity ever yet did bide. 



Hat harvest half so sweet is, 
As still to reap the kisses 

Grown ripe in sowing? [See/ 304.] 

And straight to be receiver 
Of that, which thou art giver 1 

Rich in bestowing ? 
Kiss then, my Harvest Queen ! 

Full garners heaping. 
Kisses, ripest when th'are green, 

Want only reaping. 

The dove alone expresses. 
Her fervency in kisses ; 

Of all, most loving. 
A creature as offenceless. 
As those things that are senseless 

And void of moving. 
Let us so love and kiss ! 

Though all envy us : 
That which kind, and harmless is ; 

None can deny us ! 





294 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. cnmpion, m^d. 

He peaceful western wind, 

The winter storms liath tamed ; 

And Nature, in eacli kind. 

The kind heat hath inflamed. 
The forward buds so sweetly breathe 

Out of their earthly bovvers : 
That heaven, which views their pomp beneath, 

Would fain be decked with flowers. 

See how the Morning smiles, 

On her bright eastern hill ! 

And, with soft steps, beguiles 

Them that lie slumbering still. 
The music-loving birds are come 

From cliffs and rocks unknown ; 
To see the trees and briars bloom. 

That, late, were overflo,wn. 

What Saturn did destroy, 

Love's Queen revives again; 

And now her naked boy 

Doth in the fields remain : 
Where he such pleasing change doth view 

In every living thing ; 
As if the world were born anew, 

To gratify the Spring. 

If all things, life present. 

Why die my comforts then ? 

Why suffers my content ? 

Am I the worst of men ? 
Beauty ! be not thou accused 

Too justly in this case ! 
Unkindly, if true love be used ; 

'Twill yield thee little grace ! 



T. Campion, M.D.-j M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 295 




|Here is none, O none, but you. 

That from me, estrange your sight ! 
Whom mine eyes affect to view, 



Or chained ears hear with delight. 



Other beauties, others move; 

In you ! I all graces find. 
Such is the effect of love, 

To make them happy, that are kind. 

Women, in frail beauty trust, 

Only seem you fair to me ! 
Yet prove truly kind and just ! 

For that may not dissembled be. 

Sweet ! afford me then your sight ! 

That, surveying all your looks, 
Endless volumes I may write ; 

And fill the world with envied books ! 

Which, when after ages view, 
All shall wonder and despair ; 

Woman to find man so true. 
Or man, a woman half so fair. 




MANY loves have I neglected. 

Whose good parts might move me i 
That now I live, of all rejected ; 

There is none will love me. 
Why is my maiden heat so coy ? 

It freezeth, when it burneth. 
Loseth what it might enjoy ; 

And having lost it, mourneth. 



29<5 L V R I c s , Elegies, & c . from [_^- ^''"j'f ■»"• ^^^J'^- 

Should I then woo, tliat Iiave been wooed ; 

Seeking them, that fly me? 
When I my faith with tears have vowed, 

And when all deny me ; 
Who will pity my disgrace, 

Which love might have prevented ? 
There is no submission base, 

Where error is repented. 

happy men ! whose hopes are licensed 
To discourse their passion : 

While women, are confined to silence, 

Losing wished occasion. 
Yet our tongues than theirs, men say. 

Are apter to be moving. 
Women are more dumb than the\', 

But in their thoughts more moving. 

When I compare my former strangeness 
With my present doting; 

1 pity men, that speak in plainness, 
Their true heart's devoting : 

While we (with repentance) jest 

At their submissive passion. 
Maids, I see, are never blest 

That strange be, but for fashion. 




Hough your strangeness frets my heart. 
Yet may not I complain : 
You persuade me, " 'Tis but art ! 
That secret love must fain !" 
If another, you affect, 
" 'Tis but a show, t'avoid suspect ! " 
Is this fair excusing ? O, no I all is abusing! 



T Campion, I.rD.J M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 297 

Your wished sight, if I desire, 
Suspitious you pretend : 
Causeless, you yourself retire; 
While I, in vain, attend. 
" This, a lover whets," you say, 
" Still made more eager by delay ! " 
Is this fair excusing ? O, no ! all is abusing ! 



When another holds your hand. 
You swear, " I hold your heart 1 " 
When my rivals close do stand, 
And I sit far apart ; 
"I am nearer yet, than they ! 
Hid in your bosom ! " as you say. 
Is this fair excusing ? 0, no ! all is abusing ! 



Would my rival, then I were. 
Some else your secret friend : 
So much lesser should I fear. 
And not so much attend. 
They enjoy you ! every one : 
Yet I must seem your friend alone. 
Is this fair excusing ? O, no ! all is abusing ! 



J[Ome away! armed with love's delights! 
Thy spriteful graces, bring with thee 1 
[When love and longing fights. 
They must the sticklers be. 
Come quickly, come ! The promised hour is well-nigh spent ; 
And pleasure being too much deferred, loseth her best content. 




298 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from ['^- '^™'''°"- ""i 

Is slie come ? 0, how near is slie ! 

How far yet from this friendly place ! 
How many steps from me ! 
When shall I her embrace ? 
These arms I'll spread, which only at her sight shall close ; 
Attending, as the starry flower, that the sun's noontide knows. 




[Ome, you pretty false-eyed wanton ! 

Leave your crafty smiling ! 
Think you to escape me now, 

With slipp'ry words beguiling I 
No, you mocked me th'other day ! 

When you got loose, you fled away ! 
But since I have caught you now, 

I'll clip your wings, for flying ! 
Smoth'ring kisses fast I'll heap, 

And keep you so from crying ! 



Sooner may you count the stars, 

And number hail, down pouring: 
Tell the osiers of the Thames, 

Or Goodwin sands devouring: 
Than the thick-showered kisses here. 

Which now thy tired lips must bear ! 
Such a harvest never was, 

So rich and full of pleasure : 
But 'tis spent as soon as reaped. 

So trustless is love's treasure 1 



T. Campion, M.D.-| ]\Iadrigals, Canzonets, & c. 299 




Er rosy cheeks, Iier ever-smiling eyes, 

Are spheres and beds, where Love in triumph lies: 

Her rubine lips, when they, their pearl unlock, 

Make them seem, as they did rise 

All out of one smooth coral rock. 

O that, of other creatures' store I knew, 

More worthy, and more rare; 

For these are old, and she so new ! 

That her to them, none should compare. 

could she love ! Would she but hear a friend ! 

Or that she only knew what sighs pretend! 

Her looks inflame, yet cold as ice is she. 

Do or speak, all's to one end, 

For what she is, that will she be. 

Yet will I never cease her praise to sing. 

Though she gives no regard. 

For they that grace a worthless thing, 

Are only greedy of reward. 



Here shall I refuge seek, if you refuse me ? 

In you, my hope ; in you, my fortune lies ! 

In you, my life ! though you unjust accuse me ! 

My service scorn 1 and merit underprize 1 
O bitter grief! that exile is become 
Reward for faith ; and pity, deaf and dumb. 

Why should my firmness find a seat so wav'ring? 

My simple vows, my love you entertained ! 

Without desert, the same again disfav'ring ; 

Yet I, my word and passion hold unstained. 

O wretched me ! that my chief joy should breed 
My only grief; and kindness, pity need. 

FINIS. 



300 




Jan Huyghenvan Linshcoten. 

Of the Viceroy of Portugal \at Goa']^ 
and his Governme?2t i^i hidia. 

[Discourse o/ Voyn^es ^c. isgS.J 

Very three 3'ears, there is a new Viceroy sent into 
India, and sometimes they stay longer, as it 
pleaseth the King ; but very few of them do so. 

He stayeth in Goa, which is the chief city of 
[Portuguese] India, where he hath his house and 
continual residence; and from thence, all other [Portuguese] 
towns in India, have their direction and government. 

From Goa, every year, the Portuguese army is prepared 
and sent out. 

He hath his Council, nobles. Chancery, and Justices, as 
they use in Portugal ; and all laws and justice are executed 
and fulfilled by him, in the King's name. Yet if there be any 
matter of importance which concerneth the civil laws, they 
may appeal to Portugal ; but in criminal cases, no man may 
appeal, but such as have the degree of a gentleman. Such, 
the Viceroy may not judge, unless it be by the King's com- 
mandment ; but, making them prisoners, send them to 
Portugal. 

He is very magnificent in his Estate, and goeth out little ; 
but sometimes, on Sundays or Holy Days, when he goeth to 
Church. 

When he goeth out of his house, the trumpets and shalms, 
standing in the gallery of his house, do sound. He is ac- 
companied by all the gentlemen and townsmen of Goa that 
have, or keep horses: with a guard of halberdiers on foot, on 
each side, and behind him. 

Being in the Church, he hath his seat in the Choir, lined 



J. H, V. Unschoten.] Jjjj, PalacE OF THE ViCEROVS AT GoA. 3CI 

with velvet and nailed with gilt nails : and a cloth with two 
vehec cushions under his feet and knees; and before him a 
bench, with a velvet cushion, to lean his arms upon. 

His gentlemen sit by him, but without the Choir; and by 
him standeth his Chaplain, that prayeth for him. The Arch- 
bishop, when he is at the Church, sitteth on his left hand, in 
the same manner, upon carpets, cushions, and bench of 
velvet : where they are served, in all ceremonial order, as the 
Kings of Portugal use to be. When he cometh home again ; 
the trumpets and shalms do sound, as when he went out. 

In the Hall of his Palace stand the Guard ; and in the 
Great Hall, where his Council sit, are painted all the 
Viceroys that have governed in India since the first dis- 
covery and conquest thereof; and, as they newly come, their 
pictures are likewise placed there. 

Also, in the Entry of the Palace, are painted all the ships 
that, since the first discovery of India, ever came out of 
Portugal into those countries ; every year by itself, and the 
names and surnames of their Captains, with a note over 
every ship that was cast away or had any mischance : all 
lively set forth, for a perpetual memory : and every year, as 
any ship cometh thither, they are set by the rest. 

The Viceroys, in the last year of their government, do use 
to visit the forts lying round about the country, fifty, sixty, or 
eighty miles, on the north and south side of Goa, to see how 
they are governed. They look well unto them ; but com- 
monly [in this], another supplieth their place: and if they 
do it themselves, it is more to fill their purses and to get 
presents, than to further the commonwealth. 

These Viceroys have great revenues. They may spend, 
give, and keep the King's treasure, which is very great ; and 
do with it what pleaseth them ; for it is in their choice, having 
full and absolute power from the King: in such sort that 
they gather and hoard up a mighty quantity of treasure ; for, 
besides their great allowance from the King, they have 
great presents and gifts bestowed upon them. 

For it is the custom in those countries, when any Viceroy 
cometh newly over, that all the Kings bordering about Goa, 
and that have peace and friendship with the Portuguese, 
do then send their Ambassadors unto him, to confirm their 



302 A Viceroy TOO much tortiie Jusuits. p 



, I-inschotcn. 
• ■594- 



leagues with great and rich presents; therewitli likewise to 
bid the Viceroy welcome : whicli amounteth to a great mass 
of treasure. 

These presents, in this sort, given, the Jesuits, by their 
practices, had obtained of the King ; and for a time enjoyed 
them at their pleasure, looking very narrowly unto them, 
that they might not be deceived : until, a long time since, a 
\'iceroy named Don Lois de Taide, Earl of Atougia came 
thither, and refused to let them have them, saying that " The 
King, being in Portugal, knew not what was given him in 
India : and that those presents were given to the Viceroy, 
and not to the King;" and said, "The King had no power to 
give them to the Jesuits." So that he kept them for himself ; 
which the Jesuits took in evil part, and said : " The \'iceroy 
was an heretic I " 

Yet from his time, ever since, the Viceroys have used to 
keep them for themselves. 

When the Viceroys have continued out their time, which 
is as soon as another Viceroy arriveth at Bardes or any 
other haven in the country ; the new Viceroy does presently 
despatch his Lieutenant, with full power and authority in the 
name of his master, to receive possession of the Government 
of [Portuguese] India; and to prepare the Palace for him. 
For that there stayeth not a stool or bench within the house, 
nor penny in the treasury ; but they leave the house as bare 
and naked, as possibly may be: so that the new Viceroy must 
make provision to furnish it, and to gather a new treasure. 

In the same ship, wherein the new Viceroy cometh thither; 
the old one returneth home. 

Because their time of government is so short ; and that 
the place is given them in recompence of their service, and 
that they are not after to serve any more : there is not one 
of them, that esteemeth the profit of the commonwealth, or 
the furtherance of the King's service ; but rather their own 
particular commodities, as you ma}' very well think. So that 
the common speech of [Portuguese] India is, that they never 
look for any profit or furtherance of the commonwealth by 
any Viceroy, as long as the Government of Three Years is not 
altered. For they say, and it is found most true, that, " The 



J. H. V. Ur 



"''i'w'IJ The Viceroys' triennial programme. 301 



first year of the Viceroy's time, he hath enough to do to 
repair and furnish his house ; and to know the manners and 
customs of the countries : with any further troubling of him- 
self. The second year, to gather treasure ; and to look unto his 
particular profits: for the which cause, he came into India. 
The third and last year, to prepare himself, and set all things 
in order, that he be not overtaken and surprised by the new 
Viceroy, when he cometh: but that he may return to Portugal, 
with the goods which he hath scraped together." 

The same is to be understood of all Captains of forts, and 
of all other Officers in India. 

Wherefore it is to be considered how they use themselves 
in their places, and the King's service ; whereof the in- 
habitants and married Portuguese do continually speak: but 
they are far from the King's hearing; who knoweth not but 
that his Officers do him good service. Whereby there is 
small remedy or amendment to be hoped for. 




204 Japanese Piunces brought to Goa. [.'•" vLinschoim 



JjM- 



Jan Huygiien van Linschoten. 

Diary of occurre?tces in the Portuguese 
settleme?its i?i hidia^ 1583— 1588 a.d. 

{Discjuyse of Voyages ^c. 1598.] 

Notice the marvellous security of the Porlu.c;ucsc in India at this time, 
under their triple protection : the Papal bull of 1494 ; the power of 
Spain ; and England and Holland, as yet, c|uicscent and at home. 

The exhaustive information which Linsciioten gave of the East, 
led the way to the formation of the Dutch, and English East India 
Companies. 

1583. 

|BouT the same time {i.e., Dccemhcr 1583", there 
came certain Jesuits to Goa, from the island of 
Japan; and with them, three Princes (being tlie 
childrenof Kings of that country) wholly apparelled 
like Jesuits : not one of them was above sixteen 
years of age. They were minded, by the persuasions of the 
Jesuits, to travel to Portugal ; and from thence to Rome, to 
see the Pope : thereby to procure great profit, privileges, and 
liberties from him for the Jesuits; which was their onl}- intent. 
They continued in Goa till the year 15S4, and then set sail 
for Portugal. From thence, they travelled into Spain : 
where, by the King and all the Spanish nobility, they were re- 
ceived with great honour : and presented with many gifts, 
which the Jesuits kept for themselves. Out of Spain, they 
went to see the Pope : from whom they obtained great privi- 
leges and liberties. That done, they travelled throughout 
Italy, as to \'enice, Mantua, Florence; and all places and 
dominions in Italy : where they were presented with many 
rich presents, and much honoured ; by means of the great 
report, the Jesuits made of th.em 

Toconclude. Theyreturned again unto Madrid: where, with 
great honour, they took their leave of the King; with letters of 
commendation, in their behalf, unto the Viceroy and all the 




J H.v.Lin.rlioton.-j -j-jj^ PrinCES MAKE A TOUR OF EuROPE. 305 

Captains and Governors of India. So they went to Lisbon, 
and there took shipping, anno 15S6, and came in the ship 
called San Felipe (which, on her return, was taken by 
Captain Drake) ; and after a long and troublesome voyage, 
arrived at Mozambique. [See p. 325.] 

Where, the ship received her lading [homeward] out of 
another ship, called the San Lorenzo (ladened in India, and 
bound for Portugal), that, having lost her masts, had to put in 
there. 

And, because the time was far spent to get into India, the 
said San Felipe took in the lading of the Saji Lorenzo ; and 
was taken, in her way returning home, by the Englishmen: 
and was the first ship that was taken commg out of the East 
Indies ; which the Portuguese took for an evil sign, because 
the ship bore the King's own name. 

But returning to our matter. The Princes and the Jesuits of 
Japan, the next year after [i.e., 1587], arrived at Goa, amidst 
great rejoicings and gladness; for that it was verily thought 
they had all been dead. When they came thither, they were 
all three apparelled in Cloth of Gold, and of Silver, after the 
Italian manner ; which was the apparel that the Italian 
Princes and Noblemen had given them. They came thither 
very lively ; and the Jesuits very proudly, for, by them, their 
voyage had been performed. 

In Goa, they stayed till the monsoon or time of the winds 
came to sail for China ; at which time, they went from 
thence, and so to China, and from thence to Japan; where, 
with great triumph and wondering .of all the people, thej- 
were received and welcomed home, to the furtherance and 
credit of the Jesuits : as the book declareth, which they have 
written and set forth in the Spanish tongue, concerning their 
voyage, as well by water as by land, as also of the entertain- 
ment that they had in every place. 

1584. 

In the year 1584, in the month of June, there arrived in 
Goa many ambassadors, as from Persia, Carnbaia, and from 
the Samorin, which is called, the Emperor of the Malabars, 
and also from the King of Cochin. 

Among other things, there was a peace concluded by the 
Samorin and the Malabars with the Portuguese, upon con- 

E.\-G. GAR. III. 20 



3o6 Portuguese & Malabars at teace. [J- " ''•,Lin^chotcn 

dition tliat the Portuguese should have a fort upon a certain 
liaven lying on the coast of Malabar, called Panane, ten miles 
from Calicut ; which was presently begun to be built. 

There, with great cost and charges, they raised and erected 
a fort ; but because the ground is all sandy, they could make 
no sure foundation. For it sank continually, whereby they 
found it best to leave it ; after they had spent in making 
and keeping thereof, at the least, four tons of gold, and reaped 
no profit thereof : intending thereb}', if the Samorin should 
break his word, and come forth (as oftentimes he had done), 
that, by means of that haven, they would keep him in; where 
he should have no place to come abroad, to do them any 
more mischief. But seeing that the Malabars had many 
other havens and places, from whence they might put forth 
to work them mischief ; and as much as ever they did (al- 
though the Samorin protested not to know of them ; as also 
that he could not let [liindcr] it, saying, " They were sea 
rovers, and were neither subject unto him, nor any man else "): 
they left their fort, and put no great trust in the Malabars, as 
being one of the most rebellious and traitorous nations in all 
the Indies; who make many a travelling merchant poor, by 
reason the sea coast is made by them, so dangerous and 
perilous to sail by. 

For the which cause, the Portuguese army by sea [i.e., their 
navy] is yearly sent forth out of Goa, only to clear the coast 
of them : yet are there many Malabars, in divers places, 
who, by roving and stealing, do much mischief in the country, 
both by water and by land. They keep themselves on the 
seaside, where they have their creeks to come forth ; and 
to carry their prizes in, to hide them in the country. 

They dwell in straw houses upon ston}' hills, and rocks not 
inhabited, so that they cannot be overcome ; neither do they 
care for the Samorin, nor any other man else. 

There is a haven belonging to these rovers, about twelve 
miles distant from Goa, called Sanguisceu; where many of 
them dwell, and do so much mischief: that no man can pass 
by, but that they receive some wrong by them. So that there 
came, daily, complaints unto the Viceroy, who then was named 
Don Francisco de Mascharenhas, Earl of Villa Dorta ; 
who, to remedy the same, sent unto the Samorin, to will 
him to punish them ; who returned the messenger again. 



J. H. V Unschoten.-j PORTUGUESE AtTACK ON SaNGUISCEU. 307 

with answer that " He had no power over them, neither yet 
could command them, as being subject to no man ;" and gave 
the Viceroy free liberty to punish them at his pleasure, pro- 
mising that he should have his aid therein. 

Which the Viceroy understanding, prepared an army [i.e., 
squadron] of fifteen foists, over which he made chief Captain, 
hisnephew,agentleman called Don JulianesMascharenhas; 
giving him express commandment first to go unto the haven of 
Sanguisceu, and utterly to raze the same down to the 
ground. 

This fleet being at sea, and coming to the said haven, the 
Admiral of the fleet asked counsel what was best to be done : 
because Sanguisceu is an island, lying with the coast, a river 
running about it, and many cliffs [rocks] and shallows in the 
entrance ; so that, at low water, men can hardly enter in. 

At the last, they appointed that the Admiral with half the 
fleet, should put in on the one side ; and the Vice-Admiral, 
called Joan Barriga, with the other half, should enter on 
the other side. Which being concluded, the Admiral, com- 
manding the rest to follow, entered first, and rowed even to 
the firm land; thinking they were coming after : but the other 
Captains, who were all young and inexperienced gentlemen, 
began to quarrel among themselves, who should be first or 
last ? whereby the fleet was separated. Some lay in one 
place, some in another, upon the banks and shallows, and 
could not stir; so that they could not come to help the 
Admiral, nor yet stir backwards or forwards. And when the 
Vice-Admiral should have put in on the other side; the Cap- 
tains that were with him would not obey him, saying " He 
was no gentleman, and that they were his betters." Upon 
these, and such like points, most of the Portuguese enter- 
prises do stand, and are taken in hand ; whereby, most com- 
monly, they receive the overthrow. By the same means, 
this fleet was likewise spoiled, and could not help them- 
selves. 

\\'hich those of Sanguisceu, having forsaken their houses 
and being on the tops of the hills, seeing that the foists lay 
about, one separated from the other, upon the rocks and 
shallows, not able to put off; and that the Admiral lay alone 
upon the strand, and could not £tir : they took courage, and, 
in great number, set upon the Admiral's foist ; and put all to 



3oS It IM I s t r a i; l y Fails. [■" "■^■•/■ 



the sword, except such as saved themselves by swimmin.c;. 
And althoiis;h tlie Admiral miyht well have saved himself, for 
a slave offered to bear him on his back ; j-et he would not, 
saying that " He had rather die honourably fighting against 
the enemy, than to save his life with dishonour." So that he 
defended himself most valiantly, but when so many came 
upon him that he could no longer resist them, they slew him ; 
and cut off his head in presence of all the other foists. Which 
done, they stuck the head upon a pike, crying, in mocking, 
unto the other Portuguese, " Come and fetch your Captain 
again!" to their no little shame and dishonour, that in the 
meantime, looked one upon another, like owls. 

In the end, they departed from thence with the fleet, every 
man severally by himself, like sheep without a shepherd ; and 
so returned again to Goa with that great victory. The Cap- 
tains were presently [at once] committed to prison, but, each 
man excusing himself, were all discharged again : great 
sorrow being made for the Admiral, especially by the Viceroy, 
because he was his brother'sson ; whowas also much lamented 
by every man, as a man very well beloved for his courteous 
and gentle behaviour. The other Captains, on the contrary, 
were much blamed ; as they well deserved. 

Presently thereupon, they made ready another army, with 
other Captains, whereof Don Jekonimo Mascharenhas, who 
was cousin to the aforesaid one deceased, was Admiral, to 
revenge his death. This fleet set foot on land, and, with all 
their power, entered among the houses ; but the Sangueseans 
that purposely watched for them, perceiving them to come, 
fled into the mountains, leaving their straw houses empty, 
whither they could not be followed by reason of the wildness 
of the place : whereupon the Portuguese burnt down their 
hotises and cut down their trees, razing all things to the 
ground. With which destruction, they departed thence ; no 
man resisting them. 



'fc, 



At the same time, the [Portuguese] Rulers of Cochin began, 
by the commandment of the Viceroy, to set up a Custom 
House in the town ; which till that time, had never been 
there. For which, the inhabitants rose up, and would have 
slain them that v. cnt about it. Whereupon they left off till 



^- "■ J- ^'"'"'■"jj":] A Custom House ERECTED IN Cochin. 309 

such time as the new Viceroy, called Don Duarte de 
Meneses came out of Portugal; who, with the old Viceroy, 
assembled a Council at Cochin, where the Government was 
delivered unto him : where he used such means, that by fair 
words and entreaty, they erected their Custom House; and 
got the townsmen's goodwill, but more by compulsion than 
otherwise. Which custom is a great profit to the ICing, by 
means of the traffic therein used : for there the Portuguese 
ships do make themselves ready with their full lading, to sail 
from thence to Portugal. 

The same year [1584:, in the month of September, there 
arrived in Goa, a Portuguese ship, called the Doiii Jesus de 
Carania, that brought news of four ships more that were on 
the way, with a new Viceroy called Don Duarte de Meneses: 
which caused great joy throughout the city, all the bells 
being rung, as the manner is, when the first ship of every 
Fleet arriveth in Goa, out of Portugal. In that ship came 
certain canoniers [gunners], Netherlanders ; that brought mc 
letters out of Holland, which was no small comfort to me. 

Not long after, in the same month, there arrived another 
ship, called Boa Viagcn [p. 320], wherein were many gentle- 
men, and Knights of the Cross that came to serve the King in 
India : among whom, was one of my Lord Archbishop's 
brethren, called RoQUE da Fonseca [p. 319]. The other lords 
were Don Jorgie Tubal DE Meneses, Chief Standard Bearer 
to the King of Portugal, newly chosen Captain of Soffala and 
Mozambique, in regard of certain service that he had, in times 
past, done for the King in India; Joan Gomes da Silva, the 
new Captain of Ormus: and Don Francisco Mascharenhas, 
brother of Don Julianes Mascharenhas that was slain in 
Sanguisceu, as I said before, who was to have had the Cap- 
tain's place of Ormus ; but, by means of his death, it was 
given unto his brother Don Francisco, for the term of three 
years, after he that is in it, had served his full time. 

In November after, the other three ships arrived in Cochin. 
They had sailed outside of Saint Lawrence's Island [Mada- 
gascar], not putting into Mozambique. The ships' names 
were Santa Maria, Arreliquias; and the admiral [flag ship] 
Las cinque chagas or " The Five Wounds " [i.e., of our Saviour, 
usually called, the Stigmata]. In her, came the Viceroj- 
Don Duarte de Meneses, that had been Captain of 



310 Tun: arrival of a new Viceroy. [J- "■ ^•■/■''"<^''°^'^;j- 

Tangier in Barbary : and there were in this ship, nine 
hundred soldiers and gentlemen that came to safe conduct 
the Viceroy, besides above a hundred sailors. They had been 
above seven months upon the way, without taking [toiccliiuf;] 
land, before they arrived at Cochin : where the Viceroy was 
received with great solemnity. 

Being landed, he presently sent to the old Vicero)', to certify 
him of his arrival ; and that he should commit the Govern- 
ment of the country unto the Archbishop, to govern it in his 
absence (especially because the Archbishop and he were very 
good friends and old acquaintance ; having been prisoners to- 
gether in Barbary, when Don Sebastian King of Portugal 
was slain) : which the old Viceroy presently did, and went by 
sea to Cochin ; that he might return to Portugal with the same 
ship, as the Viceroys use to do. For after their time of 
Government is out, they may not stay any longer in India. 

The loth of November, anno 1584, the ship called Carania 
went from Goa to Cochin ; there to take in pepper and other 
wares. Then do all the Factors go to Cochin to lade their 
wares ; and when the ships are laden and ready to depart, 
they return again to Goa: where they still remain. In that 
ship, the old Viceroy, with many gentlemen, sailed to Cochin. 



1585. 

The 5th of February 15S5, the Viceroy, Don Duarte de 
Meneses, arrived in Goa ; where he was received with great 
triumph and feasting. 

In the month of April, the same year, my fellow, and 
servant to the Archbishop (called Barnard Burcherts, and 
born in Hamburg [p. 1S2]), travelled from Goaunto Ormus,and 
from thence, to Balsora ; and from thence, by land, through 
Babylon, Jerusalem, Damascus, to Aleppo, from whence he 
sent me two letters, by an Armenian : wherein he certified 
me of all his voyage ; which he performed with small charges 
and less danger, in good fellowship, and very merry in the 
company of the CafjUas. From Aleppo he went to Tripolis ; 
and there he found certain ships for England, wherein he 
sai4ed to London ; and from thence to Hamburg : which I 
understood by letters from him, written from thence. 

In the month of August, there came letters from Venice 



J. H.v.Umchoten.-j DeaTH OF LiNSCIIOTEN's FATHER. 31I 

by land, that brought news of the murder of the Prince of 
Orange, a man of honourable memory ; as also the death of 
the Duke of Alencon or Anjou ; with the marriage of the 
Duke of Savoy to the King of Spain's daughter. 

The 20th of October, there arrived in Goa, the ship called 
the San Francisco, that came out of Portugal. In it, came 
some Dutch cannoneers, that brought me letters out of my 
country ; with the news of the death of my father, Huyghen 
JoosTEN of Harlem. 

The 1st of November after [1585], arrived at Cochin, the Sant 
Alberto that came from Portugal. And the 1st of December, 
that year, there arrived at Cananor, upon the Malabar coast, 
the ship called the San Lorenzo ; and from thence, came to 
Goa : most of her men being sick, and about ninety of them 
dead : they having endured great misery, and not having 
once put to land. At that time, there wanted [but] two of the 
Fleet that came from Lisbon in company with her : and they 
were the San Salvador, and the admiral [flag ship], Sanjago; 
whereof they could hear no news. 

At the same time, there arrived certain Italians, overland, 
in Goa, and brought news of the death of Pope Gregory 
XIII., and of the election of the new Pope, called Sixtus VI. 

At that time, also, the ships that came from Portugal, 
sailed to Cochin, to take in their lading ; which done, in the 
month of January 15S6, they sailed for Portugal. 

In the month of May 1586, letters were brought to the 
Viceroy and Archbishop at Goa, from the Captain of Soffala 
and Mozambique, to certify them of the casting away [in the 
previous August] of the admiral San J ago, that set out of 
Portugal, the year before, anno 1585. 

She was cast away in this manner. The ship having come, 
with a good speedy wind and weather, from the Cape of Good 
Hope to Mozambique : they had passed, as they thought, all 
dangers ; so that they needed not to fear anything. Yet it 
is good for the Master and others to be careful and keep good 
watch, and not to stand too much upon their own cunning 
and conceits, as these did ; which was the principal cause of 
their casting away. 

Between the Island of St. Lawrence and the firm land, 
in 225' S., there are certain shallows [slioals] called the 
" India," ninety miles from the Mozambique. Those shallows 



312 TlIK lASTlXi; AWAV OF TIIK S.I.V ^.100. l^' ^' " ,!''"'"'''f^^[ 

are mostly of clear coral of black, white, and green colours, 
which is very dangerous. Therefore it is good reason they 
should shun them; and surely the Pilots ought to have great 
care, especially such as are in the Indian ships, because the 
whole ship and safety thereof lieth in their hands and is only 
ruled by them ; and that, by express commandment from the 
King, so that no man may contrary them. 

They being thus between the lands, and by all the sailors' 
judgements hard by the "Shoalsof India" [ji. 25], the Pilottuok 
the height of the sun, and made his account that they were 
past the Shallows; commanding the Master to make all the 
sail he could, and freely to sail to Mozambique, without any 
let or stay. And although there were divers sailors in the 
ship, that likewise had their " cards," some to learn, others 
for their pleasure ; as divers officers, the Master, and the 
Chief Boatswain, that said it was better to keep aloof, 
specially by night, and that it would be good to hold good 
watch because they found that they had not, as then, passed 
the Shallows : yet the Pilot said the contrary, and would 
needs show that he only had skill and power to command ; 
as commonly the Portuguese, by pride, do cast themselves 
away; because they will follow no man's counsel, and be 
under no man's subjection, specially when they have autho- 
rity. As it happened to this Pilot, that would hear no man 
speak, nor take any counsel but his own ; and therefore com- 
manded that they should do, as he appointed them. 

Whereupon, they hoisted all their sails, and sailed in that 
sort till it was midnight, both with a good wind and fair 
weather; but the moon not shining, they fell full upon the 
Shallows, being of clear white coral, and so sharp that, with 
the force of wind and water that drave the ship upon them, 
it cut the ship in two pieces as if it had been sawn in sunder : 
so that the keel and two orlops [i.e., decks] lay still upon the 
ground, and the upper part, being driven somewhat further, 
at the last, stuck fast ; the mast being also broken. 

Wherewith, you might have heard so great a cry that all 
the air did sound therewith : for that in the ship, being 
admiral [fag ship], there were at the least five hundred 
persons : among the which were thirty women, 'with many 
Jesuits and friars. So that, as then, there was nothing else 
to be done, but every man to shrift, bidding each other fare- 



J. n. V. l^inschoten.-j C O U R AG E O F C Y r li I A N G R I M OALDO. 3 I 3 

well, and asking of all men forgiveness; with weeping and 
crying, as it may well be thought. 

The Admiral, called Fernando de Mendoza, the Master, 
the Pilot, and ten or twelve more, presently entered into the 
small boat, keeping it with naked rapiers, that no more should 
enter, saying they " would go and see if there were any dry 
place in the Shallows ; whereon they might work to make a 
boat of the pieces of the broken ship, therein to sail unto the 
shore, and so to save their lives." Wherewith, they put them 
that were behind in some small comfort ; but not much. 
But when they had rowed about, and finding no dry place, 
they durst not return again unto the ship : lest the boat should 
have been overladen and so drowned ; and in the ship, they 
looked for no help. Wherefore, in fine, they concluded to row 
to land ; having about twelve boxes of marmalade, with a 
pipe of wine and some biscuit, which, in haste, they had 
thrown into the boat ; which they dealt among them, as need 
required. So commending themselves to GOD, they rowed 
forwards towards the coast ; and after they had been seven- 
teen days upon the sea, with great hunger, thirst, and labour, 
they fell on the land : where they saved themselves. 

The rest that stayed in the ship, seeing the boat came not 
again ; it may well be thought what case they were in. At 
tlie last, one side of the upper part of the ship, between both 
the upper orlops, where the great boat lay, burst out; and the 
boat being half burst, began to come forth : but, because there 
was small hope to be had, and few of them had little will to 
prove masteries, no man laid hand thereon, but every man 
sate looking one upon another. At the last, an Italian, called 
Cyprian Grimoaldo, rose up, and taking courage unto him, 
said, " Why are we thus abashed ? Let us seek to help our- 
selves, and see if there be any remedy to save our lives !" 
Wherewith presently, he leaped into the boat, with an instru- 
ment in his hand, and began to make it clean ; whereat some 
others began to take courage, and to help him as well as they 
could, with such things as first came to their hands. So that 
in the end, there leaped, at the least, fourscore and ten per- 
sons into it, and many hung by the hands upon the boat 
swimming after it, among the which were some women : but 
because they would not sink the boat, they were forced to cut 
off the fingers, hands, and arms of such as held thereon, and 



314 Marvellous Brotherly Love. [■'■"■"■,'''"' 



inscholen 
594 



let them fall into the sea; and they threw many overboard, 
beinR such as had not wherewith to defend themselves. 

Which done, they set forward, committing themselves to 
GOD ; with the greatest cry and pitifuUest noise that ever was 
heard, as though heaven and earth had gone together : wlien 
they took their leave of such as stayed in the ship. In which 
manner, having rowed certain days, and having but small 
store of victuals ; for that they were so many in the boat that it 
was ready to sink, it being likewise very leaky and not able to 
hold out. In the end, they agreed among themselves to chose 
a captain, to whom they would obey and do as he commanded : 
and among the rest, they chose a gentleman, a Mestizo [half- 
caste] of India; and swore to obey him. He presently com- 
manded to throw some of them overboard, such as, at that 
time, had least means or strength to help themselves. Among 
the which, there was a carpenter that had, not long before, 
helped to dress the boat : who seeing that the lot fell upon 
him, desired them to give him a piece of marmalade and a 
cup of wine ; which when they had done, he willingly suffered 
himself to be thrown overboard in the sea, and so was 
drowned. 

There was another of those, that in Portugal are called New 
Christians. He being allotted to be cast overboard in the 
sea, had a younger brother in the same boat, that suddenly 
rose up and desired the Captain that he would pardon and 
make free his brother, and let him supply his place, saying, 
" My brother is older, and of better knowledge in the world 
than I, and therefore more fit to live in the world, and to help 
my sisters and friends in their need : so that I had rather die 
for him, then to live without him." At which request, they 
let the elder brother loose, and threw the younger at his own 
request into the sea ; who swam at the least six hours after 
the boat. And although they held up their hands with naked 
rapiers willing him that he should not once come to touch the 
boat : yet laying hold thereon, and having his hand half cut 
in two, he would not let go ; so that in the end, they were 
constrained to take him in again. Both the which brethren, I 
knew, and have been in company with them. 

In this misery and pain, they were twenty days at sea ; and 
in the end got to land : where they found the Admiral and 
those that were in the other boat. 



j.H.v.Linschot=n.-j Only 6o saved, out of 500. 315 

Such as stayed in the ship, some took boards, deals, and 
other pieces of wood ; and bound them together, which the 
Portuguese call Jangadas [rafts] ; every man what they could 
catch, all hoping to save their lives : but of all those, there 
came but two men safe to shore. 

They that had before landed out of the boats, having escaped 
that danger, fell into another ; for they had no sooner set foot 
on shore, but they were spoiled by the inhabitants of that 
country, called Kaffirs, of all their clothes : whereby they 
endured great hunger and misery, with many other mischiefs, 
which it would be over tedious to rehearse; In the end, they 
came unto a place where they found a Factor of the Captains 
of Soffala and Mozambique, and he helped them as he might ; 
and made means to send them unto Alozambique : and from 
thence, they went into India; where I knew many of them, 
and have often spoken with them. 

Of those that were come safe to shore, some of them died 
before they got to Mozambique. So that in all, there were 
about sixty persons that saved themselves. All the rest were 
drowned or smothered in the ship ; and there was never other 
news of the ship than as you have heard. 

Hereby, you may consider the pride of this Pilot ; who, 
because he would be counselled by no man, cast away that 
ship with so many men : wherefore a Pilot ought not to have 
so great authority, that, in time of need, he should reject and 
not hear the counsel of such as are most skilful. 

This Pilot, when he came into Portugal, was committed 
to prison ; but, by gifts and presents, he was let loose : and 
another ship [San Thomas], being the best of the Fleet that 
went for India, anno 15S8, was committed unto him ; not 
without great curses and evil words of the mothers, sisters, 
wives, and children of those that perished in the ship, which 
all cried " Vengeance on him ! " 

And coming with the ship, called the San Thomas, wherein 
he then was placed, he had almost laid her on the same place, 
where the other was cast away; but day coming on, they 
room themselves off [gave it a wide berth], and so escaped. 

Yet in their voyage homeward to Portugal, the same ship 
was cast away by the Cape of Good Hope \pp. 414, 416, 419], 



3i6 Two TiKKisii Galleys come out of the [""!; 



I.in<ichoten. 
>594- 



with the Pilot and all her men : whereby much speech arose, 
saying " It was a just judgement of GOD against him, for 
making so many widows and fatherless children." 

This I thought good to set down at large, because men 
might see that many a ship is cast away by the headiness of 
the Governors, and the unskilfulness of the Pilots : wherefore 
it were good to examine the persons before a ship be com- 
mitted unto them ; especially a ship of such a charge, and 
wherein consisteth the welfare or undoing of so many men, 
together with their lives ; and impoverishing of so many a 
poor wife and child. 

This loss happened in the month of August, anno 15S5. 

1586. 

In May, anno 1586, two ships, laden with ware, set sail 
out of the haven of Chaul in India, that belonged unto certain 
Portuguese inhabitants of Chaul ; the owners being in them. 
Those ships should have sailed to the Straits of Mecca or 
the Red Sea, where the said merchants used to traffic ; but 
they were taken by two Turkish galleys that had been made 
in the innermost parts of the Red Sea, in a town called Suez. 
The said galleys began to do great mischief; and put all the 
Indian merchants in great fear. 

The same month, there was a great army prepared in Goa, 
both of foists and galleys, such as had not been seen in 
many years ; and was appointed to sail to the Red Sea, to 
drive the Turkish galleys away, or else fight with them if 
they could. They were also commanded by the Viceroy to 
winter their ships in Ormus : and then to enter into the 
Straits of Persia [Persian Gulf], lying behind Ormus ; and to 
offertheir services toXATAMAS [/I BCvis/J, King [S/w/j] of Persia, 
against the Turk, their common enemy. Thereby to trouble 
him on all sides, if they had brought their purpose to effect ; 
but it fell out otherwise, as you shall hear. 

For Chief of this army, there was appointed a gentleman 
named Ruy Gonsalves da Camara, who had once been Cap- 
tain of Ormus ; being a very fat and gross man, which was one 
of the chief occasions of their evil fortune. With him, went 
the principal soldiers and gentlemen of all India ; thinking 
to win great honour thereby. 

This army being ready, and minding to sail to the Red 



Linschoten, 



:] Red Sea, & beat the Portuguese fleet. 317 



Sea; they found many calms upon the way, so that they 
endured much misery, and began to die hl<e dogs, as well for 
want of drink as other necessaries. For they had not made 
their account to stay so long upon the way ; which is always 
their excuse, if anything falleth out contrary to their minds. 
This was their good beginning, and as it is thought a pre- 
parative to further mischief. For coming to the Red Sea, at 
the mouth thereof, they met the Turkish galleys ; where they 
had a long fight : but, in the end, the Portuguese had the 
overthrow ; and escaped, as well as they might, with great 
dishonour and no little loss. 

The Turks being victorious, sailed to the coast of Melinde, 
where they took certain towns, as Pate and Brava, that, 
then, were in league with the Portuguese: there to strengthen 
themselves, and thereby to reap a greater benefit, by damaging 
the Portuguese, and lying under their noses. 

The Portuguese army having sped in this manner, went to 
Ormus, to winter themselves there ; and, in the meantime, to 
repair their army, and to heal their sick soldiers, whereof 
they had many. 

When the time served to fulfil the Viceroy's command- 
ment, in helping Xatamas, having repaired their foists ; the 
General, by reason of his fatness and corpulent body, stayed 
in Ormus : and appointed as Lieutenant in his place, one 
called Pedro Homen Pereira (who, although he was but a 
mean gentleman, yet was he a very good soldier, and of great 
experience) : commanding them to obey him in all things, as 
if he were there in person himself. 

He gave them also in charge to land, as they sailed along 
the coast of Arabia, to punish certain pirates that held a 
place called Nicolu [? Nackiloo] ; and spoiled such as passed to 
and fro upon the seas ; doing great hurt to the ships and 
merchants of Bussorah that trafficed to Ormus : whereby 
the traffic to the said town of Ormus was much hindered, to 
the great loss and undoing of many a merchant. 

With this commission, they set forward with their Lieu- 
tenant ; and being come to Nicolu; they ran their foists 
on shore, so that they lay half dry upon the sand. Every 
man in general leaped on land, without any order of battle; 
as in all their actions they use to do : which the Lieu- 
tenant perceiving, would have used his authority, and have 



3i8 800 Portuguese soldiers slain, p "• 



. Linscliotcn 
? 1594- 



placed them in order as is requisite to be done in warlike 
affairs. But they, on the contrary, would not obey him, 
saying, " He was but a boor ! and that they were better 
gentleman and soldiers than he !" With these, and such like 
presumptuous speeches, they went on their course; scattering 
here and there in all disorder, like sheep without a shepherd: 
thinking all the world not sufficient to contain them, and 
every Portuguese to be a Hercules, and so strong that they 
could bear the whole world upon their shoulders. 

Which the Arabs, being within the land and mostly on 
horseback, perceiving (and seeing their great disorder ; and 
knowing most of the foists to lie dry on the strand, and that, 
without great pain and much labour, they could not hastily 
set them afloat), presently compassed them about, and being 
ringed in manner of a half moon, they fell upon them ; and, 
in that sort, drave them away, killing them as they listed, 
till they came unto their foists: and because they could not 
presently [at once] get their foists into the water, they were 
compelled, through fear and shame, to fight; where likewise 
many of them were slain, and not above fifty of them escaped 
that had set foot on land. So having got into their foists, 
they rowed away. 

In this overthrow, there were slain about eight hundred 
Portuguese, of the oldest and best soldiers in all India. Among 
them was a trumpeter, being a Netherlander; who, being in 
the thickest of the fight, not far from the Portuguese Ensign, 
and seeing the Ensign-bearer throw down his Ensign (the 
easier to escape and save his life), and that one of the Arabs 
had taken it up : casting his trumpet at his back, he ran with 
great fury, and with his rapier killed the Arab that held it, 
and brought it again among the Portuguese, saying, " It was 
a great shame for them to suffer it to be carried away." In 
that manner, he held it, at the least, a whole hour, and spoiled 
man}' of the Arabs that sought to take it from him, in such 
manner, that he stood compassed about with dead men : and 
although he might have saved himself if he would have left 
the Ensign, yet he would not do it ; till, in the end, there 
came so many upon him that they killed him, where he 
jieldcd up the ghost with the Ensign in his arms. And so 
ended his days with honour ; which the Portuguese them- 
selves did confess, and often acknowledged it ; commending 



Linschoten. 
? 1594 



] The Queen of Ormus weds a Christian. 319 



his valour: which I thought good to set down in this place, 
for a perpetual memory of his valiant mind. 

The Lieutenant, perceiving their disorder and how it would 
fall out, wisely saved himself, and got into the foists, where 
he beheld the overthrow; and in the end, with empty vessels, 
he turned again to Ormus, without doing anything else : to 
the great grief and shame of all the Indian soldiers; being 
the greatest overthrow that ever the Portuguese had in those 
countries, or wherein they lost so many Portuguese together. 
Among the which, was the Archbishop's brother [p. 309], and 
many other young and lusty gentlemen, of the principal 
[families] in all Portugal. 

At the same time [i.e., in the spring 0/1587], the Queen of 
Ormus came to Goa, being of Mahomet's religion, as all her 
ancestors had been before her ; and as then, contributory 
[subject] to the Portuguese. She caused herself to be christened, 
and was brought, with great solemnity, unto the town ; where 
the Viceroy was her godfather, and named her Donna Phil- 
LIPPA, after the King of Spain's name : being a fair white 
woman, very tall and comely. With her, likewise, a brother of 
hers, being very young: and, then, with one Matthias d'Al- 
BUQUERQUE, that had been Captain of Ormus, she sailed to 
Portugal [in the Nostra Sehora da Sancao ; see pp. 322, 332 ; 
which arrived in Portugal on 12th of August 1587, see p. 333] 
to present herself to the King. 

She had [or rather, afterwards] married with a Portuguese 
gentleman, called Antonio Dazevedo Coutinho ; to whom, 
the King, in regard of his marriage, gave the Captainship 
of Ormus, which is worth [in the three years] about 200,000 
ducats [= about £50,000 then = £300,000 now], 

[The following occurrence must have been after Linschoten's depar- 
ture from India, in November 1588.] 

This gentleman, after he had been married to the Queen 
about half a year, living very iriendly and lovingly with her, 
he caused a ship to be made, therewith to sail to Ormus ; to 
take order there for the rents and revenues belonging to the 
Queen, his wife. But his departure was so grievous unto 
her, that she desired him to take her with him ; saying that 
"she could not live without him 1" but, because he thought 
it not then convenient, he desired her to be content ; promis- 



-520 For the lovk of whom, she dies, p "■ v unschoten. 

ing to return again with all Ihu speed he might. Whereupon, 
he went to Bardes, which is the uttermost part of the ri\er 
entering into Goa, about three miles off. While he continued 
there, staying for wind and weather; the Queen, as it is said, 
took so great grief for his departure, that she died the same 
day that her husband set sail and put to sea : to the great 
admiration [wonder] of all the country ; and no less sorrow, 
because she was the first Queen, in those countries, that had 
been christened, forsaking her kingdom and high Estate, 
rather to die a Christian, and be married to a mean [private] 
gentleman than to live like a Queen under law of Mahomet. 
And so was buried with great honour, according to her 
estate. 

In the month of August 1586, there arrived a man of 
Mozambique in Goa, that came from Portugal in the ship 
that should sail to Malacca {usually leaving Lisbon about 
February : in this instance, about February 15S5I that brought 
news unto the Viceroy, how the ship, called the Boa Viagen, 
that, in the year before [i.e., January 15S5 see p. 309% sailed 
from India towards Portugal, was cast away by the Cape 
of Good Hope : where it burst in pieces, being overladen 
(for they do commonly overlade most of their ships), and 
affirmed that the ship had, at the least, nine handsful 
height of water within it, before it departed from Cochin ; 
although, before their ships set sail, they put the Master 
and other Officers to their oaths, thereby to make them 
confess " If the ship be strong and sufficient to perform 
the voyage, or to let them know the faults ! " Which, upon 
their said oaths, is certified by a Protestation, whereunto the 
Officers set their hands. Yet, though the ship have so 
many faults, they will never confess them, because they will 
not lose their places and the profit of the voyage; yea, 
although they do assuredly know the ship is not able to 
continue the voyage: for covetousness, overthrowing wisdom 
and policy, maketh them reject all fear; but when they fall 
into danger, then they can speak fair, and promise many 
things. 

In that sort, most of the ships depart from Cochin, so that 
if any of them come safely to Portugal, it is only by the will 
of GOD ; for, otherwise, it were impossible to escape, because 
they overlade them, and the ships are, otherwise, so badly 



J. H. v.unschoten.-j ^ Carrack BURSTS AT THE Cape. 321 

provided, and with little order among their men: so that not 
one ship cometh home but can show of their great dangers by 
overlading, want of necessaries, and reparations of the ship, 
together with unskilful sailors ; yet for all these daily and 
continual dangers, there is no amendment, but they daily 
grow worse and worse. 

In this ship, called the Boa Viagcn, were many gentlemen 
of the best and principal, that had served a long time in 
India; travelling then into Portugal, with their certificates, 
to get some reward for their service, as the manner is. Be- 
cause it was one of the best and greatest ships of that fleet, 
the Ambassador of Xatamas [Abbas I.], King [Shah\ of Persia, 
went therein, to procure a league with the King of Spain, to 
join with him against the Turk, their common enemy : but 
he being drowned, the Persian would send no more Ambas- 
sadors ; and yet he is still in league and good friendship 
with the Portuguese. 

The worst ship that saileth from Cochin to Portugal, is 
worth, at the least, a million of gold [i.e., of ducats = about 
;f300,ooo thL'!i=:about ;£"i,8oo,ooo now], and this was one of the 
best ships ; whereby it may be considered what great loss 
cometh by the casting away of one of their ships, besides 
the men. For there never passeth a year ; but one or two of 
they are cast away, either in going or coming. 

In the month of September, the same year, 15S6; there 
arrived four ships out of Portugal, in Goa, called the San 
Thomas, San Salvador [p. 326], the A yrcliquias, the Doinjcsiis 
dc Cavania : but of their admiral, the 5(7/; Felipe, they had no 
news since their departure from Lisbon. 

On the last of November, the same ships departed from 
Goa : some along the coast of Malabar, to take in their lad- 
ing of pepper, and from thence to Cochin ; others direct to 
Cochin, where commonly one or two of them are laden with 
pepper, and where, alone, all other kind of wares are laden. 

At the same time, there was a ship called the Aseeniion, 
that lay in Goa, and had made certain voyages to China and 
Japan : which ship was bought by the Factors for Pepper, 
because the ship Carania, by reason of her oldness, was 
broken in Cochin, and set upon the stocks there, to be new 
made ; but was not finished, by reason of a certain controversy 
that fell among the Factors. 

ENc.GAR.iu. 21 



32 2 Arciibp. Fonseca sails to Portugal. [J- "•''•/-'"^^''°;^:;: 

In this ship, [newly] called Nostra Senora da Sancao, mj' Lord 
the Archbishop sailed to Portuj^al, by reason of certain quarrels 
newly begun between the Viceroy with other Councillors, 
and the Archbishop. And although he was entreated by the 
Viceroy, all the Council, gentlemen and communalty of Goa, 
not to leave them ; yet he would not be dissuaded from his 
purpose, but went to ride unto the King, of whom he was well 
beloved : which the Viceroy and others liked not very well, 
fearing he should give some information to the King, which 
would be smally to their profit. 

In that mind, he undertook his voyage, discharging all 
his servants ; saving some that he kept about him for his 
service: and leaving no man in his house, but only his Steward 
and myself, to receive his rents, and keep his house. And 
because, as then, the Golden Jubilee or Pardon of Rome, 
called La Santa Cnisada, was newly brought into the Indies 
(being granted to the end that, with the money that should be 
gathered by virtue thereof, the Captains and prisoners in 
Africa or Barbary, that had been taken prisoners in the battle 
wherein Don Sebastl\n, King of Portugal, was slain, should 
be redeemed) ; the Golden Jubilee was sent unto the Arch- 
bishop : who, being appointed the Roman Apostolic Com- 
missary, &c., for the same, made me the General Clerk 
throughout all India, to keep account of the said receipts ; 
and gave me one of the keys of the chest wherein the money 
lay, with a good stipend, and other profits belonging to the 
same, during the time of his absence. Thereby the rather 
to bind me, that I should remain in his house, and keep the 
same till his return again ; as I had promised unto him. 

1587. 

So he set sail from Cochin, in the month of January, anno 
1587 ; his Pilot being the same man that cast the San Ja^o 
away upon the " Flats of India," as it is said before [pp. 
311-316J. 

The ships, at that time, being ready to set sail, one some 
four or five days after the other, as they were laden (for 
they observe a certain order therein, the better to register all 
their wares and merchandise), it so fell out that all the other 
ships being despatched; ihz Arrcliqnias only \\a.s the last that 
laded. Which ship having taken in her whole lading, the 



J. H. V. Linschoten.j ^UE SINKING OF THE ArRELIQUIAS. 323 

Officers, and some of the Factors, being bribed, suffered some 
of the baUast to be taken out, and in place thereof laded 
cinnamon : for, at that time, cinnamon was risen, and at a 
very high price in Portugal ; and therefore the Officers and 
Factors, by gifts aforesaid, suffered it to be laden in that 
manner, having no other place to lade it in. 

You must understand that when the time cometh to set 
sail, the ships lying at anchor about a mile within the sea, 
where they received their lading (the reason why they lie so 
far is because it is summer time ; and there the sea is as 
calm and still, as if it were within the land), a trumpet is 
sounded throughout all the town of Cochin to call them all 
on board : wherewith, all that will sail, do presently come 
down, accompanied with their friends, which, in small boats 
called Tones and Pallcngcs, bring them aboard ; with great store 
of bread, and such like victuals. So that you shall, many 
times, see the ships hung round about with boats, at the least 
three or four hundred ; with such a noise and rejoicing, as it 
is wonderful to hear. 

Sometimes the ships are so ladened that the cables touch 
the water, and besides that, the hatches are covered with 
divers chests, seven or eight one above another ; they having 
no other place to set them in : for that under the hatches 
they are so stuffed, that there is not any empty room. So 
that when they set sail, they know not where to begin, nor 
how to rule the ship ; neither can they well, for a month 
after, tell how to place all things in order. 

So it was with this ship, which being thus prepared, the 
Viador da Fazcnda, or the King's Officers, came aboard, asking 
" If the ship were ready to set sail, and depart? " They say, 
" It was ready." And he having made a Protestation or Certi- 
ficate thereof, the Officers set to their hands, as some say ; 
but others deny it. Presently he commanded them to wind 
up their cables and hoisted anchor, as the manner is. So they 
let their sails fall, with a great cry of Boa Viagen ! " GOD 
send them good fortune, and a merry voyage ! " all the boats 
being still aboard [attached] ; which commonly do hang at her 
at least a mile or half a mile within the sea ; because it is 
calm. 

This ship, called the Arreliquias, beginning in this manner 
to sail, among other romage [lumber] that stood on the 



;24 All saved in iiicr, ijut the slaves. [■'•"• 



f. Linschoten. 
• '594- 



hatches, there were certain hens' cages ; from whence, certain 
hens flew out : whereupon every man claimed them for his 
own, and, upon a Sunday, as in such cases it is commonly 
seen, they ran all on a heap upon one side; whereby the ship 
(being Hght of bahast, and laden with many chests above the 
hatches, as I said before) swayed so much on the one side 
that, by little and little, it sank clean under the water, so 
that not above a handful of the mast could be seen above the 
water. 

The people leaped into the boats that, as yet, were hanging 
above the ship, which was good fortune for them ; otherwise, 
there had not one escaped alive : but, by that means, they 
were all saved ; excepting only the slaves, that were 
bound with iron chains and could not stir, and so were 
drowned. 

GOD knoweth what riches were lost in her ! For nothing 
was saved, but some few chests that stood above the 
hatches ; which the duckers [divers] got up, and yet the 
goods in them were, in a manner, spoiled : the rest was 
utterly lost. 

By this, it may be considered what manner the Portuguese 
use in lading of their ships ; and that it is to be thought that 
the many ships that are cast away, whereof there hath been 
heard no news or tidings, are only lost by means of evil order 
and government. 

This being so unluckily fallen out, the Merchants used all 
the speed and means the}' could, by witnesses, to make Pro- 
testation against the Officers and Factors of the pepper, that 
they might be punished for taking out the ballast : but they 
kept themselves out of the way ; and, by prolonging of time, 
it was forgotten, and nothing done therein. So the Mer- 
chants, that had received all the loss, were glad to put it up. 

In the same month [January 15S7], came news out of 
Malacca, that it was in great danger, and that many died there 
for hunger; as also that the ship that went from Portugal 
thither, was forced to stay there, because they had no victuals 
to despatch it away [p. 429] : and likewise, that the Strait of 
Sumatra was kept by the enemy, so that there no ships could 
pass that way to China or Japan. This was done by the 
kings [chiefs] of Sumatra, that is to say, the kings of Achen 
[Achin] and Jor, lying by Malacca upon the firm land; who 



Linfichoten.j MALACCA BESIEGED, AND IN GREAT DANGER. 325 

rebelled against the Portuguese in Malacca, upon a certain 
injury done unto them by the Captain there. 

This news put Goa in a great alteration, for their principal 
traffic is to Malacca, China, and Japan, and the islands 
bordering on the same : which, by reason of these wars, was 
wholly hindered. Whereupon a great number of foists, 
galleys, and ships were prepared in Goa to relieve Malacca, 
and all the townsmen tasked [taxed], every one at a certain 
sum of money, besides the money that was brought from 
other places ; and men taken up to serve in ships, for by 
means of their late overthrows, [the Portuguese] India was, 
at that time, very weak of men. 

In the month of May, anno 15S7, there came a ship or 
galley of Mozambique unto Goa, brings news that the ship, 
the San Felipe, had been there, and taken in the lading of 
pepper that was in the ship called the San Loren::o [p. 311] that 
had arrived there in her voyage towards Portugal, and was all 
open above the hatches and without masts, most of her goods 
being thrown into the sea : whereby, miraculously, they saved 
their lives, and, by fortune, put into Mozambique. In this 
ship, called the San Felipe, were theyoung princes, the Kings' 
children of Japan, as is before declared [at p. 305]. 

The same galley which brought this news from Mozam- 
bique to Goa, likewise brought news of the army that sailed 
out of Goa, in December 15S6, being the year before, unto the 
coast of Melinde,to revenge the injury which they had received 
in the Iket whereof Ruy Gonsalves da Camara was Captain, 
as I said before ; as also to punish the towns that, at the 
same time, had united themselves with the Turk, and broken 
league with the Portuguese [p. 317]. Of this army was General, 
a gentleman called Martin Alonzo de Mello. 

Wherewith, coming upon the coast of Abex or Melinde, 
which lyeth between Mozambique and the Red Sea, they went 
on land ; and, because the Turks whom they sought for, 
were gone home through the Red Sea, they determined to 
punish and plague the towns that favoured the Turks, and 
broken their alliance with them. To this end, they entered 
into the country as far as the towns of Pate and Brava, that 
little thought of them, and easily overran them ; for the most 
part of the people fled to sa\'e themselves, and left their towns. 
Whereby the Portuguese did what pleased them, burning the 



526 Sax Salvador found at Zanzibar. [J- H.v.un5chot.n. 



"594- 



towns witli others that lay about them, and razing them to 
the ground : and among those that fled, they took the King 
[chief] of Pate, whose head, in great fury, they caused to be 
stricken off, and brought it to Goa ; where, for certain days, 
it stood on a mast in the middle of the town, for an example 
to all others, as also in sign of victor3\ 

Wherewith, the Portuguese began to be somewhat en- 
couraged. So they went from thence to Ormus ; and from 
Ormus they were to go to help the King of Persia, as the 
Viceroy had commanded them. But being at Ormus, many 
of their men fell sick and died : among the which the General, 
Martin Alfonso de Mello was one. Whereupon they 
returned unto Goa ; without doing any other thing. 

The same army sailing to the coast of Abex, and falling on 
the island of Zanzibar (which lieth 6° S. about seventy miles 
from Pate towards Mozambique, about eighteen miles from the 
firm land), they found there the San Salvador [p. 321] that came 
from Cochin, sailing towards Portugal : which was all open, 
having thrown all her goods overboard, sa\ing only some 
pepper which they could not come at ; and was in great 
danger, holding themselves, by force of pumping, above the 
water. They were upon the point to leave, being all weary 
and ready to sink : which they certainly had done, if, by 
great good fortune, they had not met with the army ; which 
they little thought to find in those parts. 

The army took the ship with them to Ormus, where the rest 
of the pepper and goods remaining in her were unladen, and the 
ship broken in pieces : and of the boards, they made a lesser 
ship, wherein the men that were in the great ship, with the rest 
of the goods that were saved in her, sailed to Portugal : and, 
afteralongand wearisome voyage "/1.42s], arrived there in safety. 

The 17th of September, 15S7, a galliot of Mozambique 
arrived at Goa, bringing news of the arrival of four ships in 
Mozambique, that came out of Portugal. Their names were 
the Sant Antonio, Sant Francisco, Nostra ScTiora da Nazareth, 
and the Sant Alberto : but of the Santa Maria that came in 
company with them from Portugal, they had no news. 
Afterwards they heard, that she put back again to Portugal, 
by reason of some defaults in her, and of the foul weather. 

Eight days after [2^lh of Septcnibcr], the said four ships 
arrived in Goa, wiiere they were received with great joy. 



J. H. v.Linschoien.j COLOMBO BESIEGED, AND DELIVERED. 327 

At the same time, the fort called Colombo, which the 
Portuf^uese hold in the island of Ceylon, was besieged by 
the King of Ceylon, called Raju [? Rajah] and in great 
danger of being lost : to deliver which, there was an army 
of foists and galleys sent from Goa ; whereof Bernardine 
DE Carvalho was General. 

And at the same time, departed another army of many 
ships, foists, and galleys, with a great number of soldiers, 
munition, victuals, and other warlike provisions ; wherewith 
to deliver Malacca : which as then was besieged and in 
great misery, as I said before. The General thereof was 
Don Paulo de Lima Pereira, a valiant gentleman, who, 
not long before, had been Captain of Chaul ; and being very 
fortunate in all his enterprises, was therefore chosen to be 
General of that fleet. 

The last of November, the four ships aforesaid, departed 
from Goa ; to lade at Cochin, and from thence to sail to 
Portugal. 

The December after, while the fort of Colombo, in the 
island of Ceylon, was still besieged ; the town of Goa made 
out another great fleet of ships and galleys : for the which 
they took up many men within the city, and compelled them 
to go in the ships, because they wanted men ; with a great 
contribution of money raised upon the merchants and other 
inhabitants, to furnish the same. Of which army was 
appointed General, Manuel de Sousa Coutinho, a brave 
gentleman and soldier, who, in times past, had been Captain 
of the said fort of Colombo, and had withstood a former 
besieging : whereupon the King put him in great credit, and 
advanced him much ; and, after the Viceroy's death, he was 
Viceroy of [Portuguese] India, as in time and place we shall 
declare [p. 332]. 

He arrived, with his army, in the isle of Ceylon, where he 
joined with the other army that went before ; and placed 
themselves in order to give battle to Ragiu : who, perceiving 
the great number of his enemies, brake up his siege, and 
forsook the fort, to the great rejoicing of the Portuguese. 
Having strengthened the fort with men and victuals, they 
returned again to Goa; where, in the month of March, anno 
15S8, they were received with great J03'. 

In the month of April, the same year [1588], the army of 



328 Malacca delivered, Jor destroyed. [J- "•"■,'•:"■ 



isclioien. 



Don Paulo de Lima Pereira that went to Malacca, anivcd 
in Goa with victory : having freed Malacca, and opened the 
passage again to China and other places. 

The manner whereof was thus. In their wa}', as they 
passed the Straits of Malacca, they met with a ship belong- 
ing to the King of Achen [Achin] in Sumatra; who was a 
deadly enemy to the Portuguese, and the principal cause of 
the besieging of Malacca. 

In the same ship was the daughter of the said King of 
.\chen ; which he sent to be married to the King of Jor, 
thereby to make a new alliance with him against the 
Portuguese : and, for a present, he also sent him a goodly piece 
of ordnance, whereof the like was not to be found in all India. 
Therefore it was, afterwards, sent to Portugal as a present 
to the King of Spain, in a ship of Malacca; which, after, was 
cast away in the island of Terceira, one of the Flemish 
Isles [Azores, see pp. 429, 440] : where the same piece, with 
much labour, was weighed up, and laid within the fortress 
of the same isle ; because it is so heavy that it can hardly be 
carried into Portugal. 

But to the matter. They took the ship with the King's 
daughter, and made it all good prize. By it, they were 
advertised what had passed between the Kings of Achen 
and Jor: so that presently [at once] they sent certain soldiers 
on land, and marching in order of battle, they set upon the 
town of Jor, that was sconced [pallisadoed] and compassed 
about with wooden stakes, most of the houses being of straw. 
Which, when the people of the town perceived, and saw the 
great number of men, and also their resolution, they were in 
great fear; and, as many as could, fled, and saved themselves 
in the country. 

To conclude. The Portuguese entered the town and set 
it en fire, utterly spoiling and destroying it, razing it even 
with the ground, slaying all they found ; but taking some 
prisoners, whom they led away captives. They found within 
the town, at the least, 2,500 brass pieces, great and small, 
which v^'ere all brought into India [i.e., Goa]. You must 
understand that some of them were no greater than muskets; 
some greater; and some very great, being very cunningly 
wrought with figures and flowers, which the Italians and 
Portuguese that have denied lreiioi(nccd\ their faith, and 



^''"/'=''°^','J:]Renegade Christians in Heathendom. 329 

become Mahometists have taught them : whereof there are 
many in India, and are those indeed that do most hurt. 
When they have done any murder or other villany ; fearing 
to be punished for the same, to save their lives, they run 
over by the firm land among the heathens and Moors : and 
there they have great stipends and wages of the Indian 
kings and captains of the land. 

Seven or eight years before my coming into India [i.e., 
1575 or 1576], there were in Goa, certain Trumpeters and 
Cannoneers, being Dutchmen and Netherlanders ; and 
because they were rejected and scorned by the Portuguese 
in India (as they scorn all other nations in the world) ; 
as also because they could get no pay ; and when they asked 
for it, they were presently abused and cast into the galleys, 
and there compelled to serve : in the end, they took counsel 
together, and seeing they could not get out of the country, 
they secretly got unto the firm [main] land of Balagate and 
went unto Hildalcan [? the Dcccan] ; where they were gladly 
received, and very well entertained with great pay, living 
like Lords. And there, being in despair, denied [renounced] 
their faith ; although it is thought by some, that they remain 
still in their own religion : but it is most sure that they are 
married there, in those countries, with heathen women ; and 
were living when I came from thence. 

By this means are the Portuguese the cause of their own 
mischief, only through their pride and hardiness ; and make 
rods to scourge them'jclves withal : which I have only showed 
in respect to those cast pieces and other martial weapons, 
which the Indians have learnt of the Portuguese and Chris- 
tians; whereof in times past, they had no understanding. 
And although they [of Jor] had placed all those pieces in 
very good order; yet it should seem they knew not how to 
shoot them off or to use them as they should : as it appeared 
hereby, for that they presently forsook them, and left them 
for the Portuguese. 

With this victory, the Portuguese were very proud; and, 
with great glory, entered into Malacca : wherein they were 
received with great triumph ; as it may well be tliought, 
being delivered by them from great misery wherein they had 
long continued. Which the King of Achen hearing, and that 
his daughter was taken prisoner, he sent his Ambassador to 



330 Death of the Portuguese Vicerov. [•'"•*'• /■'""=''°J°^; 

Don Paulo de Lima Pereira, with great presents, desir- 
ing to make peace with him : which was presently granted, 
and all the ways to Malacca were opened, and all kinds of 
merchandise and victuals brought thither, which before had 
been kept from them ; whereat was much rejoicing. 

This done, and order being taken for all things in Malacca ; 
they returned again to Goa: where they arrived in safety (as 
I said before) in the month of April [158S] ; and there, were 
received with great triumph; the people singing Te DEUM 
laudamns; and many of the soldiers bringing good prizes with 
them. 

In the month of May [1588] following, upon the 15th of 
the same month, the Viceroy Don Duarte de Meneses 
died in Goa ; having been sick but four days, of a burning 
fever, which is the common sickness of India, and is very 
dangerous : but it is thought it was for grief, because he had 
received letters from the Captain of Ormus, wherein he was 
advertised that they had received news, over land, from 
Venice, that the Archbishop was safely arrived at Lisbon, 
and well received by the King; and because they were not 
friends at his departure (as I said before), they said, " He was 
so much grieved thereat, that fearing to fall into the dis- 
pleasure of the King, by information from the Bishop, he 
died of grief." 

But that was contrary [to the facts] as, hereafter, by the 
ships, we understood ; for the Bishop died in the ship [on 
the ^th August 15S7], eight days before it arrived in Portugal. 
So they kept company together ; for they lived not long one 
after the other, whereby their quarrel was ended with their 
lives. 

The Viceroy's funerals were observed, with great solemnity, 
in this manner. 

The place appointed for the Viceroys' burial is a Cloister 
called Rcis Magos or "The Three Ivings of Cologne," being 
of the Order of Saint Francis, which standeth in the land of 
Bardes, at the mouth of the river of Goa. 

Thither was his body conveyed, being sent in the Royal 
Galley, all hanged over with black pennons, and covered with 
black cloth ; and accompanied with all the nobility and 
gentlemen of the countr3\ 

Approaching near the Cloister of Rcis Magos, being three 



J. H. V. Linichoten.-j ELECTION OF AN AD-INTERIM ViCEROY. 33 I 

miles from Goa down the river towards the sea ; the friars 
came out to receive him, and brought his body into the 
church, where they placed it upon a hearse ; and so, with 
great solemnity, sang Mass. 

Which done, there were certain letters, called Vias, brought 
forth ; which are always sealed, and, by the King's appoint- 
ment, kept by the Jesuits : and are never opened, but in the 
absence or at the death of the Viceroy. 

These Vias are sent yearly by the King, and are marked 
with the figures i, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so forth. When there 
wanteth a Viceroy, then the first number or Via is opened ; 
wherein is written, that in the absence or after the death of 
the Viceroy, such a man shall be Viceroy. If the man that 
is named in the first Via be not there ; then they open the 
second Via, and look whose name is therein ; being in place, 
he is presently [immediately] received and obeyed as Governor. 
If he be likewise absent ; they open the rest, orderly, as they 
are numbered, until the Governor be found : which, being 
known, they need open no more. The rest of the Vias that 
are remaining are presently shut up, and kept in the cloister 
of the Jesuits : but before the \'ias are opened, there is no 
man that knoweth who it shall be, or whose name is written 
therein. 

These Vias are opened, with great solemnity, by the 
Jesuits, and read in open audience, before all the nobles. 
Captains, Governors, and others that are present. If the 
man that is named in the Vias, be in any place of India or 
the East countries, as Soffala, Mozambique, Ormus, Malacca, 
or any other place of those countries, as sometimes it hap- 
peneth ; he is presently sent for: and must leave all other 
offices, to receive that place, until the King sendeth another 
out of Portugal. But if the man named in the Vias be in 
Portugal, China, or Japan, or the Cape of Good Hope; then, 
they open other Vias, as I said before. 

The Mass being finished, the Jesuits came with the King's 
packets of Vias, which are sealed with the King's own signet, 
and are always opened before the other Viceroy's body is laid 
in the earth. And there, they opened the first Via, and, 
with great devotion, staying to know who it should be; at the 
last, was named for Viceroy, one Matthias d'Aluuquerque, 
that had been Captain of Ormus, and, the year before [i.e., 



332 A Viceroy dead ! Long live the next! [J- "■ ''■/''"' ''°-'" 



'594- 



January 1587, sec pp. 319, 322], had gone, in company with 
the Archbishop, to Portugal, because he had broken one of 
his legs, thinking to heal it : but if he had known as much, 
he would have stayed in India. [He was appointed Viceroy in 
1590, sec p. 460." 

He, being absent, the second Via was opened, with the like 
solemnity, and herein they found named for Vicero}-, Manuel 
DR SousA CouTiNiio (of whom I made made mention before, 
Ip- 327] and who was the man that raised the siege in the- 
island of Ceylon), to the great admiration [wonderinent] of 
every man: because he was but a mean [poor] gentleman; 
yet very well esteemed, as he had well deserved by his long 
service. 

Although there were many rich gentlemen in that place, 
whom they thought rather should have been preferred there- 
to : yet they must content themselves, and show no dislike. 
Thereupon they presently saluted him kissing his hand, and 
honoured him as Viceroy. 

Presently, they left the dead body of the old Viceroy, and 
departed in the galley, with the new Viceroy ; taking away 
all the mourning cloths and standards, and covering it with 
others of divers colours and silks. 

And so entered into Goa, sounding both shalms and 
trumpets; wherein he was received with great triumph, and 
led to the great Church, where they sang Tc DEUM laudauius, 
&c., and there gave him his oath to hold and observe all privi- 
leges and customs, accordingto the order in that case provided. 

From thence, they led him to the Viceroy's Palace, which 
was presently all unfurnished by the dead Viceroy's servants; 
and furnished again by the new Viceroy, as the manner is, 
in all such changes and alterations. [See p. 302.] 

The body of the dead Viceroy being left in the Church, was 
buried by his servants, without any more memory of liim ; 
saving only touching his own particular aflairs. 

In the months of June, July, and August of the same year, 
anno 15SS, there happened the greatest winter that had, of 
long time, been seen in those countries. Although it raineth 
every winter, never holding up, all the winter long ; but not 
in such quantity and abundance as it did in those three 
months, for it rained continually and in so great abundance. 



j.H.v.unschoien.-] Arciibisiiop Fonseca dies at sea. 333 

from the loth of June till the ist of September, that it could 
not be judged that it ever held up from raining, one half hour 
together, either night or day ; whereby many houses, by 
reason of the great moisture, fell down to the ground ; as also 
because the stona wherewith they are built is very soft, and 
the greater part of their mortar is more than half earth. 

The i6th of September 1588, there arrived in Goa, a ship 
of Portugal, called the San Thoinns, bringing news of four 
ships that were in Mozambique, all come from Portugal : 
which, not long after, came likewise to Goa. Their names 
were San Christopher, being admiral ; Santa Maria, Sant 
Antonio, and Nostra Sciiora de Conscpcao. 

By these ships, we received news of the death of my Lord 
the Archbishop, Don Frey Vincente DA Fonseca, who died 
in his voyage to Portugal, upon the 4th day of August, anno 
15S7, between the Flemish Isles [Azores] and Portugal; eight 
days before the ship came to land. 

It was thought that he died of some poison that he brought 
[in himself] out of India, or else of some impostume that 
suddenly brake within him. For an hour before his death, 
he seemed to be as well as ever he was in all his life : and 
suddenly he was taken so sick that he had not the leisure to 
make h'is will, but died presently : and voided at the least a 
quart of poison out of his body. 

To be short. He was clothed in his Bishop's apparel, with 
his mitre on his head, and rings upon his fingers, and put 
into a coffin : and so thrown into the sea. 

[LiNSCHOTEN's Narrative is concluded at/. 399.] 




334 



LyricSj Elegies, &'c. fro/n Madrigals, 
Canzo?jets, &'c. 



The Thif^d /,nd Fourth Book^ of Air?. 
By Thomas Campion, M. D. 

Apparently published about 1613. 




To my honourable J'riendy Sir 
T no MAS MoNsoN, K?iight a?td Baro?iet. 

Ince now those clouds, that lately over-cast 
Your fame and fortune, are disperst at last : 
And now, since all, to you fair greetings make; 
Some out of love, and some for pity's sake : 

Shall I, but with a common style, salute 

Your new enlargement ! or stand only mute ? 

I, to whose trust and care you durst commit 

Y'our pined health, when art despaired of it ? 

I, that, in your affliction, often viewed 

In 3'ou, the fruits of manly fortitude, 

Patience, and even constancy of mind 

That rock-like stood, and scorned both wave and wind! 



■^■^■"pp^/sJ^:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 



OJ J 



Should I, for all your ancient love to me. 

Endowed with weighty favours, silent be ? 

Your merits, and my gratitude forbid 

That either, should in Lethean gulf lie hid ; 

But how shall I this work of fame express ? 

How can I better, after pensiveness. 

Than with light strains of Music, made to move 

Sweetly, with the wide spreading plumes of Love ? 

These youth-born Airs, then, prisoned in this book, 

Which in your bowers much of their being took ; 

Accept as a kind offering from that hand, 

Which, joined with heart, your virtue may command! 

Who loves a sure friend, as all good men do ; 

Since such you are, let those affect to you 1 

And may the joys of that Crown never end, 

That innocence doth pity, and defend I 

Yours devoted, 

Thomas Campion. 




336 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [T- campion, m^d. 

Ljrics, EleorieSy &'c. fro)n Madrigals^ 
Canzo7iets^ &'c. 

The Third Book. 

Ft HAVE I sighed, for him tliat hears me not; 
Who, absent, hatli both love and me forgot. 
O }ct I languish still, through his delay: 
Da}s seem as years, when wished friends 
break their day. 

Had he but loved, as common lovers use; 
His faithless stay, some kindness would excuse : 
O yet I languish still, still constant mourn 
For him, that can break vows, but not return. 





Ow let her change ! and spare not ! 
Since she proves strange, I care not! 
Feigned love charmed so my delight, 
That still I doted on her sight. 
But she is gone ! new joys embracing, 
And my desires disgracing. 

When I did err in blindness ? 
Or vex her with unkindness ? 
If my cares served her alone, 
WHiy is she thus untimely gone ? 
True love abides to th"hour of dying: 
False love is ever flying ! 



■'^"T"'"du:] Madrigals, Canzonets, & c. y^y 

False ! then, farewell for ever ! 
Once false, proves faithful never ! 
He that boasts now of thy love, 
Shall soon my present fortunes prove. 
Were he as fair as bright Adonis ; 
Faith is not had, where none is 1 



^ 



Ere my heart, as some men's are ; thy errors would 

not move me ! 
But thy faults I curious find and speak, because I love 

thee! 
Patience is a thing divine ; and far, I grant ! above me. 

Foes sometimes befriend us more ; our blacker deeds objectin-^, 
Than th'obsequious bosom guest, with false respect affecting. 
Friendship is the Glass of Truth, our hidden stains detecting. 

While I, use of eyes enjoy, and inward light of reason ; 
Thy observer will I be, and censor ; but in season : 
Hidden mischief to conceal, in State and Love, is treason. 



ra 



^AiDS are simple," some men say, 
!|" They, forsooth, will trust no men." 
J put should they men's wills obey ; 
Maids were very simple then ! 



Truth, a rare flower now is grown, 
Few men wear it in their hearts ; 
Lovers are more easily known, 
By their follies than deserts. 
eng.gar. in. 22 



33S L V K I c s , r: L E G 1 1: s , & c . fro m [T- ^"-"7". Vaf,; 

Safer may we credit give 
To a faithless wandering Jew : 
Than a young man's vows believe, 
When he swears, " His love is true ! " 



Love, they make a poor blind child, 
But let none trust such as he ! 
Rather than to be beguiled ; 
Ever let me simple be. 




TIRED are all my thoughts, that sense and spirits 

fail. 
Mourning, I pine, and know not what I ail. 
O what can yield ease to a mind, 

Joy in nothing, that can find ? 



How are my powers fore-spoke? What strange distaste is 

this? 
Hence I cruel hate of that which sweetest is ! 
Come, come delight ! make my dull brain 
Feel once heat of joy again. 

The lover's tears are sweet, tkeir mover makes them so ; 
Proud of a wound, the bleeding soldiers grow. 
Poor I, alone, dreaming, endure 

Grief that knows nor cause, nor cure. 



.'\nd whence can all this grow? Even from an idle mind. 
That no delight in an)' good can find. 
Action, alone, makes the soul blest ! 

Virtue dies, with too much rest 1 



T. Campion, M.J ]yj ^ O J, J ^ ^^ L S , CaNZONETS, &C.339 

Hy presumes thy pride on that, that must so private 



(TKTTSiJHY PRESUMES 

M be? 
hB/Aitfq Scarce that it 



it can good be called, though it seems 
best to thee ! 
Best of all, that Nature framed or curious eye can see. 



'Tis thy beauty, foolish Maid ! that, like a blossom, grows ; 
Which, who views, no more enjoys ; than on a bush a rose. 
That, by many's handling, fades : and thou art one of these ! 

If to one thou shalt prove true, and all beside reject! 

Then art thou but one man's good ; which yields a poor effect : 

For the commonest good, by far, deserves the best respect. 

Cut if for this goodness, thou thyself wilt common make; 
Thou art then, not good at all ! So thou canst no way take, 
But to prove the meanest good, or else all good forsake. 

Be not then of beauty proud 1 but so her colours bear, 
That they prove not stains to her, that them for grace should 

wear : 
So shalt thou, to all, more fair than thou wcrt born appear ! 




Ind are her answers : 

But her performance keeps no day ; 

Breaks time, as dancers, 

From their own music, when they stray. 
All her free favours and smooth words, 

Wing my hopes in vain. 
did ever voice so sweet but only feign ? 

Can true love yield such delay, 

Converting joy to pain ? 



340 L V R I c s , Elegies, & c . from [ 



T. Campijn, M.D. 
.» 161J. 



Lost is our freedom, 

When we submit to women so : 

Wliy do we need them, 
When, in their best, they work our woe ? 

There is no wisdom 

Can alter ends, by Fate prefixt. 
why is the good of man with evil mixt ? 

Never were days yet called two, 

But one night went betwixt. 




Grief ! spite ! to see poor Virtue scorned, 
Truth far exiled, False Art loved. Vice adored, 
Free Justice sold, worst causes best adorned, 
Right cast by Power, Pity in vain implored. 

O who in such an age, could wish to live; 

When none can have or hold, but such as 



times! O men ! to Nature, rebels grown. 
Poor in desert ; in name. Rich ; Proud of shame ; 
Wise but in ill. Your styles are not your own 1 
Though dearly bought. Honour is honest fame. 

Old stories, onl}', goodness now contain ; 

And the true wisdom, that is just and plain. 




Never to be moved ! 

beauty unrelenting ! 

Hard heart ! too dearly loved ! 

Fond love, too late repenting ! 
Why did I dream of too much bliss ? 
Deceitful hope was cause of this. 

O hear me speak this, and no more, 

" Live you in joy, while I my woes deplore ! " 



■^•^"""'P'^/d°:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 341 

All comforts despaired, 

Distaste j'our bitter scorning. 
Great sorrows unrepaired 

Admit no mean in mourning: 
Die, wretch! since hope from thee is fled. 
He that must die, is better dead. 

O dear delight ! yet, ere I die. 

Some pity show, though you relief deny ! 




Rear now, my heart, and die ! O no, she may relent 
Let my despair prevail ! staj', hope is not spent. 
Should she now fix one smile on thee, where were 
despair? 

The loss is but easy, which smiles can repair. 

A stranger would please thee, if she were as fair. 



Her must I love or none, so sweet none breathes but she. 
The more is my despair, alas, she loves not me ; 
But cannot time make way for love, through ribs of steel ? 
The Grecian, enchanted all parts but the heel, 
At last a shaft daunted, which his heart did feel. 




F LOVE loves truth, then women do not love, 

Their passions all are but dissembled shows. 

Now kind and free of favour, if they prove ; 

Their kindness, straight, a tempest, overthrows. 
Then as a seaman, the poor lover fares, 
The storm drowns him, ere he can drown his 
cares. 



342 Lyrics, El Koiiis, &c. trom [t. camp^io,,, md. 

But why accuse I women that deceive ? 
Blame then, the foxes for their subtle wile ! 
They first, from Nature, did their craft receive : 
It is a woman's nature to beguile. 

Yet some, I grant, in loving steadfast grow; 

But such by use are made, not Nature so. 

why had Nature power at once to frame 
Deceit and Beauty, traitors both to Love ? 
O would Deceit had died ! when Beauty came, 
With her divineness, every heart to move. 

Yet do we rather wish, whate'er befall ; 

To have fair women false, than none at all. 




Ow WINTER nights enlarge 

The number of their hours ; 

And clouds their storms discharge 

Upon the airy towers. 

Let now the chimneys blaze ! 

And cups o'erflow with wine ! 

Let well-tuned words amaze, 

With harmony divine! 

Now 3ellow waxen lights 

Shall wait on honey love ; 

While youthful revels, masques, and Courtly sights, 

Sleep's leaden spells remove. 

This time doth well dispense. 

With lovers long discourse ; 
Much speech hath some defence, 

Though beauty no remorse. 
All do not all things well ; 

Some measures comely tread, 
Some knotted riddles tell, 

Some poems smoothly read. 



T.Campion,M.D.j]y[^j5RIGALS, CaNZONETS, & C. 343 

The summer hath his joys, 

And winter his delights ; 
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, 

They shorten tedious nights. 




Wake ! thou spring of speaking grace ! Mute rest 

becomes not thee ! 
The fairest women while they sleep, and pictures, 

equal be. 
come and dwell in love's discourses! 

Old renewing, new creating. 
The words which thy rich tongue discourses, 
Are not of the common rating ! 



'5 



Thy voice is as an Echo clear, which Music doth beget, 
Thy speech is as an Oracle, which none can counterfeit: 
For thou alone, without offending, 

Hast obtained power of enchanting 1 
And I could hear thee, without ending ! 
Other comfort never wanting. 



'&• 



Some little reason, brutish lives with human glory share : 
But language is our proper grace, from which they severed 
are. 

As brutes in reason, man surpasses, 

Men in speech excel each other : 

If speech be then, the best of graces. 

Do it not, in slumber smother! 



||Hat is it all that men possess, among themselves 

conversing ? 
I Wealth or fame, or some such boast, scarce worthy 
the rehearsing. 
Women, only, are men's good ! with them in love conversing. 




344 Lyrics, Elegies, & c . from [''"• campion, m.d. 

If weary, tlicj- prepare us rest ! If sieic, their hand attends us ! 
NVlien with grief our hearts are prest, their comfort best 

befriends us ! 
Sweet or sour, they willing go to share, what fortune sends 

us ! 

What pretty babes with pain they bear, our name and form 

presenting ! 
What we get, how wise they keep ! by sparing, wants 

preventing ; 
Sorting all their household cares to our observed contenting! 

All this, of whose large use I sing, in two words is expressed; 
Good Wife is the good I praise, if by good men possessed ; 
Bad with bad in ill, suit well; but good with good live blessed. 




Ire that must flame, is with apt fuel fed, 
Flowers that will thrive, in sunny soil are bred. 
How can a heart feel heat, that no hope finds ? 
Or can he love, on whom no comfort shines ? 

Fair I I confess there's pleasure in your sight ! 
Sweet ! you have power, I grant, of all delight ! 
But what is all to me, if I have none ? 
Churl, that you are ! t'enjoy such wealth alone ! 

Prayers move the heavens, but find no grace with you 1 

Yet in your looks, a heavenly form I view ! 

Then will I pray again, hoping to find. 

As well as in your looks, heaven in your mind ! 

Saint of my heart ! Queen of my life and love ! 
O let my vows, thy loving spirit move ! 
Let me no longer mourn, through thy disdain ! 
But with one touch of grace, cure all my pain ! 



T. cmpior,, M^D.j Madrigals, Canzonets, & c. 345 




F THOU longest so much to learn, sweet boy ! what 

'tis to love : 
Do but fix thy thought on me, and thou shalt quickly 



prove 



Little suit, at first, shall win 
Way to thy abashed desire I 

But then, will I hedge thee in, 
Salamander-like, with fire ! 



With thee, dance I will, and sing, and thy fond dalliance 

bear! 
We, the grovy hills will climb, and play the wantons there ! 
Other whiles we'll gather flowers. 
Lying dallying on the grass ! 
And thus, our delightful hours, 

Full of waking dreams, shall pass I 



When thy joys were thus at height, my love should turn from 

thee ! 
Old acquaintance then should grow as strange as strange 
might be ! 

Twenty rivals thou shouldst find. 

Breaking all their hearts for me ! 
While to all, I'll prove more kind 

And more forward, than to thee ! 



Thus, thy silly youth, enraged, would soon my love defy! 

But, alas, poor soul ! too late 1 Clipt wings can never fly ! 

Those sweet hours which we had past ; 

Called to mind, thy heart would burn ! 
And couldst thou fly, ne'er so fast, 

They M'ould make thee straight return ! 



346 Lyrics, Elegies, & c . from [J- c.-'n^pion, M^n 




Hall I come, sweet love ! to thee, 

\\'Iien the evening heams are set? 
Sliall I not excluded he? 

Will }0U find no feigned let ? 
Let me not, for pity, more, 
Tell the long hours at your doer! 

Who can tell what thief or foe, 
In the covert of the night, 
For his prey, will work my woe ; 
Or through wicked foul despite. 
So may I die unredrest, 
Ere my long love be possest. 

r<ut to let such dangers pass, 

Which a lover's thoughts disdain : 
'I'is enough in such a place, 

To attend love's joys in vain. 

Do not mock me in thy bed ! 

While these cold nights freeze me dead. 




Hrice, toss these oaken ashes in the air! 
Thrice, sit thou mute in this enchanted chair! 
Then thrice three times, tie up this true love's knot ! 
And murmur, soft, "She will, or she will not." 



Go burn these poisonous weeds in yon blue fire ! 
These screech-owl's feathers ! and this prickling briar ! 
This cypress, gathered at a dead man's grave ! 
That all thy fears and cares, an end may have ! 

Then come, you Fairies ! dance with me a round ! 
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound ! 
In vain ! are all the charms I can devise. 
She hath an Art to break them with her eyes. 



^- '^^'"r"' "e":] M A D R I G A L S , CaNZONETS, & C. ^M 




E THOU then, my Beauty named, 
Since thy will is to be mine ! 

For by that I am enflamed, 
Which on all alike doth shine. 

Others may the li;j;ht admire, 

I only truly feel the fire. 

But if lofty titles move thee, 
Challenge then a Sovereign's place ! 
Say I honour, when I love thee ; 
Let me call thy kindness, Grace ! 

State and Love, things diverse be, 
Yet will we teach them to agree ! 

Or if this be not sufficing ; 
Be thou styled my Goddess, then : 

I will love thee, sacrificing ! 
In thine honour, hymns I'll pen ! 

To be thine, what canst thou more ? 
I'll love thee ! serve thee ! and adore ! 




Ike ! fire ! fire ! fire ! 

Lo here, I burn in such desire 

That all the tears that I can strain, 

Out of mine idle empty brain, 

Cannot allay my scorching pain. 

Come Trent, and Humber, and fair Thames ! 

Dread Ocean ! haste with all thy streams ! 

And if you cannot quench my fire ; 

drown both me, and my desire 1 

Fire ! fire ! fire ! fire ! 
There is no hell to my desire. 
See ! all the rivers, backward II3' ! 
And th' Ocean doth his waves deny! 
For fear my heat should drink them diy. 



34S Lyrics, E i. l < ; i k s , & c . from 



TT. Campion, M.D. 

L ■■■ ■6.3. 



Come heavenly showers then, pourin<; clown! 
Come you, that once the world did drown 1 
Some then you spared ; but now save all ! 
That else must burn, and with me fall ! 




il Sweet delight ! O more than human bliss ! 
With her to live that ever loving is ; 
To hear her speak, whose words are so well placed, 
That she by them, as they by her are graced ; 
Those looks to view, that feast the viewer's eye : 
How blest is he, that may so live and die 1 

Such love as this, the Golden times did know, 
When all did reap, and none took care to sow ; 
Such love as this, an endless summer makes, 
And all distaste from frail affection takes. 
So loved, so blessed, in my beloved am I ; 
Which till their eyes ache, let iron men envy! 




^^Hus I resolve, and time hath taught me so ; 
Since she is fair and ever kind to me. 
Though she be wild and wanton-like in show ; 
Those little stains in youth, I will not see. 

That she be constant, heaven I oft implore. 
If prayers prevail not, I can do no more. 

Palm tree the more you press, the more it grows. 

Leave it alone, it will not much exceed. 

Free beauty if you strive to yoke, you lose : 

And for affection, strange distaste you breed. 

What Nature hath not taught, no Art can frame, 
Wild born be wild still! though by force you tame ! 




T. Campion, NLD.-| Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 349 

|Ome ! come, my life's delight ! 

Let me not in languor pine 1 

Love loves no delay ; thy sight, 

The more enjoyed, the more divine ! 
O come, and take from me 
The pain, of being deprived of thee ! 

Thou all sweetness dost enclose 1 
Like a little world of bliss : 

Beauty guards thy looks ! The rose 
In them, pure and eternal is. 

Come, then ! and make thy flight 

As swift to me, as heavenly light I 



OuLD my heart, more tongues employ, 
Than it harbours thoughts of grief ; 

It is now so far from joy. 
That it scarce could ask relief. 

Truest hearts, by deeds unkind, 
To despair are most inclined. 

Happy minds 1 that can redeem 
Their engagements how they please: 

That no joys or hopes esteem, 
Half so precious as their ease. 

Wisdom should prepare men so, 
As if they did all foreknow. 

Yet no art or caution can 
Grown affections easily change ; 

Use is such a Lord of man, 
That he brooks worst what is strange. 
Better never to be blest, 
Than to lose a'.l, at the best. 





350 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. campion. m^d. 



Leep, angry beauty ! Sleep, and fear not me ! 

For who a sleeping lion dares provoke ? 

It shall suffice me, here to sit and see. 

Those lips shut up, that never kindly spoke. 
What sight can more content a lover's mind, 
Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind ? 



My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps ; 
Though guilty much, of wrong done to my love ; 
And, in her slumber, see ! she, close-eyed, weeps ! 
Dreams often, more than waking passions move. 

Plead, Sleep, my cause I and make her soft, like Thee ! 

That she, in peace, may wake, and pity me. 



Illy boy! 'tis full moon yet; thy night as day shines 

clearly, 
Had thy youth but wit to fear ; thou couldst not love 
so dearly ! 

Shortly, wilt thou mourn ! when all thy pleasures be bereaved : 
Little knows he how to love, that never was deceived. 




This is thy first maiden flame, that triumphs yet unstained ! 
All is artless now you speak ; not one word, yet, is feigned ! 
All is heaven that you behold, and all your thoughts are 

blessed! 
But no Spring can want his Fall! Each Troilus hath his 

Cressid ! 



Thy well-ordered locks, ere long, shall rudely hang neglected ! 
And thy lively pleasant cheer, read grief on earth dejected ! 
Much then wilt thou blame thy Saint, that made thy heart 

so h )ly ! 
And, with sighs, confess, " In love, that too much faith is 

folly ! " 



T. Campion, M^D.-j ]\Iadrigals, Canzonets, &c. 351 

Yet be just and constant still I Love may beget a wonder; 
Not unlike a summer's frost, or winter's fatal tbunder. 
He that holds his sweetheart true, unto his day of dying. 
Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envying. 




Ever love ! unless you can 

Bear with all the faults of man ! 

Men sometimes will jealous be, 

Though but little cause they see; 
And hang the head, as discontent, 
And speak, what straight they will repent. 



Men that but one saint adore, 
Make a show of love to more. 
Beauty must be scorned in none. 
Though but truly served in one. 

For what is Courtship, but disguise ? 

True hearts may have dissembling eyes ! 

Men when their affairs require. 
Must a while themselves retire : 
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk, 
And not ever sit and talk. 

If these, and such like you can bear ; 

Then like ! and love ! and never fear! 




QUICK ! so hot ! so mad is thy fond suit ! 

So rude, so tedious grown, in urging me ! 

That fain I would, with loss, make thy tongue mute! 

And yield some little grace, to quiet thee ! 

An hour with thee, I care not to converse ; 

For I would not be counted too perverse ! 



352 L V R I c s , E L E G r i: s , & c . from "J- campion, xld. 

Hut roofs, too liot would prove for men all fire; 

And hills, too high for my unused pace ; 

The grove is charged with thorns and the bold briar; 

Grey snakes, the meadows shroud in every place : 
A yellow frog, alas, will fright me so. 
As I should start, and tremble as I go I 

Since then I can, on earth, no fit room find; 

In heaven, I am resolved, with you to meet ! 

Till then, for hope's sweet sake ! rest your tired mind ; 

And not so much as see me in the street ! 

A heavenly meeting, one da}-, we shall have ! 

But never, as you dream, in bed, or grave ! 



Kall I then hope, when faith is fled ? 
Can I seek love, when hope is gone ? 
Or can I live, when love is dead ? 
foorly he lives, that can love none. 

Her vows are broke, and I am free ; 
She lost her faith, in losing me. 

When I compare mine own events, 
"When I weigh others' like annoy : 

All do but heap up discontents, 
That, on a beauty build their joy. 

Thus I, of all complain ; since she 
All faith hath lost, in losing me. 

So my dear freedom have I gained, 
Through her unkindness and disgrace : 

Yet could I ever live enchained. 
As she my service did embrace. 

But she is changed, and I am free. 
Faith failing her, love died in me. 




■^- ^"'"Pp Vj":] M A D R I G A L S , CaNZOxXETS, &C. 353 

To my worthy frieiid Master jo ii y 

MoNsoN^ Soil a?id Heir to Sir 

Thomas Monson^ Knight 

and Baro?iet, 

N vou ! th'affections of }-our father's friends, 
With his inheritance, by right, descends ! 
r>ut you, your graceful youth so wisely guide, 
■'That his, you hold ; and purchase much beside ! 
Love is the fruit of Virtue ; for whose sake, 
Men only liking, each to other take. 
If sparks of virtue shined not in you then 
So well, how could you win the hearts of men ? 
And since that Honour and well-suited Praise 
Is Virtue's Golden Spur : let me now raise 
Unto an act mature, your tender age 1 
This Half commending to your patronage, 
Which from your noble father's, but one side 
Ordained to do you honour ! doth divide. 
And so my love, betwixt you both I part ; 
On each side placing you, as near my heart ! 

Yours ever, 

Thomas Campion. 




E.xc. Car. HI. 



23 



i54 LvRics, Elegies, &c. from [T- campion, m.d. 



To the Reader. 




\He Apothecaries have Books of Gold, whose leaves, 
being opened, are so light as that they are subject to be 
shaken with the least breath ; yet rightly handled, they 
serve both for ornament and use. Such are light Airs. 

Some words are in these Books, which have been clothed in music 
by others, and I am content they then served their turn : yet give 
me leave to make use of mine own ! Likewise, you may find here 
some three or four Songs that have been published before : but for 
them, I refer you to the Player's bill, that is styled. Newly revived, 
with Additions; for you shall find all of them reformed, eitherin 
words or notes. 

To be brief. All these Songs are mine, if you, express them wellt 
Otherwise, they are your oxvn ! Farewell. 



Yours, as you are his, 

Thomas Campion, 




T. Campion, M^D.J M A D R I G A L S , C A N Z O N E T S , & C. 



j:)d 



Lyrics y Elegies , ^c.froni Madrigals ^ 

Canzo?iets, &'c. 

The Fourth Book. 



Eave prolonging thy distress ! 
All delays afflict the dying,' 





^M 


Koj 


^mH 




^^^''^ 





I*Iany lost sighs long I spent, to her for 
mercy crying. 

But, now, vain mourning, cease ! 
I'll die, and mine own griefs release. 



Thus departing from this light 

To those shades that end in sorrow. 

Yet a small time of complaint, a little breath I'll borrow, 

To tell my once Delight, 

" I die, alone, through her despite." 




EsPECT my faith ! Regard my service past ! 
The hope you winged ; call home to you, at la;t ! 
Great price it is, that I in you shall gain ! 
So, great for you hath been my loss and pain 1 

My wits I spent and time, for you alone ! 

Observing you ! and losing all for one I 



Some raised to rich estates, in this time, are ; 
That held their hopes to mine, inferior far : 
Such, scoffing me, or pitying me, say thus, 
" Had he not loved, he might have lived like us ! " 
O then ; dear Sweet ! For love and pity's sake. 
My faith reward ! and from me, scandal take ! 



JO 



6 Lyrics, Elkgiks, &c. from [t- campion, m.d. 




Hou joyest, fond boy ! to be by many loved ! 
To bavc thy beauty, of most dames approved ! 
l"or this, dost thou thy native worth disguise : 
And plaj'est tiie S}'cophant, t'observe their e}'es ! 

Thy glass thou counsellest, more to adorn thy skin; 

That first should school thee, to be fair within ! 



'Tis childish, to be caught with pearl or amber ! 
And, woman-like, too much to cloy the chamber ! 
Youths should the fields affect, heat their rough steeds, 
Their hardened nerves to fit for better deeds. 

Is it not more joy, strongholds to force with swords ; 

Than women's weakness take, with looks or words ! 

Men that do noble things, all purchase glory. 
One man, for one brave act, hath proved a Stoiy : 
Ijut if that one, ten thousand dames o'ercame ; 
Who would record it, if not to his shame? 

'Tis far more conquest, with one to live true; 

Than, every hour, to triumph, Lord of new. 




EiL, Love, mine ej-es ! O hide from me 
The plagues that charge the curious mind ! 
If beauty private will not be. 
Suffice it j'et, that she proves kind. 

Who can usurp heaven's light alone ? 

Stars were not made to shine on one ! 



Griefs past recure, fools try to heal, 
That greater harms on less inflict : 
The pure offend by too much zeal. 
Affection should not be too strict ! 

He that a true embrace will find, 
To beauty's faults must still be blind! 




T. Campion, >LD.-| M A D R I G A L s , Canzonets, & c. 357 



|Very dame affects good fame, whate'er her doings be. 
But true praise is Virtue's bays, which none may 

wear but she. 
Borrowed guise fits not the wise. A simple look is 
best. 
Native grace becomes a face, though ne'er so rudely drest. 
Now such new found toys are sold, these women to dis- 
guise ; 
That, before the year grows old, the newest fashion dies. 



Dames, of yore, contended more, in goodness to exceed ; 
Than in pride, to be envied, for that which least they need. 
Little lawn then serve the pawn, if pawn at all there were. 
Homespun thread, and household brccid, then held out all 
the year. 
But th'attires of women, now, wear out both house and 

land. 
That the wives in silks may flow ; at ebb, the good men 
stand. 



Once again, AsTREA ! then, from heaven to earth descend ! 

And vouchsafe, in their behalf, these errors to amend ! 

Aid from heaven must make all even, things are so out of 

frame. 
For let man strive all he can, he needs must please his 
dame. 
Happy man! content that gives; and what he gives, 

enjoys ! 
Happy dame ! content that lives ; and breaks no sleep 
for toys ! 



358 Lyrics, Elegies, 8lc. from [_t. campion, m.d. 




O SWEET is thy discourse to me, 

And so delightful is tliy sight, 

As I taste nothing right, but thee ! 

why invented Nature, Hght ? 

Was it alone for beauty's sake, 

That her graced words might better taki? 

No more can I, old jo3-s recall. 
They now to me become unknown ; 
Not seeming to have been at all. 
Alr.s ! how soon is this love grown 

To such a spreading height in me; 
As with it, all must shadowed be! 




Here is a garden in her face, 
Where roses and white lilies grow ; 
A heavenly paradise is that place. 
Wherein all pleasant fruits doth flow. 

There cherries grow, which none may buy 
Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry. 



Those cherries fairly do enclose 
Of orient pearl a double row ; 

Which when, her lovely laughter shows. 
They look like rosebuds filled with snow. 
Yet them, nor peer nor prince can buy : 
Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry. 



Her eyes, like angels, watch them still. 
Her brows, like bended bows, do stand ; 

Threatening with piercing frowns to kill 
All that attempt, with eye or hand. 

Those sacred cherries to come nigh : 
Till " Cherry ripe " themselves do cry. 



■^•^^'^T'™' "^/gj^:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 359 




O HIS sweet lute ; Apollo sang the motions of the 

spheres. 
The wondrous orders of the stars, whose course 
divides the years ; 

And all the mysteries above : 
But none of this, could Midas move ; 
Which purchased him, his ass's ears. 



Then Pan, with his rude pipe, began, the country wealth 

t'advance, 
To boast of cattle, flocks of sheep and goats, on hills, that 
dance ; 

With much more of this churlish kind : 
That quite transported Midas' mind, 
And held him wrapt in trance. 



This wrong, the God of Music scorned, from such a sottish 

judge. 
And bent his angry bow at Pan, which made the piper 
trudge : 

Then Midas' head he so did trim ; 
That every age yet talks of him 
And Phcebus' right revenged grudge. 




OuNG and simple, though I am, 
I have heard of Cupid's name : 
Guess I can what thing it is. 
Men desire when they do kiss. 

Smoke can never burn, they say, 
But the flames that follow may. 



360 



Lyrics, E i. k g i e s , & c . from p'- c^iy-"- »'^_'^; 

I am not so foul or fair, 
To be proud, nor to despair ; 
Guess I can, what thing it is 
Men desire when they do kiss. 

Smoke can never burn, they say, 

But the flames that follow may. 

Faith, 'tis but a foolish mind, 
Yet, methinks, a heat I find : 
Like thirst longing, that doth bide 
Ever on my weaker side ; 

Where, they say my heart doth move. 

Venus ! Grant it be not love ! 

If it be, alas, what then ! 
Were not women made for men ? 
As good 'twere a thing were past, 
That must needs be done at last. 

Roses that are overblown, 

Grow less sweet ; then fall alone. 

Yet not churl, nor silken gull. 
Shall my maiden blossom pull ; 
Who shall not, I soon can tell. 
Who shall, would I could as well ! 

This I know, ^^'hoe'er he be, 

Love he must, or flatter me. 




OvE me or not ; love her I must, or die! 

fvCave me or not ; follow her, needs must I ! 

C) that her grace would my wished comforts give ! 



How rich in her, how happy should I live! 



■^^ '^'T"' "•■°.] M A D R I G A L s , Canzonets, &c. 361 

All my desire, all my delight should be, 
Her to enjo}', her to unite to me : 
Envy should cease, her would I love alone. 
Who loves by looks, is seldom true to one. 

Could I enchant, and that it lawful were, 
Her would I charm softly, that none should hcr.r. 
But love enforced, rarely yields firm content ; 
So would I love, that neither should repent I 



Hat means this folly? Now to brave it so, 

And then to use submission ! 
Is that a friend, that straight can play the foe ! 

Who loves on such condition ? 



Though briars breed roses, none the briar affect ; 

But with the flower are pleased. 
Love only loves delight and soft respect : 

He must not be diseased ! 

These thorny passions spring from barren breasts, 

Or such as need much weeding. 
Love only loves delight and soft respect ; 

But sends them not, home bleeding ! 

Command thy humour 1 Strive to give content ! 

And shame not love's profession 1 
Of kindness, never, any could repent. 

That made choice with discretion ! 





Ear ! if I with guile, would gild a true intent ; 
Heaping flatt'ries that in heart were never mean'. : 
Easily could I then obtain, 

What now, in vain, I force ! 
Falsehood much doth gain : 

Truth yet holds the better course ! 



362 Lyrics, El kgies, &c. I'ROm [t- campion, ai.d. 

Love forbid that, througli disscmbiing, I sliould thrive ! 
Or, in praising jou, myself of truth deprive ! 

Let not your liigh thoughts debase 

A simple truth in me ! 
Great is Beauty's grace : 
Truth is yet as fair as she I 

Praise is but the wind of pride, if it exceeds, 
Wealth, prized in itself, no outward value needs. 
Fair you are 1 and passing fair ! 

You know it ! and 'tis true. 
Yet let none despair, 

But to find as fair as you 1 

Love ! where are thy shafts ? thy quiver, and thy 

bow ? 
Shall my wounds only weep, and he ungaged go ? 
Be just, and strike him too ! that dares contemn thee 
so ? 

No eyes are like to thine ! though men suppose thee blind ! 

So fair they level ! when the mark they list to find : 

Then, strike! O strike the heart that bears the cruel mind 1 

Is my fend sight deceived ? or do I Cupid spy, 
Close aiming at his breast ; by whom, despised, I die! 
Shoot home, sweet Love ! and wound him, that he may not 
fly! 

O then we both will sit in some unhaunted shade, 

And heal each other's wound, which Love hath justly made : 

O hope ! O thought too vain ! how quickly dost thou fade ? 

At large, he wanders still. His heart is free from pain ; 
While secret sighs I spend, and tears: but all in vain. 
Yet Love ! thou knowest, by right, I should not thus com- 
plain ! 




T. Campion, M.D.J M A D R I G A L S , C A N Z N E T S , & C. 



0^0 




R.-\UTY is but a painted hell. 

Ay me ! ay me ! 
She wounds them that admire it, 
She kills them that desire it. 
Give her pride but fuel, 
No fire is more cruel 1 



Pity from every heart is fled. 

Ay me ! Ay me ! 
Since false desire could borrow, 
Tears of dissembled sorrow ; 

Constant vows turn truthless, 
Love cruel, Beauty ruthless. 

Sorrow can laugh, and Fury sing. 

Ay me ! ay me ! 
My raving griefs discover, 
I lived too true a lover. 

The first step to madness, 

Is excess of sadness. 




Re you, what your fair looks express? 

O then be kind ! 
From law of Nature, they digress. 

Whose form suits not their mind. 
Fairness seen in th'outward shape. 
Is but the Inward Beauty's ape. 

Eyes that of earth are mortal made, 

What can they view ? 
All's but a Colour or a Shade ! 

And neither always true ! 
Eeason's sight, that is etern. 
E'en the Substance can discern. 



364 Lyrics, Elegies, (S:c. ero.m j_t. campion, M^n. 

Soul is tlic Man ; for who will so 

The Body name ? 
And to that power, all grace we owe 
That decks our livingframc. 
What, or how had housen been. 
But for them that dwell therein ? 

Love in the bosom is begot ; 

Not in the eyes. 
No beauty makes the eye more hot ; 

Her flames, the sprite surprir.e. 
Let our loving minds then meet ! 
For pure meetings are most sweet. 




Tnce she, even she, for whom I lived, 
Sweet she, by fate from me is torn ; 
Why am I not of sense deprived ? 
Forgetting I was ever born. 

Why should I languish, hating light? 

Better to sleep an endless night 1 

Be it either true or aptly feigned, 
That some, of Lethe's water write : 

'Tis their best medicine, that are pained, 
All thought to lose of past delight. 
O would my anguish vanish so ! 
Happy are they, that neither know. 




Must complain, yet do enjoy my love 
She is too fair, too rich in lovely parts ! 
Thence is my grief: for Nature while she strove, 
With all her graces and divinest arts, 
To form her too too beautiful of hue ; 
She had no leisure left, to make her true. 



r. Campion, HLD.-j ]y/[ _^^ p p^ J (, ^ L S , CaNZONETS, &C. 365 

Should I-agrieved, then wish she were less fair? 

That were repugnant to my own desires. 

She is admired, new lovers still repair: 

That kindles daily love's forgetful fires. 

Rest, jealous thoughts ! and thus resolve at last, 
" She hath more beauty, than becomes the chaste." 




IIink'st thou to seduce me then, with words that 

have no meaning 1 
Parrots so can learn to prate, our speech by pieces 
gleaning. 
Nurses teach their children so, about the time of weaning. 



Learn to speak first ! then to woo ! To wooing, much per- 

taineth ; 
He that courts us, wanting art; soon falters, when he feigneth. 
Looks asquint on his discourse ; and smiles, when he com- 

plaineth. 

Skilful anglers hide their hooks ; fit baits for every season: 
But with crooked pins, fish thou ! as babes do, that want 

reason. 
Gudgeons, only, can be caught, with such poor tricks of treason 1 

Ruth forgive me ! if I erred, from human heart's compassion, 
When I laughed sometimes too much, to see thy foolish 

fashion ! 
But, alas, who less could do, that found so good occasion? 



o 



66 Lyrics, Elegies, & c . from l^- '^•'"''•,'™' Vs°- 




Er fair inllaming Eyes, 

Chief authors of my cares. 
I prayed in humble wise, 
With grace to view my tears. 

They beheld me, broad awake, 
But, alas, no ruth would take. 

Her Lips with kisses rich, 

And words of fair delight ; 
I fairly did beseech. 
To pity my sad plight : 

But a voice from them brake forth, 
As a whirlwind from the North. 

Then to her Hands I fled, 

That can give heart and all; 
To them I long did plead. 
And loud for pity call : 

But, alas, they put me off, 
With a touch worse than a scoff. 

So back I straight returned, 

And at her Breast I knocked ; 
Where long in vain I mourned. 
Her heart, so fast was locked : 

Not a word could passage find, 
For a rock enclosed her mind. 

Then down my prayers made way 

To those most comely parts, 
That make her fly or stay, 
As they affect deserts : 

But her angry Feet, thus moved, 
Fled with all the parts I loved. 



T. Campion, M^D.-| M ^ j3 R I G A L S , C A N Z O N E T S , &C. 367 

Yet fled they not so fast, 
As her enraged mind : 
Stiil did I after haste, 
Still was I left beliind ; 

Till I found 'twas to no end, 
With a Spirit to contend. 




Urn all thy thoughts to eyes ! 

Tm-n all thy hairs to ears ! 

Change all thy friends to spies ! 

'And all thy joys to fears ! 

True love will yet be fiee, 
In spite of jealousy 1 



Turn darkness into day ! 

Conjectures into truth ! 

Believe what th'envious say ! 

Let age interpret youth ! 

True love will yet be free, 
In spite of jealousy ! 

Wrest every word and look 
Rack every hidden thought 1 
Or fish with golden hook ! 
True love cannot "be caught. 
For that will still be free, 
In spite of jealousy! 



FINIS, 



368 



Edward Wright, Mathematician. 

The Voyage of the Earl of Cumberland 
to the Azores Mc.^in 1589. 

Although this cruize seems, from I'urciias's/V/;,'-;-////^- iv. ;>. 1 141, ZT^i'. 
1625, to have gained \oo per cciil. profit; yet it was a singularly 
unhicky one. They missed the Fleet of Portuguese Carracks, in 
which LiNSCHOTEN came back from Goa, sec pp. 370-442 ; they 
missed enormous treasure at Fayal, sec p. 449 ; and though they 
actually saw the Spanish West Indian Squadron going intoAngra, 
sec p. 379, the wind being contrary, robbed them of their prey ; 
and, finally, their best prize was wrecked off CornwaH. 

{Certain Erfors in Navigations &^c. 1599] 

He Right Honourable the Earl of Cumberland, 

having, at his own charges, prepared his small 
fleet, of four vessels only (t'/r., the Victory, one of 
the Queen's royal ships ; the Meg, and Margaret, 
small ships, one of which also he was forced soon 
after to send home again, finding her not able to endure the 
sea; and a small Caravel), and having assembled together 
about four hundred men, or fewer (of gentlemen, soldiers, and 
sailors), embarked himself and them, and set sail from the 
Sound of Plymouth, in Devonshire, the iSth of June 1589 : 
being accompanied with these Captains and gentlemen, 
which hereafter follow : 

Captain Christopher Lister, a man of great diligence, 
courage, and resolution ; Captain Edward Careless, alias 
Wright, who, in Sir Fraxcis Drake's West Indian Voyage 
[1586^, was Captain of the Hope ; Captain Boswell, Captain 
Mervin, Master Henry Longe, Master Partridge, Master 
Norton, Master, now [i.e., in 1599] Sir William Monson, 
Captain of the Meg; Master Pigeon, Captain of the Caravel. 
About three days after our departure from Plymouth, we 
met with three French ships; whereof, one was of Newhaven 
[Havre] and another of Saint Malo ; so, findingthem to be 
Leaguers and lawful prize, we to )k them : and sent two of 
them for England with all their lading (which, for the most 




"^■^■■if,,:] Seizure of the Easterlings' ships. 369 

part, was fish from Newfoundland) ; saving that there was a 
part thereof distributed among our small lleet, as we could 
iind stowage for the same. In the third, all their men were 
sent home into France. 

The same day, and the following day, we met with some 
other ships ; which (when, after some conference had with 
them, we perceived plainly to be of Rotterdam and Embden, 
bound for Rochelle) we dismissed. 

The 28th and 29th, we met divers of our English ships 
returning from the Portugal Voyage [i.e., the Expedition with 
Don Antonio to the f^ates of Lisbon, referred to at p. 438]. 

The 13th of July, being Sunday, in the morning, we espied 
eleven ships, out of sight of the coast of Spain, in 39° N. : 
which we presently prepared for, and provided to meet ; 
having tirst set forth the Meg before us, to descry whence 
they were. The Meg approaching near, there passed some 
shot between them ; whereby, as also by their admiral [i.e., 
flag ship] and vice-admiral putting forth their flags, we per- 
ceived some fight was likely to follow. 

Having tlierefore fitted ourselves for them, we made what 
haste we could towards them ; with regard always, to get the 
wind of them : and about ten or eleven o'clock, we came up 
to them, with the Victory. But after some few shot, and 
some little fight had passed betwixt us; they yielded them- 
selves : and the Masters of them all came aboard us, showing 
theirseveral passportsfrom thecitiesof Hamburg and Lubeck, 
from Bremen, Pomeranla, and Calice. 

They had in them certain bags of pepper and cinamon, 
which they confessed to be the goods of a Jew in Lisbon ; 
which should have been carried by them into their own 
country, to his Factor there : so finding it, by their own con- 
fession, to be lawful prize, the same was, soon after, taken, and 
di\'ided among our whole company. The value whereof, was 
esteemed to be, about 4,500 lbs., at 2S. [=i2s.now] the pound. 

The 17th day, the foresaid ships were dismissed; but seven of 
their sailors, that were willing to go along with us as sailors, 
we took to help us: and so held on our course for the Azores. 

Two days after, some of their sailors remaining with us, 
reported that the said Easterlings' ships had also in them 
;£'20,ooo [=about jri20,ooo now] worth of Spaniard's goods; 
-but then, it was too late to search them. 

£.VG. CAR. III. 2.1 



0/ 



o Arrive at Azores, ist of August 1589. [^- '^^''i^^J; 



The 1st of August O. S.\ being Friday, in the morning, we 
had sight o fliie island of St. Michael's, being one of the easter- 
most of the Azores ; towards which, we vsailcd all that day. 
And at night, having put forth a Spanish flag in our maintop, 
that so they might the less suspect us; we approached 
near to the chief town and road of that island : where 
we espied three ships riding at anchor, and some smaller 
vessels. All which, we determined to take in the dark of the 
night, and accordingly- attempted, about ten or eleven o'clock ; 
sending our boats well manned, to cut their cables and 
hawsers, and let them drive into the sea. Our men coming 
to them, found that one of those greatest ships, was the 
Falcon, of London ; being there under a Scottish pilot, who 
bare the name of her as his own. But three other smaller 
ships, that lay near under the Castle there, our men let loose, 
and towed them away unto us : most of the Spaniards, that 
were in them, leapt overboard, swimming to the shore, with 
loud and lamentable outcries ; which they of the town hea'-ing, 
were in an uproar, and answered with like crying. The 
Castle discharged some great shot at our boats ; but shooting 
without mark, by reason of the darkness, they did us no hurt. 

The Scots likewise discharged three great geeces [i^uns] 
into the air, to make the Spaniards think they were their 
friends and our enemies : and shortly after, the Scottish 
Master, and some others with him, came aboard to my Lord, 
doing their duty, and offering their service, &c. These three 
ships were freighted with wine and salad oil, from Seville. 

The same day, our Caravel chased a Spanish caravel to 
shore at St. Michael's, which carried letters thither; by which 
we learned, that the Carracks were departed from Terceira 
eight days before [LiXSCllOTEN stales, p. 442, //((^ first left on 8ih 
August, N.S., ichich icould be ^oth July, O.S., or the ]\'cdncs(lay 
before this Friday ; and returned on i^tJi, N.S., i.e., yd August 
O.S. : and that Lord CUMBERLAND passed Angra on thcprevious 
day, the 2nd, O.S. What a piece of bad luck for the English !] 

The 7th of August, we had sight of a little ship, which we 
chased towards Terceira, with our pinnace ; the weather 
being calm : and, towards evening, we overtook her. There 
was in her 30 tuns of good Madeira wine, certain woollen cloth, 
silk, taffata, &c. 

The 14th of August, we came to the island of Flores : where 



^■^^w] Of^TAIN FRESH PROVISIONS AT F LORES. 37 1 

we determined to take in some fresh water and fresh 
victuals ; such as the island did afford. So we manned our 
boats with some 120 men, and rowed towards the shore. 
Whereto, when we approached, the inhabitants that were 
assembled at the landing place, put forth a flag of truce : 
whereupon we also did the like. 

When we came to them, my Lord gave them to understand 
by his Portuguese interpreter, that " He was a friend to their 
King Don Antonio, and came not in any way to injure them ; 
but that he meant only to have some fresh water and fresh 
victuals of them, by way of exchange for some provisions that 
he had as oil, wine, or pepper." To which they presently 
agreed willingly; and sent some of their companj' for beefs 
[oxen] and sheep. 

We, in the mean season, marched southward about a mile, 
to Santa Cruz ; from whence all the inhabitants, young and 
old, were departed, and not anything of value left. We de- 
manding of them, " What was the cause thereof ?" they 
answered, " Fear! as their usual manner was, when any ships 
came near their coast." 

W^e found that part of the island to be full of great rocky 
barren hills and mountains, little inhabited by reason that it 
is molested with Ships of war ; which might partly appear by 
this town of Santa Cruz, being one of their chief towns ; 
which was all ruinous, and as it were, but the relics of the 
ancient town: which had been burnt, about two years before 
[Aiif;ust 1587], by certain English Ships of war [i/z/rftT Sir 
Richard Grenville], as the inhabitants there reported. 

At evening, as we were rowing towards the Victory, a huge 
fish [ ? shark] pursued us, for the space of well nigh two miles 
together: distmt for the most part, from the boat's stern not 
a spear's length; and sometimes so near, that the boat struck 
upon him. The tips of whose fins about the gills, appearing 
oftimes above the water, were, by estimation, four or five 
yards asunder; and his jaws gaping a 5'ard and a half wide. 
Which put us in fear of the overturning of the pinnace: but, 
GOD be thanked ! rowing as hard as we could, we escaped. 

When we were about Flores, a little ship called the Drake, 
brought us word that the Carracks were at Terceira. [They 
had returned for water, see p. 442.] Of which news, we were very 
glad ; and sped us thitherward, with all the speed we could. 



;72 Daring escape of English Sailors, p-^^'^;' 



ght. 

599- 



By the way, we came to Fayal road 'liarhour, the 27tli of 
August, after hunset; where we espied certain ships ridiiifj 
at anchor : to whom we sent the Saucy Jack (a small 
ship lately consorted with us) and our skiff, well manned. 
With which ships, our men had a fight ahout an hour in the 
night : the town also discharging their great ordnance from 
the platform [battery] there, in defence of those ships; where- 
with the Master of our Caravel was hurt. But, in the end, 
our men brought them all out of the harbour, being six in 
number; whereof one was of 250 tons, laden with sugar, 
ginger, hides, &c., lately come from the West Indies. Two 
of the worst, we let float on the sea ; having first taken out 
of them such things as we liked. The other four were sent 
for England, the ,^oth day of August. 

At the taking of these prizes, were consorted with us some 
other small Men of war, as [the celebrated] Master John Davis 
with his ship, pinnace and boat ; Captain Makksbukv with 
his ship, whose owner was Sir Walter Raleigh ; the Bark 
of Lyme, which was also consorted with us before. 

The 31st of August, in the morning, we came in sight of 
Terceiia, being about nine or ten leagues from the shore : 
where we espied coming towards us, a small boat under 
sail; which seemed somewhat strange to us, being so far 
from land, and no ship in sight to which they might belong. 
But coming near, they put us out of doubt ; showing they 
were Englishmen, eight in number, that had lately been 
prisoners in Terceira, and finding opportunity to escape at 
that time, \\\\.\\ tliat small boat, committed themselves to the 
sea, under GOD's providence : having no other vard for 
their mainsail but two pipe staves tied together by the ends ; 
and no mrre provision of victuals than they could bring in 
their pockets and bosoms. [Sec LiNSCHOTEN's account 0/ this 
escape, at p. 451.] 

Having taken them all into the Victory ; they gave us cer- 
tain intelligence that the Carracks were departed from thence, 
about a week befoie [or rather, as LiNSCHOTEN says, on yd 
August, O.S. p. 4-1 2'. 

Thus being without any further hope of those Carracks; we 
resolved to return to Fa}al, with intent to surprise the town. 
But, until the 9th of September, we had either the wind so 
contrary or the weather so calm, that, in all that time, we 



^^'^^IsM^] Capture of the Town of Fayal. 373 

made scarce nine or ten leagues' way, lingering up and down, 
not far from Pico. 

Tiie loth September, being Wednesday, in the afternoon, we 
came again to Fayal road : whereupon, immediateh-, my Lord 
sent Captain Lister, with oneof the island of Graciosa, whom 
Captain Monson had taken before, and some others towards 
Fayal. Whom, certain of the inhabitants met in a boat, and 
came with Captain Lister, to my Lord. To whom, he gave 
this choice, '" Either to suffer liim quietly to enter into the 
platform [battery] there, without resistance ; where he and his 
company would remain a space, without offering any injury 
to them, that they," the inhabitants, " might come unto him, 
and compound for the ransom of the town : or else, to stand 
to the hazard of war." 

With these words, they returned to the town ; but the 
keepers of the platform answered that " it was against their 
oatli, and allegiance to King Philip, to give over without 
fight." [These were the Portuguese inhabitants, not Spanish 
soldiers, sec p. 447.] 

Whereupon, my Lord commanded the boats of every ship 
to be presently [at once] manned ; and, soon after, landed liis 
men on the sandy shore, under the side of a hill, about half a 
league to the nortiiwards, from the platform. Upon the top 
of which hill, certain horsemen and footmen showed them- 
selves. Two other companies also appeared, with ancients 
[Jlags or ensigns] displayed ; the one before the town, upon the 
shore by the seaside, which marched towards our landing- 
place, as though they would encounter us ; the other in a 
valley to the southwards of the platform, as if they would 
have come to help the townsmen. During which time, 
they in the platform, also played upon us with great 
ordnance. 

Notwithstanding, my Lord, having set his men in order, 
marched along upon the sands, betwixt the sea and the town, 
towards the platform, for the space of a mile or more : and 
then (the shore growing rocky, and permitting no further pro- 
gress without much difficulty) he entered into the town, and 
passed through the street without resistance, unto the plat- 
form. For those companies before mentioned, at my Lord's 
approach, were soon dispersed ; and suddenly vanished. 

Likewise they of the platform, being all fled, at my Lord's 



374 Description of the Town of r'AV.VL. ['^■^^"fj'5 



1599. 



coming thither, left him and his company to scale the walls, 
to enter and take possession without resistance. 

In the meantime, our ships ceased not to batter the fore- 
said town and platform with great shot, till such time as we 
saw the Red Cross of England flourishing upon the forefront 
thereof. 

This Fayal is the principal town in all that land, and is 
situated directly over against the high and mighty mountain 
Pico, lying towards the west-north-we^t, from that mountain : 
being divided therefrom by a narrow sea, which, at that place, 
is, by estimation, about some two or three leagues in breadth. 

The town contained some three hundred households. 
Their houses were fair, strongly built of lime and stone, and 
double covered with hollow tiles, much like our roof tiles; but 
that they are less at one end than the other, in the manner of 
a concave semi-conical figure. The first course lieth with the 
hollow sides and great ends upward : the lesser end of one tile 
lying always within the greater end of t'le other, in such sort, 
as, all along the house from the rocf to the eves, they make 
so many gutters as there are courses of tiles laid. 

The second courses are laid with round sides, and lesser 
ends upwards, covering under their hoUowness the edges of 
the former courses, in such so.t that all the rain that falleth, 
slideth off from the backs of the tiles that are laid in the 
second courses, and runneth down the foresaid gutters, with- 
out taint or infection of mortar or mire; and so, being received 
into cisterns, supplieth very well their necessary uses of fresh 
water: whereof, otherwise, there is great want in that place. 

Every house almost had, for this purpose, a cistern or well 
in a garden on the back side ; in which gardens grew vines, 
with ripe clusters of grapes, making pleasant shadows ; 
tobacco (now [i.e., 1599] commonly known and used in Eng- 
land) wherewith their women there dye their faces reddish to 
make them seem fresh and young ; Indian and common 
pepper, fig trees bearing both white and red figs, peach trees 
not growing very tall, oranges, lemons, quinces, potato roots 
[i.e., our potatoes], &c. Sweet wood (cedar, I think) is very 
common there, even for building and firing. 

My Lord having possessed himself of the town and plat- 
form, and being careful of the preservation of the town, gave 
commandment that " no mariner or soldier should enter into 



^■^^''599:] •^ RANSOM IS PAID FOR THE ToWN. 375 

any house to make spoil thereof." Especially, was he careful 
that the Churches, and Houses of Religion there, should be 
kept inviolate : which was accordingly performed through his 
appointment of guarders andkeepersforthose places. But the 
rest of the town (either for want of knowledge of the former 
inhibition, or for desire of spoil and prey) was rifled and ran- 
sacked by the soldiers and mariners ; who scared}' left any 
house unsearched : out of which they took such things as 
liked them, as chests of sweet wood, chairs, cloth, coverlets, 
hangings, bedding and apparel. And further, they ranged 
into the country ; where some of them also were hurt by the 
inhabitants. 

The Friary there, containing and maintaining thirty 
Franciscan fiiars (amongst whom, we could not find any one 
able to speak true Latin), was built by a friar of Angra, in 
Terceira, of the same order, about the year of our Lord, 1506. 
The tables in the hall had seats for one side only, and were 
always covered, as ready at all times, for dinner or supper. 

From Wednesday [loih] in the afternoon, at which time we 
entered the town, until Saturday night, we continued there; 
until the inhabitants had agreed and paid for the ransom of 
the town 2,000 ducats [= £533 6s. then =^ about £3,000 now] ; 
most part of which was church plate. 

We found in the platform, fifty-eight iron pieces of ordnance; 
whereof three-and-twenty, as I remember, or more were 
mounted upon their carriages, between barricades, upon a 
platform [battery] towards the seaside. All which ordnance 
we took, and set the platform on fire; and so departed. 

My Lord having invited to dinner in the Victo)y, on the 
Sunday [14^/2] following, so many of the inhabitants as would 
willingly come, save only Diego Gomez the Governor (who 
came but onceonly toparlee about the ransom) : onlyfourcame, 
and were well entertained ; and solemnly dismissed with 
sound of drum and trumpets, and a peal of ordnance. To 
whom, my Lord delivered his letter, subscribed with his own 
hand, importing a request to all other Englishmen, to abstain 
from any further molesting of them; save only for fresh water, 
and victuals necessary for their intended voyage. 

During our abode here, viz., nth of September, two men 
came out of Pico, who had been prisoners there. Also, at 
Fayal, we set at liberty a prisoner translated from St. Jago; 



X'G Cruizing about the Azores, f^- '^^';=''''- 

wlio was cousin to a servant of Don Antonio, King of 
Portupjal in lMi,E;land. These prisoners we dttained witii us. 

On Monday [ 15//!], we sent our boats ashore for fresh water, 
whicli, by reason of the rain that fell in tiie former niglit, came 
plentifully running down the hills; and would otherwise have 
been hard to get there. 

On Tuesday [ibth] likewise, not having yet sufficientlv serve 
our turns, we sent again for freshwater : which was then not 
so easy to be got as the day before, by reason of a great wind , 
which, in the afternoon, increased also in such sort that we 
thought it not safe to ride so near the land. Whereupon we 
weighed anchor, and so departed north-west-by-west, along 
the coast of Fayal island. 

Some of the inhabitants coming aboard to us, this day, told 
us that, always, about that time of the year, such west-south- 
west winds blew on that coast. 

This day, as we sailed near Saint George's Island, a huge 
fish, lying still, a little under water or rather even therewith, 
appeared hard by, ahead of us ; the sea break upon his back, 
which was black coloured, in such sort, as deeming, at the 
first, it had been a rock, and the ship stemning directly with 
him, we were put in a sudden fear for the time ; till, soon 
after, we saw hini move out of the way. 

In the night of September i6th, it lightned much ; where- 
upon, there followed great winds and rain, which continued 
September ijth-aist. 

The 23rd of September, we came again into Fayal road, to 
weigh an anchor, which, for haste and fear of foul weather, we 
had left there before. Where we went ashore to see the 
town ; the people, as we thought, having now settled them- 
selves there again. But, notwithstanding, many of them, 
through too much distrustfulness, departed, or prepared to 
depart with their packets, at the first sight of us : until such 
time as they were assured by my Lord that our coming was 
not in any way to injure them ; but especially [principally] to 
have fresh water and some other things needful for us, con- 
tenting them for the same. 

So then we viewed the town quietly, and bought such 
things as we desired for our mone}-, as if we had been in 
England : and they helped to fill us with fresh water; 
receiving for their pains, such satisfaction as contented them. 



E.wrisht.j Fight WITH ISLANDERS OF GuAciosA. 377 

The 25th day, we were forced again to depart from thence, 
before we had sufficiently watered, by reason of a great 
tempest that suddenly arose in the night; insomuch that my 
Lord himself, soon after midnight, raised our men out of their 
cabins to weigh anchor: himself also together with them 
hauling at the capstan ; and, after, cheering them up with 
wine. 

The next day, we sent our caravel and Saucy Jack to the 
road of Saint Michael, to see what they could espy. We 
following after them, upon the 27th day, plying to and fro, 
came within sight of Saint Michael's; but, by contrary winds, 
the 28th-30th days, we were dri\'en to leeward, and could not 
get near the island. 

The 31st da}', we sailed along Terceira ; and even against 
Dresil (a promontory near to Angra, the strongest town in 
that island), we espied some boats coming to the town, and 
made towards them : but they being near to lar.d, they ran to 
shore and escaped us. 

In the afternoon, we came near to Graciosa, whereupon my 
Lord fortliwith sent Captain Lister to the islanders, to let 
them understand that his desire was only to have water and 
wine of them and some fresh victuals ; and not any further to 
trouble them. They answered " They could give no resolute 
answer to this demand until the Governor of the island had 
consulted thereupon; and therefore desired him to send again 
the next day." 

Upon the ist of October, early in the morning, we sent 
forth our long boat and pinnace with empty caske, and about 
some fifty or sixty men ; together with the Margaret and 
Captain Davis his ship: for we now wanted [ivere without] all 
the rest of cur consorts. 

But when our men would have landed, the islanders shot at 
them, and would not suffer them : and troops of men appeared 
upon land, with ancients [Jlags'i displaj-ed to resist us. So our 
boats rowed along the shore to find some place where they 
might land without too much disadvantage ; our ships and 
they still shooting at the islanders : but no place could be 
found where they might land without great peril of losing 
many of their lives. So they were constrained to retire, 
without receiving any answer, as was promised the day before. 

We had three men hurt in this conflict. Whilst our boats 



578 Who, after, slti'LY tiikm with wine. [ 



E. \Vrii;he. 
"599- 



were together in consulting wliat was best to be done, two of 
them were struck with a great shot [of a '^un\ wliich the 
islanders drew from place to place with oxen ; wherewith the 
one lost his hand, and the otiier his life within two or three 
days after. The third was shot in his neck with a small shot, 
uithout any great hurt. 

With this news, our company returned back again at night ; 
w hereupon preparation was made to go to them again the next 
day. But the day was far spent before we could come near 
them with our ship ; neither could we find an}- good ground to 
anchor in, where we miglit lie to to hatter the town : and 
further, we could find no landing-place, without great danger 
to lose many men ; wiiich might turn not only to the over- 
throw of our voyage, but also put the Queen's ship in great 
peril, for want of men to bring her home. 

Therefore my Lord thought it best to write to them to this 
effect, that " He could not a little marvel at their inhumanity 
and cruelty, which they had showed towards his men ; seeing 
they were sent by him unto them in peaceable manner, to 
receive their answer which they had promised to give, the day 
before : and that were it not for Don Antonio, their lawful 
King his sake, he could not put up so great injury at their 
hands, without just revengement upon them. Notwithstand- 
ing, for Don Antonio his sake, whose friend he was, he was 
yet content to send to them, once again, for their answer." 

At night, Captain Lister returned with this answer from 
them, that " The gunner shot off one of their pieces which was 
charged with powder only, and was stopped ; which our men 
thinking it had been shot at them, shot again, and so began 
the fight : and that the next morning, they would send my 
Lord a resolute answer to his demand ; for, as yet, they could 
not know their Governor's mind herein." 

The next morning, there came unto us a beat from the 
shore, with a flag of truce ; wherein were three of the chief 
men of the island : who agreed w^ith my Lord that he should 
have of them, sixty butts of wune and fresh victuals, to 
refresh himself and his company withal : but, as for fresh 
water, they could not satisfy our need therein, having them- 
selves little or none, saving such as tliey sa\ed in vessels or 
cisterns, when it rained; and they had rather give us two 
tuns of wine than one of water. But they requested that our 



•^- '^^'■;?J':] See the Spanish \V, I. Fleet, at Angra; 379 

soldiers might not come on sl:o:e, for they themselves would 
bring ail they had promised to the water side. Which 
request was granted, we keeping one of them aboard with us 
until this promise was performed, and the others we sent to 
shore, with our empty caske, and some of our men to help to 
hll and bring them awaj', with such other provision as was 
promised. So the Margaret, Captain Davis his ship, and 
another of Weymouth stayed, riding at anchor before the 
town, to take in our provision : but we, with the Victory, put 
off to sea. [See p. 446.] This ship of Weymouth came to us 
the day before, and had taken a rich prize worth, as it was re- 
ported, ^16,000 [=£96,000 now]: which brought us news tiiat 
the West Indian Fleet was not yet come, but would come very 
shortly. But we, with the Victory, put off to sea. 

And upon Saturday, the4th of October, we took a French ship 
of St. Malo (a city of the unholy League) laden with fish from 
Newfoundland ; which had been in so great a tempest that 
she was constrained to cut her mainmast overboard for her 
safety, and was now coming to Graciosa to repair herself. 
But so hardly it befell her, that she did not only not repair 
her former losses ; but lost all that remained, to us. The chief 
of her men we took into our ship ; and sent some of our men, 
mariners and soldiers into her, to bring her to England. 

Upon the Sunday following, at night, all our promised 
provisions were brought unto us from Graciosa; and we 
friendly dismissed the islanders with a peal of ordnance. 

Upon Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday we plied to and 
fro, about those islands ; being very rough weather. 

Upon Thursday [gth of October], at night, being driven 
some three or four leagues from Terceira ; we saw fifteen 
sail of the West Indian Fleet coming into the haven of 
Angra in Terceira. But the wind was such, that, for the 
space of four days after, though we lay as close by the wind 
as was possible, yet we could not come near them. In this 
time, we lost our French prize, not being able to lie so near 
the wind as we : and heard no more of her till we came to 
England, where she safely arrived. 

Upon Monday [i^th of October], we came very near the 
haven's mouth ; being minded to have run in amongst them, 
and to have fetched out some of them, if it had been possible. 
But in the end, the enterprise was deemed too dangerous, 



jSo i;UT ARE NOT AV.LK TO G::T At •: ITKM. [ 



C. \Vrii;hL 
1599. 



consideriiifj the strcnglli of the place where they rode ; bcinj:; 
hauled and towed in nearer the town, at the first sifjht of our 
approachinj:;, and \yuv^ under tlie protection of the Caslle of 
Bresil on the one side, iiavinj; in it twenlN-fue pieces of 
ordnance ; and a I'^ort on the other side, \\iierein were tliirtccn 
or fourteen great brass pieces. 

Besides, when we came near land, tiic wind pro\cd too 
scant for us to attempt any such enterprise. 

Upon Tuesday, the 14th of October, we sent our boat to tlic 
road, to sound tlie depth, to see if there were any anclioiing- 
phice for us, where we might be without the shot of the Caslle 
and the Fort, and within shot cf some of those sliips, that we 
might either make them come out to us, or sink them wh.cre 
the)' lay. Our boat returned, having found out such a place as 
we desired ; but the wind would not suffer us to come near it : 
and again, if we could have anchored there, it was thought 
likely that they would rather run themselves aground to save 
their lives and liberty and some of their goods, than come 
forth to lose their liberties and goods to us, their enemies. 
So we shot at them, to see if we could reach them ; but it 
fell far short. 

And thus we departed ; thinking it not probable that they 
would come forth so long as we watched for them, before the 
haven mouth or within sight of them. For the space of five 
dajs after, we put off to sea, and lay out of sight of them; 
and sent a pinnace to lie out of sight, close by the shore, to 
bring us word if ihey should come forth. After a while, the 
pinnace returned, and told us that those ships in the haven 
liad taken down their sails and let down their topmasts : so 
that we supposed they would never come forth, till they 
perceived us to be quite gone. [They left on 2yth 0/ October, 
see p. 449 ; and icerc nearly all taken by the En^^^lish.] 

Wherefore, on tlie 20th of October, hearing that there were 
certain Scottish ships at St. Michael's, we sailed thither, 
and found there one Scottish roader [i.e., ship in the road; ; and 
two or three n-.ore at Villa Franca, the next road, a league or 
two from the town of St. Michael's to the eastward : of 
whom, we had, for our relief, some small quantity of wine, 
viz., some five or six butts of them all ; and some fresh 
water: but nothing sufficient to serve our turn. 

Upon Tuesday, the 21st of October, we sent our long boat 



E.\Vriglu.j 'Pq ^yj WATER, ATTACK St. MaRv's IsI.E. 38 1 



15 »• 



to shore for fresh water, at a brook a little to the westward 
of V'illa Franca: but tlie inhabitants espjing us, came down 
with two ancients [aisifi'ns] displayed, and about some 150 
armed men, to withstand our landing. So our men having 
spent all their powder upon them, in attempting to land, and 
not being able to prevail at so great odds ; returned frustrate. 

From thence, we departed towards St. Mary's Island, 
minding to water there, and then to go for the coast of Spain. 
For we had intelligence that it was a place of no great force, 
and that we might water there very well. 

Therefore, upon Friday following [25^/? 0/ October], my Lord 
sent Captain Lister, and Captain, now SirAMiAS, Preston 
(who, not long before, came to us out of his own ship; and she 
losing us in the night, he was forced to tarry still wiih us) with 
our lung boat and pinnace, and some sixty or seventy shot in 
them ; both, with a friendly letter to the islanders that they 
would grant us leave to water, and we would no further 
trouble them. So we departed from the Victory, for the island, 
about nine o'clock in the forenoon, and rowed freshly until 
about three o'clock in the afternoon. At which time, our men 
being something weary with rowing, and being within a league 
or two of the shore and four or live leagues from the Victory, 
, they espied, to their refreshing, two ships riding at anchor 
hard under the town: whereupon, having shifted some six 
or seven of our men into Captain Davis's boat, being too 
much pestered [crowded] in our own ; and retaining with us 
some twenty shot in the pinnace, we made way towards them, 
with all the speed we could. 

By the way, as we rowed, we saw boats passing betwixt 
the roaders and the shore, and men, in their shirts, swimming 
and wading to the shore ; who, as we perceived afterwards 
v.xre labouring to set those ships fast on ground : and the 
inhabitants also, as busily preparing themselves for the 
defence of these roaders, their island, and themEeh'Cs. 

When we came near them, Captain Lister commanded 
the trumpets to be sounded ; but prohibited any shot to be 
discharged at them until they had direction from him: but 
some of the company, either not well perceiving or regarding 
wliat he said, immediately, upon the sound of the trumpets, 
discharged their pieces at the islanders, who, for the most 
part, lay in trenches and fenced places unseen, to their own 



382 Failuue of Tin: attack on St. Mary's, [^•^^'j^';': 

best advantage : who immediately idiot likewise at us, both 
with small and great shot, without danger to themselves. 

Notwithstanding, Captain Listizr earnestly hastened for- 
ward the sailors that rowed, who began to shrink at the shot 
ilying so fast about their ears; and h.e first entering one of 
the ships, that lay a little further from the shore, we speedily 
followed after him into her; still plj'ing them with our shot. 
And having cut in sunder licr cables and hawsers, we towed 
her away with our pinnace. 

In the meantime. Captain Davis his boat overtook us, and 
entered into t'.ie other ship ; which also, as the former, was 
forsaken by all her men. But they were constrained to leave 
her, and to come again into their boat, whilst shot and stones 
from the shore ilew fast amongst them, finding her to stick 
so fast aground that they could not stir her : which the 
townsmen also perceiving, and seeing that they were but few 
in number, and that we, busied about the other ship, not 
coming to aid them, were preparing to have come and taken 
them. But they returned to us : and so together we came 
away towards the Vicio)-}', towing after us the prize we had 
now taken; which was lately come from Brazil, laden with 
sugar. 

In this fight, we had two men slain, and sixteen wounded. 
And as forthem, it is likely they had little hurt, lying, for the 
most part, behind stone walls, which were built, one above 
another, hard by the seaside, upon the end of the hill where- 
upon the town stood, betwixt two valleys. Upon the top of 
the hill la}' their great ordnance, such as they had : where- 
with they shot leaden bullets, whereof one pierced through 
the prize's side, and lay still in the ship, without doing any 
more harm. 

The next da\', we went again for water to the same island ; 
but, not knowing before the inconvenience and disadvantage 
of the place, where we attempted to land ; we returned 
frustrate. [Sec p. 446.] 

The same night, 25th of October, we departed for St. George's 
Island for fresh water; whither we came on Monday following 
27th of October : and having espied where a spout of water 
came running down, the pinnace and long boat were presently 
manned and sent under the conduct of Captain Preston and 
Captain Monson; by whom, my Lord sent a letter to the 



•^^ '^^■jf J^:] Leave Azores, 31ST of October 15S9. 38 



J 



islanders as before, to f:jrant us leave only to water, and we 
would no further trouble them. Notwithstanding, our men 
coming on shore, found some of the poor islanders ; who, for 
fear of us, hid themselves amongst the rocks. 

And on the Wednesday following iagth], our boats returned 
with fresh watei"; whereof they brought only six tuns for the 
Vicioiy, alleging they could get no more, thinking, as it was 
supposed, that my Lord having no more provision of water 
and wine, but only twelve tuns, would not go for the coast of 
Spain, but straight forthe coast of England; as many of our 
men greatly desired. Notwithstanding, my Lord was un- 
willing so to do, and was minded, the next day, to have 
taken in more water ; but, through the roughness of the seas 
and wind, and the unwillingness of his men, it was not done. 

Yet my Lord purposed not to return with so much pro- 
vision unspent ; and his voyage, as he thought, not yet 
performed, in such sort as might give some reasonable con- 
tentment or satisfaction to himself and others. 

Therefore, because no more water could now conveniently 
be gotten, and being uncertain when it could be gotten, and 
the time of our staying abroad also uncertain, the matter 
being referred to the choice of the whole company, " Whether 
they would tarry longer till we might be more sufficiently 
provided of fresh water ; or go, by the coast of Spain, for 
England, with half so much allowance of drink as before ? '' 
'I'hey willingly agreed that every mease [mess] should be 
allowed at one meal but half so much drink as they were 
accustomed, except those that were sick or wounded ; and so 
to go for England, taking the coast of Spain in our way, to 
see if we could, that way, make up our voyage. 



Upon Saturday, 31st of October [O.S.], we sentthe Mai'f^'arcl, 
because she leaked much, direct for England ; together with 
the prize of Brazil, which we took at St. Mary's: and in 
them, some of our hurt and wounded men, or men otherwise 
sick, were sent home, as they desired, for England. 

But we held on our course for the coast of Spain, with a 
fair and a large wind; which before we seldom had. And, 
upon Tuesday following, 4th of November, we espied a sail 
right before us, which we chased till about three o'clock in 



384 CArruRt; tiirkic rki^F..; off Portugal, l*^' ^^'.'fj;,': 

the afternoon : at which time, we on overtaking Iier, she 
struck sail ; and being demanded, " Who was licr owner,and 
from whence was she?" They answered, "A Portuguese, 
and from Pernamhuco in BraziL" 

She was a sliip of some no tons burden, freighted witli 410 
chests of sugar, and 50 quintals [about three tons] of Brazil 
wood. We took her in 29^ N., about 200 leagues from 
Lisbon westward. Captain Preston was presently sent unto 
her ; who brought the principal of her men aboard the Victory : 
and certain of our men (mariners and soldiers) were sent 
aboard her. The Portuguese of this prize tcld us that " They 
saw another ship before tiiem, that day about noon." 

Having therefore despatched all things about the prize 
aforesaid, and left our long boat with Captain Davis, taking 
his lesser boat with us; we made way after this other ship, 
with all the sails we could bear; holding our course due 
east : and giving order to Captain Davis his ship and the 
prize that they should follow us, due east ; and that if they 
had sight of us, the fi)llowing morning, they should follow us 
still, if not, they should go for England. 

Tiie next morning, we espied not the sail which we chased ; 
and Captain Davis his ship and the prize were behind us, 
out of sight. 

But the next, Thursda}', 6th of November, being in 3cS° 30' 
N. Lat. and about some sixty leagues from Lisbon westward, 
early in the morning, Captain Preston descried a sail some 
two or three leagues ahead of us. After which, we presently 
b.astened our chase ; and overtook her about eight or nine 
o'clock before noon. She came lately from St. Michael's 
road; having been before at Brazil, and was ladened witii 
sugar and Brazil [wood'. 

Ha\'ing sent our boat to them, to bring some of the chief of 
their men aboard the\' ictory; in the meantime, whilst they were 
in coming to us, one out of the maintop espied another sail 
ahead, some three or four leagues from us. 

So immediately, upon the return of our boat, having sent 
her back with some of our men aboard the prize ; we pursued 
speedily this new chase, with all the sails we could pack on, 
and about two o'clock in the afternoon overtook lier. She 
had made provision to light with us, having hung the sides of 
the ship so thick with hides, wherewith especially she was 



'^' ^^'jfw.'] And set sail for England. 383 

ladened, that musket shot could not have pierced them : but, 
ere we had discharged two great pieces of our ordnance at 
her, she struck sail ; and approaching nearer, we asking 
"Whence they were?" They answered, "From the West 
Indies, and from Mexico. From St. John de Lowe [St. Juan 
d'Ulloa, near Vera Cruz]." 

This ship was of some 300 or 400 tons, and had in her 700 
hides, worth los. [= £^ now] a piece ; six chests of cochineal, 
every chest holding 100 lbs. weight, and every pound worth 
26s. 8d. [the 600 lbs. = £800 then = £4,800 noic], and certain 
chests of sugar and china dishes ; with some plate and silver. 
The captain of her was an Italian; and, by his behaviour, 
seemed to be a grave, wise, and civil man. He had put in 
adventure in this ship, 25,000 ducats [= £6,700 then = about 
£40,000 how]. 

We took him, with certain other of her chiefest men, which 
were Spaniards, into the Victory: and Captain Lister, with 
so many other of the chiefest of our mariners, to the number 
of twenty or thereabouts, were sent into her. In the mean- 
time, we staying ; our other prizes which followed after, came 
up to us. 

And now we had our hands full, and with joy shaped our 
course for England : for so it was thought meetest (having now 
so many Portuguese, Spaniards, and Frenchmen amongst 
us) that if we should have taken any more prizes afterwards, 
we had not been well able to have manned them ; without 
endangering ourselves. 

So, about six o'clock in the afternoon, when our other prize 
had overtaken us, we set sail for England. But our prizes 
not being able to bear us company without [our] sparing them 
many of our sails : which would cause our ship to roll and 
wallow, in such sort as it was not only very troublesome to us ; 
but, as it was thought, would have put the mainmast in danger 
of falling overboard. Having acquainted them with these in- 
conveniences ; we gave them direction to keep their course 
together, following us, and so to come to Portsmouth. 

We took this last prize in 39° N. Lat. ; and about 46 
leagues westwards from the Rock [of Lisbon]. She was 
one of those sixteen ships, which we saw going into the 
haven at Angra in Terceira, on the 8th of October. Some of 

iT.vc. G.I/;. HI. or 



386 The Victoky runs short of water. p-'^^'^j^J'; 

the men that we took out of her, told us that " Whilst we 
were plying up and down before that haven," as before was 
showed, "expecting the coming forth of those ships ; three of 
the greatest and best of them, at the appointment of the 
Governor of Terceira, were unladened of their treasure and 
merchandise; and in every [each] of them, were put three 
hundred soldiers, which were appointed to have come and lay 
the Victory aboard in the night, and take her; but when this 
should have been done ; the Victory had gone out of their 
sight." [Sec p. 449-1 ^ 

Now we went merrily before the wind, with all the sails 
we could bear; insomuch that in the space of twenty-four 
hours, we sailed nearly forty-seven leagues, that is, seven 
score English miles, betwixt Friday at noon and Saturday at 
noon ; notwithstanding the ship was very foul, and much 
grown, with long being at sea : which caused some of our 
company to make account they should see what running of 
the tilt there should be at Whitehall, upon the Queen's Day 
[ijth November]. Others were imagining what a Christmas 
they would keep in England, with their shares of the prizes 
we had taken. Ijut it so befell, that we kept a cold Christmas 
with the " Bishop and his Clerks ; " rocks that lie to the 
westwards from Scilly [Islands], and the western parts of 
England. 

For, soon after, the wind scanting, came about to the 
Eastward ; the worst part of the heavens for us, from which the 
wind could blow; in such sort, that we could not fetch any 
part of England. And hereupon, also, our allowance of drink, 
which was scant enough before, was yet more scantened, 
because of the scarcity thereof : so that, now, a man was 
allowed but half a pint at a meal ; and that, many times, cold 
water, and scarcely sweet. Notwithstanding this was a 
happy estate, in comparison to that which followed. 

For from half a pint, we came to a quarter, and that lasted 
not long either: so that (by reason of this great scarcity of 
drink, and the contrariety of the wind) we thought to put 
into Ireland, there to relieve our wants. But when we came 
near thither, lying " at hull" at night (tarrying for the day- 
light of the next morning, whereby we might the safelier bring 
our ship into some convenient harbour there), we were driven 
so f.ir to leeward, that we could fetch no part of Ireland. 



^' ^^"lOT J Endure a great extremity of thirst. 3S7 

So as, with heavy hearts and sad cheer, we were constrained 
to return bacli again; and expect, till it should please GOD to 
send us a fair wind either for England or Ireland. In the 
meantime, we were allowed every man three or four spoons- 
ful of vinegar, to drink at a meal : for other drink we had 
none ; saving only at two or three meals, when we had, instead 
thereof, as much wine, which was vvringed out of the wine 
lees that remained. 

With this hard fare (for by reason of our great want of 
drink, we durst eat but very little), we continued /or tJic space 
of a fortnight, or thereabouts : saving, that, now and then, we 
feasted for it, in the meantime. And that was, when there 
fell any hail or rain. The hailstones we gathered up, and 
did eat them more pleasantly than if they had been the 
sweetest comfits in the world. The rain drops were so care- 
fully saved, that, so near as we could, not one was lost in all 
our ship. Some hanged up sheets tied with cords by the four 
corners, and a weight in the midst that the water might run 
down thither; and so be received into some vessel set or hung 
underneath. Some that wanted sheets, hung up napkins and 
clouts, and watch them till they were thoroughly wet ; then 
wringing and sucking out the water. And that water which 
fell down, and washed away, the filth and soiling of the ship, 
trod under foot, as bad as runneth down the kennel many 
times when it raineth, was not lost, I warrant you! but 
watched and attended carefully (yea, sometimes with strife 
and contention) at every scupper hole, or other place where 
it ran down, with dishes, pots, cans, jars. Some, like dogs, 
withtheirtongues, licked theboards underfoot; the sides, rails, 
and masts of the ship. 

Others, that were more ingenious, fastened girdles or ropes 
about the masts, daubing tallow betwixt them and the mast, 
that the rain might not run down between ; in such sort, that 
those ropes or girdles hanging lower on the one side than on 
the other, a spout of leather was fastened to the lowest part of 
them, that all the raindrops that came running down the mast, 
might meet together at that place, and there be received. 

He that got a can of water by these means, was spoken 
)f, sued to, and envied as a rich man. 

Qiiam pulchrum digito monstrari d diccre hie est. 



588 Are relieved ey a storm of rain. [f--'^^''-;3 



Some of the poor Spaniards that we had taken (who, not- 
withstanding, had the same allowance that our own men had) 
would come and crave of us, for the love of GOD ! but so much 
water as they could hold in the hollow of their hand : and they 
had it, notwithstanding our great extremity ; to teach them 
some humanity, instead of their accustomed barbarity, both 
to us and other nations heretofore. They also put bullets of 
lead in their mouths, to slack their thirst. 

Now, in every corner of the ship, were heard the lamentable 
cries of sick and wounded men, sounding woefully in our ears ; 
crying out and pitifully complaining for want of drink ; being 
ready to die. Yea, many dying for lack thereof; so that, by 
reason of this great extremity we lost many more men than 
we had done in all the voyage before : having, before this 
time, been so well and sufficiently provided for, that we lived, 
in a manner, as well and as healthfull}-, and as few died, as if 
we had been in England ; whereas now, lightly, every day, 
some were cast overboard. 

[The crew, must, ere this, have bitterly repented the folly of their passive 
resistance to getting a full supply of water at St. George's Island on the 25th 
of October, see p. 383.] 

But on the 2nd of December 1589 was a festival day with us. 
For then it rained a good pace, and we save some pretty store 
of rain water (though we were all wet for it, and that at mid- 
night), and fill our own skins full besides, notwithstanding it 
were muddy and bitter with the washing of the ship ; yet 
with some sugar, which we had, to sweeten it withal, it went 
merrily down. Yet remembered we, and wished for w^ith all 
our hearts, many a conduit, pump, spring, and stream of clear 
sweet running water in England. For how ever miserable 
we had accounted some poor souls, whom we had seen driven 
for thirst to drink thereof: how happy would we now have 
thought ourselves, if we might have had our fills of the same! 

Yet should we have fared the better with this our poor 
feasting, if we might have had our meat and drink (such, and 
so much as it was) stand quietly before us : but, besides all 
former extremities, we were so tossed and turmoiled with such 
horrible stormy and tempestuous weather, that every man had 
best hold fast his can, cup, or dish in his hands ; yea, and 
himSelf too, many times, by the ropes, rails, or sides of the 
ship, or else he should soon find all under foot. 



^■^"i'wq'] Pluck of William Antony, the Master. 3S9 

Plerewith, our mainsail was torn from the yard, and blown 
overboard quite away into the sea without recovery : and our 
other sails so rent and torn, from side to side some of them, that 
hardly any of them escaped whole. The raging waves and 
foaming surges of the sea came rolling, like mountains, one 
after another; and over-raked the waist of the ship, like a 
mighty river running over it ; whereas, in fair weather, it 
was nearly twenty feet above the water: and now, we might 
well cry out with the poet : 

Hen misero qiianfi iiioutes vohtntiir aquavum, 
Jam, jam tacturos sidcra siimma pntcs. 

Hen misero qitanto siibsidiint crquore valles, 
Jam, jam iaduva iartara nigra piitcs. 

Yea, rather with the princely Prophet, Psalm cvii. 26 : 
" They mount up to heaven, anii descend to the deep; so 
that their souls melteth away for trouble : they reel to and fro, 
and stagger like a drunken man, and all their cunning is gone." 

With this extremity of foul weather, the ship was so tossed 
and shaken, that (by the cracking noise it made, and by the 
leaking, which was much more than ordinary) we were in 
great fear, it would have shaken in sunder. So that now 
also, we had just cause to pray a little otherwise than the 
poet ; though marring his verse, yet mending by the meaning. 

DE US maris d cali, quid cnim nisi vnta supcrsimt, 
Solvere qiiassaia: parcite membra ratis. 

Notwithstanding, it please GOD, of His great goodness, to 
deliver us out of this danger. 

Then forthwith, a new mainsail was made and fastened to 
the yard ; and the rest repaired, as time and place would 
suffer: which we had no sooner done, but yet, again, we were 
troubled with as great extremity as before. So that again, 
we were like to have lost our new mainsail ; had not Master 
William Antony, the Master of the ship, himself (when 
none else would, or durst) ventured upon the mainyard, which 
was let down close to the rails, to gather the sail up out of 
the sea, and to fasten it thereto ; being in the meanwhile, 
ofttimes ducked, over head and ears, in the sea. 



390 At i^engtii, reach Ventrev Harbour. [^' ^^'isJ,*: 

Tlicsc storms were so terrible, that there were some in our 
company, who confessed tliey had gone to sea for the space 
of twenty years, and had never seen the like : and vowed that 
if ever they returned safe home, they would never come to 
sea again. 

The 30th ot November, at night, we met with an English 
ship, out of which (because it was too late that niglit) it was 
agreed that we should have had the next morning, two or 
three tuns of wine, which, they said, "was all the provision 
of drink they had, save only a butt or two, which they must 
needs reserve for their own use." But, after that, we heard 
no more of them, till they were set on ground [lauded] 
upon the coast of Ireland : when it appeared that they might 
have spared us much more than they pretended they could; 
so that they might well have relieved our great necessities, 
and have had sufficient for themselves besides, to bring them 
to England. 

The 1st of December, at night, we spoke with another 
English ship, and had some beer out of her ; but not sufficient 
to carry us to England, so, that we were constrained to put 
into Ireland; the wind so serving. 

The next day, we came to an anchor, not far from the 
Skelitee under the land and wind ; \\'here we had somewhat 
more quiet. 

But that being no safe harbour to ride in, the next morning, 
we went about to weigh anchor; but, having some of our men 
hurt at the capstan, we were fain to give over, and lea\e it 
behind; holding on our course to Ventre [Vcntiry] haven, where 
we safely arrived the same day : that place being a very safe 
and convenient harbour for us ; that now might sing, as we 
had just cause, " They that go down to the sea, &c." 

So soon as we had anchored here, my Lord went forthwith 
to the shore; and brought in presently fresh water and fresh 
victuals, as muttons [sJiccp], pigs, hens, &c., to refresh his 
company withal. 

Notwithstanding, he himself had lately been very weak, 
and tasted of the same extremity that his company did : for, 
in the time of our former want, having a little fresh water 
left him, remaining in a pot ; in the night, it was broken ; 
and the water drunk, and dried up. 

Soon after, the sick and wounded men were carried to the 



^■^'iw'] Condition of Dingle, in Kerry; in 1589. 391 

next principal town, called Dingleacush, being about three 
miles to the Eastward of the foresaid haven, where our ship 
rode ; that there, they might be the better refreshed : and 
had the surgeons, daily to attend upon them. 

Here, we well refreshed ourselves, whilst the Irish harp 
sounded sweetly in our ear : and here, we, who (for the former 
extremities) were, in a manner, half dead, had our lives, as 
it were, restored to us again. 

This Dingleacush is the chief town in all that part of 
Ireland. It consisteth but of one main street, from whence 
some smaller do proceed. On either side, it hath had 
gates, as it seemeth, in times past; at either end, to open 
and shut as a town of war : and a Castle too. The houses 
are very strongly built with thick stone v.-alls, and narrow 
windows like unto castles: for, as they confessed, in time of 
trouble, by reason of the wild Irish or otherwise, they use 
their houses for their defence as castles. 

The Castle and all the houses in the town, save four, were 
won, burnt, and ruinated by the Earl of Desmond. These 
four houses fortified themselves against him ; and withstood 
him and all his power, so that he could not win then. There 
3ct remaineth a thick stone wall, that passeth overthwart the 
midst of the street ; which was a part of their fortification. 
Notwithstanding whilst they thus defended themselves, they 
were driven, as some of them, yet alive, confessed, to as great 
extremities as the Jews were, when besieged by Titus, the 
Roman Emperor: insomuch that they were constrained to 
eat dead men's carcases for hunger. The town is again 
somewhat repaired ; but, in effect, there remain but the ruins 
of the former town. 

Commonly, they have no chimneys in their houses, ex- 
cepting those of the better sort ; so that the smoke was very 
troublesome to us, while we continued there. Their fuel is 
turf, which they have very good ; and whinnes or furs. There 
groweth little wood thereabouts ; which maketh building 
chargeable there : as also the want of lime, as they reported ; 
which they are fain to fetch from far, when they have need 
thereof. But of stones, there is store enough : so that, they 
commonly make their hedges, to part each man's ground from 
another's, with them : and the ground seem'^.th to be nothing 



392 The "Sovereign" of the town of Dingle. ['''• '^^'l^J^: 

else within, but rocks and stones. Yet it is very fruitful and 
plentiful of grass and grain, as may appear by the abundance 
of Uine and cattle there ; insomuch that we had good muttons 
[sheep], though somewhat less than ours in England, for 2s. 
[:=I2S. wozc] or five groats [is. 8d. ihen = ios. noic] a piece; 
good pigs, and hens, for 3^. [=is. Gd. now] a piece. 

Their great want is industrious, powerful, and husbandly 
inhabitants to till and trim the ground ; for the common soit, 
if they can provide sufficient to serve from hand to mouth, 
take no further care. 

Of money, as it seemeth, there is very small store amongst 
them : which, perhaps, was the cause that made them 
double and triple [treble] the prices of many things we 
bought of them ; more than they were before our coming 
thither. 

Good land was here to be had for four pence [—25. nmc] 
the acre, yearly rent. There are mines of alum, tin, brass, 
and iron. We saw stones there as clear as crystal, naturally- 
squared like diamonds. 

That part of the country is all full of great mountains and 
hills ; from whence, came running down the pleasant streams 
of sweet fresh running water. 

[This luscious description of Spring Water was, doubtless, cxxited by 
the Writer's recollections of his former thirst.] 

The natural hardness of that nation appeareth in this, that 
their small children run usually, in the midst of winter, up 
and down the streets, barefooted and bare-legged ; with no 
other apparel, many times, save only a mantle to cover their 
nakedness. 

The chief officer of their town, they call their "Sovereign"; 
who hath the same office and authority among them, that 
our Mayors have with us in England : and hath his Ser- 
geants to attend upon him and bear the mace before him, as 
our Mayors. 

We were first entertained at the " Sovereign's " house ; 
which was one of the four that withstood the Earl of Desmond, 
in his rebellion. 

They have the same form of Comtnon Prayer , word for -word 
in Latin, as we have here in England. Upon the Sunda}-, 
the " Sovereign " cometh into the Church, with his Sergeant 



E. Wright. 



] Christmas with " Bishop and his Clerks." 393 



before him; and the Sheriffs and others of the town accompany 
him : and there, they kneel down, every man by himself, 
privately to make his own prayers. After this, they rise and 
go out of the Church again to drink: which being done, they 
returned again into the Church ; and then the Minister 
beginneth Prayers. 

Their manner of baptizing differeth something from ours. 
Part of the service belonging thereto, is repeated in Latin ; 
and part in Irish [Erse]. The Minister taketh the child in 
his hands ; and first dippeth it backwards, and then forwards, 
over head and ears into the cold water, in the midst of winter : 
whereby also may appear their natural hardness, as before was 
specified. 

They had neither bell, drum, nor trumpet, to call the 
parishioners together: but they expect [wait] till their 
" Sovereign " comes ; and then, they that have any devotion, 
follow him. 

They make their bread all in cakes ; and, for the tenth part, 
the bakers bake for all the town. 

We had of them some ten or eleven tuns of beer, for the 
Victory ; but it proved like a present [instant] purgation to 
them that took it ; so that we chose rather to drink water 
than it. 

The 20th of December, we loosed from hence, having 
provided ourselves with fresh water, and other necessary 
things ; being accompanied by Sir Edward Denny, his lady, 
and two young sons. 

This day, in the morning, my Lord going ashore, to des- 
patch away speedily some fresh water that remained for the 
Victory, the wind being very fair for us ; brought us news 
that there were Sixty Spanish prizes taken, and brought to 
England. 

For two or three days, we had a fair wind ; but, after, it 
scanted so, that, as I said before, we were fain to keep a cold 
Christmas, with the " Bishop and his Clerks." 

After this, we met with an English ship that brought us 
the joyful news of Ninety-one Spanish prizes that were come 
to England : and also sorrowful news withal, that the last 
and best prize we took [iliat came from the West Indies, see p. 
385], had suffered shipwreck at a place upon the coast of 



394 FiXAi.i.v KKACii ExGi.AM), AT Fai.moutii. P" ^^'^^J^; 

Cornwall, which the Cornish men call Als Efferne, that is, 
" Hell Gate ; " and that Captain Lister and all the men in 
the ship \\ere drowned, save five or six (the one half English ; 
the other, Spanish) that saved themselves with swimminf^. 
Notwithstanding, much of the goods were saved and reserved 
for us, by Sir Fkancis Godolphin and the worshipful gentle- 
men of the country there. 

My Lord was very sorry for Captain Lister's death ; wish- 
ing that he had " lost " his voyage [i.e., come home empty 
handed] to have saved his life. 

The 2gth of December, we met with snotliership that told 
us the same news ; and that Sir Martin Erobisiier, and 
Captain Revmond had taken the admiral and vice-admiral of 
the lleet that we espied going into Terceira haven. But the 
r.dmiral was sunk, with much leaking, near the Iddy Stone 
[Eddysione], a rock that lieth over against Plymouth Sound ; 
but the men were saved. This ship also certified us, that 
Capti.in I, afterward Sir Amias] Preston's ship had taken a 
prize ladened with silver. 

My Lord entered presently into this ship, and went to 
Falmouth ; and we held on our course for Plymouth. 

At night, we came near the Ram Head, the next Cape 
westward from Pljmouth Sound ; but we were afraid to double 
it in the night : misdoubting the scantness of the wind. So 
we stood off to sea, half the night ; and towards morning, had 
the wind more large, and made too little spare thereof; that 
partly for this cause, and partly through mistaking the 
land, we were driven so much to leeward that we could not 
double that Cape. 

Therefore we returned back again, and came into Falmouth 
haven ; where we struck on ground, in seventeen feet of 
water : but it was a low ebb, and ready again to flow, and the 
ground soft ; so that no hurt was done. 

Here, with gladness, we set foot again upon the long de- 
sired English ground ; and refreshed ourselves, with keeping 
part of Christmas upon our native soil. 



395 



Anonymous. 
Early Sevefitee?ith Ce?itury Poems. 

[E^ertoii MS,2,oi:.l 

Where the names of the composers of the Music whh which these poems 
are associated are given in this Manuscript, they are inserted abox e 
the poems, as M />p. 35-50. 

Tav, stay, old Time ! Repose thy restless wings ! 
Pity thyself! though thou obdurate be, 
And wilfully wear'st out all other things. 
Stay! and behold a face, which, but to see, 
Will make thee shake off half a world of days ! 
And wearied pinions, feather with new plumes ! 

Lay down thy sandy glass, that never stays ! 
And cruel crooked scythe, that all consumes I 
To gaze on her, more lovely than Apollo. 
Renew thyself! Continue still her youth, 
0, stay with her! (and him no longer follow) 
That is as beauteous as thy darling Truth ! 





Dr. John Wilson. 

! TURN away those cruel e}'es ! 
For they have quite undone me ; 
They used not so to tyrannize, 
When first those glances won me. 



39^ E A R T. V 17 T II Century P o k m s . [ 

But 'tis the custom of you men ! 
I'alse men ! tlnis to deceive us; 
To love but till we love again. 
And then again you leave us. 

Go ! Let alone my heart and me ! 
Which thou hast thus affrighted ; 
I did not think I could, by thee ! 
Have been so ill requited ; 
But now I find, 'tis I must prove 
That -men have no compassion ; 
When we are won, you never love 
Poor women, but for fashion. 

Do recompense my love with hate ! 
And kill my heart ! I'm sure 
Thou'lt one day say, when 'tis too late, 
" Thou never hadst a truer ! " 




R MUST not part, as others do, 
With sighs and tears, as we were two. 
Though with these outward forms, we part 
We keep each other in our heart. 
What search hath found a being, where 
I am not, if that thou be there ? 

True love hath wings, and can as soon 
Survey the world, as sun and moon ; 
And everywhere our triumphs keep 
Over absence, which makes others weep : 
By w^hich alone a power is given 
To live on earth, as they in heaven. 



] Early i 7 t ii Century Poems. 397 




N LOVE with you, I all things else do hate ; 
I hate the Sun, that shows me not your face ! 
[ hate my Stars, that make my fault my fate. 
Not having you ! I hate both Time and Place. 
I hate Opinion, for her nice respects, 
The chiefest hinderer of my dear delight ; 
I hate Occasion, for his lame defects ; 
I hate that Day worse than the blackest night, 
Whose progress ends, and brings me not to you 1 
I hate the Night, because her sable wings 
Aids not love, but hides you from my view. 
I hate my Life, and hate all other things ; 
And Death I hate, and yet I know not why, 
But that, because you live, I would not die. 




That this last " Farewell ! " 
Could from my lips more gently part ! 
And were not such a deadly spell, 
As spoken, it must break my heart. 

Or that the Clue of Love 

By her unkindness were so worn, 

As heart from heart might, hurtless, move, 

And neither, in themselves, be torn. 



But never fear her heart ! 
In that it has not wrought so deep : 
For though, to me, the word " Depart " 
Be death; to her, it is but sleep. 

The loss thus only mine, 
Let me at once be rather rent ; 
Than languishing away, to pine. 
And with her hectic scorn, be spent. 



;-,S 



E A K I, V 17 r II C F. N T U K V P O K M S . [ , 



Then, take this last " Farewell ! " 

First unto you ! and then to love ! 

He need not fear another liell, 

Who both their heats at once doth prove. 




Low there ! sweet Zephyrus ! where thou shalt find 

A breath more aromatic than thy wind, 

\^'hen through the Arabian coast perfumed it Hies 

r>y spicy flames in which the Phcenix dies. 

Blow there ! and add unto thy sweetness store ; 

Such as when she is not, shall be no more. 



Cavern it up ! and keep that sovereign breath 

To purify the air in time of death. 

Blow there ! and in soft language, spoken low. 

Thou gentle Air! in secret, make her know; 

How, like the PhcEnix, I do sacrifice 

My heart to her, inflamed by her 63x3. 




John Hilton. 

SAD thought, his soul affright ! 

Sleep it is, that maketh night. 

Let no murmur, nor rude wind. 

To his slumbers prove unkind ! 

But a choir of angels make 

His dream of heaven I and let him wake 

To as many joys as can. 

In this world, befall a man 1 



399 




Jan Huyghen van Linsciioten. 

RetUDi Voyage fro}n Goa to E?ikhiiisen. 

1588-1592 A.D. 

Notice, in the end of this Narrative, the antithesis between the Queen's 
slips and the Kin^f's ships, /.t'., El.lZAnKru's and I'llii.lP II. 's: the 
one fighting for the hbcrty of the whole world, the other )ct further for 
its enslavement. 

His news [i.e., of the death of his master, the Arch- 
bishop of the Indies, on the ^ih of A itgust 1587, which 
reached Goa in September 15S8, see p. 333] made 
many sorrowful hearts in India of such as were 
his well-willers and friends: and, to the contrary, 
such as hated him were f^lad and rejoiced; because he had 
been earnest to reprehend and correct tliem for their fauhs. 
But none lost more by it than we, that were his servants, 
who looked for great preferment by him ; as without doubt he 
meant to have obtained it of the King, as bein.g one of the 
principal occasions of his going into Portugal : but death 
altered all. 

And although, at that time, m_\' meaning and intent was to 
stay the coming ibackj of my Lord Archbishop; and to con- 
tinue longer there, yea, possibly, while I lived : yet, upon 
this news, I was wholly altered in my purpose ; and a horrible 
fear came upon me, when I called to mind what I had passed, 
touching the things I was desirous to bring to pass. And 
although I had means enough there, to get my living in good 
sort ; being, as it were, one of those countrymen, and so, in 
all places well esteemed and accounted of: yet those persua- 
sions were not of force enough, once to dissuade me from the 
pretence and desire I had to see my native country. So that 
it seemed, my GOD had opened mine eyes; and, by my Lord's 



400 LlXSCIIOTEN SETTLES TO RETURN HOME. [^- "■ ''•/' 



nscliotcn. 
1594- 



death, made me more clear of siglit, and to call my native 
soil unto remembrance : which, before, was so darkened that 
I had almost forgotten it ; and stood in hazard never to see 
it any more, if my Lord had lived, and returned home again 
[to Goaj. 

But to avoid all occasions and inconveniences that might 
happen, and daily offered themselves to me, I resolutely 
determined to depart : whereunto I sought all the means and 
necessary occasions I could find, to bring it to pass. And that 
which persuaded me most thereunto, was the loss of my 
brother, William Tin, that had been with me in India [pp. 17, 
31] : who, sailing from Setubal, inPortugal,towardsHamburg, 
taking his course on the back side of England [i.e., round 
Ireland and Scuiland], was cast away; and neither ship nor 
men could ever be heard of. 

Being in this resolution, it chanced that a ship, by 
authority of the Viceroy, and at the request of the Farmers 
of Pepper, was appointed to sail for Portugal ; because there 
was so great a quantity of pepper to be laden, that the Portu- 
guese ships [i.e., the Fleet of Carracks], at that time, could 
not take it in. Although the ships are purposely sent to lade 
pepper, with licence from the King, that there may no more 
but five ships lade every year; whereunto, the Factors do 
bind themselves : yet if there be any goods in India, as 
pepper and other wares, which these ships cannot take in ; 
then the Farmers of Pepper and the King's Officers may buy 
one or two ships, and make them ready for the purpose to 
take it in, so that the ships be found that be sufficient. 
Which if the Factors refuse, then the Vicero}' and the 
King'sOfficers may freight as many ships as they think good, 
and as they find fit to take it in ; and lade them with the 
Farmers' pepper or any other goods that are there to be 
laden : so it be after the five ships are laden by the Farmers. 
And all this, for the profit of the King, without let or hindrance 
of the said Farmers. 

In this sort, as I said before, there was a ship, called the 
Santa Cruz, that was built in Cochin by the King of the 
Walabars (and called after the name of the tcTwn of Cochin, 
that was likewise, by the Portuguese, called Santa Cruz), 
which the King of the Malabars made in honour of the 
Portuguese, because he hath brotherly alliance with them, 



^'"'^''"jg";] Becomes Factor of rnE-SANr.i Crvz. 401 

and is called "Our Brother in arms" by the King of Portu- 
gal. 

The same ship, being of 1,600 tons, he had sold to a 
Portuguese, that therewith had made a vo3age into China 
and Japan ; and because it was strong and good, and so, fit 
to make a voyage to Portugal ; and because (as I said 
before) there was more pepper than the Portuguese ships 
could take in : the Farmers of Pepper were desirous to buy it, 
and besought the Viceroy to let them have it; according to 
the contents of their composition [contract] and the King's 
Ordinance. 

Whereupon, the Viceroy caused the Farmers of the Ships to 
be called together, and signified unto them what the request 
of the Farmers of Pepper was, that is to say, that the ship 
should be bought, according to the King's Ordinance, foras- 
much as necessity did so require it, and they had refused to 
use it, saying that " it was not fit for them" : and so desired, 
in respect of the King's interest in the pepper, the ship might 
be bought accordingly ; always provided, that the King's 
Ordinance, who granted them their Privilege, might be kept 
and observed, viz., that their ships might first have their 
lading, and be first despatched. 

And although they that had bought it of the owners, for 
10,000 ducats [ = £2,660 13s. 4d. then = about £16,000 now] 
ready mone}', were in doubt that they should find wares 
enough to lade it withal: yet, in the end, it was, in a manner, 
laden as well as the other ships were. 

.. Now it was agreed by the owners that sold it, that the 
Master Gunner and Chief Boatswain should keep their 
places still within the ship ; as they had, when it sailed to 
China and Japan. The Gunner's name was Derick Gakrit- 
SON, of Enkhuisen; who, after he had been twenty years in 
India, was minded, as then, to sail in that ship for Portugal : 
with whom, because of old acquaintance and for his company, 
_ r minded to see if I could get any place within the ship. 

And because the Farmers of Pepper had their Factors 
in India, that were Dutchmen; which lay there in the behalf 
of the Foukers and Velsares of Augsburg ; who, at that time, 
had a part of the pepper laden in that ship, and use to send 
in each ship a Factor, to whom the King alloweth a cabin and 
victuals for the voyage : this place of Factor in the said ship 

Eng. Cjr. III. 26 



402 Obtains his ckrtificates of discharge. [ 



I^iiischoten. 
■5'J4- 



called the Saiila Cruz, I did obtain of the Farmers; because 
they were cf my acquaintance. 

Whereupon I prepared myself to depart, and got a pass- 
port of the Vijeroy (without which no man may pass out of 
India) ; and also a certificate out of the King's Chamber of 
Accounts, and out of the Matricola Gcncyal; wherein all such 
as eome into India are registered, with a note of my pay, 
which, by the King's commandment, is appointed to be paid 
upon certificate from thence; and withal the time of my resi- 
dence in India and what place I was employed in there : that 
when I came to Portugal, I might have recompense if I 
would ask it, or [could go back, if Ij minded to return again 
into India. 

But, although I had no such intent ; yet must I, of force, 
observe this order, to make them think that I would return 
again, and the easier to obtain my passport : which was easily 
granted me by the Governor, as also the other certificates. 

Having obtained them, I took my leave of all my friends 
and acquaintance, not without great grief: as he that was to 
depart out of his second natural dwelling-place, by reason 
of the great and long continuance I had made in those 
countries ; so that I was, in a manner, half dissuaded from 
my pretended voyage. But, in the end, the remembrance 
and affection of my true natural country got the upper hand, 
and overruled me; making me wholly to forget my conceit 
unto the contrary : and so, committing myself and my 
affairs unto GOD (who only can direct and help us, and give 
good success to all endeavours), I entered into my new pre- 
tended course. 

In the month of November, 1588, the ships sailed again 
from Goa, to the coast of Malabar and Cochin to take in 
their lading. 

And the 23rd of the same month, the Santa Cruz set sail ; 
to begin our vo)'age. 

The 2Sth day, we arrived at Ho.ior [Honawiir], a fort be- 
longing to the Portuguese, and the first they have upon the 
coast of Malabar. It lieth southward from Goa, eighteen 
miles. In which place, we were assigned to take in our 
lading of pepper. 

They used not, before, to lade any pepper in that place ; so 
that we were the first tl.at ever laded there ; but from hence- 



Lin^clioten.-j Co I N S II I P P E D Y E A R L Y F R O M P O U T U G A L. 403 

forward they minded, yearly, to lade one ship there. Fcr 
tJie Queen of Batticola, that lays not far from thence, and 
Honor, whicli is within her jurisdiction or kingdom, had 
hound herself to deliver, yearly, 7,000 or 8,000 Quintals [ = 
about 1,000,000 English lbs.] of pepper; so that the Farmer;; 
paid her half the money for the same, six months before she 
delivered it ; and then she would deliver it at times [by in- 
sfaliiicnis]. For the which cause, the owners have their Factor 
at Honor, to receive it of her, by weight ; and to lay it up 
till the time of lading cometh. 

The like have they in all the other forts upon the coast 
of Malabar, as at Mangalore, Barselor, Cananor, Cochin, 
Coulan [Quilon], &c. 




The Farmi?tg of the Pepper; and^ also^ of 
the Carracks that bring it to Portugal. 

jOw to know the right manner of Farming of the 

Pepper, you must understand, 

That the Farmers take the same to farm for five 

years, and bind themselves to send every year their 
stock of ready money [f.c, about 260,000 Pieces of Eight, 
at 436 Rcis ( = Gg'jGd.) each = about ;£'75,ooo then = about 
/'45o,coo now], for 30,00-0 Quintals of pepper; so that the 
King will send ships to lade it in. The King, on the 
other side, bindeth himself to perform, and to send, every 
year, five ships, the Farmers bearing the adventure [risk] of 
the sea, both of their money sending thither, and of the 
pepper brought from thence; and must lade it, in India, into 
the ships, at their own costs and charges. Which being 
brought to Portugal, they deliver up the pepper to the King, 
at the price of 12 ducats the Quintal [i.e., £^ 4s. the Quintal 
of 12S lbs. ; or Sixpence the lb. thcn = Jhree Shillings nou'] : and 
if any be cast away or taken upon the sea, it is at the Farmers' 
charge; for the King dealeth only but \^hh that which is 
delivered to him in Portugal, being dry and fair, lade up in the 
King's Storehouse in Lisbon. For the ^\'hich, he pa}eth 



404 WlIOLF.SALE TRICE OF TEPPER IN InDIA. [J- "' ''■/-'"''''"j,": 

not any money unto the Farmers until the said pepper be 
sold ; with the money whereof he payeth them. 

So that the King, without any hazard or disbursing any- 
thing of his own, hath always his money for his pepper ; 
without the loss of any one penny. 

And in respect of that, the Farmers have great and strong 
privileges. I'irst, that no m.an, of what estate or condition 
soever he be, either Portuguese or of any place in India, may 
deal or trade in pepper but they, upon pain of death : which 
is very sharply looked unto. Likewise, they may not, for any 
occasion or necessity whatsoever, diminish or lessen the ordi- 
nary stock of money [i.e., the 260,000 Reals of Eight], neither 
hinder nor let them, in any sort, concerning the lading thereof: 
which is also very strictly observed. For, altliough the pepper 
were for the King's own person, yet must the Farmers' 
pepper be first laden : to whom, the Viceroy and other Officers 
and Captains of India must give all assistance, help, and 
favour, with watching the same, and all other things ; what- 
soever shall be required by the said Farmers, for the safety 
and benefit of the said pepper. 

For the lading and providing whereof, the said Farmers 
are to send their Factors, servants, and assistants, of what 
nation soever they be (except Englishmen, Frenchmen, and 
Spaniards), unto every place, to see it ladened and de- 
spatched awaj'. For other strangers may not go to India; 
without the special licence of the King or of his Council for 
India. 



The pepper commonly costeth in India 28 Pagodas the 
Bhar. Every Bhar is 32- Portuguese Quintals. So that every 
Quintal standeth them in 13 Pardaos Xeraphines and 4 
Tangas [seep. 184] : 

(Every Quintal is 12S [Englishl pounds ; and ever_v Pardao 
is 3 Testons or 30 Stivers, heavy money : and every Tanga 
is bo Keis or G Stivers), 

Which is 12 Dollars (of 60 Pence Flemish the piece) after 
the rate of the Portuguese money, and 24 Stivers of the like 
money : besides all charges, and adventure of the sea. But 
the great quantity making them gain the more, especially if 
it come safe home. 



J. H. V. Linschoien.j Method OF FARMING THE Carracks. 405 



[ riy equivalent values of the coins, at p. 1S4, the Pagoda was then equal to 76' %d. 

\Ve may tlierefore represent the statement in the text tlius. 
English Quintal. BImr. £ s. d. 

il's. [S Pagodas, the (?m«/a/ = 2 II 2| 4!;,;'. the Enghsh 

128 = I \ (Si\ or its cqitivaknt., viz., [lb- \\\<tn = about 

448 = 3i = I j '-^ (28 Pagodas, lhei5//«;- =8 19 i J 2i. 4W. «ra'. 

As the Pepper was sold to the King at Sixpence the English lb. for which the 
Farmers paid \\d., their outside profit would be about 30 per cent, on an invested 
capital in pepper alone of about /^75,OCO then [=^^450,000 ncr^ii\. From which, 
vast deductions should be made, for peculations, losses, &c. : which were, no 
doubt, partially compensated for, liy the Farmers robbing the King as well as they 
couhl. So tliat it was thievery from beginning to end. 

'1 he Farmers also brought home many otlier things than pepper, such as 
cinnamon, spices, fancy ware ; on which, no doul)t, there was a vast profit. 

It is clear from this arrangement, that when the English took Portuguese Carracks, 
it was not King Piiii.ii' II. who was the first sufferer ; but the Speculators, both of the 
Ships, and their Cargoes ; who might be of many countries, as of Augsburg, /. 401. 

It is interesting to trace the rise in the price of these Eastern commodities, in 
their progress to the consumer. The wholesale English price of the pepper captured 
by the Earl of Ci'MBERLANu's fleet on the 13th July 15S9, was est mated at Two 
Shillings [ = I2J-. ««('] the English lb. : see /. 369. The King's profits thereon 
must therefore have been enormous.] 

The ships and their freighting, with conditions to build 
them and the provision of all necessaries for them, are also 
farmed by themselves : and all, at the adventure of the 
Farmers [of the Carracks], If the ship come safe home, 
they give the King a certain sum of money for every ship ; 
and every year furnish five ships, likewise at their own 
charges : but such soldiers as are appointed to go in them, 
are bound to sail for the King; and have only meat and 
drink at the Farmers' charges. The officers and sailors are 
placed therein, by the King's Admiralty : which the Farmers 
may not once deny or refuse. 

So that the King adventureth nothing, neither in pepper 
nor in ships : but only if the ships be cast away he loseth the 
money that he should have had for the Farm of every ship, 
if it had returned safe ; and the Gain of the pepper, that should 
have been delivered him at a certain price. 

Whereupon the Admiralty of Portugal are now waxen very 
careless to see them well conveyed, as they used to be during 
the times of the Kings of Portugal ; when all the pepper 
came for the King's own account. 

And although the King hath promised continually to send 
his Navy by sea as far as the Flemish Islands {Azorcs\ ; there 
to stay for the coming of the Indian ships, and from thence 



4o6 The S.i.vr.t Cias i.adf.s, & goes to Cochin. J'"^'-'';' 



tliolen. 
594- 




to convey tliem to Lisbon: yet since they were farmed out, 
there are few Heels sent forth ; so tliat they arc hut little 
thought upon. But howsoever it is ; in the payment of the 
Fee Farm for pepper, the Kin.sj will not lose a penny of his 
due, nor once abate them anything. 

Shipping the pepper in the Ca?'?'acks. 

He 5th of December, we had taken in our lading of 
pepper, which was 6,700 Quintals l=aboiit 3S0 
Eiii^lish ions] of the best that is in all Malabar ; and 
were very full. 

The same day, we set sail from thence, keeping close under 
the coast : because that ordinarily in that country, every day, 
from twelve o'clock of the night till twelve at noon, there 
blovveth an Easterly wind, which cometh out of the land ; 
and then cometh a West wind out of the sea, to the landward. 
With these two winds, we [here] perform our voyage. ISut 
the East wind is always mightier and stronger than the 
West, and therefore the ships keep themselves close under 
the shore : for when they put further in the sea, they can 
hardly get at the coast again ; because the West wind is not 
of so great force. As it chanced unto us, for having put 
somewhat from the coast ; we had much to do before we 
could get to the coast again : by which means, oftentimes, 
they lose their voyage to Portugal, as by experience it hath 
been found. 

All the coast of Malabar is very pleasant to behold, for they 
sail so close to it, that a man may tell every hill, valley, and 
tree that is therein ; being a very green and fair land. 

The nth of December, we came to Cananor, another 
fortress of the Portuguese. There we lay a day and a half, 
to take in certain masts, with other provisions that we were 
to use ; which are there in great abundance. 

So we set sail again, keeping along the coast, and passed 
by Calicut, Panane, and certain other places, until the 24th of 
December, when we arrived at Cochin : where we lay till the 
20th of January, anno 1589. 

In the meantime, our ship was provided of all things 
necessary; and then we stayed, till our turn came to set sail : 



J. H. V. Unschoicn.-j MexIIOD OF STOWING THE CaRRACKS. 407 

because the other ships, according to the contract, were to set 
sail before us, one after another. Which custom, I will here 
partly set down in brief. 

You shall understand that as soon as the ship hath taken 
in her lading of pepper; which is done with great care and 
diligent watch, as well in the King's behalf as of the Far- 
mers' ; and is laden on the two nether orlops, that is, upon 
the ballast, and in the orlop next over it: laying deal boards 
upon the ballast, and making certain places and divisions for 
the purpose, with a hole over each place to shut in the pep- 
per ; and leaving room by the mainmast to pass by it. So 
that there are, at the least, thirty several places, which they 
call payoos; and all in the two lower orlops, as I said be- 
fore : which, being all filled with pepper, they shut the holes 
of those places very close with oakum and pitch ; and so 
they are marked with numbers, how many they are, and upon 
each place its weight of pepper. 

These two orlops, being thus laden, there is left a place 
about the mainmast to bestow water, wine, wood; and other 
necessaries for the ship, which are daily used. 

In the third orlop, and, on both sides thereof, there are 
divers places severally made, that belong to the Officers of the 
ship, as the Captain, Master, Pilot, Factor, Purser, &c. ; and 
of all the rest of the sailors that are allowed places : which 
they sell or let out unto the Merchants to lade goods therein ; 
whereof they make good profit. Upon the same orlop, from 
the mast to the stern, are the places where they put their 
powder, biscuit, sails, cloths, and other provisions for the ship. 

The other orlops above these, are laden by the merchants 
with all sorts of wares; which are in chests, fats, balls, and 
packs ; and are placed in this sort, that is to say, 

As soon as the pepper is laden, there are presently sent 
into the ship two Waiters, and one that stoweth the goods, 
as a Porter; on the King's behalf. He hath ten or twelve 
porters under him that only must lade and stow the goods in 
the ship: the Master, nor any other, not once, having anything 
to do with it; saving only the Chief Boatswain, who is to look 
unto it, and yet commandeth nothing. 

No goods may be laden whatsoever or how small soever 
they be, but they must be registered in the King's books ; 
and they must bring a billet [invoice] from the Vendor da 



4o8 Bribery OF Waiters AND Porters. P"''-/ 



Linschoten. 
■594- 



Fd'icitda, that is to say, the " Surveyor of the business," bein^ 
Chief Officer for the King: wherein must be certified every kind 
of ware, by piecemeal, which they lade; together with the 
name of the ship wherein it is to be laden. For without that 
certificate, the Stovvers and Porters will not take it in ; and, 
although you have your billet, yet must you bribe the Waiters, 
before you can get "it aboard the ship : and something_ must 
be giveli likewise to the Porters, besides their duties, if you 
desire to stow your goods well, otherwise they will let it stand. 
And he that giveth most hath the best place in the ship. 
Yea, and they stow the ship so miserably full, that there is 
not a hole or an empty place to be found, but it is full stuffed : 
and all for their profit. It is oftentimes seen, that the Chief 
Porter, that doth only command and look over the rest, 
getteth for his part, in bribes, for stowage of a ship, sometimes 
700 or 800 ducats [=£ic)0 to £215 ihcn=abont ;;f 1,100 to 
£1,2,00 noiv], and the Waiters as much ; and this only by gifts. 

These offices are given by favour of the Viceroy, and the 
Veador de Fascnda : which is the cause that the ships are 
oftentimes laden so full that they are in a manner ready to. 
sink ; so that a man would think it were impossible for them, 
either to row or stir. Because the Officers and sailors of the 
ships have nothing to do therewith, until the last hour thiit 
it setteth sail, and then it is delivered into their hands ; 
and the Waiters and Porters go their ways, leaving the ships 
full in every place, even to the uppermost orlop : where there 
standeth commonly seven or eight chests, one above the other, 
both in the stern and foreship, upon the cables, in the fore- 
castle, in the stirrige [stccrai;;c] and in every place, which are 
all full of great pots, fats, chests, hens' cages, and such like ; 
so that it seemeth rather a Labyrinth or a Maze than a ship. 

So they commit themselves to the grace of GOD, and set 
sail : and oftentimes it falleth out, as it did in our ship, that 
of fifty sailors which are above the ship, not above ten of 
them could tell how to steer, or to handle tlie rudder : and 
besides that, most of them were never at sea before, but get 
their places by favour as all the rest do; so that, being at 
sea, when occasion serveth, they stand looking one upon 
another, doing nothing, but cry, Miscricordia ! and, "Our 
Lady ! help us 1 " 

In Cochin, there are a great number of boats called Tones 




J. H. '•ji-in=<:''°^^'j]XnE Carracks set sail from Cochin. 409 

tliat are cut out of one piece of wood ; and yet, some of them 
;;re so great that a man may lade twenty pipes of water in 
Ihem. These they carry aboard the ships, that lie at least a 
mile within the sea, and there they make price with them 
for a small sum of money; and then they go and fill the 
pipes themselves, with pots which they have for the purpose : 
and it is a great commodity to them. This water is brought 
out of the river of Cochin, called Mangate, and it is very good. 



Cochin to Saifit Helena, 

Nd now I will show unto you the manner that is used 
in the ships, when they sail home again : which, in 
part, I have already touched ; as also of our 
departure and voyage from India to Lisbon. 

1589. 

The 1st January 1589 [N.S.], the Santa Maria set sail ; and 
because it was one of the oldest ships, it was first despatched 
away; by reason that the sooner they depart from Cochin, 
they come in better time to the Cape of Good Hope : and the 
later they come thither, the more storms and foul weather 
they have, because as then the sun goeth further into the 
north and leaveth the south parts. Therefore commonly they 
let the best and strongest ships go last ; because they are 
best able to hold out : and they stay the one for the other in 
the island of Saint Helena, until the 25th day of May, and no 
longer, which is the time appointed by the King ; and so go, 
in company together, to Portugal. For from India unto the 
island of Saint Helena they need not keep company; because 
all that way they fear no rovers : and to that island, they 
have all their cannon shot pulled in [ ? guns run in'], the 
better to pass the foul weather at the Cape of Good Hope. 

The 6th of January, the ship, called Nostra Seiiora dc 
-Conscpcao set sail. 

The loth of the same, the admiral [flag ship], called San 
Christopher. 

The I2th, the Sunt Antonio. 

The 15th, the San Thomas, which was the greatest and 
best ship in all the fleet ; andjhe richest of lading. 



4IO Privileges of soldiers on roAun. [■'•"■^■,'- 



nschotcn. 



And the 20tli of the same month, we set sail in our sliip, 
called the Santa Cm::, bein;^ the last : wliercin were about 
200 men of all sorts ; as sailors, soldiers, and slaves. 

Forfromlndiatherei^obut fewsoldiers, without the Viceroy's 
passport ; by virtue thereof they go to present their services, 
and to fetch their pays and duties for the same. And this 
they do, after they have served in India some years; and also 
when they have ability to pass over : for when they are poor, 
and have no help, they must stay in India; even fornecessity's 
sake, because ihey have no meanstoprocure their passage. So 
that many of them are constrained to tarry there, and to marry 
Moors and Indian women, the better to maintain themselves ; 
although it be with misery enough. For the charges of a 
man's voyage out of India is, at the least, 200 or 300 Pardaos 
{=^£.\o to £60 then = £2^0 to ^^360 ;;o;c'), and that only for 
meat and drink ; which a poor soldier can hardly compass, 
unless he can procure some gentleman, Captain, or wealthy 
man in office to be favourable unto him, in helping him to 
perform his journey. 

For in the voyages homeward, the King giveth nothing to 
each of the soldiers and passengers, but a free passage for 
himself and a chest of four spans higli and broad, and seven 
spans in length ; and that, after they have been three years in 
India. For that chest, they pay neither freight nor custom. 
They have likewise a chest in the roomage [hold] free of 
freight, for which they pay custom; and this they may sell 
to any merchant, as they commonly do, and is worth unto 
them, at the least, 40 or 50 Pardaos [=-^10 to £iz 105. then 
= £60 or £'j^ now]. These places they call " Liberties," and 
he that bu}eth them registereth them in the name of him 
that he buyeth them of ; to the end, that in Portugal, they may 
enjoy the same liberty and privilege. 

All the sailors and Officers of the ships, that sail in them 
from Portugal, have likewise, besides their places in the 
ships, the forage of such a chest allowed them, free of custom 
and freight. 

All these things are very sharply looked into. For although 
the ships and goods are farmed ; yet when they arrive at 
Lisbon, all the chests are brought into the Indian House, 
and there visited [searched], to see if any goods be in them that 



J H.v. Unschoten.jp g^y SOLDIERS COME EACK FROM InDIA. 4U 

are forbidden to be brought out of India, as pepper, anill 
[cochineal], or indigo, and other such wares as are farmed of 
the King, and, if any be found, it is presently forfeited: and all 
the wares that are in such chests are likewise valued ; so 
that if they amount to more than the value of 1,000 Milreis 
[ = ;£"666 13s. ^d. ihcn=^£^,ooo noicj], they must pay custom 
for the overplus : which, in the time of the Kings of Portugal, 
was not used. For then, they were accustomed to carry their 
chests home, and to show them only to the Waiters : and 
although the poor sailors and Officers do much complain for 
the loss and breaking of their "liberties" ; yet can they not 
be lieard. 

Thus there come but few soldiers out of India, for the 
causes aforesaid. For I certainly believe that of the 1,500 
soldiers and more, that, yearly, are sent thither out of Portugal; 
there returneth not a 100 again. Some dying there in the 
countr}', others being cast away, and slain by divers occa- 
sions : and the rest, by poveity, not able to return again, and 
so, against their wills, are forced to stay in the country. If 
any of them do chance to come ibackl, it is with some Viceroy, 
Captain, or other gentleman, or person that hath borne office 
or authority. And when such men come over [to Portugal], 
they always bring some soldiers with them, to whom they 
give meat and drink ; and yet, are such as are of their ac- 
quaintance, and that had been long before at their command- 
ment : which they do, for the most part, upon a certain pride 
and vain glory. 

And, in this sort, there may, yearly, come 20 or 30 soldiers 
over, in each ship, which have their slaves and Blacke Mores 
with them; so that they come clean and sweet home, both for 
linen and other things. Because linen is very good cheap in 
India : and the ships, when they return home, are cleaner than 
when they set out of Portugal ; as they have fewer men in 
them, and such as come out of India bring all their necessaries 
with them. Besides, the ship is very sweet, by reason of the 
spice with that is laden in it. 



The partition of the ship is in this manner. 
The Pilot hath his cabin above in the hinder part of the 
ship, on the right side, where he hath two or three room:. ; 



412 Internal Compartments oi- a Carrack. ['T 



ilioten. 
1591- 



and never cometh under [the] hatches, nor down into the 
foreship: but standeth only, and commandeth the Master of 
the ship to hoist or let fall the sails; and to look unto his 
course, how they shall steer; to take the height of the sun; 
and every day, to write and mark what passeth, how they 
sail, and witli what tokens, wind, and weather. 

The Master hath his cabins in the same place, behind the 
Pilot's cabins, on the left hand ; with as many places and 
rooms as the Pilot hath : where he standeth, and com- 
mandeth with a silver whistle, and looketh only to the main 
mast and her sails ; and so backwards [i.e., all masts and rin- 
ging astern of it] : j'et he hath the care of all the ship and 
whatsoever belongeth to it ; and commandeth all thinf^s, as 
to make and mend the sails, which he cutteth out and the 
sailors sew them. He looketh also if there be any fault in 
the ship, and causeth it to be mended : and, as need requireth, 
to draw their cannon in, and again to put it out. 

If he wanteth anything, as cloth for sails, nails, ropes, or any 
such like things, as are needful ; he must have them of the 
Factor and Purser of the sb.ip; which presently are delivered 
unto him, with a note, of his hand[writing] in the book, to 
be accountable for it. 

The Chief Boatswain hath his cabin in the Forecastle [i.e., 
the Castle in the front part of the Carrack, rising in three short 
decks above the main deck in the centre of the ship] ; and hath 
commandment and government over the Fouke mast [Fore- 
mast] and the fore sails. He hath also a silver whistle, like 
the Master; and taketh care for all things belonging to the 
Fouke mast, and for the fast binding of the anchors. 

The Guardian or Quartermaster hath his cabin close by 
the great mast outward on the left hand ; for on the right 
hand, standeth the scullery and kitchen, where they dress 
their meat. He weareth a silver whistle, and hath charge to 
see the swabers pump, to make the ship clean ; to look to the 
ropes, and cause them to be mended ; and to the boat, which 
he commonly ruleth. 

The Gunner hath his cabin inward from the mast, hard by 
the rudder, under the first orlop : and must always sit by the 
main mast, looking upon the Master, both night and day ; 
that, as the Master whistleth to will the gunners to draw in 
their pieces or to thrust them out, he may be ready so to do. 



^"r''?5M:l T'lJ^ Chief Officers live sumptuously. 413 

He likewise taketh care for tlie pieces, and the things belong- 
ing to them ; when they have cause to use them. 

The Under Pilot doth nothing, but help the Chief Pilot, and 
watch his quarter. They have likewise two or three of the 
best sailors, that do nothing else but command in the Pilot's 
room, when he sleepeth. 

The sailors have most of their cabins in the forecastle and 
thereabouts : and the gunners behind, by the Master Gunner, 
under the upper deck ; and do nothing else but, with their in- 
struments [iinplcinciits], put the great pieces forth or draw them 
in, as they are commanded. 

The Swabers must do all whatsoever they are bidden to do 
b)' the Officers, but never touch the rudder. For the sailors 
do only steer and rule the ship when need requireth, but not 
the pump. Neither do they hoist up the main sail: for the 
soldiers and slaves use to do that. The swabers pump. 

The Carpenter doth such work as is to be done. The 
Cooper, in like sort : and also the Caulker. . So that if 
the ship were sinking, not any of them will do more than 
belongeth to his charge : and what is further to be done, they 
will stand still, and look upon it. 

The Captain hath the Gallery, and the cabin behind. He 
commandeth only over the soldiers, and such as watch by night. 

The Pilot, Master, and the Chief Boatswain, are served in 
very good sort, with their silver lamps, beakers [goblets], cu\')s, 
and bowls; every [each] man by himself: and are waited on 
by their slaves and servants, and have enough of everything. 
But the other sailors and swabers have not such store, but 
endure more hardness : for every man must provide for him- 
self, as we told you before. 

Now you must understand that in their ships, there is no 
Average. For when there happeneth any loss, or that any 
goods are thrown overboard ; he standeth to the loss that 
oweth [mcneth] the goods, without any more accounts : and 
that commonly falleth out upon the poor swabers, for they 
usually have their chests standing upon the hatches ; because 
they have nothing to give unto the Porters that they might 
have a good place for them, as others, of greater ability use 
to do. And when any storm or hurt chanceth ; then they 
throw the things overboard that first come to hand : without 
respect of persons, or any average to be made. 



414 TiiK Nkw Track, dirfxt to the Cape. [■'■ "• "•/'"* 



iisclioton. 
■ 5>l- 



In this sort, setting sail ; we held our course south-south- 
cist for the space of 150 miles till we came to 7° S. of the 
Equinoctial line [Equator] ; and from thence south-\vest-by- 
wcst unto the Cape of Good Hope : which way was never 
used before that time. 

For they used to sail from Cocliin south-west ; and south- 
west-bj'-south between the Maldive islands, and a thousand 
other islands and sands [sho.ils^ unto the island of St. Law- 
rence [Madagascay] ; and so to the Cape. But after that the 
Pilot had lost the San Jago [in 15S6J upon the " Shallows of 
India" [p. 312I, and escaped alive (he was now Pilot of the San 
Thomas, the best ship in all our fleet); he had, the fore 
voyage [tltc preceding one to this, in 1587J kept aloof 200 or 
300 miles out into the sea, clean from all islands, sands, or 
cliffs: saying that " the casting away of so many ships, 
whereof no news or tidings could ever be heard, was that they 
were cast away upon the sands [shoals] ; even as it chanced 
unto him," and to avoid the dangers thereof, as also to win 
the favour of the King and the Officers of the Admiralty, he 
was the first that took upon him to discover that wa}-, with 
the ship wherein my Lord the Archbishop sailed [p. 322]. It is 
almost the same way, that the ships that came from Malacca 
do hold, wdien they sail to Portugal ; wherein they see neither 
islands nor sands, nor any other thing, but only the plain sea. 

So he came unto Portugal, certilying the Admiralty of 
that new way; and although he was cast into prison for the 
same cause, yet, by favour, he was presently released : and 
the Admiralty iperccising it to be so great a danger for the 
ships to sail among the islands and sands, which they thought 
to be the chief cause of the loss of so many ships) have ex- 
pressly commanded that the Pilots should use that new dis- 
covered way, according to the said Pilot's information, thereby 
to avoid all danger. 

But that is not the cause of their casting away ; aUhough 
many times, they are the means of much mischief: but the 
chief reasons are, the unreasonable lading and charging of the 
ships, the unskilful seamen, and the slack visitingor searching 
of the ships, to see if they be fit to sail and have all things that 
they want. By these, and such like means, the ships are daily 
lost, as in other places [pp. 312, 320, 323, 326,] by examples, 
and true witnesses, I have already declared ; and as the same 



^"rM94']SiGiiT THE Sajv 7mxu.is, & race with her. 415 

Pilot, that first found the New Way, did well approve and 
verify to be true in the San Thomas, that the sands or islands 
did him no hurt, but only the overlading of her: wherewith, 
the ship was burst in pieces, by the Cape; as hereafter I will 
show [pp. 416, 419, 428I. Notwithstanding, this way is not 
therefore to be disliked, although it be somewhat further 
about ; but it is a very good way, and wholly out of all danger 
of sands and islands. 

The 30th of January, in the night, we passed the Equinoc- 
tial line ; and the next day, after, we descried a ship, which 
we thought to be the San Thomas. 

The same day, one of our boys fell overboard ; to save 
whom, we made all the haste we could to get out our small 
boat : but because it stood full of things, we could not so soon 
get it forth, but that in the meantime, the boy was cast at 
the least two miles behind us ; and so was drowned. 

The 3rd of February, the ship we saw, came close by us, 
and then we knew it to be the San Thomas. We made to- 
wards it to speak with them ; but when they began to know our 
ship by the ropes, which were all white, being made of Indian 
Cairo [p. 176', and knowing that we were left behind them at 
Cochin (for they had thought when they had descried us, we 
had been one of the ships that first set sail) as also that their 
ship v/as accounted one of the best for sailing in all the 
fleet : for very pride and high stomach, they would not stay 
to speak with us ; but made from us again. Which our 
Officers perceiving, did likewise wind from them ; every [each] 
one doing his best to get before the other. 

By this, and such like signs of pride, the Portuguese do 
often cast themselves away; and, as it may be conjectured, 
it was one of the chief causes of the loss of the San Thomas : 
for that they used all the means they could, to sail well, and 
tliat they might pass the Cape before us ; wlicreof they use 
[an accustomed] to brag, when they meet at the island of Saint 
Helena; as if it were done by their wisdom. 

So it fell out with the San Thomas, that coming to the 
Cape of Good Hope, it had a contrarj' wind, whereby they 
struck all their sails, and so lay driving against the waves of 
the sea, which do fall against a ship as if it struck against a 
bill : so that if the ship were of hard stones, yet, in the end, 
they would break in pieces ; much more such ships as are 



41 6 Foundering of the S.i.v Thomas. [J""-,'-'' 



nschotcn. 

'59 !■ 



made of wood. And tliis is commonly tlieir manner, thereby 
the sooner to pass the Cape: which our ship could not 
bear; so that we put bacic again witli the wind, yet as little 
as we might, thereby to avoid the force of the sea, as much 
as we could. 

But because the Pilot of the San Thomas trusted overmuch 
in her strength, and did purposely mean to be before us all, 
thereby, as he thought, to win the praise ; the ship did, as it 
well appeared, lie still, and drive without any sails, which 
they call payrar [drifting] : and so, by the great force and 
strength of the seas, together with the overlading, was 
stricken in pieces and swallowed in the sea ; both men, and 
all that was within her. As we might well perceive, coming 
to the Cape, b)' the swimming of whole cliests, fats, balls, 
pieces of masts, dead men tied unto boards ; and such like 
fearful tokens. 

The other ships also that arrived in the island of Saint 
Helena, told us likewise that they had seen the like most 
pitiful sights ; which was no small loss of so great treasure, 
and only many men. So that we, which beheld it, thought 
ourselves not free from the like danger. It was one of tiie 
richest ships that, in many years, had sailed out of India; 
and only by reason of the good report it had to be so good 
of sailing, being but new (for then it was but her second 
voyage), every man desired to go and lade their wares in her. 

In the same ship, went Don Paulo de Lima Pereira, 
that raised the siege of Malacca, and had served the King 
thirty j'ears in India, and had obtained many brave victories; 
thinking then to be in the top of his honour, and to be much 
advanced by the King. He also carried with him great 
treasure in jewels and other riches ; also his wife, children, 
and one of his brethren : with many other gentlemen and 
soldiers that bare him company, thinking to have good 
fortune in their voyage. 

There were likewise ten or twelve gentlewomen, some of 
them having their husbands in the ship ; others, whose 
husbands were in Portugal. So that, to conclude, it was 
full of people, and most of the gentility of India : and in 
all our ships there were many, that seeing us in danger, 
would say that "they might have gone safely in the San 
Tlwinas," thinking it impossible that it should be cast away. 



J. 11. V. unscWen.-, TiiE Electrical Ligiitontiie Yards. 417 

Therefore, it is manifestly seen that all the works and 
imaginations of men are but mere vanities ; and that we 
must only put our trust in GOD : for that if GOD be not 
with us in our actions, all our labour is in vain. 

But to return to our matter. Each ship did her best to be 
first, until the 17th of February; when we got before the Sail 
Thomas, being in y" S. : and from that time forwards, we saw 
her no more ; but only the tokens of her casting away about 
the Cape of Good Hope, which, after, when at the island of 
St. Helena, was told us more at large. 

The same day, we had a great storm of wind and rain, so 
that the ruther of our great mast was broken by the force of 
the sea. From the line, we had a north and north-west wind, 
with continual rain, storms, and foul weather, never ceasing 
till we came to 20° S., which was upon the 25th of February. 
Then we had a south-east wind, called by the Portuguese the 
" General Wind " [the Trade Wind] with fairer weather : 
which they commonly find in 12° S., but we had it not before 
we were under 20° S. The cause whereof, we thought to be, 
that we had put so far into the sea, out of the common way. 
This wind commonly holdeth to 27" or 28° S., a little more or 
less: and then they must look for all kinds of winds and 
weathers, till they come to the Cape of Good Hope. 

The 5th of March, being in 25° S., we had an East wind, 
with an exceeding great storm and rain ; so that our rudder- 
staff [? handle] brake, and two more that we had in the ship, 
brake likewise, one after the other, on being put unto it ; with 
the pin and joint wherein the end of the rudder hung: so we 
were forced to lie and drive, without steering, having struck 
all our sails ; and the ship was so tossed by the waves on all 
sides, that we had not one dry place in all the ship. In this 
sort, we lay driving, for the space of two days and two nights 
together, with a continual storm and foul weather with 
rain. 

The same night, we saw upon the mainyard and in m,any 
other places, a certain sign [electrical sparks] which the 
Portuguese call Corpo Santo or " the holy body of Brother 
PiiTER GoNSALVES " ," but the Spaniards call it San Elmo, 
and the Greeks ("as ancient writers rehearse, and Ovid among 
the rest) Helle and Ihryxus. Whensoever that sign showeth 
upon the mast or mainyard or in any other place ; it is 

axa. C.iiz. III. 27 



4iS Rudder handle broke, & mended again. ['-T 



;hotcn. 
'594- 



commonly tliouglit, that it is a sign of better weather. 
When the}- first perceive it, the Master or Chief Boatswain 
whistleth, and commandeth every man to salute it with 
Salve, corpo santo ! and a, Miscricordia ! with a very great cry 
and exclamation. 

This constellation, as astronomers do write, is engendered 
of great moisture and vapours ; and showeth like a candle 
that burnetii dimly, and skippeth from one place to another, 
never lying still. We saw five of them together, all like the 
light of a candle, which made me wonder; and I should have 
hardly believed it but that I saw it, and looked very earnestly 
upon it. And although it was foul weather, whereby I had 
no great leisure to think upon such curious things, yet I 
purposely came from under the hatches, to note it. Those 
five lights the Portuguese call Coroa dc nossa SciiJiora, thut is, 
"Our Lady's crown;" and have great hope therein, when 
they see it. And therewithal our men, being all in great 
fear and heaviness, began to revive again and to be glad ; as 
if, thereby, they had been fully assured of better comfort. 

The 7th of March, we had better weather ; and then we 
took counsel how to mend our rudder. Some were of 
opinion, we should sail to Mozambique, and rule the rudder 
with a rope : others were of contrary opinion, and said we 
might mend it aboard, and so perform our vo3'age. So that, 
at the last, we pulled certain pieces out of the ship's side ; 
for we had not brought one with us, as need required : but 
being pulled forth, they were all too little, and would not 
serve. 

In the end, we found it convenient to take one of the 
bosses in our ship, and thereof, to make an anvil ; and 
of two oxhides, a pair of bellows ; wherewith we went to 
work : and of a piece of an old hook or drag, we took two 
or three ends whereof but one would serve, and that half 
broken ; and the splinters, we bound with an iron hoop. So, 
it being fitted to the rudder; we set forwards, in the name of 
GOD. 

This asked us two days' work, before we could despatch 
it ; and we hoisted sail again, with great joy : and gave 
divers alms to Our Lady and the saints, with many promises 
of better life ; as men, being in misery, commonly do. 

The day after, we took the height of the sun, and found 



J. H. V. Linschoicn.J F O U L W E A T II E R O F F N A T A L. 4 1 9 

ourselves to be in 28" 45°, and four hundred miles from the 
land of Natal. There, we had good weather, with a south-east 
wind. 

Here is the hardest passage that is in all the voyage, and 
oftentimes they fear the land of Natal more than the Cape : 
for there, is commonly stormy and foul weather; and many 
ships have been spoiled and cast away there, as the Portu- 
guese records can very well show. In the same part also, 
we found the signs of the casting away of the Sail Thomas. 
So that, to conclude, commonly the ships do there pay tribute, 
by casting some lading overboard, or else leave body and all 
behind. 

For this cause, they never pass Natal without great fear; 
having a good watch and great foresight. All their ropes 
being stiff, and well looked unto. The pieces drawn in ; all 
chests, pots, fats, and other roomage, that are not stowed 
under hatches, being thrown overboard into the sea : and 
everything settled, and made ready in his place. For in this 
coast they have one hour, fair weather : and another hour, 
stormy weather; in such manner, as if heaven and earth 
should waste and be consumed. 

In that place likewise, with a clear and fair weather, 
there cometh a certain cloud, which, in show, seemeth no 
bigger than a man's fist, and therefore, by the Portuguese, is 
called olho de boy or "ox eye"; and although then it is clear 
and calm weather, and that the sails, for want of wind, do 
beat against the masts : yet as soon as they perceive that 
cloud, they must presently strike all their sails. For that, 
commonly, it is upon the ships, before they perceive it : and 
with such a storm and noise, that, without all doubt, it would 
strike a ship into the water, if there be not great care had to 
look unto it. 

And it chanced to the Second Fleet, after the Portuguese 
had discovered the [East] Indies: there being ten or twelve 
ships in company, which, in such a calm and fair weather, 
let all their sails hang, and regarded them not. And this 
custom [fact], they observed in this their navigation. For 
suddenly the cloud came, with a most horrible storm, and 
fell upon them, before they could prevent [prepare for] it : 
whereby seven or eight were sunk in the seas, and never heard 
of again; and the rest, with great hurt and much danger, 



.(20 Dreadful weather near the Cape. [■'• "•''•/'''"'''°^^^; 

escaped. But, from that time forwards, they looked better 
to themselves; and have learned to know it : so that, at this 
present, they watch for it; and jet, it giveth them work 
enough to do. 

The 1 2th of March, being in 31° S., we were right in the 
wind [i.e., the xcind icas dead ahead', and had a calm ; where- 
upon we struck all our sails ; and so lay driving four days 
together, wliich the Portuguese call I'ayracs : hax'ing a very 
high sea which tossed our ships in such sort, that the sailors 
esteem it to be worse than a storm. For there, the waves 
of the sea met in such sort on all sides, and clasped the ship 
in such a manner betwixt them ; that they made all her ribs 
to crack and in a manner to open : so that it is very dangerous 
for the ship. 

We were in very great care 'fear] for our Fouke mast ; and 
therefore we bound our masts and all the ship about cables, 
as hard as we possibly might. 

This continued to the 17th of March, and then we had a 
/ittle wind ; so that we hoisted sail again : but it continued 
no longer than to the next day. 

Then we fell again into the wind, and had a storm; where- 
with our mainj'ard broke : and then again we struck all our 
sails ; and so lay driving or payraer-'mg, as the Portuguese 
call it. 

In the meantime, we mended our mainyard ; and so we 
continued driving without our sails till the 20th of March : 
with great risings of the waves of the sea, which tormented 
us ; as in that place they commonlv do. All which time we 
were in 31° S., and could not pass forward. 

In that time, we saw many birds, which the Portuguese 
call Antenalen, and are as big as ducks. 

The 20th of March, we had a little wind, but very sharp ; 
\et we hoisted our sails, and sailed by the wind. 

The next night after, we had a calm ; which continued till 
the 22nd : and then we fell again into the wind, with so great 
a storm that we were compelled to strike all our sails, which 
we could hardly pull in ; and could not stay the ship in any 
rort, it drave so fast. Whereby we were in great danger, 
so that we were compelled to bind the bonnet about the 
F^orecastle, which was our sail (for other sail we might 
not bear) ; and so sailed backwards whither the wind would 



J. H.v.Linschoten.-jy^p^g FORCED TO PUMP, NIGHT AND DAY. 42 I 

drive us, thereby to have some ease. Yet we had enough to 
do, for we were compelled to throw our great boat overboard ; 
with all chests, pots, and vessels that stood upon the hatches, 
with other wares, such as came first to hand. 

This storm continued for the space of two days and three 
nights, without ceasing. 

The 25th of March, being the day before Palm Sunday 
[N.S.], we had better wind and weather, after we had given 
great alms to our blessed Lady of the Annunciation, whose 
feast was upon that day ; and again hoisted up our sails, 
keeping our course towards the Cape. 

At the same time, we had a disease [ ? scurvy] in our ship, 
that took us in the mouth, lips, throat, and tongue ; which 
took off the skin and made them swell : whereb)' they could 
not eat but with great pain ; and not one in the ship but 
had it. 

The 8th of April, in the morning, after we had sailed 
fifteen days before the wind, towards the Cape, we perceived 
a sign of the land, which was green water : but we found no 
ground; yet was it not above forty miles from the land, 
according to the Pilot's judgement. 

We saw there also divers of the birds, called Mangas dc 
vcllndo, that is, " Velvet sleeves " ; for they have upon the 
ends of their wings, black points like velvet ; all the rest 
being white and somewhat grey : which they hold for a cer- 
tain sign of land, that lieth within the Cape of Good Hope, 
called Baya dc la Goa, or " the Bay of the Lake " in 

33*: s. 

The gth of April, at night, we were again right in the wind, 
in 35° 30' S., with a great storm and foul weather, that con- 
tinued till the 14th of the same month : so that we were 
compelled (not being able to endure the force of the sea, with 
the continual storm and foul weather) to sail back again 
before the wind, with the half of our Fouke sail up. For we 
found ourselves not strong enough to drive without sails, as 
the ship commonly used to do, which oftentimes is the cause 
of their casting away : as it may well be judged by reason of 
the great force and strength of the waves that run there, so 
that it seemeth almost impossible for a ship to bear out so 
great a force, though it were of iron. 

And though we sailed [backward] before the wind, yet we 



42 a Settle to go rack to Mozambique. [■" "• 



V. I.inschoten. 



had danger cnoiigli ; for tlie sea came behind and over our 
sliip, and filled all the hatches : whereby we were compelled 
to hind our masts, cables, and all the ship round about with 
ropes; that, with the great force of the sea, it might not stir, 
and lly to pieces. And we were forced to pump, night and day. 

We had at each end of the Fouke-yard, a rope that reached 
to the Pilot : and at each rope, there stood fifteen or sixteen 
men : the Pilot sitting in his seat ; and the under Pilot be- 
liind, upon the stern of the ship which teas now going bach- 
wards, stern first] to mark the course of the sea, and so to 
advertise the other Pilot. At the rudder, there stood ten or 
twelve men ; and the other sailors upon the hatches, to rule 
the sails. 

As the waves came and covered the ship, the Under Pilot 
called, andthentlie Chief Pilotspake tothem at the rudder "to 
hold stiff! "and commanded the ropes that were at the h'ouke- 
yard to be pulled stiff. The sailors and the Chief Boatswain 
likewise standing on the hatches, to keep the ship right in the 
waves : for if the waves had once gotten us about that they 
had entered on the sides of the ship, it had been certainly said 
of us, rcquiescant in pace. And it was there, almost as cold as 
it is here with us [in Holland] in winter, when it freezeth 
not. Whereby we were all sore toiled, and in a manner out 
of heart : so that we esteemed ourselves clean cast away. 

For we were forced, by turns, not one excepted, to go to 
the rudder, and from thence to the pump; so that we had no 
time to sleep, eat, rest, nor clothe ourselves. And to help us 
the better, the staff [ ? handle] of our rudder brake in piece.^, 
and had almost slain two or three of our men : but GOD had 
pity on us ; so that there happened no other hurt, but that 
some of them were a little amazed [stunned]. 

This continued till the 14th of April, without any change ; 
whereupon all the Officers of the ship assembled, together 
with others of the company, taking counsel what was best to 
be done : and perceiving the ship not to be strong enough to 
pass the Cape, they concluded, by Protestation whereunto 
the}- subscribed their hands, to sail with the ship to Mozam- 
bique, and there to winter and to repair the ship, and provide 
all necessaries for it. 

Which greatly grieved the common sort, because they did find 
as great danger in turning back again to Mozambique, as to 



J. H. V. Li„scho.e,,.-j GOD FAVOURS English heretics. 423 

pass the Cape; for they were to sail again hy the land of Natal, 
which they feared asmuch as the Cape. And also, though they 
did arrive at Mozambique, yet they accounted it as much as 
a lost voyage. For they must stay there till next 3-ear, and 
spend there all they have ; for all things that come thither, 
are brought out of India, so that everything there is as dear 
as gold : which would be hard for the poor sailors and 
swabers, having but little means to relieve themselves; and 
thereby they should be constrained to sell that little they had 
brought with them for half the value. Besides that, they 
were then about 500 miles from Mozambique. 

Wherefore, there grew a great noise and murmuring in 
the ship, that cursed the Captain and Officers, because the 
ship was badly provided : for it had not one rope more than 
hung about the ship ; nor anything wliereof to make them, 
if those that we had, should have chanced to break. 

The Captain laid the fault on the Master, because he asked 
not for them, when he was at land. The Master said that 
he had spoken for them, and that the caivo or hemp, whereof 
ropes are made in India, was delivered to the Captain ; and 
that he had sold the best part thereof, to put the money in 
his purse : and that was the cause why we wanted. 

With this disorder, they brin^ their matters to pass, not 
once remembering what may fall out : but when they are 
in danger; then, there is nothing else but crying Miscri- 
cordia ! and calling to " Our Lady " for help. 

The Captain could not tell what to answer, seeing us in 
that trouble; but said that " He marvelled at nothing so 
much, as why our LORD GOD suffered them (being so good 
Christians and Catholics as they were) to pass the Cape 
with so great torments and dangerous weather, having so 
great and strong ships : and that the Englishmen (being 
heretics, and blasphemers of GOD) passed the Cape so easily, 
with such small and weak vessels." For they had received 
news in India, that an English ship [ ? Drake's Pelican, 
on i&th June 15S0; or Cavendish's ship, the Desive, eleven 
months before, vi::., on the igth of May 1588, see Vol. II. p. 
J 25] had passed the Cape, with very great ease. 

So we made back again towards Mozambique, being in 
great despair ; for no man cared to lay his hand to work, and 
hardly any man would obey the Officers of the ship. Sailing 



424 Amazed to find tiiemselves in 37° S.^"- 



'. Linschoten 
■' "594- 



in this manner, we perceived divers vessels Waiks, &c.], and 
boards with dead men bound upon tliem, driving in the sea : 
which comforted us a little, we thinkinj^ that some of the 
other ships were in the same taking; and had thrown some 
of their goods overboard, and so made towards Mozambique 
before us : whereby we thought to have company, and that 
we were not alone unfortunate ; for it is commonly said that 
" companions in misery are a comfort to one another," and 
so it was to us. But, I would to GOD ! it had been so, as we 
imagined ; but it was far worse than turning back again : for 
tiiose were the signs of the casting away of tiie San Thomas ; 
as we were afterwards advertised in the island of Saint Helena. 

The 15th of April we had another great calm ; which con- 
tinued till the 17th : and taking the height of the sun, we 
found ourselves to be 37° S., to the great admiration [asto)iish- 
inciit] of all the com.pany. For being, as I said, in 35'' S., 
and having sailed for the space of five days, with so great a 
wind and stormy weather, we should rather, by all men's 
reason, have lessened our degrees ; and by estimation, we 
made account to have been in 30" S., or 32° S. at the higliest. 
The cause why our ship went backward, in that sort, against 
wind and weather, towards the Cape, thinking we made 
towards Mozambique, was by the water, which in those 
countries carricth with a very strong stream [currcntl towards 
the Cape : as the Pilot told us he had i:roved at other times ; 
yet he thought not that the water had run with so great a 
stream as now, by experience, he found it did. 

So as it seemed that GOD, miraculously (against man's 
reason and judgement, and all the force of wind and storms), 
would have us pass the Cape, when we were least in hope 
thereof: whereby we may plainly perceive that all men's 
actions, without the hand of GOD, are of no moment. 

The same day, we again saw green water, and the birds 
called Mangas dc vclludo or " Velvet sleeves ; " which are 
certain signs of the Cape of Good Hope : and, about evening, 
a swallow flew into our ship, whereat they much rejoiced, 
saying that " It was a sign and foreshowing that Our Lady 
had sent the swallow on board to comfort us; and that we 
should pass the Cape." Wherewith they once again agreed 
to prove if we could pass it ; seeing we had had such signs 
and tokens to put us in good comfort that GOD would help 



J. H. v.unsdio^en.-| ji^y ONCE MORE FOR THE Cape. 425 

us. This being concluded [settled], we sang the Litany with 
Ora pro nobis! and gave many alms; with promises of pil- 
grimages and visitations and such like things, which was 
our daily work. 

With that, the sailors and others began to take courage 
and to be lusty, every one willingly doing his office : offering 
rather to lose life and welfare in adventuring to pass the 
Cape ; than, with full assurance of their f a'"ety, to return tc 
Mozambique. We had then great waves, and very big water 
in the sea : which left us not, till we came to the other side 
of the Cape. 

The iSih of April, we fell again into the wind, with as 
great storms and foul weather as ever we had before ; so that 
we verily thought we should have been cast away : for at 
every minute, the sea covered our ship with water. Tc 
lighten her, we cast overboard divers chests, and much cinna- 
mon, with other things that first came to hand. Wherewith 
every man made account to die ; and began to confess them- 
selves, and' to ask each other's forgiveness: thinking, without 
more hope, that our last day was come. This storm con- 
tir.ued in this sort, at the least, for the space of twenty-four 
hours. In the meantime great alms were given in our ship 
to many Virgin Maries and other saints ; with great devotion 
and promises of other wonderful things, when they came to 
land. At the last, GOD comforted us, and sent us better 
weather. For, on the 19th of April, the weather began to 
clear up ; and therewith, we were in better comfort. 

The 20th of April, we took the height of the sun, and 
found it to be 36' S. : and again we saw green water, some 
birds which they call Alcatraces [i.e., albatrosses], and many 
sea-wolves ; which they hold for certain signs of the Cape of 
Good Hope. We were, as we thought, hard by the land; 
but yet saw none. The same day, we had the wind some- 
what fuller, and were in great hope to pass the Cape : so that 
the men began to be in better comfort, by reason of the signs 
we had seen. 

All that day, we saw green water, till the 22nd of April, 
upon which day, twice, and in the night following, we cast 
out the lead, and found no ground : which is a good sign 
that we had passed the Cape das Aquilhas, or " the Cape of 
Needles," which lieth in 35° S., about twenty miles from tlie 



426 At length, tuev pass tiik Cape, [ 



J. H. V. LInscholcn. 
t 1594. 



Cape of Good Hope in 34' 30' S. As about this Cape das 
Aqiiilhas, ground is found, at the least, thirty or forty miles 
from the land, we knew we were past it : and also by the 
colour of the water, and the birds which are always found 
there. And the better to assure us, the great and high sea 
that had so long tormented us, left us ; and then we found a 
smoother water, much differing from the former : so that we 
then seemed to have come out of hell into paradise, with as 
great joy as if we thought we were within the sight of some 
haven. And had withal, a good wind ; though somewhat 
cold. 

The 23rd of April, we passed the Cape of Good Hope, with 
a great and general gladness ; it being then three months 
and three days after we had set sail from Cochin : not once 
seeing any land or sands [shoals] at all, but only the assured 
tokens of the said Cape; which happeneth very seldom, for 
the Pilots do always use what means they can to see th.e 
Cape and to know the land, to certainly know thereby that 
they are past it. For then, their degrees must lessen ; and 
then they may as soon [hap to] make towards Mozambique 
as to the island of St. Helena. For although they can well 
perceive it by the water, yet is it necessary for them to see 
the land, the better to set their course unto St. Helena: 
wherein they must always keep on the left hand ; otherwise 
it were impossible for them to come at it, if they leave that 
course. For if thev once pass it, they cannot come to it 
again : because there bloweth continually but one kind of 
wind, which is south-east [Trade Wt7id]. Thus having passed 
the Cape, we got before the wind. 

The 24th of April, the Pilot willed us to give bona viagen 
unto the Cape of Good Hope, according to the custom : 
which was done with great joy and gladness, by all that were 
in the ship. I'or then, they assure themselves that they sail 
to Portugal, and shall not turn again into India : for so long 
as they are not past the Cape, they are always in doubt. We 
were then about 50 miles beyond the Cape. 

The signs and tokens whereby they know themselves to 
have certainly passed the Cape, are great heaps and pieces 
of thick reeds that always thereabouts drive upon the 
water, at least 15 or 20 miles from the land ; also certain 
birds called by the Portuguese, Fcisoins, somewhat greatei" 



JH.v.LInschoten.-j j^ ^ ^ ARRIVE AT S T. H ELENA. 427 

than seamews, being white and full of black spots all over 
their bodies; and are very easy to be known from all other 
birds. 

Having passed the Cape, the Pilots set their course for St. 
Helena, north-west, and north-west-by-west. 

The 27th of April, we were right in the wind, and so con- 
tinued till the next day ; and then we had a calm, being 
in 30° S. on the Portugal side. 

The 2gth of April, we got before the General Wind [the 
Trade Wind] that always bloweth in those countries, all the 
whole year, until you come to the Equinoctial line: so that 
they may well let their sails stand, and lay them down to 
sleep ; for, in the greatest wind that bloweth there, they need 
not sti ike their mainyard, above half the mast. 

The I2th of May, in the morning, betimes, we discovered the 
island of St. Helena : whereat there was as great joy in the 
ship, as if we had been in heaven. We were then about two 
miles from the land, the island lying from us west-south-west; 
\\hereunto we sailed so close that, with a caliver shot, we 
might reach unto the shore. Being hard by it, we sailed 
about a corner of land that lay north-west from us, which 
having compassed, we sailed close by the land, west-north- 
west: the land on that side being so high and steep that it 
seemed to be a wall that reached to the skies. 

In that sort, we sailed [on the north side of the island] 
about a mile and a half, and compassed about the other 
corner that lay westward from us: which corner being com- 
passed, we presently perceived the ships that lay in the road; 
which were those ships that set sail before us out of India. 
They were lying about a small half mile from the foresaid 
corner, close under the land ; so that as the land there lieth 
south-east from them, by reason of the high land, the ships 
lie there as safe as if they were in a haven. For they may 
well hear the wind whistle on the tops of their mainyards; 
but lower it cannot come : and they lie so close under the 
land, that they may almost cast a stone upon the shore. 

There is good ground there at 25 and 30 fathoms deep ; but 
if they chance to put further out or to pass beyond it ; they 
must go forward, for they can get no more unto the land. 
For this cause we kept so close to the shore, that the height 
of the land took the wind from us ; and as the ship would 



428 Find all tiif. ships, but tiii' .9./.v Thomas, f'-i",^':'''':"- 

not steer without wind, so it drave upon tlie land : whereby 
our boresprit [bowsprit] touclied the shore ; and therewith, 
we tliought that ship and goods had all been cast away. But, 
by reason of the f^reat depth, bein^; ten fatlioms, of water ; 
and, with the help of the boats and men of the other ships 
that came unto us, we put off from the land, without any- 
hurt : and by those boats, we were brought to a place where 
the other ships lay at anchor ; which is right against a 
valley, that lieth between two high hills, wherein there 
standeth a little church, called Saint Helena. 

There we found five ships, which were, the ship that came 
from Malacca ; and the Santa Maria, which had been there 
about fifteen days [i.e., had arrived 2ytli of April] : both of 
which came together to the Cape of Good Hope. The Sant 
Antonio, and the San Christopher, the admiral, that had 
arrived there ten days before [i.e., on 2nd of May] : and the 
Nostra Sci'mra de Concepcao, which came thither but the day 
bifore us [i.e., nth of May]. So that there wanted none of 
the fleet, but the San Thomas; and, by the signs and tokens 
that we and the other ships had seen at sea (as masts, deals, 
fats, chests, and many dead men that had bound themselves 
upon boards ; with a thousand other such like signs), we pre- 
sumed to be lost : as we after understood, for it was never 
seen afterrwards\ 

Our admiral f/rt"' ship] likewise, had been in great danger 
of casting away. For, although it was a new ship, and this 
the first voyage it had made ; yet it was so eaten with worms, 
that it had, at the least, 20 handsful deep of water within it. 
At the Cape, they were forced to throw half of the goods over- 
board into the sea ; and were constrained continually to pump 
witli two pumps, both night and day, and never hold still. 
And being at the island of St. Helena, she had there also 
sunk to the ground, if the other ships had not helped her. 

The rest of the ships could likewise tell what dangers and 
miseries they had endured. 

About three months before our arrival at St. Helena [i.e., 
in February 1589 i there had been a ship, wdiich, the year 
before, set out of Ormus, with the goods and men that 
remained of the San Salvador at Zanzibar, that had been 
saved by the Portuguese army, and brought to Ormus, as in 



J. n. V. Linschoien.-j LiNSCIIOTEN MEETS AfIIUISEN THERE. 4?n 

another place I have declared [si'c p. 326]. That ship had 
wintered in Mozambique, and had passed by the Cape very 
soon; and so sailed, without any company, to Portugal. She 
left some of her sick men on the island, as the manner is ; 
which the ne.xt ships that come thither, must take into 
them. 

These gave us intelligence that four [or rather eleven] 
months before our arrival, there had been an English ship 
[Cavendish's ship the Desire, see Vol. II. p. 126] at the island 
of St. Helena, which had sailed through the Straits of 
Magellan, and through the South Seas, and from thence, to 
the Philippine Islands ; and had passed through tlie Straits ol 
Sunda, that lie beyond Malacca, between the islands ot 
Sumatra and Java : in the which way, she had taken a ship 
of China, such as they call Junks, ladened with silver and 
gold, and all kinds of silks. And that, she sent a letter, with 
a small present, to the Bishop of Malacca, telling him, 
" That she sent him that of friendship, meaning to come her- 
self and visit him." 

Out of that ship of China, they took a Portuguese Pilot ; 
and so passed the Cape of Good Hope, and came to the 
island of St. Helena : where they took in fresh water and 
other necessaries, and beat down the altar and cross that 
stood in the church. 

They left behind them a kettle and a sword, which the 
Portuguese, at our arrival, found there : yet could they not 
conceive or think what that might mean ? Some thought it 
was left there for a sign to some other ships of his company; 
but every man may think, what he will thereof. 

In the ship of Malacca came for Factor of the Pepper one 
Gerrard van Afhuisen, born in Antwerp, and dwelling in 
Lisbon : who had sailed from Lisbon, in the same ship, 
about two years before. For they had stayed in Malacca, at 
the least, fourteen months ; by reason of the wars and 
troubles that were in that countrj', until Malacca was re- 
lieved as I said before [pp. 324, 329]: whereby they had passed 
great misery, and been at great charges. And because it is 
a very unwholesome country, together with the constant 
lying there so long ; of 200 men that at the first sailed from 
Lisbon in the ship, there were but 18 or 20 left alive: so that 



430 Desci^ii'TION of St. Hki.kna, in 1589.P ""•/■'"^ 



iscliotcn 
■594- 



tliey were enforced to take in other unskilful men, in Malacca, 
to brinfj the ship home. 

This Gekrakd van Afhuisen, being of mine acquaint- 
ance, and my good friend before my departure out of Portugal 
for India, marvelled and joj'ed much to find me there, little 
thinking that we should meet in so strange a place : and 
there, we discoursed of our past travels. 

And of him, among divers other things, I learned many 
true instructions, as well of Malacca as of the countries and 
islands l\ing about it ; both as to their manner of dealing in 
trade or merchandise, as in other memorable things. 




St. Hele7ta to Lisbon. 

He Island of St. Helena is six miles in compass, and 
lieth in 16° 15' S. 

It is a very high and hilly country, so that it 
commonly reacheth unto the clouds. The country 
itself is very ashy and dr^'. x\lso all the trees (whereof there 
is a great store, and grow of themselves in the woods) that 
are therein, are little worth, but only to burn. 

When the Portuguese first discovered it [on 21st May 1502], 
there were not any beasts or fruits at all within the island ; 
but only a great store of freshwater. This is excellently good, 
and falleth down from the mountains, and so runneth, in 
great abundance, into the valley where the Church standeth; 
and from thence, by small channels in the sea, where the 
Portuguese till their vessels full of water, and wash their 
clothes. So that it is a great benefit for them ; and a pleasant 
sight it is to behold, how clear, and in how many streams, the 
water runneth down the valley : which may be thought a 
miracle considering the dryness of the country, together with 
the stony rocks and hills therein. 

The Portuguese have, by little and little, brought many 
beasts into it ; and planted all sorts of fruits in the valleys : 
which have grown there in so great abundance, that it is 
almost incredible. For it is so full of goats, bucks, wild hogs, 
hens, partridges, and doves, by thousands, that any man that 
that will, may hunt and take them. There would be always 



j.ii.v.Li„sci,oten.ji^ IS AN KARTHLY Paradise. 431 

plenty and sufficient, although there came as many ships 
more to the island as there do : and they may kill them with 
stones and staves, by reason of the great numbers of them. 

Now for fruits, as Portuguese figs, pomegranates, oranges, 
lemons, citrons, and such like fruits ; there are so many that 
grow without planting or setting, that all the valleys are full 
of them : which is a great pleasure to behold, so that it 
seemeth to be an earthly Paradise. It hath fruit all the yeav 
long, because it raineth there, by -showers, at the least five or 
six times every day ; and then again, the sun so shineth that 
whatsoever is planted there, it grovveth very well. But, 
because the Portuguese are not over curious of new things, 
there groweth not of all sorts of fruits of Portugal and India in 
that island. For assuredly, without any doubt, they would 
grow well in that land, because cf the good temperature of 
the air. 

Besides this, they have so great abundance of fish round 
about the island, that it seemeth a wonder wrought of GOD ; 
for, with crooked nails, they may take as much fish as they 
will : so that all the ships do provide themselves with fish of 
all sorts in that place, which is hung up and dried ; and is of 
as good a taste and savour as any fish that I ever ate, 
and this every man, that hath been there, affirmeth to be true. 

And the better to serve their turns ; upon the rocks, they 
find salt, which serveth them for their necessary provisions. 

So that, to conclude, it is an earthly Paradise for the 
Portuguese ships ; and seemeth to have been miraculously 
discovered for the refreshing and service of the same : con- 
sidering the smallncss and highness of the land, lying in the 
middle of the Ocean seas, and so far from the firm land or 
any other islands, that it seemeth to be a Buoy placed in the 
middle of the Spanish seas. For if this island were not, it 
\vere impossible for the ships to make any good or prosperous 
voyage. For it hath often fallen out, that some ships which 
have missed thereof, have endured the greatest misery in the 
world; and were forced to put into the coast of Guinea, 
there to stay the falling of the rain, and so to get fresh 
water; and afterwards came, half dead and spoiled, to 
Portugal. 

It is the fashion, that all the sick persons that are in the 
f.hips, and cannot well sail in them, are left there in the 



432 St. IIki.kna, a Portuguese sanatorium. ["-"'/ 



scbolL-n. 



island ; witli some provision of rice, biscuit, oil, and spices: 
fur fish and ilcsh, tiiey may have enough. For when the ships 
arc gone, tiien all the beasts (which, by reason of the great 
number of people, fly into the mountains) come down again 
into the \'alleys ; where they may take them with their hands, 
and kill them as they list. 

These sick men stay there till the next year, till other 
sliips come hither, which take them with them. They are 
commonly soon healed in that island, it being a very sound 
and pleasant country : and it is very seldom seen that any of 
them die there, because they have always a temperate air and 
cool wind, and always fruit throughout the whole \ear. 

The King \\\[\ not suffer any man to dwell in it, because 
they should not destroj' and spoil the countr\-, and hold it as 
their own : but will have it common for every man to take 
what he hath need of. 

In time past, there dwelt an hermit in the isle, under pre- 
tence of doing penance, and to uphold the Church. He 
killed many of the goats and bucks : so that, every year, he 
sold at the least 500 or 600 skins, and made great profit 
thereon ; which the King hearing, caused him presentl}' to be 
brought from thence to Portugal. 

Likewise, upon a time, two Kaffirs or black people of 
Mozambique, and a Javanese, with two women slaves, stole 
out of the ships ; and hid themselves in the rocks of this 
island, which are very high and wild, whereby men can 
hardly pass them. They lived there together, and begat 
children, so that, in the end, there were, at the least, twenty 
persons : who, \\hen the ships were gone, ran throughout the 
island, and did much hurt ; making their houses and dwell- 
ing-places between some of the hills where not any of the 
Portuguese had been, nor yet could easily come at them, and 
therein they hid themselves till the ships were gone. But, in 
the end, they weie percei\-ed, and the Portuguese used all 
the means they could to take them : but they knew so well 
how to hide and defend themselves that, in many jxars, they 
could not be taken. In the end, fearing that in time they 
might be hurtful unto them and hinder them much ; by 
express commandment of the King, after long and great 
labour, they took them all, and brought them prisoners tc 
Portugal. 



J. ii.v.Li„sch,ten.-j The Carracks LEAVE St. 1Iel::xa. 433 

So that, at this present, no man dwelleth therein ; but 
only the sick men, as I told you before. 

When the ships come thither, every man maketh his 
lodging under a tree, setting a tent about it ; and the trees 
are there so thick, that it presently seemeth a little town or 
an army in the field. Every man provideth for himself, flesh, 
fish, fruit, and wood ; for there is enough for them all : and 
every one washeth linen. 

There, they hold a General Fasting and Prayer, with Mass 
every day: which is done with great devotion, with proces- 
sion, and thanksgiving, and other hymns ; thanking GOD, 
that He hath preserved them from the danger of the Cape of 
Good Hope, and brought them to that ibland in safety. 

They use oftentimes to carve their names and marks in 
trees and plants, for a perpetual memory : whereof many 
hundreds are there to be found ; which letters, with the 
growing of the trees, do also grow bigger and bigger. 

We found names that had been there since the years 1510 
and 1515, and every year following, orderly; which names 
stood upon fig trees, every letter being of the bigness of a 
span, by reason of the age and growing of the trees. 

This shall suffice for the description of the island of St. 
Helena. 

The cist of May [iV.S.],being Saint Helena's Dayand Whit- 
sunday, after we had taken in all our fresh water and other 
necessaries, we set sail altogether in companj', and directed 
our course towards Portugal : leaving about fifteen .'jick men 
in the island, and some slaves that ran out of the ships. 

The 26th of Ma}', in the evening, we spoke with the Santa 
Maria, and the next day [zyth of May] with the Galleon of 
Malacca. The same morning, and in the afternoon, with 
the Admiral ; who willed us to follow him unto the Island of 
Ascension, 

The same day, [zyth] one of our slaves fell overboard, and 
although we used all the means we could to save him; yet 
Vv'e could not do it, by reason we saih-d before the wind. 

The same day, at night, we saw the island of Ascension ; 
and lavered [tacked] all that night, because we would not pass 
the island. 

£.\u. G.IK. 111. 28 



434 The ships pass close ly Ascension, p"- 



, Linsclioten. 



In the morning of the sStli of May, we sailed ahout the 
island, to see if there were any ground to anchor on : because 
the Admiral was so leaky, that she could no longer hold out. 
Ilcr men had desired the Officers of the ship that they would 
lay the goods on land in the island of Ascension, and there 
leave it with good watch and necessaries for them that kept 
it; and so sail with the empty ship to Portugal and there 
procure some other ship to fetch the goods : thinking it was 
sufficient to have it well watched and kept there ; for that 
there cometh not a ship in twenty years into that island, be- 
cause there is nothing to be had in it. 

We went close unto it, by a very white and fair sand, 
where the Admiral and all the ships cast out the lead, and 
found from So to 50 and 40 fathoms of water. And although 
they might have gone closer to the land, j'et the Officers 
excused themselves, saying, " That they could not go nearer, 
and that it was too deep, and very dangerous for them to 
anchor there," which thej' said to pacify the men ; desiring 
that they might borrow two pumps more of the other ships, 
and so, without doubt, they could bring the ship safe to 
Portugal. And although it would be great pain and labour 
for them to do it, yet they must, of force, content themselves : 
for the Admiral and all the gentlemen that were in the ship, 
pumped both day and night, as their turns came about, as 
well as the meanest ; only to encourage the people. 

They borrowed one pump of the Santa Maria ; and sent to 
desire us to lend them another. Although our ship was none 
of the best among the fleet, and we were of opinion not to lend 
them any (not knowing what need we should have ourselves, 
having so long a way to sail) : yet, in the end, seeing the 
great necessity they were in ; we lent them one : the rather 
because they said that " The admiral's meaning was, if it 
were calm weather, to discharge some of their wares into 
other ships; thereby to lighten themselves": but it fell not 
out as they thought; so that, with great misery and labour, 
they overcame their voyage. 

This island lieth in &° 30' S. There is not any fresh water 
in it, nor one green leaf or branch. It hath certain fair and 
white sands about it ; and a great store of fish, wherein it 
surpasseth St. Helena. 

From that island, the ships hold their course north-west- 



J. H. v.Linschotcn.-j^j^,jj SAIL THROUGH THE Sargasso Sea. 435 

by-west, to 1° N., where there lieth a chff [rock] called Pcnedo 
de Sam Pedro [or St. Paid rocks] ; which many times they see. 
It is 300 miles from the island of Ascension. 

The 5th of June, we again passed the Equinoctial line, and 
then again began to see the North Star. 

The 8th of June, being 4° N., we lost our General South- 
east Wind, that had served us from the Cape of Good Hope 
hither. 

Then began the rains and calms, for then we began to come 
near the coast of Guinea ; which continueth to 9° N. These 
calms and rains held us till 11° N., being the 20th of June. 

Theshipsseparatedthemselves, by reason of the calms, which 
made them not able to stir : and in 11° N., they met again. 

There we had a north-east wind, which is called a General 
Wind, because it fioweth continually in those countries; and 
holdeth to 30° N., and 32° N.; beginning many times at 6° 
N., and 7° N., be it we had it not, till we were in 11° N. This 
wind is somewhat scant; for we must, of force, sail in the 
wind, because our chief course is north-west-by-north. 

The 23rd of June, we passed Cape de Verde, in 15° N. 

The 26th of the same month, we passed the Islands of Cape 
de Verde, which are ten in number. 

Then we entered into the Sars;asso Sea, which is all covered 
with herbs, so that it seemeth to be like a green field ; and 
so .thick that a man cannot see the water, neither can the 
ships passed through it, but with great labour, unless they 
have a strong wind. The herb is like samphire, of a yellow 
colour; and hath berries like gooseberries, but nothing in 
them. The Portuguese call it Sargasso, because it is like the 
herb Sargasso, that groweth in their wells in Portugal. It is 
not known whence it cometh : for there is no land nor island 
known to be near that sea, but the coast of Africa, which is 
.joo miles from thence. It is thought that it cometh from 
the ground ; and yet there is no ground in that place to be 
found. 

In sailing to India, the ships come not into that sea ; for 
then tf.ty keep closer to the shore, so that it is not once seen : 
and it is not found in any place but there, from 20° N. to 
34° N., so thick and so full, as if they were whole islands, 
most strange to behold. In that country, it is as cold in 
winter as it is here with us lin Holland], when it freezes not; 



436 Sight the Azores, & meet Exci.isii ships, [^-'"f^" 



hotcn. 

i9i- 



\\l)ich the Portuguese esteem a great cold ; and clothe them- 
selves against it, as we do in a mighty gicat frost. 

The 2iid of July, we were in the l-.cight \latitiidc] of the 
Canary Islands, in 28° N. and 29° N. ; which lay on our 
right hand. 

The Gth of July, we v/ere under 32° N., where we lost l';e 
General North-east Wind, and had a calm, and saw nuicii of 
the Sargasso, which covered all the sea. 

The loth of the same month, we got again before the wind, 
being in 34° N. ; and then, we saw no more of the Sargasso 
lierb, but a fair clear sea. 

The iSlh of July, we were in 39° N., under which height 
licth the islands cf Corvo and Terccira ; and the river of 
Lisbon: all these days we had many calms. 

The next day, we had a west wind, being a right fore 
wind ; and saw many flying fishes, almost as great as had- 
docks ; that flew four or five fathoms high above the water. 

The 22nd of July [N.S.], the wind continuing, about noon, 
we saw the islands of Flores and Corvo, which lie close to one 
another. From thence, it is 70 miles Eastward, to the island 
of Terceira. 

At that time, we began to have many sick men, that is to 
say, some sick in their eyes, and some in their breasts and 
bellies, by reason of the long voyage, and because their 
victuals began to loose their taste and savour. Many wanted 
meat [i.e., had no animal food\ : whereby divers of them, 
through want, were compelled to seethe rice with salt water. 
So that some of them died ; which, many times, were found 
under the fore deck, that had lain dead two or three days, 
no man knowing it : which was a pitiful sight to behold, 
considering the misery they endured aboard those ships. 

There died in our ship, from India unto that place, of 
slaves and others, to the number of twentj'-four persons. 

The same day, about evening, being by the islands of 
Flores and Corvo, we perceived three ships that made 
towards us, which came from under the land: which put 
us in great fear, for they came close by our admiral, and 
shot divers times at him, and at another ship of our compan\-; 
whereby we perceived them to be Englishmen (for they bare 
an English flag upon their maintop), but none of them 



j.H.v. Lmschoten.j 'j'jj^ English FIGHT THE Santa Cruz. 437 

showed to be about 60 tons in greatness {whih the size of each 
Carrack was about 1,600 ions]. About evening, they followed 
after us : and all night, bore lanterns with candles burning 
in them at their sterns, although the moon shined. 

The same night, we passed hard by the island of Fayal. 
The next day [zyd], being betwixt the island of St. George 
that lay on our right hand, and the small island of Qracioso 
on our left hand ; we espied the three English ships, still 
following us, take counsel together : whereof one sailed 
backwards (thinking that some other ship had come after us 
without company), and, for a small time, was out of sight ; 
but it was not long before it came again to the other two. 

Wherewith they took counsel, and all three came togetlicr 
against our ship, because we lay in the lee of all the ships, 
and had the island of St. George on the one side instead of a 
sconce [buhvark], thinking so to deal with us that, in the 
end, we should be constrained to run upon the shore ; 
whereof we wanted not much. 

In that manner, with their flags openly displayed, they 
came lustily towards us, sounding their trumpets ; and 
sailed at least three times about us, beating [firiiiiy at] us 
\\ith musket and caliver, and some great pieces ; which did 
not hurt us in the body of our ship, but spoiled all our sails 
and ropes. And to conclude, we were so plagued by them 
that no man durst put forth his head ; and when we shot off 
a piece, we had at the least an hour's work to lade it again ; 
whereby we had as great a noise and cry in the ship as if we had 
been cast away : whereat the Englishmen themselves began 
to mock us ; and with a thousand jesting words called unto us. 

In the meantime, the other ships hoisted all tlieir sails, and 
did the best they could to sail to the island of Terceira; not 
looking once behind them to help us, and doubting [fearing] 
they should come too late thither : not caring for us, but 
thinking themselves to have done sufficiently, so they saved 
their own stakes ; whereby it may easily be seen, what 
company they keep one with the other, and what order is 
among them. 

In the end, the Englishmen, perceiving small advantage 
against us (little knowing in what case and fear we were), 
and also because we were not far from Terceira, left us ; 
which made us not a little to rejoice, as thinking ourselves 



43S All A^L•\zI!;D at the news, at Angra, ['-^";'=''° 



lioten. 

594- 



to be risen from death to life : altliough we were not well 
assured, neitlier yet void of fear, till we lay in the road before 
Terceira, and under the safety of the Portuguese fort; and we 
made all the sails we could, that we might get thither in good 
time. 

On the other side, we were in great doubt, because we 
knew not what they did in the island, nor whether they were 
our friends or enemies ; and we doubted so much the more, 
because we found no Men of war, nor any Caravels of Advices 
from Portugal, as we made our accounts to do, than they 
might convoy us from thence, or give us advice as they, 
ordinarily, in that country, use to do: and because the 
Englishmen had been so victorious in those parts, it made 
us suspect that it went not well with Spain. 

They of the island of Terceira were in no less fear than we 
were : for seeing our fleet, they thought us to be English, 
and that we came to overrun the island ; because the three 
Englishmen had bound up their flags, and came in company 
with us. For which cause, the island sent out two Caravels 
that lay there with Advices from the King, for the Indian ships 
that should come thither. Those caravels came to view us, 
and perceiving what we were, made after us ; whereupon 
the English ships left us, and made towards them, as the 
caravels thought them to be friends and shunned them not, 
as supposing them to be of our company: but we shot four 
or five times, and made signs unto them, that tiiey should 
make towards the island; which they presently did. 

The Englishmen perceiving that, did put forwards into the 
sea. So the caravels boarded us, telling us, "That the men 
of the island were all in arms, having received advice from 
Portugal, that Sir Francis Drake was in readiness, and 
ivould come unto those islands." 

They likewise brought us news of the overthrow of tin 
Spanish fleet [the Annada in 15SSJ before England; and that 
the Englishmen had been before the gates of Lisbon [u'ith 
Don Antonio, and under Sir F. Drake and Sir John 
NoRRis, in May 15S9] : whereupon the King gave us com- 
mandment that we should put into the island of Terceira ; 
and there lie under the safety of the Castle until we received 
further advices what we should do, or whither we should sail. 
I'^or they thought it too dangerous for us to go to Lisbon. 



J. II. V. Linsclioten, 
' 1594 



] WHERE THE Carrack fleet anchors. 439 



Tliis news put our fleet in great fear, and made us look 
upon each other, not knowing what to sa}'. It being 
dangerous for the ships to put into the road, because it 
heth open to the sea : so that the Indian ships, aUhougli 
they had express commandment from the King, yet durst 
not anchor there : but used only to lavere [tack] to and fro ; 
sending their boats on land to fetch such necessaries as they 
wanted, without anchoring. 

But being by necessity compelled thereunto, as also by the 
King's commandment ; and because we understood the Earl 
of Cumberland not to be far from those islands with certain 
ships of war [the Earl did not arvive at the Azores, till the 
I lih A iignst, N.S. see p. 370^ : we made necessity a virtue, and 
entering the road, anchored close under the Castle, staying 
for advices and order from the King to perform our voyage ; 
it being then the 24th [N.S., i.e., O.S. i^ih] of July and St. 
James's Day. 

We were in all six ships, that is, five from the East Indies 
and one from Malacca ; and la}' in the road, before the town 
of Angra : from whence we presently sent three or four 
caravels to Portugal, with advices unto the King of our 
arrival. 

There we lay in great danger and much fear ; for when the 
month of August cometh, it is very dangerous lying before 
that island : for then it beginneth to storm. The ships are 
there safe from all winds, saving the south and south-east 
winds ; but when the\' blow, they lie in a thousand dangers : 
especially the East India ships, which are very heavily ladened 
and so ftill that they are almost ready to sink ; so that they 
can hardly be steered. 

The 4th of August, in the night, we had a south wind out 
of the sea, wherewith it began so to storm, that all the ships 
were in great danger to be cast away, and to run upon the 
shore: so that they were in great fear; and shot off their 
pieces to call for help. The officers and most of the sailors 
were on land ; and none but pugs [ ? boys] and slaves in the 
ships : for it is a common custom with the Portuguese, that 
wheresoever they anchor, presently they go all on land, and 
let the ship lie with a boy or two in it. 

All the bells of the town were hereupon rung, and there 



440 Galleon of Malacca sunk at Angra. [-'■ "• "•, 



I/insclioteiu 
'594- 



M-as sucli a noise and cry in every place, that one could not 
hear the other speak. Those that were on land, by reason 
of the foul weather, could not get aboard ; and they in the 
ship could not come to land. Our ship, the Santa Cruz, was 
in great danger, thinking verily it should have run on the 
sands: but GOD helped them. 

The ship that came from Malacca brake her cables ; and 
had not men enough aboard the ship, nor any that could tell 
how to cast forth another anchor; so that, in the end, they 
cut their masts, and drave upon the cliffs, where it stayed 
and brake in pieces, and presently sank under the water to 
the upper orlop. With that, the wind came north-west, 
wherewith the storm ceased ; and the water became calm. 
If that had not been, all the ships had followed the same 
course; for some of them v/ere at the point to cut their 
masts and cables to save their lives: but GOD would not 
have it so. 

In that ship of Malacca, was lost much rich and costly 
merchandise ; for these ships are ordinarily as rich as any 
ships that come from India, being full of all the rich wares 
of China, Moluccas, Japan, and all those countries : so that 
it was a great pity to see what costly things (as silks, 
damasks, cloths of gold and silver, and such like wares) 
fleeted upon the sea, and were torn in pieces. 

There were much goods saved, that lay in the upper part 
of the ship, and also by duckers [divers], as pepper, nutmegs, 
and cloves ; but most of it was lost : and that which was 
saved, was, in a manner, spoiled, and little worth ; which 
was presently, by the King's Officers in the island, was seized 
upon and to the Farmers' uses, shut up in the Alsandcga or 
Custom House, for the King's custom. Not once regarding 
the poor men, nor their long and dangerous voyage that had 
continued the space of three years, with so great misery and 
trouble endured by them at Malacca, as in another place 
\p. 429! I have already showed ; so that they could not obtain 
so much favour of the King nor of his Officers, that they 
might have some part of the goods that were saved and 
brought to land, although they offered to put in sureties for 
so much as the custom might amount to, or else to leave as 
much goods in the Officer's hands as would satisfy them. 

And although they made daily and pitii'ul complaints that 



Linschoten, 



°5'^":] The Carrack Fleet leave the Azores. 441 

they had not vvlierewitli to live ; and that they desired, upon 
their own adventure, to freight certain ships or caravels at 
their own charge, and to put in good sureties to deliver the 
goods in the Custom House of Lisbon ; }-et could they not 
obtain their requests, bat were answered, that " The King, 
for the assurance of his custom and of all the goods; would 
send an arinado by sea to fetch the goods " : which "fetch- 
ing " continued for the space of two years and a half; and 
yet nothing was done, for there came no arinado. 

In the meantime, the poor sailors consumed all they had; 
and desperately cursed themselves, the King, and all his 
Officers. Yet, in the end, by the great and unfoitunatc suit 
of the Farmers of the Pepper, every man had license to lade 
his goods in what ship he would, after it had lain there for 
the space of two years and a half; putting in sureties to 
deliver the goods into the Custom House of Lisbon, where 
they must pay the half or more of the same goods for custom 
to the King: without any respect of their hard fortune and 
great misery, during their long and dangerous voyage. 

And he that will be despatched in the Custom House there, 
must fee the Officers ; otherwise it is most commonly three 
or four months before the goods are delivered unto the owners: 
and the best things, or any line device that the Merchants, 
for their own uses, bring out of India, if the Officers like 
them, they must have them ; jet they ^vill promise to pay for 
them, but they set no day when. So the poor Merchants are 
forced to give them the rest ; and are well contented that the 
Officers are so pleased, and use no more delays. 

The 8th of August [N.S.], the Officers of the ships took 
counsel together, with the Governor of the island, what they 
Vvere best to do ; thinking it not good to follow the Kirg's 
advice ; considering their long staying, and fearing some other 
hard fortune, if they should stay. 

And because a great Galleon, being a Man of war and very 
strong, lay then before the island, wherein was the Governor 
of Brazil ; which through foul weather, had put in there ; 
they concluded that this Galleon, being well appointed, should 
sail with them to Lisbon. And although they did it, without 
the advice and commandment of the King ; yet they had 
rather so adventure their lives upon the seas, than again to 



^42 LlNSCIIOTEX STAYS 2^ YEARS AT AnGRA. [J- "• ^j' 



TJnschotMl. 
■S'y-t- 



stay tlie danger of the haven. For tliat the winter did daily 
more and more increase ; so that they w ere not to loot; for 
any better weatlier. 

And, in that sort, appointing tiiemselves as well as they 
could, and taking in all necessary provisions, the same day 
lioih July, O.S., they all set sail, with no small fear of falling 
into some misfortune by the way. 

But, because many that were of the ship of Malacca, 
stayed at Terceira to save such goods as, by any means, 
might be saved ; and by that means to help themselves : 
amongthe which was the Factor of the Pepper, being one of my 
acquaintance. At whose request, as also because the pepper 
of that ship, and cf all the other ships belonged all to one 
I'armer, by whom I was appointed Factor; seeing the neces- 
sity he had, and that he alone could hardly despatch so great 
a matter: I took order for mine own affairs [charge^,, and, 
having despatched it by other ships; I stayed there to help 
him, till we had further advice and orders from the Farmers 
of the pepper and other spices and wares. Of the which 
goods, we saved a great quantity by means of duckers [divcra] 
and instruments that we used : having advices from the 
Farmers and the King, that it should not be long before they 
sent for us, willing us to stay there and to look unto the 
goods. 

This staying and fetching us away, continued, as I said 
before, for the space of two years and a half; whereby you 
may consider the good order and policy of the Admiralty of 
Portugal, and with what diligence and care they seek for the 
common profit of the land, and the poor Merchants of the 
country : whom they ought to favour and help as much as 
they possibly may ; but they do clean contrary, as those 
which deal in Portugal do well iind. 

The [yd O. S.' 1 5th iN. S.] of August, t!:e ships came 
back again to the island of Terceira, because they had a 
contrary wind, as also for want of fresh water : but they 
anchored not. 

The day before [i.e., 2nd of August, 0. S., sec p. 370^, the 
Earl of Cumberland, with six or seven ships of war, sailed 
by the island of Terceira ; and to their good fortune, passed 
out of sight : so that they despatched themselves in all haste; 



Linschotci 
f 1594 



":] Sir F. Drake just misses these Carracks. 443 



and, for the more security, took with them 400 Spaniards of 
those that lay in the garrison in the island. 

With them, they sailed towards Lisbon, having a good 
wind ; so that within an eleven days after, they arrived in 
the river of Lisbon, with great gladness and triumph. For 
if they had stayed but one day longer before they had entered 
the river, they had all been taken by Sir Francis Drake ; 
who, with forty ships came before Cascaes, at the same time 
that the Indian ships cast anchor in the river of Lisbon ; 
being guarded thither by divers galleys. 

Now, by the discourse of this long and perilous voyage 
[which as regards the Santa Cruz, ihc quickest of the Jive Carracks, 
lasted from 20th January to the 2^tli A iigust 1589 N.S., 217 days; 
against the smoother voyage outward, in 1583, of ihc San Sal- 
vador, in 166 days, seep. 30], you may sufficiently perceive how 
that only, by the gi'ace and special favour of GOD, the Indian 
ships do perform their vo}-ages ; jet with great misery, pain, 
labour, loss, and hindrance; whereby man may likewise con- 
sider the manner of their navigation, ordinances, customs, 
and governments of their ships. So that in comparison of 
many other voyages, this present voyage may be esteemed a 
happy and prosperous one. For oftentimes it chanceth that 
but one or two, of the five that yearly sail to India come safe 
home ; as of late it halh been seen : some being taken, and 
some lost altogether by their own follies and bad order. 






The Azores. 

|Hey are called Azores, that is to say, " Spar-hawks," 
or " Hawks," because that, in their first discovery, 
thev found many Sparhawks in them, whereof they 
hold the name : although at this day, there are not 
any to be found. They are also called the Flemish Islands, i.e., 
of the Netherlanders : because the first that inhabited the 
same were Netherlanders; whereof, till this time, there is a 
great number of their offspring remaining, that, in manner 
and behaviour, are altogether like Netherlanders. 

The principal island of them all, is that of Terccira, called 
Insula dc Jesus Christ de Terccira. It is between fifteen or 



4^4 The watch pillars l\ Tl-rceiua. [J"v.ku 



schoten, 
■594- 



sixteen miles in compass ; and is altogetlier a p;reat cliff of 
land, whereby there is little room in it. For it is, as it were, 
walled round about with cliffs ; but where any stran.l or sand 
is, there standeth a fort. It hath no ha\'ens, nor entrance of 
waters, for the security and safety of the ships ; except that 
before thechief town, called Angra: whereit halh anopenhaven 
which, in form, is like a Half Moon, by the Portuguese called 
Ang7-a; whereof the town hath its name. It hath on tlie 
one side, in the manner of an elbow sticking forth, two liigli 
hills, called Bresil, wh.ich stretch into the sea; so that, afar 
off, they seem to be divided from the island. These hills are 
very high; so that a man, being upon them, in clear weather, 
may see at the least ten, twelve, and sometimes fifteen miles 
into the sea. 

Upon these hills, there stand two small stone pillars, 
where th.ere is a sentinel placed, that continually watcheth 
to see what ships are at sea; and so to advertise those of the 
island. 

For as many ships as he seeth coming out of the West, 
that is, from the Spanish Indies [Central America and the 
West Indies] or Brazil, Cape de Verde, Guinea, and the Portu- 
guese Indies, and all other ways lying south or west ; for 
every ship, he setteth a ilag upon the pillar in the west. 
And when the ships, which he descrieth, are more than five, 
then he setteth up a great Ancient [otsii^n] ; betokening a 
great fleet of ships. 

The like he doth upon the other pillar, which standeth in 
the Fast, for such ships as come from Portugal or other 
]laces out of the east or north parts. 

These pillars may be easily seen in all places of the town, 
by reason of the highness of the hills ; so that there is not 
one ship or sail that is at sea that maketh towards the island, 
but it is presently [at once] known throughout all the town, and 
over all the island. For the watch is not holden only upon 
those two hills jutting into the sea, but also upon all corners, 
hills, and cliffs throughout the island ; and as soon as they 
perceive any ships, the Governer and rulers are presently 
advertised thereof, that they may take such order therein, as 
need requireth. 

Upon the furthest corner in the sea stands a fort, right 
against another fort that answereth it ; so that thoiC two 



J. H.v.I.inschot^en.-j Ljj^,g(,jjQ^j.j^ RIDES ABOUT TeRCEIRA. 445 

forts do shut and defend the mouth or open haven of the 
town ; and no ship can neither go in or come forth without 
the licence of two forts [sec p. 380]. 

This town of Angra is not only the chief town of Terceira, 
but also of all towns within the islands thereabouts. Therein 
are resident, the Bishop, the Governor for the King, and 
the chief place of judgement or tribunal seat of all the islands 
of the Azores. 

All the islands of the Azores are inhabited by the Portu- 
guese ; but since the troubles in Portugal [i.e., since 1577, 
when Philip II. acceded to the Portuguese throne], there have 
been divers Spanish soldiers sent thither, and a Spanish 
Governor, that keep all the forts and castles in their pos- 
session : although the Portuguese are put to no charges, nor 
yet hardly used by them. For the soldiers are rather kept 
short, so that no one dareth to go out of the town without a 
licence : and therefore men may quietly travel throughout 
the island, both day and night, without any trouble. 

Likewise, the islanders will not suffer any stranger to 
travel to see the country : and this order was not brought up 
by the Spaniards, hut by the Portuguese themselves before 
their troubles. For they would not permit it. And what is 
more, all strangers that came thither, were usually appointed 
a certain street, wherein they should sell their wares ; and 
they might not go out of that street. Now, it is not so straitly 
looked unto, but they may go in all places of the town, and 
within the island : but not about it, to view the coast. 
Which, notwithstanding, was granted to us by the Governor 
himself, who lent us his horses to ride about; and gave us 
leave to see all the forts : which, at this time, is not per- 
mitted to the natural born islanders ; neither are they so 
much credited. 

We rode about the island twice, which he granted us leave 
to do, by means of a certain particular friendship we had with 
him : neither could the Portuguese hinder us therein, be- 
cause we were in the Iving's service, as " Factors for the 
King's Pepper," and because tliey held and accounted us as 
natural born Portuguese. For the Governor would willingly 
have had me to have drawn a plot [map] of the whole island, 
that he might have sent it to the King : wherein I excused 
myself; yet I made him one of the town, with the haven, 



44^ Lord Cumberland's VISIT TO THE Azores. ['-'",' 



nschotcn. 



coming in, and forts of Angra, which he sent to the King: 
for which the Governor was greatly affected unto me, and 
showed me much friendship. We had, in our lolging, a 
Frencli merchant, and a Scot, who willingly would have 
gone with us, to see the island ; but could not be suffered: 
for the Portuguese think they would take the proportion 
thereof, and so seek to defeat [ivrcst] them of their right. 

Such as are not merchants or workmen in the wood of 
the islands, wait for the fleets that come and go, to and from 
the Spanish and Portuguese Indies, Brazil, Cape de Verde, 
and Guinea, which do commonly come to Terceira to refresh 
themselves, as situated very fitly for that purpose. So that 
all the inhabitants do thereby richly maintain themselves, and 
sell all their wares, as well handiworks as victuals, to those 
ships : and all the islands roundabout do come to Terceira 
with their wares to sell them there. For the which cause, 
the Englishmen and otlier strangers keep continually about 
those islands ; being assured that all ships, for want of re- 
freshing, must of force, put into those islands : although, at 
this time [i.e., 1594!, many ships do avoid those islands, to the 
great discommodity both of the islands and the ships. 

While I remained in Terceira, the Earl of Cumberland 
came to Santa Maria (where there are no Spaniards, because 
it is a stout country like Terceira, and hard to board [laud on ; 
whereby the inhabitants themselves are sufficient and able to 
defend it), to take in fresh water and some other victuals 
[see p. 3S2] ; but the inhabitants would not suffer him to have 
it, and wounded divers of his men: whereby they were forced 
to depart, without having anything there. 

About seven or eight miles north-north-west from Terceira, 
lieth the little island called Graciosa, which is but five and 
six miles in compass. A very pleasant, fine island, full of 
fruits and all other victuals ; so that it not only feedelh itself, 
but also Terceira and the other islands about it ; and hath no 
other kind of merchandise. It is well built, and inhabited by 
Portuguese ; and hath no soldiers in it because it is not able 
to bear the charge. 

The Earl of Cumberland, while I lay in Terceira, came 
unto that island [sec p. 37S] ; where he in person, with seven 
or eight in his company, went on land ; asking for certain 
beasts, hens, and other victuals, with wine and I'resh water: 



J. H.v.Linsci,oien.-| Fayal GARRISONED WITH Spaniards. 447 

which they willingly gave him : and therewith he departed 
from thence, without doing them any hurt. For the which 
the inhabitants thanked him ; and commended him for his 
courtesy, and keeping of his promise. 

Fayal aboundeth in all sorts of victuals and fish ; so that 
from this island, the most part of the victuals and neces- 
saries come, by whole caravels, to Terceira. It hath likewise 
much woad, so that many English ships do traffic thither. 
The principal road and place, is the town of Villa Dorta. 
There the ships do likewise lie on the open sea under the 
land, as they do before all the other islands. By this town, 
there lieth a fortress, but it is of small importance. 

And because the inhabitants, of themseh'es, did offer to 
defend the island against all enemies ; the soldiers, which 
before that time lay in the fort, were discharged from thence: 
the islanders complaining that they were not able to main- 
tain, nor lodge them. 

The same time that the Earl of Cumberland was in the 
island of Graciosa, he came likewise to Fayal [sccp.^y;^' , where, 
at the first time, that he came, they began to resist him ; but, 
by reason of some controversy between them, they let him 
land : where he razed the castle to the ground, and sank all 
their ordnance in the sea; taking with him, certain caravels 
and ships that lay in the road, with provisions of all things 
that he wanted, and therewith departed again to sea. 

Whereupon, the King caused the principal actors therein 
to be punished ; and sent out a company of [Spanish] 
soldiers ; which went out of Terceira, with all kind of warlike 
munition and great shot : who made up the fortress again, 
the better to defend the island, trusting no more to the 
Portuguese. 

In that island, are the most part of the Netherlanders' 
offspring ; yet they use the Portuguese language, by reason 
they have been so long conversant among them ; and those 
that used the Dutch tongue are all dead. They are great 
affected [voy kind' to the Netherlanders and strangers. 

Between Corvo and Flores [jo miles west of Terecira], and 
round about them, the Englishmen do commonly stay, to 
watch the ships that come out of the West : for those are 
the first islands that the ships look out for and descry, when 
they sail into Terceira. 



44S TiiK Si'AMbii W. I. Fllkt at Angra. [■'•"•^- 



Linsclio'en. 
r 1594- 




Of certain jiotahle and ine7no7^ahle incidents 
that happe?icd during Linschoten's con- 
tinuance if I Terceir affront October 
1589, to July 1592. 

1589. 

He 2nd of October, aimo 1589 [lY-.^.T, at the town of 
\'illa da Prrya in tlie island of Tticeira, two men 
being in a field hard without the town, were killed 
with lightning. 

The gth of the same month, there arrived in Terceira \0.S., 
sec p. 379] fourteen ships that came from the Spanish Indies, 
laden with cochineal, hides, gold, silver, pearls, and other 
rich wares. There were fifty in company when they de- 
parted out of Havanna : whereof, in their coming out of the 
Channel, ele\en sank in the Channel by foul weather ; and 
the rest, by a storm, were scattered and separated one from 
the other. 

The next day [loth^, there came another ship of the same 
compan}-, that sailed close under the island so to get into the 
road : where she met with an ICnglish ship that Jiad not 
above three cast pieces ; and the Spaniard had twelve. They 
fought a longtime together; which we, being in the island, 
might stand and behold. Whereupon the Governor of 
Terceira sent two boats of musketeers to help the ship : but 
before they could come to her, the English ship had shot her 
underwater; and we saw her sink into the sea, with all her 
sails up, so that not anything was seen of her above the 
water. 

The Englishmen, with their boat, saved the Captain and 
about thirty others with him ; but not one pennyworth of 
the goods : and yet in the ship, there was, at the least, to 
the value of 200,000 ducats [=^abuut ;ir55,ooo then = about 
^^330, 000 nuK'] in gold, silver, and pearls. The rest of the 
men were drowned, which might be about fifty persons ; 



J.n.v.LmscScten.J -^^^ MILLION'S 01- GoLD AND SiLYER. 449 

amon;:,' the which were some friars and women, which the 
Enj^hsh would not save. Those that they did save, they set 
on land ; and then thev sailed awaj'. 

The [17th O.S.] 27th [N.S.] of the same month, the said 
fourteen ships, having refreshed themselves in the island, 
departed from Terceira towards Seville ; and coming upon 
the coast of Spain, they were taken by the English ships 
that lay there to watch for them, two only excepted, which 
escaped away. The rest were wholly carried into England. 

About the same time, the Earl of Cumberland, with one 
of the Queen's ships, and five or six more, kept about those 
islands : and oftentimes came so close under the island and 
to the road of Angra, that the people on land might easily tell 
all his men that he had aboard, and knew such as walked on 
the hatches ; they of the island not once shooting at them, 
although they might easily have done it, for they were within 
musket shot both of the town and fort. 

In these places, he continued for the space of two months 
[oy rather, from nth August to 10th November N.S.], sailed 
round about the islands, and landed in Graciosa and Fayal, 
as in the descriptions of those islands 'pp. 446, 447] I have 
already declared. Here he took divers ships and caravels, 
which he sent into England : so that those of the island 
durst not once put forth their heads. 

At the same time, about three or four days after the Earl 
of CuMDERLAND had been in the island of Fayal, and was 
departed thence [which was on the 16th O.S., or 26th, N.S., 
September, 1589, />. 376I, there arrived there six [West] Indian 
ships, whose General was one Juan Dorives, and there 
they discharged on that island 40,000,000 [ducats = about 
;f 10,000,000 {ten millions sterlinf;) then = about £60,000,000 
(sixty millions sterling) now] of gold and silver. 

Plaving, with all speed, refreshed their ships ; fearing the 
coming of the Englishmen, they set sail, and arrived safely 
in San Lucarde Barrameda, not meeting with the enemy ; to 
the great good luck of the Spaniards, and hard fortune of 
the Englishmen. For that, within less than two days after 
the gold and silver were laden again into the Spanish ships, 
the Earl of Cumderland sailed again by that island [vi~.,on 
2yd September, O.S., or yd October, N.S., 15S9, p. 376]. So 
that it appeared that GOD would not let them have it : for 

EKc. Car. III. 29 



450 A Million and a half sterling, more-^- "■ "•,'■'" 



ischotert, 
1574- 



if tliey had once had sif,'lit thereof, without douht it had been 
theirs ; as the Spaniards themselves confessed. 

In the month of November, there arrived in Terceira, two 
ships, whicli were the admiral and vice-admiral of the fleet, 
ladened with silver ; who, with stormy weather, were sepa- 
rated from the fleet, and had been in great torment and 
distress, and ready to sink. For they were forced to use all 
their pumps, so that they wished, a thousand times, to have 
met with the Englishmen : to whom they would willingly 
have given their silver and all that ever they brought with 
them ; only to save their lives. Although the Earl of Cum- 
berland lay still about those islands : yet they met not with 
him : so that, after much pain and labour, they got into the 
road before Angra : where, with all speed, thty unladed and 
discharged above 5,000,000 of silver [i.e., io the value oj 
5,000,000 {five millions) of ducats = about £1,500,000 {a 
viillion and a half sterling) then = about £9,000,000 (nine 
inillio7is sterling) now] ; all in pieces of 8 lbs. to 10 lbs. weight. 
So that the whole quay lay covered with plates, and chests of 
silver full of Rials of Eight, most wonderful to behold. Each 
million being ten hundred thousand ducats ; besides gold, 
pearls, and other precious stones, which were not registered. 

The Admiral and Chief Commander of those ships and 
that fleet, called Alvaro Flores de Quiniones, was sick of a 
disease (whereof, not long, after he died in Seville) was brought 
to land. 

He brought with hirn the King's broad seal, and full 
authority to be General and Chief Commander upon the 
seas, and of all fleets and ships, and of all places, islands, or 
land wheresoever he came to. Whereupon, the Governor of 
Terceira did him great honour. 

Between them, it was concluded that, perceiving tlie wcr.k- 
ness of their ships, and the danger through the Englishmen, 
they would send the ships empty, with soldiers to convey 
them, either to Seville or Lisbon, whichever they could iirst 
arrive at, with advice to His Majesty of all that had passed; 
and that he would give order to fetch the silver with a good 
and safe convoy. Whereupon, the said Alvaro Flores 
stayed there, under colour of keeping the silver; but specially 
because of his disease, and that they were afraid of the 
Englishmen. This Alvaro Flores had alone, for his own 



J. H.v.Linsclioten.-j DaRTNG ESCAPE OF EnGLISII SAILORS. 45 I 

part, above 50,000 ducats [= about ^^13,000 then = about 
;£"ioo,ooo noiz'] in pearls : which he shewed unto us, and 
sought to sell them ; or barter them witli us, lor spices or 
bills of exchange. 

The said two ships set sail, with 300 or 400 men, as well 
soldiers as others, that came with them out of [the Westl 
India: and being at sea, had a storm, wherewith the admiral 
burst asunder, and sank in the sea; not one man saved. 
The vice-admiral cut down her mast, and ran the ship on 
ground hard by Setubal, where it burst in pieces : and some 
of the men, saving themselves by swimming, brouglit the 
news ; the rest were drowned. 

In the same month [November 1589], there came two 
great ships out of the Spanish Indies, that, within half a mile 
of the road of Terceira, met with an English ship; which, 
after they had fought long together, took them both. 

[The following history of the English ship and her crew is very extraordinary.] 

About seven or eight months before [i.e., about April 1589], 
there had been an English ship in Terceira, that, under the 
name of a Frenchman, came to traffic in the island, there to 
lade wood : and being discovered, both ship [p. 454] and goods 
were confiscated to the King's use ; and all the men kept 
prisoners. Yet went they up and down the streets to get their 
living, by labouring like slaves ; being indeed as safe in that 
island, as if they had been in prison. 

But, in the end, upon a Sunday [315^ of August, O.S., sec 
p. 272 ; loih September, N.S.], all the sailors went down 
behind the hills, called Bresil, where they found a fisher- 
boat ; whereinto they got, and rowed into [out to] the 
sea, to the Earl of Cumberland's ship, which, to their 
great fortune, chanced, at that time, to come by the 
island [see p. 372] ; and who had anchored, with his ships, 
about half a mile from the road of Angra, hard by two small 
islands, which lie about a base's shot from the island, and 
are full of goats, bucks, and sheep, belonging to the inhabi- 
tants of Terceira. Those sailors knew it well, and thereupon 
they rowed unto them with their boats ; and lying at anchor, 
that day, they fetched as many goats and sheep as they had 
need of: which those of tlie town and island saw well, yet 
durst not once go forth. 

So there remained no more on land, but the Master, and 



452 The two Exglisii buotiikrsin-law. [•'■"•'■•.,' 



I.inscliotcn. 
'S94- 



the Merchant [Supcrcar^^o] of the said English ship. This 
Master had a brolher-in-huv dwelling in England ; who, hav- 
ing news of his brother's imprisonment in Terceira, got licence 
of the Queen of England to set forth a ship : therewith to see 
if he could recover his losses of the Spaniards, by taking some 
of them; and so to redeem his brother, that lay prisoner in 
Terceira. And he it was, that took the [above] two Spanish 
ships before the town [in November 1589] ; the Master of the 
aforesaid ship, standing on the shore by me, and looking upon 
them ; for he was my great acquaintance. 

The ships being taken, that were worth 300,000 ducats 
[=^80,000 thcn = £^io,ooo now] ; he sent all the men on land, 
saving only two of the principal gentlemen whom he kept 
aboard, thereby to ransom his brother : and sent the [Spanish] 
Pilot of one of the [two West] Indian ships that were taken, 
with a letter to the Governor of Terceira, wherein he wrote 
that " He should deliver him his brother, and he would send 
the two gentlemen on land. If not, he would sail with them 
into England." As indeed he did : because the Governor 
would not do it ; saying that " The gentlemen might make 
that suit to the King of Spain himself." 

This Spanish Pilot, and the English Master likewise, we 
bade to supper with us : where the Pilot shewed us all the 
manner of their fight ; much commending the order and 
manner of the Englishmen's fighting, as also for their 
courteous using of him. 

But, in the end, the English Master likewise stole away in 
a French ship, without paying any ransom as yet [i.e., up to 
July 1592]. 

1590. 

In the month of January 1590, there arrived one ship 
alone [by itself] in Terceira, that came from the Spanish 
Indies ; and brought the news that there was a fleet of a hun- 
dred ships, which put out from the Firm Land [the Spanish 
hi ain, or Central America] oiihe. Spanish Indies: and by a 
storm, were driven upon the coast, called Florida ; where they 
were all cast away, she having only escaped. Wherein there 
Were great riches, and many men lost ; as may well be thought. 

So that they made their account, that of 220 ships that, 
for certain, were known to have put out of New Spain [Mexico] 



Linschoten.j Pqul ATROCITY OF A Spanish Officer. 453 

Santo Domingo, Havana, Cape de Verde, Brazil, Guinea, &c., 
in the year 15S9, to sail for Spain and Portugal : there were 
not above 14 or 15 of them, that arrived there in safety. All 
the rest, were either drowned, burst [foundered], or taken. 

In the same month of January, there arrived in Terceira, 
15 or 16 ships that came from Seville; which were mostly 
Fly-boats of the Low Countries, and some Breton ships, 
that were arrested in Spain. These came full of soldiers and 
well appointed with munition, by the King's commandment, 
to lade the silver that lay in Terceira ; and to fetch Alvaro 
DE Flores to Spain. 

And because, at that time of the year, there are always 
storms about those islands, therefore they durst not enter into 
the road of Terceira. For as then it blew so great a storm, 
that some of their ships that had anchored, were forced 
to cut down their masts, and were in danger of being lost : 
and among the rest, a ship of Biscay ran against the land, and 
was stricken in pieces ; but all the men saved themselves. 

The other ships were forced to keep the sea, and separated 
themselves the one from the other, where wind and weather 
would drive them, until the 15th of March [1590]. For that, 
in all that time, they could not have one day of fair weather 
to anchor in : whereby they endured much misery ; cursing 
both tlie silver and the island. 

This storm being passed ; they chanced to meet with a 
small English ship, of about 40 tons in bigness, which, by 
reason of the great wind, could not bear all her sails; so they 
set upon her and took her: and with the English flag in their 
admiral's [flag ship's] stern, they came as proudly into the 
haven, as if they had conquered all the realm of England. 
But as the admiral, that bare the English flag upon her stern, 
was entering into the road ; there came, by chance, two English 
ships by the island that paid her so well for her pains, that 
they were forced to cry Miscricordia ! and without all doubt, 
had taken her, if she had been a mile further in the [out at] 
sea. But because she got under the fortress, which also 
began to shoot at the Englishmen, they were forced to leave 
her, and to put further into the sea; having slain five or six 
of the Spaniards. 

The Englishmen that were taken in the small ship, were 
put under hatches, and coupled in bolts. After they had 



454 Spanish Court's dishonourable C0NDucT.['-'f"^''°5^'J: 

been prisoners three or four days [i.e., about iS/A of March 
1590 A'.5.j, tliere was a Spanish Ensign-bearer in tiic ship. 
that liad a brother slain in tiie ileet that came for England Jlic 
Aniiada of 158SI, who (then minding to revenge his death, 
and witiial to shew his manhood to the English captives that 
W'Cre in the English ship, which they had taken as is afore- 
said) took a poinard in his hand, and went down under the 
hatches ; where, finding the poor I'2nglishmen sitting in bolts ; 
with the same poinard he stabbed six of them to the heart : 
which two others of them perceiving, clasped each other 
about the middle because they would not be murdered by him, 
and threw themselves into the sea, and there were drowned. 

This act was much disliked and very ill taken of all the 
Spaniards; so they carried the Spaniard a prisoner unto 
Lisbon : where, being arrived, the King of Spain willed that 
he should be sent to England, that the Queen of England 
might use him as she thought good ; which sentence, his 
friends got reversed. Notwithstanding he commanded that 
he should, without all favour, be beheaded : but upon a 
Good Friday [? in 1590 or 1591], the Cardinal going to Mass; 
all the Captains and Commanders made so great entreaty 
for him, that, in the end, they got his pardon. 

This I thought good to note, that men may understand the 
blood}- and dishonest minds of the Spaniards, when they h.ave 
men under their subjection. 

The same two English ships which followed the Spanish 
Admiral till he had got under the fort of Terceira, as I said 
before, put into the [out to] sea; where they met with 
another Spanish ship, being of the same fleet, that had like- 
wise been scattered by the storm, and was [the^ onlj' [one] 
missing, for the rest lay in the road. 

This small ship the Englishmen took, and sent all the men 
on shore, not hurting any of them; but if they had known 
what had been done unto the aforesaid English captives, I 
believe they w^ould soon have revenged themselves: as, after- 
wards, manj- innocent soul paid for it. 

This ship, thus taken by the Englishmen, was the same 
that was kept and confiscated in the island of Terceira ; the 
Englishmen of which got out of the island in a fisher-boat, 
as I said before [p. 451 1; and was sold to the Spaniards that 
then came from the [West] Indies [/>. 449] ; where\\ith they 



j.H. v.Lin5choten.-j Ej^tqlisii BECOME Lords of the Sea. 455 

sailed to San Lucar de Barrameda : where it was also 
arrested by the Duke, and appointed to go in the company 
to fetch the silver in Terceira, because it was the ship 
that sailed well ; but among the Spaniards' fleet, it was 
the meanest of the company. By this means, it was taken 
from the Spaniards and carried into England ; and the owners 
had it again, when they least thought of it. 

The igth of March, the aforesaid ships, being nineteen in 
number, having laden the King's silver, and received Alvaro 
Flores de Quiniones with liis company, and a good pro- 
vision of necessaries and munition ; and of soldiers that were 
fully resolved, as they made shew, to fight valiantly to the 
last man, before they would yield or lose their riches. 

Altliough they set their course for San Lucar, the wind 
drave them to Lisbon. Which, as it seemed, was willing by 
his force to help them, and to bring them thither in safety : 
although Alvaro de Flores, both against the wind and 
weather, would, perforce, have sailed to San Lucar ; but being 
constrained by the wind, and the importunity of the sailors 
{who protested they would require their losses and damages of 
him), he was content to sail to Lisbon. From whence, the 
silver was carried by land to Seville. 

At Cape St. Vincent, there lay a fleet of twenty English 
ships, to watch for this armada ; so that if they had put into 
San Lucar, they had fallen right into their hands : which if 
the wind had served, they had done. And, therefore, they 
may say that the wind had lent them a happy vo3-age. 

For if the Englishmen had met with them, they had surely 
been in great danger; and possibly but few of them had 
escaped, by reason of the fear wherewith they were 
possessed that "Fortune, or rather, GOD was wholly against 
them." Which is a sufficient cause, to make the Spaniards 
out of heart ; and, on the contrary, to give the Englishmen 
more courage, and to make them bolder. For they are 
victorious, stout, and valiant ; and all their enterprises do 
take so good effect, that they are, thereby, become Lords and 
Masters of the Sea, and need care for no man : as it well 
appeareth, by this brief Discourse. 

In the month of March 1590, there was a blazing star [a 
Comet] with a tail, seen in Terceira, that continued four 
nights together, stretching the tail towards the south. 



456 A I'UODIGIOUS, nUT BASELESS RUMOUR. [■'• "' 



. T-inschotcn. 



In the month of May, a caravel of Fajal arrived in the 
haven or road of Anj^ra, at Terceira, ladened witli oxen, 
sheep, hens, and otlier kinds of victuals ; and full of people. 
She had, by a storm, broken her rudder ; whereby the sea 
cast her about, and there she sank. In her, were drowned 
three children and a Franciscan friar. The rest of the men 
saved themselves by swimmin;:^, and by help from the shore ; 
but the cattle and hens came drowned to land. 

The friar was buried with a great procession and solemnity; 
beinj:^ esteemed a saint, because he was taken up dead with 
his book between his arms: for the which cause, every man 
came to look on him as a miracle, giving great ofterings, to 
say masses for his soul. 

[Wliat now follows is an enormous falsehood, being apparently only an 
exaggerated rumour of Cavendish's Expedition to the South Seas, 
2ist"july, 1586—10 September 158S, see Vol.ii.//. 117-127.] 

The 1st of August [1590] the Governor of Terceira received 
advices out of Portugal and Spain, that two years before the 
date of his letters [i.e., in 158S], there sailed out of England 
twelve great well-appointed ships ; with full resolution to 
take their journey, seven of them to the Portuguese Indies, 
and the other five to Malacca. Of which, five were cast away 
in the Straits of Magellan, and three sailed to Malacca : but 
what they had done there, was as then not known. 

[Linschoten's friend Afhuisen, who left Malacca, at a much later 
date, V!~., about December 1 5SS, /. 429. was then at Angra ; and would, of 
course, be aljle to contradict this part of this immense offspring oi fear.] 

The other seven passed the Cape of Good Hope, and 
arrived in India, whither they put in at the coast of Malabar, 
and there took six foists of the Malabars, but let them go 
again ; and [? lahcre], two Turkish galleys that came out of 
the Straits of Mecca or Red Sea, to whom likewise they did 
no hurt. And there [? where], they laded their ships with 
spices, and returned back again on their way : but where, or 
in what place they had ladened, it was not certainly known ^!]. 
Saving only, that this much was written by the Governor of 
India; and sent over land to \'enice, and from thence to 
Madrid. 

[In this rcmark.ably developed specimen of a baseless rumour, we trace 
llie fear of the English, after the defeat of the Spanish Armada, spreading 
through the Portuguese settlements in India.] 



J. H. V. Linschoten.J gjj^ j^j_ FrOBISIIER's FLEET OFF CORVO. 457 

The 7th of August, a navy of English ships was seen 
before Terceira, being twenty in number, and five of them 
Queen's ships. Their General was one Sir Martin Fro- 
BiSHiiR ; as we, after, had intelligence. They came purposely 
to watch for the Fleet of the Spanish Indies, for the [Portu- 
guese] Indian ships, and for the ships of the countries in the 
West. 

Which put the islanders in great fear, specially those of 
Fayal. For the Englishmen had sent a Trumpeter to the 
Governer there, to ask for certain wine, flesh, and other 
victuals, for their money and good friendship. They of Fayal, 
did not only refuse to give ear to tliem ; but with a shot, 
killed their messenger or trumpeter: which the English took 
in evil part, sending them word that "They were best to look 
to themselves, and stand upon their guard ; for they meant 
to come and visit them, whether they would or not." The 
Governor there made them answer, that " He was there on 
the behalf of His Majesty of Spain ; and that he would do 
his best to keep them out." But nothing was done: although 
they of Fayal were in no little fear; sending to Terceira for 
aid : from whence, they had certain barks with powder and 
munition for war, together with some biscuit and other 
necessary provision. 

The 3Dth of August, we received very certain news out of 
Portugal, that there were eighty ships put out of the Corunna 
[called by the En<^lish,ihe Groinc], laden with victuals, munition, 
money, and soldiers, to go for Brittany; to aid the Catholics 
and Leaguers of France against the King of Navarre. 

At the same time, two Netherland Hulks coming out of 
Portugal to Terceira, being half over the seas, met with four 
of the Queen's ships, their General being Sir John Hawkins, 
that stayed them ; but let them go again, without doing 
them any harm. 

The Netherlanders reported that "Each of the Queen's ships 
had eighty [!] pieces of ordnance ; that Sir Francis Drake 
lay with forty ships in the English Channel watching for the 
armada from the Corunna ; and that likewise, there lay at 
Cape St. Vincent ten other English ship, that if any of the 
ships escaped from the Islands [i.e., the Azores] they might 
take them." 

This tidings put the islanders in great fear; lest if they 



458 The Carrack homeward Fleet of 1590. [^''T 



.ichoten. 



failed of tlie Spanish fleet, and got nothing by them, they 
would then fall upon the Islands, as they would not return 
empty : whereupon they held straight watch, sending advices 
to tlie King, of the news they had heard. 

The 1st of September, there came to the island of St. Michael, 
a Portuguese ship out of the haven of Pernambuco in I5razil, 
which brought news that the Admiral of the Portuguese l]eet 
that came from India, having missed the island of St. Helena, 
was, of necessity, constrained to put into Pernambuco : 
although the King had expressly, under a great penalty, for- 
bidden him so to do ; because of the worms, that do there 
spoil the ships. 

The same ship, wherein Bernadine Ridero was Admiral, 
the year before [1589], sailed out of Lisbon to the Indies, 
with five ships in her company ; whereof but four got to 
India ; the fifth was never heard of, so that it was thought 
to be cast away. The other four returned safe again to 
Portugal thisyearisgoj: though the admiral was much spoiled, 
because he met with two English ships that fought long with 
him, and slew many of his men ; but yet he escaped from 
them. 

The 5th of the same month, there arrived at Terceira, a 
caravel of the island of Corvo, and brought with her 50 men 
that had been spoiled by the Englishmen, who had set them 
on shore in the island of Corvo ; ha\ing taken them out of a 
ship that came from the Spanish Indies. 

They brought tidings that " The Englishmen had taken four 
more of the [West] Indian ships, and a Caravel of Advices 
with the King of Spain's Letters of Advices for the ships 
[Carracks] coming cut of the Portugal Indies. And that, with 
those which they had taken, there were at the least forty 
English ships together ; so that not one bark escaped them, 
but fell into their hands." 

Therefore the Portuguese ships coming out of India durst 
not put into the Islands ; but took their course under 40° N., 
and 42° N., and from thence sailed to Lisbon ; shunning like- 
wise the Cape St. Vincent : otherwise they could not have 
had a prosperous journey of it; for that then, the sea was 
full of English ships. 

Whereupon, the King advised the fleet lying at Havanna 
in the Spanish Indies, ready to come for Spain, that they 



Linschoten, 
! 1594 



] The Carrack outward Fleet of 1590. 459 



should stay there all that year, till the next year; because of 
the great danger they might fall into by the Englishmen. 

Which was no small charge and hindrance to the fleet, for 
the ships that lie there, do consume themselves, and in a 
manner eat up one another ; by reason of the great number 
of people, together with the scarcity of all things. So that 
many ships chose rather, one by one, to adventure themselves 
alone, to get home than to stay there. All which fell into 
the Englishmen's hands; the men of divers of which, were 
brought to Terceira. For, for a whole daj-, we could see 
nothing else but spoiled men set on shore, some out of one 
ship, some out of another, that it was a pity to see all of 
them cursing the English and their own fortunes ; with those 
that had been the causes to provoke the Englishmen to fight : 
and complaining of the small remedy and order taken therein 
by the King of Spain's Officers. 

The 19th of the same month, there came a caravel of Lisbon 
to Terceira, with one of the King's Officers, to cause the goods 
that were saved out of the ship that came from Malacca (for 
the which, we stayed there) to be ladened and sent to Lisbon. 

At the same time, there put out of the Corunna, one Don 
Alonso de Bassan, with 40 great Ships of war, to come to 
the islands [of the Azores], there to watch for the fleets of the 
Spanish and Portuguese Indies : and the goods of the 
Malacca ship being ladened, they were to convoy them all 
together to the river of Lisbon. But being certain days at 
sea, always with a contrary wind, they could net get unto the 
Islands. Only two of them, scattered from the fleet, arrived 
at Terceira ; and, not finding the fleet, they presently returned 
back to seek them. 

In the meantime, the King changed his mind, and caused 
the fleet to stay in [West] India, as I said before ; and there- 
fore he sent word unto Don Alonso de Bassan that he should 
return again to Corunna, which he presently did : without 
doing anything, or once approaching near the islands, saving 
only the two foresaid ships. For he well knew that the 
Englishmen lay by the island of Corvo ; but he would not 
visit them. So he returned to the haven of Corunna ; 
whereby our goods that come from Malacca were yet to ship ; 
and being trussed up again, we were forced to stay a more 
fortunate time, with patience. 



460 Pridf. & v.wiTV OF ]\I. Albuquerque. [•'• "■ "/■' 



nsclioten. 



The 23rd of October, there arrived at Terceira, a caravel 
with advices out of Portugal, that of the five ships which 
[about April] in the year 1590, were laden in Lisbon, for the 
the [Ivast] Indies, four of them were turned back acjain to 
Portu.gal, after they hid been four months abroad: and that 
the admiral, wherein the Viceroy, called Matthias d'Albu- 
QUERQUE, sailed, had only got to India: as afterward news 
thereof was brought overland; having been, at the least, eleven 
months at sea and never saw land, and came in great misery 
to Malacca. 

In this ship there died by the way, 2S0 men, according to 
a note, made by himself and sent to the Cardinal of Lisbon, 
with the name and surname of every man ; together with a 
description of his voyage and the misery they had endured : 
which was only done because he would not lose the Govern- 
ment of India ; and for that cause, he had sworn either to 
lose his life, or to arrive in India. As, indeed, he did after- 
wards : but to the great danger, loss, and hinderance of his 
company, that were forced to buy it with their lives ; and 
only for want of provisions, as it may well be thought. For he 
knew full well, that if he had returned back again to Portugal, 
as the other ships did, he should have been cashiered from 
his Indian Regiment ; because the people began already to 
murmur at him for his proud and lofty mind. 

And among other things, that which shewed his pride 
the more, he caused to be painted above the gallery of his 
ship. Fortune, and his own picture with a staff standing by 
her, as it were, threatening her, withthis posy, Qncroqucvcncas! 
tliat is, " I will have thee to overcome ! " which being read 
by the Cardinal and other gentlemen, that, to honour him, 
brought him aboard his sliip ; it was thought to be a point of 
exceeding folly. 

But it is no strange matter among the Portuguese: for they, 
above all others, must, of force, let the fojl peep out of their 
sleeves ; specially when they are in authority. For I knew 
the said ^IATTHIAS d'Albuquerque in India, being a soldier 
anda Captain ; where hewas esteemed and accounted forone of 
the best of them: and much honoured and beloved of all men, 
as behaving himself courteously to every man ; whereby they 
all desired that he might be Viceroy. But when he had once 
received his Patent, with full power and authority from the 



J. H. v.Linschotcn.-j GrEAT EARTHQUAKE AT THE AzORES. 46 I 

King to h-2 Vicero}' ; lie changed so much from his former 
behaviour, that by reason of his pride, they all began to fear 
and curse him ; and that, before he departed out of Lisbon : 
as is often seen in many men, that are advanced into State and 
dignity. 

1591. 

The 20th of January, rt;/;;o 1591, there was news brought 
out of Portugal to Terceira, that the Englishmen had taken a 
ship that the King had sent to the Portuguese Indies, with 
advices to the Viceroy, of the returning again of the four ships 
that should have gone to India. And because those ships 
were come back again, that ship was stuffed and ladened, as 
full of goods as it possibly might be ; having likewise, in ready 
money, 500,000 ducats [=aboiit £137, 5°^ thcn = £S2^,ooo now] 
in Rials of Eight ; besides other wares. 

It departed from Lisbon in the month of November 159OJ 
and met with the Englishmen ; with whom, for a time, it 
fought : but, in the end, it was taken and carried into England, 
with men and all. Yet when they came there, the men were 
set at liberty ; and returned to Lisbon, where the Captain was 
committed a prisoner; but he excused himself, and was 
released. With whom, I spake myself; and he made this 
report to me. 

At the same time also, they took a ship that came from 
the Mine [? at Soffala, s:c p. 27] : and two ships, ladened 
with pepper and spices, that were to sail into Italy ; the 
pepper alone that was in them being worth 170,000 ducats 
[— about £46,750 then = ^^280, 000 now]. All these ships were 
carried into England, and made good prize. 

In the month of July, anno 1591, there happened an earth- 
quake in the island of St. Michael ; which continued [i-.c, 
at intervals] from the 26th of July to the 12th of August. In 
which time, no man durst stay within his house : but fled 
into the fields, fasting and praying ; with great sorrow, be- 
cause many of their houses fell down. A town, called Villa 
Eranca, was almost clean razed to the ground ; all the 
cloisters and houses shaken to the earth, and some people 
therein slain. In some places, the land rose up, and the 
cliffs remo^•ed from one place to anothei ; and some hills 
were defaced, and made even with the ground. The earth- 



462 The Last Fight of H.M.S. Reve.vge. p- "• »• i.!nscSot«. 

quake was so stronj^, that the ships which lay in the road 
and on tlie sea, shaked as if the world would have turned 
round. There also sprang a fountain out of the earth ; from 
whence, for the space of four days, there flowed a most clear 
water; and, after that, it ceased. At the same time, tlicy 
heard such thunder and noise under the earth, as if all the 
devils in hell had been assembled in that place ; wherewith 
many died for fear. 

The island of Terceira shook four times together, so that 
it seemed to turn about : but there happened no misfortune 
unto it. 

Earthquakes are common in these islands. For, about 
twenty }ears past, there happened another earthquake : 
wherein the half of a high hill, that lieth by the same town 
of Villa Franca, fell down, and covered all the town with 
earth ; and killed many men. 

The 25th of August, the King's AnnacLi, coming out of 
Ferrol, arrived at Terceira, being in all thirty ships, Biscayens, 
Portuguese, and Spaniards; and ten Dutch Fly-boats that 
were arrested in Lisbon to serve the King : besides other 
small vessels, pataxos that came to serve as messengers from 
place to place, and to discover [scout on] the seas. 

The Navy came to stay for, and convoy the ships that 
should come from the Spanish Indies ; and the Fly-boats 
were appointed, in their turn, to take in the goods that were 
saved in the lost ship that came from Malacca, and to 
convey it to Lisbon. 

The i3tli of September, the said Armada arrived at the 
island of Corvo, where the Englishmen, with about sixteen 
ships, then lay, staying for the Spanish [West Indian] fleet ; 
whereof some, or the most part were come, and there the 
English were in good hopes to have taken them. 

But when they perceived the King's Army to be strong : 
the Admiral, being the Lord Thomas Howard, commanded 
his fleet not to fall upon them ; nor any of them once to sepa- 
rate their ships from him, unless he gave commission so to 
do. 

Notwithstanding, the Vice-Admiral, Sir Richard Gren- 
VILLE, being in the ship called the Rcvcnf:;c [of y 00 ions], went 
into the Spanish fleet and shot among them, doing them great 
hurt; and thinking the rest of the company would have 



J. H. V. Unschoien.^ DyiNG SPEECH OF SiR R. GrENVILLE. 463 

followed : which they did not, but left him there and sailed 
away. The cause why, could not be known. Which the 
Spaniards perceiving, with seven or eight ships they boarded 
her : but she withstood them all, fighting with them, at the 
least, twelve hours together : and sank two of them, one 
being a new Double Fly-boat, of i,200 tons; the other, a 
Biscayen. But, in the end, by reason of the number that 
came upon her, she was taken ; but their great loss : for 
they had lost in fighting and by drowning, above four 
hundred men. Of the Englishmen, there were slain about a 
hundred ; Sir Richard Grekville himself being wounded 
in the brain, whereof he died. 

He was borne into the ship called the San Paiilo, wherein 
was the Admiral of the fleet, Don Alonso de Bassan. 
There, his wounds were dressed by the Spanish surgeons; but 
Don Alonso himself would neither see him, nor speak with 
him. All the rest of the Captains and gentlemen went to 
visit him, and to comfort him in his hard fortune ; wondering 
at his courage and stout heart, for he showed not any sign of 
faintness, nor changing of colour: but feeling the hour of 
death to approach, he spake these words in Spanish, and 
said, Here die I, Richard Grenville, luith a joyful and quid 
mind, for I liav: ended my life as a true soldier ou'^ht to do, that 
hath fought for his country, Queen, religion, and honour : where- 
by my soul most joyfully departeth out of this body ; and shall 
leave behind it, an everlasting fame 0/ a valiant and true soldier, 
that hath done his duty, as he was bound to do. 

When he had finished these, or such like words, he gave up 
the ghost, with great and stout courage ; and no man could 
perceive any true sign of heaviness in him. 

This Sir Ivichard Grenville was a great and rich gentle- 
man in England, and had great yearly revenues, of his own 
inheritance : but he was a man very unquiet in his mind, and 
greatly affected to war, inasmucli, as of his own private 
motion, he offered his services to the Queen. He had per- 
formed many valiant acts, and was greatly feared in these 
islands [seep. 371], and known of every man: but of nature 
very severe, so that his own people hated him for his fierce- 
ness, and spake very hardly of him. 
' For when they first entered into the Fleet or Armada, they 



4*34 OiricERs OF H.'^l.S. I^£r£A'C£ visnl^'"^ 



schoten. 
■594- 



had tlicir great sail in a readiness, and might, possibly 
enough, have sailed awaj- ; for it was one of the best ships for 
sailing in England. The Master perceiving that the other 
ships had left them, and followed not after; commanded the 
great sail to be cut, that they might make away: but Sir 
Richard Grenville threatened both him and all the rest 
that were in the ship, that if any man laid hand upon it, he 
would cause him to be hanged. So by that occasion, they 
were compelled to fight ; and, in the end, were taken. 

He was of so hard a complexion that, as he continued 
among the Spanish Captains, while they were at dinner or 
supper with him, he was carouse three or four glasses of 
wine; and, in a braver}', take [successively]the glasses between 
his teeth, and crush them in pieces, and swallow them down, 
so that oftentimes the blood ran out of his mouth, without 
any harm at all to him: and this was told me, by divers 
credible persons that, many times, stood and beheld him. 

The Englishmen that were left in the ship, as the Captain 
of the Soldiers, the Master, and others, were dispersed into 
divers of the Spanish ships that had taken them : where 
there had almost arisen a new fight between the Biscayens 
and the Portuguese : which each of them would have the 
honour to have first boarded her. So there grew a great 
noise and quarrel among them, one taking the chief ancient 
[i-);s/^«], and the other the flag : and the Captain and every 
one held his own. 

The ships that had boarded her, were altogether out of 
order and broken ; and many of their men hurt : whereby 
they were compelled to come to the island of Terceira, there 
to repair themselves. Where, being arrived, I and my 
chamber-fellow [i.e., Afhuisen], to hear some news, went on 
board one of the ships, being a great Biscaj-en, and one of 
the l-uclre Apostles, whose Captain was called Baktaxdono, 
that had been General of the Biscayens in the Fleet that 
went for England [i.e., the Spanish Armada of 15SSJ. He, 
seeing us, called us up into the gallery ; where with great 
courtesy, he received us : being then set at dinner with the 
English Captain [i.e., of the Soldiers of the Revenge], that sate 
by him, and had on a suit of black velvet ; but lie could not tell 
us anything, for he could speak no other language but English, 
and Latin, which Bartandono could also speak a little. 



LWWen.^LiNSCHOTEN IN HIS LODGINGS AT ANGRA.465 

The English Captain got licence of the Governor, that he 
might come on land, with his weapon by his side ; and was in 
our lodging, with the Englishmen [i.e., the Merchant or Super- 
cargo, mentioned on p. 452] that was kept prisoner in the island 
(being of that ship whereof the sailors got away, as I said 
before). The Governor of Terceira bade him to dinner; and 
shewed him great courtes}'. 

The Master likewise, \vith licence of Bartandoxo, came 
on shore, and was in our lodging. He had, at the least, ten 
or twelve wounds, as well in his head as on his body : where- 
of, after, being at sea between the Islands and Lisbon, he 
died. 

The Captain wrote a letter, wherein he declared all the 
manner of the fight ; and left it with the English Merchant 
[or Supercargo] that lay in our lodging, to send it to the Lord 
Admiral of England. 

This English Captain coming to Lisbon, was there well 
received, and not any hurt done unto him: but, with good con- 
voy, sent to Setubal : and, from thence, with all the rest of the 
Englishmen that were taken prisoners, sailed into England. 
The Spanish Armada stayed at the island of Corvo till tb.e 
last of September, to assemble the rest of the fleet together; 
which, in the end, were to the number of 140 sail of ships, 
partly coming from [the West] India, and partly of the 
Armada. And being all together, ready to sail to Terceira, 
in good company ; there suddenly rose so hard and cruel a 
storm that those of the island do affirm that, in man's 
memory, there was not any such seen or heard of before : for 
it seemed [as if] the sea would have swallowed up the Islands. 
The water mounted higher than the cliffs, which are so high 
that it amazeth a man to behold them ; but the sea reached 
above them, and living fishes were thrown upon the land. 

This storm continued not a day or two only, with one 
wind ; but seven or eight days continuall}', the wind turning 
round about in all places of the compass, at the least, twice 
or thrice during that time : and all alike with a continual 
storm and tempest ; most terrible to behold, even to us that 
were on shore, much more then to such as were at sea. So 
that on the coasts and cliffs of the island of Terceira alone, 
there were about twelve ships cast away; and that, not upon 
one side only, but round about it in every corner: whereby, 

£a'c. Gar. III. ^,0 



466 Wreck of the White Dove, in i592.[ 



.1. n. V. I.iiischolcn. 
■; 1594- 



nothing else was heard hut complaining;, crying, lamenting, 
and telling, " Here is a ship hrokcn in pieces against the 
cliffs!" and " There, another ! and the men drowned." So 
that, for the space of twenty days after the storm, they did 
nothing else but fish for dead men, that continually came 
driving on the shore. 

Among the rest, was the English ship called the Revenge, 
that was cast away upon a cliff, near to the island of Terceira; 
where it break into a hundred pieces, and sank to the ground : 
having in her, sevent}- men, Gallicians, Biscayens, and others, 
with some of the captive Englishmen ; whereof but one was 
saved, that got up upon the cliffs alive, and had his body and 
head all v.-ounded. He, being on shore, brought us the news, 
desiiing to be shriven; and thereupon presently died. The 
Revenge had in her, divers fair brass pieces, that were all sunk 
in the sea; which they of the island were in good hope to 
weigh up again. 

The next summer after [i.e., 1592], among these ships, that 
were cast avi'ay about Terceira, was likev/ise a Fly-boat 
called the White Dove (being one of those that had been ar- 
rested in Portugal to serve the King), lost there. The Master 
of her, was one Cornelius Martenson, of Schiedam in Hol- 
land ; and there were in her, as in every one of the rest, one 
hundred soldiers. He, being overruled by their Captain, that 
he could not be master of his own, sailing here and there at 
the mercy of GOD, as the storm drove him; in the end, came 
within sight of the island of Terceira. Which the Spaniards 
perceiving, thought all their safety only to consist in putting 
into the road; compelling the Master and Pilot to make towards 
the island. The Master refused to do it, sajing, that " Th.ey 
were most sure there to be cast awa}', and utterly spoiled " : 
but the Captain called him, " Drunkard ! and Heretic !" and 
striking him with a staff, commanded him to do as he would 
have him. 

The Master seeing this, and being compelled to do it, said, 
" Well, my masters 1 seeing it is the desire of you all to be 
cast away ! I can but lose one life ! " and therewith desper- 
ately, he sailed towards the shore ; and was on that side of the 
island where there was nothing else but hard stones, and rocks 
as high as mountains, most terrible to behold : where some 



1. H. v.Linschoien.-j Prightful Cvclone AT THE Azores. 467 

of the inhabitants stood, with long ropes and corks bound at 
the end thereof, to throw them down to the men that they 
might lay hold upon them and save their lives ; but few of 
them got so near, most of them been cast away, and smitten 
in pieces, before they could get to the wall. 

The ship sailing in this manner towards the island, and 
approaching to the shore ; the Master (being an old man 
and full of years) called his son, that was in the ship with 
him, and having emibraced one another, and taken their last 
farewell, the good old father willed his son not to take care 
for him, but to seek to save himself: " For" said he, " son! 
thou art j'oung : and may have some hope to save thy life ; 
but as for me, I am old, it is no great matter wliat becomes of 
me." Therewith, each of these, shedding many tears (as 
every loving father and kind child may well consider) the ship 
fell upon the cliffs, and brake in pieces : the father falling into 
the sea, on the one side, and the son on the other; each laying 
hold on that which came next to hand, but to no purpose. 
For the sea was so high and furious, that they were all 
drowned, but fourteen or fifteen who saved themselves by 
swimming, but yet with their legs and arms half broken and 
out of joint ; among the which, were the Master's son, and 
four other Dutch boys. The rest of the Spaniards and sailors, 
with the Captain and Master, were drowned. 

Whose heart would not melt with, to behold so grievous a 
sight ? especially considering with himself, that the greatest 
cause thereof was the beastliness and insolency of the 
Spaniards; as is this only \singlc] example may well be seen. 

Whereby may be considered how the other ships sped [in the 
previous storm of October i^gi] : as we ourselves did in part be- 
hold, and by the men that were saved, did hear more at 
large; as also some others of our countrymen [i.e., Dutchmen] 
that, then, were in the like danger can well witness. 

At the other islands, the loss [in October 1591] was no less 
than in Terceira. For on the island of St. George, there 
were two ships cast away; on the island of Pico, two ships; 
on the island of Graciosa, three ships : and besides those, 
there came everywhere round about, divers pieces of broken 
ships and other things, fleetingtowards the islands; wherewith 
the sea was all covered, most pitiful to behold. 



468 Blasphemous talk of the Azoreans. [J-H.v.Linschoicn. 

On the island of St. Michael, there were four ships cast 
away; and between Terceira and St. Michael, three more 
were sunk, which were seen, and heard to cry out : whereof 
not one man was saved. The rest put into the [out to] sea, 
without masts, all torn and rent. 

So that of the whole fleet and armada, being 140 ships in 
all, there were but 32 or 33 arrived in Spain and Portugal : 
3-ea, and those few with so great misery, pain, and labour that 
no two of them arrived together; but this day one, and to- 
morrow another, the next day a third, and so on, one after the 
other, to the number aforesaid. 

All the rest were cast away upon the Islands [Azores] and 
overwhelmed in the sea : whereby may be considered what 
great loss and hindrance they received at that time. For, 
by many men's judgements, it was esteemed to be much more 
than was left by the Army that came for England [in 15S8] ; 
and it may be well thought and presumed that it was no other 
but a just plague, purposely sent by GOD upon the Spaniards: 
and that it might truly be said, the taking of the Rcvcuc:;c was 
justly revenged upon them ; and that, not by the might or 
force of man, but by the power of GOD. 

As some of them openly said, in the isle of Terceira, that 
"They believed, verily, GOD would consume them; and that 
He took part with Lutherans and heretics." Saying further 
that " So soon as they had thrown the dead body of the Vice- 
admiral Sir Richard Grenville overboard; they verily 
thought that, as he had a devilish faith and religion, and 
therefore that the devils loved him : so he presently sank 
down into the bottom of the sea, and down into hell, where 
he raised up all the devils to revenge his death ; and that 
they brought so great storms and torments upon the Spaniards, 
only [simply] because they maintained the Catholic and Romish 
religion." Such, and such like blasphemies against GOD, 
they ceased not openly to utter ; without any man reproving 
them nor their false opinions thereon : but the most part of 
them the rather said, and affirmed that "of truth, it must 
needs be so." 

As one of these Indian fleets put out of New Spain, there were 
35 of them, by storm and tempest, cast away and drowned 
in the sea : so that, out of 50 in all, but 15 escaped. 

Of the Hcct that came from Santo Domingo, there were 14 



J.H.v.Linschoten.-JQQ£) ^y^^L PLAGUE THE SPANIARDS. 469 

cast away, coming out of the Channel of Havanna; whereof 
the Admiral and Vice-admiral were two. From Terra firma 
in India [i.e., Central America], there came two ships ladened 
with gold and silver; that were taken by the Englishmen. 
And before the Spanish Armada came to Corvo, the English- 
men, at different times, had taken, at the least, 20 ships, that 
came from Santo Domingo, [West] India, Brazil, &c.; and 
sent them all to England. 

Whereby it plainly appeareth, that, in tlie end, GOD will 
assuredly plague the Spaniards: having already blinded 
them, so that they have not the sense to perceive it, but still 
to remain in their obstinate opinions. But it is lost labour to 
strive against GOD, and to trust in man; as being foundations 
erected upon the sands, which, with the wind, are blown 
down and overthrown : as we daily see before our eyes, and, 
not long since, have evidently observed in many places. 

Therefore, let every man but look to his own actions ! and 
take our Low Countries for an example : wherein, we can but 
blame our own sins and wickedness ; which doth so blind us, 
that we wholly forget and reject the benefits of GOD, con- 
tinuing the servants and yoke slaves of Satan. GOD, of His 
mercy ! open our eyes and hearts ! that we may know our 
only Health and Saviour, Jesus Christ ; who only can help, 
govern, and preserve usj and give us a happy end in all our 
affairs. 

LiNSCHOTEN's retuTfi home to R7ikhuisen. 

jlY THE destruction of the Spaniards, and their evil 
success, the lading and shipping of the goods that 
were saved out of the ship that came from Malacca 
to Terceira, was again put off: and therefore we 
must have patience till it please GOD to send a fitter time ; 
and that we received further advices and order from His 
Majesty of Spain. 

AH this being thus past, the Farmers and other merchants 
(seeing that the hope of any armada or ships in the King's 
behalf to be sent to fetch the goods, was all in vain) made 
request unto His Majesty that he would grant them licence, 
for every man particularly [individually] to ship his goods in 




470 L I N S C 1 1 T K N S AILS 1 ■■ RUM T L R C E I K A T O [^"r'",!,"' 

what ship he would, at his own ad.'cnture ; wliich, after long 
suit, was granted in the end : upon condition that every man 
should put in sureties to deliver the goods into the Custiim 
House at Lisbon, to the end that the King might be paid his 
custom ; as also that the goods, delivered to them in Terceira, 
should all be registered. 

Whereupon, the Farmers of Pepper, with other merchants, 
agreed with a Flushinger, to fetch all the cloves, nutmegs, 
mace, and other spices, and goods that belonged to them ; 
excepting only the pepper, which the King as then would not 
grant to lade. 

The same ship arrived at Terceira, about the last of 
November; and, because it was somewhat dangerous, being 
the latter end of the year, we laded her with all the speed we 
could : for then the coast was clear of Englishmen. 

To be short. This Flushinger, being ladcned with the most 
part of the goods, saving the pepper; set sail for Lisbon, 
passing some small storms, not once meeting with any ship; 
but only on the [Portuguese] coast, where we saw ten 
Hollanders that sailed with corn towards Leghorn and other 
places in Italy : and so, by GOD's help ! upon the 2nd of 
January 1592, we arrived in the river of Lisbon; being nine 
years alter my departure from thence. 

1592. 

There I stayed till the month of July to despatch such 
things as I had to do : and upon the 17th of the same month, 
I went to Setubal ; where certain Hollanders lay, with whom 
I went to Holland. 

The 22nd of July, we set sail, being in all 12 ships ; and 
because we had a contrary wind, we put out higher into the 
\fitrihcv out to] sea. 

The 27th of the same month, we had a lasting storm, 
whereby we ran against another ship ; both being in a hundred 
dangers to be sunk, for we were within a span of touching one 
another : but GOD helped us, and we parted from each other; 
which almost seemed impossible. For the bore-sprite [boiv- 
sprit] of the ship that came against us, strake upon our Fouke- 
yard ; and therewith brake in pieces : and thereupon his 
Fouke-mast fell overboard; whereby he was forced to leave 
the fleet. Another also of our company had a leak, so that 



Lii«chot«n.-JLiSBON; &FROM THENCE, TO THeTexEL. 47 I 

he made towards the [Portuguese] coast : where, to save the 
men, he ran the ship on shore ; as, afterwards, we under- 
stood. So we remained hut ten in company. 

The 1st of August, being ninety miles in thie [out at] sea, 
because the wind iield contrar}', so that we could not keep 
our right course ; we espied three strange ships : but it was 
not long, before we lost the sight of them again. 

The 4th of August, there came three other ships among 
our fleet, which we perceived to be Biscayens : v/hereupon 
we made towards them, and shot certain pieces at them ; 
and so they left us. 

The i6th of August, the wind being yet contrary, and 
because there were about fifteen passengers aboard our ship, 
our victuals, specially our drink, began to fail : so that we 
were constrained to keep an order, and to stint every man to 
his portion ; being then 120 miles from Heissant [Ushant] 
inwards in the [out at] sea, which is called, the Half Sea. 

The iSth, we had a storm, whereby three of our fleet were 
left behind ; because they could not follow us. 

The 24th of August we cast out the lead, and found gi"ound ; 
wherewith we were all glad, for it was the entrance into the 
Channel between England and France. 

The 27th of August, being in the Channel, there came two 
small English ships to view our fleet, but presently put in 
again to the coast of England. 

The zSth, we desciied land, being loofward from us ; which 
was Goutster and Dartmouth. 

The next day, we passed by the Isle of Wight, sailing along 
the coast. 

The 30th of August, we put into the head [Straits] of Dover 
and Calais ; where there lay one of the Queen's ships ; but 
she hoisted anchor, and sailed to the coast of England, with- 
out looking after us. So we set four men on shore [i.e., in 
England], 

Then we had a scant wind, wherewith we entered into the 
North Sea; not seeing anybody. 

The 1st of September, being cloudy, we had a storm out of 
the north-west, whereby we could not discern the land : but in 
the evening, we met with two ships that came out of the East 
Countries [Baltic Provinces], who to]d us they had seen land 
saying, '" It was the Texel" ; willing us to follow them. And 



472 LlNSCIIOTEN ARRIVES AT EnKIIUISEN. [J' "■ v. Linschoten. 

SO we discovered land, it being the \'Iie : but we, tliinking it 
to be the Texel, would not longer follow the other ships; but 
put so near unto it, that we were in great danger. Then we 
perceived that we had deceived ourselves, and saw the other 
ships take another course towards the Texel : but we had the 
wind so scant, and were fallen so low, that we could hardly 
get from the shore. And withal, we had a sudden storm, 
wherewith our Fouke-mast brake ; our mainmast ])eing 
alreadj- cracked: whereupon, we were fully determined to 
anchor there, and stand upon good comfort and hope in GOD. 
Suddenly the wind came better, so that with great pain and 
labour, about sun setting, we entered the mouth of the Texel, 
without any pilot: for, by reason of the great wind, they 
durst not come out. So, to conclude, we got in; and there, 
with thanksgiving to GOD, we anchored. 

In the morning, being the 2nd of September, our Gunner 
thinking to charge the pieces, and, for joy, to shoot them off 
before the town : by fortune, a ladle full of powder took fire 
and, and with the fire thereof, strake off all his right hand, 
and burnt him in many places of his body; wherewith our 
joy was wholly quailed and abated. 

The 3rd of September [N.S.\ we arrived at Enkhuisen ; 
where 1 found my mother, brother, and sister, all living and 
in good health : it being twelve years, nine months and a 
half, after my departure thence. 

For which GOD Almighty, with His Son Jesus Christ 

our Saviour, be praised and blessed ! To Whom belongeth 

all power, honour and glory, now and for evermore. 

Amen. 




473 

Thomas Ellwood. 
Relatiojis with John Milton. 

[The History of the Life ^c. 1714 ^ 

Our two Poets, Milton and Dryden, were driven out of London 
by the Great Plague of 1665. Milton, as Ellwood here tells us, 
to Chalfont St. Giles, in Buckinghamshire ; and Drvden to Charlton, 
in Berkshire. MiLTON had, by then, finished his great Epic Poem, 
in Blank Verse ; which Sir ROBERT Howard, in his Pn-fau- [fi. 49S], 
and Dryden, in his Dramatic Essay, declares to be a form of poetical 
expression too base for even a Sonnet, or a paper of Verses [//. 498, 
559, 567]. Paradise Lost was an absolute and final confutation of the 
opinions of these two Critics, upon this particular subject : and this 
Narrative by Ellwood, may be taken as Preface to their celebrated 
Controversy, which here occupies//. 487-598. 

Mentioned, before, that, Avhen I was a boy, I 
made some good progress in learning ; and lost it 
all again before I came to be a man : nor \vas I 
rightly sensible of my loss therein, until I came 
amongst the Quakers. But then, I both saw my 
loss, and lamented it ; and applied myself with the utmost 
diligence, at all leisure times, to recover it : so false I found 
that charge to be, which, in those times, was cast as a 
reproach upon the Quakers, that " they despised and decried 
all human learning " because they denied it to be essentially 
necessary to a Gospel Ministry ; which was one of the contro- 
versies of those times. 

But though I toiled hard, and spared no pains, to regain 
what once I had been master of ; yet I found it a matter of 
so great difficulty, that I was ready to say as the noble 
eunuch to Philip, in another case, " How can I ! unless 
I had some man to guide me ? " 

This, I had formerly complained of to my especial friend 
Isaac Penington, but now more earnestly ; which put him 
upon considering and contriving a means for my assistance. 

He had an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a 
physician of note in London ; and he, with John Milton, 
a gentleman of great note in learning, throughout the learned 




474 Ellwoodalon'eat Crowell, IN 1661; cut ['^^ F"",^^; 

world, for the accurate pieces he had written on various 
subjects and occasions. 

Tiiis person, havinj^ filled a public station in the former 
times, lived jiow a private and retired life in London : and, 
having wholly lost his sight, kept a man to read to him ; 
which, usuall}', was the son of some gentleman of his ac- 
quaintance, whom, in kindness, he took to improve in his 
learning. 

Thus, by the mediation of my friend Isaac Penington, 
with Dr. Paget ; and of Dr. Paget with John Milton, was 
I admitted to come to him : not as a servant to him (whicli, 
at that time, he needed not), nor to be in the house with 
him ; but only to have the liberty of coming to his house, at 
certain hours, when I would, and to read to him, what books 
he should appoint me, which was all the favour I desired. 

But this being a matter which would require some time to 
bring it about, I, in the meanwhile, returned to my father's 
house [at CrowellJ in Oxfordshire. 

I had, before, received direction by letters from my eldest 
sister, written by my father's command, to put off [dispose of] 
what cattle he had left about his house, and to discharge his 
servants; which I had done at the time called Michaelmas 
[1661] before. 

So that, all that winter when I was at home, I lived like a 
hermit, all alone ; having a pretty large house, and nobody 
in it but myself, at nights especially. But an elderly woman, 
whose father had been an old servant to the family, came 
every morning, and made my bed ; and did what else I had 
occasion for her to do : till I fell ill of the small-pox, and 
then I had her with me, and the nurse. 

But now, understanding by letter from my sister, that my 
father did not intend to return and settle there ; I made off 
[sold] those provisions which were in the house, that they 
might not be spoiled when I was gone : and because they 
were what I should have spent, if I had tarried there, I 
took the money made of them, to myself, for my support at 
London; if the project succeeded for my going thither. This 
done, I committed the care of the house to a tenant of my 
father's, who lived in the town; and taking my leave of Crowell, 
went up to my sure friend Isaac Penington again. Where, 
understanding that the mediation used for my admittance to 



T. Eiwood-j READS TO Milton in the spring of 1662. 475 

John Milton had succeeded so well, that I might come 
when I would : I hastened to London [in the Spring 0/1662], 
and, in the first place, went to wait upon him. 

He received me courteously, as well for the sake of Dr. 
Patet, who introduced me; as of Isaac Penington, who 
recommended me : to both of whom, he bore a good respect. 
And having inquired divers things of me, with respect to my 
former progression in learning, he dismissed me, to provide 
myself of such accommodation as might be most suitable to 
my future studies. 

I went, therefore, and took myself a lodging as near to his 
house, which was then in Jewin Street, as conveniently as 
I could ; and from thenceforward, went every day in the 
afternoon, except on the P'^irst Days of the week ; and, sitting 
by him in his dining-room, read to him, in such books in the 
Latin tongue as he pleased to hear me read. 

At my first sitting to read to him, observing that I used 
the English pronounciation ; he told me, " If I would have 
the benefit of the Latin tongue, not only to read and under- 
stand Latin authors, but to converse with foreigners, either 
abroad or at home ; I must learn the foreign pronounciation." 

To this, I consenting, he instructed me how to sound the 
vowels so different[ly] from the common pronounciation used 
by the English, who speak Anglicc their Latin, that (with 
some few other variations, in sounding some consonants : in 
particular case[s] , as c before e or i, like ch ; sc before i, like 
sh, &c.) the Latin, thus spoken, seemed as different from 
that which was delivered as the English generally speak it, 
as if it were another language. 

I had, before, during my retired life at my father's, by 
unwearied diligence and industr}', so far recovered the Rules 
of Grammar (in which, I had, once, been very ready) that 
I could both read a Latin author ; and, after a sort, hammer 
out his meaning. But this change of pronounciation proved 
a new difficulty to me. It was now harder for me to read ; 
than it was, before, to understand, when read. But 

Labor omnia vincit 
Improhus. 

Incessant pains, 
The end obtains. 



4 76 III in the country all the summer. P 



EMwood. 
t 17-3- 



And so, did I : which made my reading the more acceptable 
to my Master. He, on tiie other liand, perceiving witli wliat 
earnest desire, I pursued learning, gave me not only all the 
encouragement, but all the help he could. For, having a 
curious ear, he understood by my tone, when I understood 
what I read, and when I did not ; and, accordingly, would 
stop me, examine me, and open the most difficult passages. 

Thus I went on, for about six weeks' time, reading to him 
in the afternoons; and exercising myself with my own books, 
in my chamber, in the forenoons. I was sensible of an im- 
provement. 

But, alas, I had fixed my studies in a wrong place. Lon- 
don and I could never agree, for health. My lungs, as 
I suppose, were too tender, to bear the sulphurous air of that 
city : so that, I soon began to droop, and in less than two 
months' time, I was fain to leave both my studies and the 
city ; and return into the country to preserve life, and much 
ado I had to get thither. 

I chose to go down to Wiccombe, and to John Range's 
house there : both as he was a physician, and his wife a 
honest, hearty, discreet, and grave matron, whom I had a very 
good esteem of ; and who, I knew, had a good regard for me. 
There, I lay ill a considerable time ; and to that degree of 
weakness, that scarcely any who saw me, expected my life 
[that I should live] : but the LORD was both gracious to 
me, in my illness ; and was pleased to raise me up again, 
that I might serve Him in my generation. 

As soon as I had recovered so much strength, as to be fit 
to travel ; I obtained of my father (who was then at his 
house in Crowell, to dispose of some things he had there ; and 
who, in my illness, had come to see me) so much money as 
would clear all charges in the house, for physic, food, and 
attendance : and having fully discharged all, I took leave of 
my friends in that family, and town ; and returned [? in 
October 1662] to my studies at London. 

I was very kindly received by my Master, who had con- 
ceived so good an opinion of me, that my conversation, I 
found, was acceptable to him ; and he seemed heartily glad 
of my recovery and return : and into our old method of study, 
we fell again ; I reading to him, and he explaining to me as 
occasion required. 



T. Eiiwood.-j jg gjjj^^ ^Q Bridewell, 26 October 1662. 477 

But as if learning had been a forbidden fruit to me ; scarce 
was I well settled in my work ; before I met with another 
diversion [hindrance], which turned me quite out of my work. 

For a sudden storm arising (from, I know not what sur- 
mise of a plot ; and thereby danger to the Government); the 
meetings of Dissenters, such, I mean, as could be found 
(which, perhaps, were not many besides the Quakers) were 
broken up throughout the City : and the prisons mostly filled 
with our Friends. 

I was, that morning, which was the 26th day of the Sth 
month [which, acconUnp; to the reckoning of the Society oj 
Friends, was October. Their First month down to 1752, was 
March], 1662, at the Meeting, at the Bull and Mouth, by 
Alders Gate : when, on a sudden, a party of soldiers, of the 
Trained Bands of the City, rushed in with noise and clamour: 
being led by one, who was called Major Rosewell : an 
apothecary if I misremember not ; and, at that time, under 
the ill name of a Papist. 

[So the Friends there, with Ellwood, are taken ; and sent to Bridewell 
till the 19th December following : w'hen they were taken to Newgate, ex- 
pecting to be called at the Old Bailey sessions : but, not being called, were 
tent back to Bridewell again. On the 29th December, they were brought 
up at the Sessions, and, refusing to swear, were all committed to the 
"Common Side" of Newgate ; but that prison being so fujl, they were sent 
back to Bridewell again. Then we have the following extraordinary 
circumstance.] 

Having made up our packs, and taken our leave of our 
Friends, whom we were to leave behind ; we took our bundles 
on our shoulders, and walked, two and two a breast, through 
the Old Bailey into Fleet Street, and so to Old Bridewell. 
And it being about the middle of the afternoon, and the 
streets pretty full of people ; both the shopkeepers at their 
doors, and passengers in the way would stop us, and ask us, 
" What we were ? and whitber we were going? " 

And when we had told them, " We were prisoners, going 
from one prison to another (from Newgate to Bridewell)." 

" What," said they, " without a keeper ? " 

"No," said we, "for our W'ord, which we have given, is 
our keeper." 

Some thereupon would advise us, not to go to prison ; but 
to go home. But we told them, " We could not do so. "We 
could suffer for our testimony ; but could not fly from it." 



47S Released from Bridewell, Jan. 1663. [ 



T. Ellwo,vI. 
1713. 



I do not remember we b.ad any abuse offered us ; but were 
generally pitied by the people. 

When we were come to Bridewell, we were not put up into 
the great room in which we had been before : but into a low 
room, in another fair court, which had a pump in the middle 
of it. And, here, we were not shut up as before : but had the 
liberty of the court, to walk in ; and of the pump, to wash 
and drink at. And, indeed, we might easily iiave gone quite 
away, if we would ; there was a passage through the court 
into the street: but we were true and steady prisoners, and 
looked upon this liberty arising from their confidence in us, 
to be a kind of parole upon us ; so that both Conscience and 

Honour stood now engaged for our true imprisonment. 

* * * * * 

And this privilege v/e enjoyed by the indulgence of our 

Keeper, whose heart GOD disposed to favour us: so that both 

the Master and his porter were very civil and kind to us, and 

had been so, indeed, all along. For when we were shut up 

before ; the porter would readily let some of us go iiome in 

an evening, and stay at home till next morning, which was 

a great conveniency to men of trade and business : which I, 

being free from, forbore asking for myself, that I might not 

hinder others. 

***** 

Under this easy restraint, we lay till the Court sate at the 
Old Bailey again ; and, then (whether it was that the heat of 
the storm was somewhat abated, or by what ether means 
Providence wrought it, I know not), we were called to the 
bar ; and without further question, discharged. 

Whereupon we returned to Bridewell again ; and having 
raised some monies among us, and therewith gratified both 
the Master and his porter, for their kindness to us : we spent 
some time in a solemn meeting, to return our thankful 
acknowledgment to the LOKD; both for His preservation 
of us in prison, and deliverance of us out of it. And then, 
taking a solemn farewell of each other ; we departed with 
bag and baggage [at the end of January 1663;. 

[Thus, by such magnificent patience under arbitrary injustice, these 
invincible Quakers shamed tlie reckless CriniC which, in (ho^c days, went 
by the name of The Law : and such stories as Eli.wood's Lif; and 
George I'OX's Journal abound with like splendid victories of patience, 



t. ElIwood.-| Jg TUTOR TO I. PeNINGTOn's CHILDREN. 4/9 

by men who were incapable of telling a lie or of intentionally breaking their 
word. 

John Bunyan's imprisonment at this time was much of the same kind as 
ELL\VOOD's,assoonasthe Keeper of Bedford gaol found he could trust him.] 

Being now at liberty, I visited more generally my friends, 
that were still in prison : and, more particularly, my friend 
and benefactor, William Penington, at his house; and 
then, went to wait upon my Master, Milton. With whom, 
yet, I could not propose to enter upon my intermitted studies, 
until I had been in Buckinghamshire, to visit my worthy 
friends, Is.\AC Penington and his virtuous wife, with other 
friends in that country [district or county]. 

Thither, therefore, I betook myself; and the weather being 
frosty, and the ways by that means clean and good; I walked 
it tlirough in a day : and was received by my friends there, 
with such demonstration of hearty kindness, as made nu' 
journey very easy to me. 

I intended only a visit hither, not a continuance ; and 
therefore purposed, after I liad stayed a few days, to return 
to my lodging and former course [i.e., of reading to MiLTON] 
in London. But Providence ordered otherwise. 

Isaac Penington had, at that time, two sons and one 
daughter, all then very j'oung : of whom, the eldest son, John 
Penington, and the daughter, Mary (the wife of Daniel 
Wharley), are yet living at the writing of this [? 1713]. 
And being himself both skilful and curious in pronounciation ; 
he was very desirous to liave them well grounded in the rudi- 
ments of the English tongue. To which end, he had sent for 
a man, out of Lancashire, whom, upon inquiry, lie had heard 
of; who was, undoubtedly, the most accurate English teacher, 
that ever I met with or have heard of. His name was 
Richard Bradley. But as he pretended no higher than 
the English tongue, and had led them, by grammar rules, to 
the highest improvement they were capable of, in that ; he 
had tlien taken his leave, and was gone up to London, to 
teach an English school of Friends' children there. 

This put my friend to a fresh strait. He had sought for a 
new teacher to instruct his children in the Latin tongue, as- 
the old had done in the English : but had not yet found one. 
Wherefore, one evening, as we sate together by the fire, in 
his bedchamber, which, for want of liealth, he kept : he 



480 Stays with tiiE PeningtOns till 1669. p'?""""' 



asked me, his wife being by, " If I would be so kind to him, 
as to stay a while with him ; till he could hear of such a 
man as he aimed at: and, in the meantime, enter his children 
in the rudiments of the Latin tongue ? " 

This question was not more unexpected, than surprising 
to me ; and the more, because it seemed directly to thwart 
my former purpose and undertaking, of endeavouring to 
improve myself, by following my studies with my Master, 
Milton : which this would give, at least, a present diversion 
from ; and, for how long, I could not foresee. 

But the sense I had, of the manifold obligations I lay 
under to these worthy friends of mine, shut out all reason- 
ings ; and disposed my mind to an absolute resignation to 
their desire, that I might testify my gratitude by a willing- 
ness to do them any friendly service, that I could be capable 
of. 

And though I questioned my ability to carry on that work 
to its due height and proportion ; yet, as that was not pro- 
posed, but an initiation only by Accidence into Grammar, I 
consented to the proposal, as a present expedient, till a more 
qualified person should be found : without further treaty or 
mention of terms between us, than that of mutual friendship. 

And to render this digression from my own studies, the 
less uneasy to my mind ; I recollected, and often thought of, 
that Rule of Lilly — 

Qtd docet indodos, lied indodissimus essd, 
Ipse brcvi reliqtiis, dodior esse queat. 

He that th'unlearned doth teach, may quickly be 
More learned than they, though most unlearned he. 

With this consideration, I undertook this province ; and 
left it not until I married : which was not till [tlic aSth October 
m] the year 1669, near[ly] seven years from the time I came 
thither. 

In which time, having the use of my friend's books, as 
well as of my own, I spent my leisure hours much in reading; 
not without some improvement to myself in my private 
studies : which (with the good success of my labours 
bestowed on the children, and the agreeableness of con- 



"r. Ellwood 



i^^:] Outrage BY Justice Bennet, i July 1665. 4S1 



versation which I found in the family) rendered my under- 
taking more satisfactory ; and my stay there more easy to 
me. 

***** 

Although the storm raised by the Act for Banisluncnt [16 
Car. II. c. 4. 1664', fell with the greatest weight and force 
upon some other parts, as at London, Hertford, &c.: \-et were 
we, in Buckinghamshire, not wholly exempted therefrom. 
For a part of that shower reached us also. 

For a Friend, of Amersham, whose name was Edward 
Perot or Parret, departing this life ; and notice being given, 
that his body would be buried there on such a day (which 
was the First Day of the Fifth Month [Jiily^, 1665I : the 
Friends of the adjacent parts of the country, resorted pretty 
generally to the burial. So that there was a fair appearance 
of Friends and neighbours ; the deceased having been well 
beloved by both. 

After we had spent some time together, in the house 
(Morgan Watkins, who, at that time, happened to be at 
Isaac Penington's, being with us) ; the body was taken 
up, and borne on Friends' shoulders, along the street, in 
order to be carried to the burying-ground : which was at the 
town's end ; being part of an orchard belonging to the 
deceased, which he, in his lifetime, had appointed for that 
service. 

It so happened, that one Ambrose Bennet, a Barrister at 
Law, and a Justice of the Peace for that county, was riding 
through the town [of Amersham] that morning, in his way 
to Aylesbury : and was, by some ill-disposed person or other, 
informed that there was a Quaker to be buried there that 
day ; and that most of the Quakers in the country [county] 
were come thither to the burial. 

Upon this, he set up his horses, and stayed. And when 
we, not knowing anjthing of his design against us, went 
innocently forward to perform our Christian duty, for the 
interment of our Friend; he rushed out of his Inn upon us, 
with the Constables and a rabble of rude fellows whom he 
had gathered together : and, having his drawn sword in his 
hand, struck one of the foremost of the bearers, with it ; 
commanding them "To set down the coffin!" But the Friend, 
who was so stricken, whose name was Thomas Dell (being 
E.YG. CAR. in. 31 



4B2 Ten Friends sent to Ayi.e^^rury Gaol ; 



rX. Ellwood. 



more concerned for the safety of the dead body than his own, 
lest it should fall from his shoulder, and any indecency 
thereupon follow) held the coffin fast. Which the Justice 
observing, and being enraged that his word (how unjust 
soever) was not forthwith obeyed, set his hand to the coffin; 
and, with a forcible thrust, threw it off the bearers' shoulders, 
so that it fell to the ground, in the midst of the street : and 
there, we were forced to leave it. 

For, immediately thereupon, the Justice giving command 
for the apprehending us ; the Constables with the rabble fell 
on us, and drew some, and drove others in the Inn : giving 
thereby an opportunity to the rest, to walk away. 

Of those that were tluis taken, I was one. And being, 
with many more, put into a room, under a guard ; we were 
kept there, till another Justice, called Sir Thomas Clayton, 
whom Justice Bennet had sent for, to join with him in 
committing us, was come. 

And then, being called forth severally before them, they 
picked out ten of us ; and committed us to Aylesbury gaol : for 
what, neither we, nor they knew. For we were not convicted 
of having either done or said anything, which the law could 
take hold of. 

For they took us up in the open street, the King's high- 
way, not doing any unlawful act ; but peaceably carrying 
and accompanying the corpse of our deceased Friend, to 
bury it. Which they would not suffer us to do ; but caused 
the body to lie in the open street, and in the cartway : so 
that all the travellers that passed by (whether horsemen, 
coaches, carts, or waggons) were fain to break out of the waj', 
to go by it, that they might not drive over it ; until it was 
almost night. And then, having caused a grave to be made 
in the unconsecrated part, as it is accounted, of that which 
is called the Church Yard : they forcibly took the body from 
the widow (whose right and property it was), and buried it 
there. 

^^'hen the Justices had delivered us prisoners to the Con- 
stable, it being then late in the day, which was the seventh 
day of the week : he (not willing to go so far as Aylesbury, 
nine long miles, with us, that night ; nor to put the town [of 
Amersham] to the charge of keeping us, there, that night and 



t. Ellwood.-| ^vHICH THEY ENTER ON THE 3RD JuLY 1665. 483 

the First day and night following) dismissed us, upon our 
parole, to come to him again at a set hour, on the Second day 
morning. 

Whereupon, we all went home to our respective habita- 
tions ; and coming to him punctually [oit Monday, yd July, 
1665] according to promise, were by him, without guard, 
conducted to the Prison. 

The Gaoler, whose name was Nathaniel Birch, had, not 
long before, behaved himself very wickedly, with great rude- 
ness and cruelty, to some of our Friends of the lower side of 
the country [i.e., Buckingltauishivc]; whom he, combining with 
the Clerk of the Peace, whose name was Henky Wells, had 
contrived to get into his gaol: and after they were legally 
discharged in Court, detained them in prison, using great 
violence, and shutting them up close in the Common Gaol 
among the felons ; because they would not give him his un- 
righteous demand of Fees, which they were the more strait- 
ened in, from his treacherous dealing with them. And they 
having, through suffering, maintained their freedom, and 
obtained their liberty : we were the more concerned to keep 
what they had so hardly gained; and therefore resolved not 
to make any contract or terms for either Chamber Rent or 
Fees, but to demand a Free Prison. Which we did. 

When we came in, the gaoler was ridden out to wait on 
the Judges, who came in, that day [yd July, 1665], to begin 
the Assize ; and his wife was somewhat at a loss, how to 
deal with us. But being a cunning woman, she treated us 
with a great appearance of courtesy, offering us the choice of 
all her rooms; and when we asked, " Upon what terms ? " 
she still referred us to her husband ; telling us, she " did not 
doubt, but that he would be very reasonable and civil to us." 
Thus, she endeavoured to have drawn us to take possession 
of some of her chambers, at a venture ; and trust to her 
husband's kind usage : but, we, who, at the cost of our 
Friends, had a proof of his kindness, were too wary to be 
drawn in by the fair words of a woman : and therefore told 
her, " We would not settle anywhere till her husband came 
home ; and then would have a Free Prison, wheresoever he 
put us." 

Accordingly, walking all together into the court of the 



484 S I R W' . Morton reviles the m. [''■■ } 



Ellwood. 
T3- 



prison, in which was a well of very good water ; and having, 
beforehand, sent to a Friend in the town, a widow woman, 
whose name was Sarah Lambarn, to bring us some bread 
and cheese : we sate down upon tiie ground round about the 
well; and when we had eaten, we drank of the water out of 
the well. 

Our great concern was for our Friend, Isaac Penington, 
because of the tenderness of his constitution : but he was so 
lively in his spirit, and so cheerfully given up to suffer ; that 
he rather encouraged us, than needed any encouragement 
from us. 

In this posture, the gaoler, when he came home, found us. 
And having, before he came to us, consulted his wife ; and 
by her, understood on what terms we stood : when he came 
to us, he hid his teeth, and putting on a shew of kindness, 
seemed much troubled that we should sit there abroad [in the 
open air], especially his old friend, Mr. Penington; and 
thereupon, invited us to come in, and take what rooms in his 
house we pleased. We asked, " Upon what terms ? " letting 
him know, withal, that we were determined to have a Free 
Prison. 

He (like the Sun and the Wind, in the fable, that strove 
which of them should take from the traveller, his cloak) hav- 
ing, like the wind, tried rough, boisterous, violent means to our 
Friends before, but in vain; resolved now to imitate the Sun, 
and shine as pleasantly as he could upon us. Wherefore, 
he told us, " We should make the terms ourselves ; and be 
as free as we desired. If we thought fit, when we were 
released, to give him anything ; he would thank us for it : 
and if not, he would demand nothing." 

Upon these terms, we went in : and dispose ourselves, 
some in the dwelling-house, others in the malt-bouse : where 
they chose to be. 

During the Assize, we were brought before Judge Morton 
[Sir ]ViLLiAM Morton, Recorder c)f Gloucester], a sour angry 
man, who [beiiif:; an old Cavalier Officer, naturally,] very rudely 
reviled us, but would not hear either us or the cause ; refer- 
ring the matter to the two Justices, who had committed us. 

They, when the Assize was ended, sent for us, to be 



Eiiwood.-jYVHiLE IN gaol; Milton comes to Ciialfont. 485 

brought before them, at their Inn [at Aylesbury] ; and fined 
us, as I remember, 6s. 8d. a piece : which we not consent- 
ing to pay, they committed us to prison again, for one 
month from that time ; on the Act for Banishment. 

When we had lain there that month [i.e., not later than the 
middle of August, 1665], I, with another, went to the gaoler, 
to demand our liberty : which he readily granted, telling us, 
" The door should be opened, when we pleased to go." 

This answer of his, I reported to the rest of my Friends 
there ; and, thereupon, we raised among us a small sum of 
money, which they put into my hand, for the gaoler. Where- 
upon, I, taking another with me, went to the gaoler, with 
the money in my hand ; and reminding him of the terms, 
upon which we accepted the use of his rooms, I told him, 
" That though we could not pay Chamber Rent nor Fees, 
yet inasmuch as he had now been civil to us, we were will- 
ing to acknowledge it by a small token": and thereupon, 
gave him the money. He, putting it into his pocket, said, 
" I thank you, and your Friends for it ! and to let you see 
that I take it as a gift, not a debt ; I will not look on it, to 
see how much it is." 

The prison door being then set open for us ; we went out, 

and departed to our respective homes. 

* * » * » 

Some little time before I went to Aylesbury prison [on yd 
July, 1665], I was desired by my quondam Master, ]\Iilton, 
to take a house for him in the neighbourhood where I dwelt ; 
that he might get out of the City, for the safety of himself 
and his family : the Pestilence then growing hot in London. 

I took a pretty box for him [i.e., in June, 1665] in Giles- 
Chalfont [Chalfont St. Giles], a mile from me [Ellwood was 
then living in Isaac Penington's house, called The Grange, 
at Chalfont St. Peter ; or Peter's Chalfont, as he calls it], of which, 
I gave him notice : and intended to have waited on him, and 
seen him well settled in it ; but was prevented by that im- 
prisonment. [Therefore Milton did not come into Biickingham- 
sliire at this time, till after the yd July, 1665.] 

But, now [i.e., not later than the middle of August, 1665], 
being released, and returned home ; I soon made a visit to 
him, to welcome him into the country [county]. 



486 Ellwood svog-ests P.ij^ad/se Foc'.vd, i665.[t-P77°3: 

Afler some common discourses had passed between us 
[evidently at Ellwood's first visit],\\t called for a manuscript 
of his : which being brought, he delivered to me; bidding me, 
"Take it home with me, and read it at my leisure; and, 
when I had so done, return it to him, with my judgement 
thereupon ! " 

When I came home [i.e., The Grange ; from •u'liich Is.'l.AC 
Penixgton, until his family {including THOMAS Ellwood) 
ivas, by military force, expelled about a month after their first 
retnrn'froni Aylesbury gaol [i.e., about the middle of September) ; 
and he again sent to the same prison], and had set myself to 
read it ; I found it was that excellent poem, which he en- 
titled. Paradise Lost. 

After I had, with the best attention, read it through : I 
made him another visit, and returned him his book ; with 
due acknowledgment of the favour he had done me, in com- 
municating it to me. 

He asked me, " How I liked it ? And what I thought of 
it ? " Which I, modestly but freely, told him. 

And, after some further discourse about it, I pleasantly 
said to him, "Thou hast said much, here, of Paradise lost : 
but what hast thou to say oi Paradise found? 

He made me no answer; but sate some time in a muse: 
then brake off that discourse, and fell upon another subject. 

After the sickness [Plague] was over; and the City well 
cleansed, and become safely habitable again: he returned 
thither. 

And when, afterwards [probably in 1668 or 1669], I went to 
wait on him there (which I seldom failed of doing, whenever 
my occasions drew me to London), he showed me his second 
poem, called Paradise Regained: and, in a pleasant tone, said 
to me, " This is owing to you ! For you put it into my 
head, by the question you put to me at Chalfont ! which, be- 
fore, I had not thought of." 

[Paradise Regained wss licensed for publication on 2nd July, 1670.] 



487 



John Dryden. 
Dedicatory Epistle to The Rival Ladies. 

L E 



To THE 


Right 


[Printed in 1664.] 

Honourab 


Roger 


, Earl 


OF Orrery. 


My Lord, 








His worthless present was designed you, long be- 
fore it was a Play ; when it was only a confused 
mass of thoughts tumbling over one another in 
the dark : when the Fancy was yet in its first 
work, moving the sleeping Images of Things to- 
wards the light, there to be distinguished ; and then, either 
chosen or rejected by the Judgement. It was yours, my Lord ! 
before I could call it mine. 

And I confess, in that first tumult of my thoughts, there 
appeared a disorderly kind of beauty in some of them ; which 
gave me hope, something worthy of my Lord of Orrery 
might be drawn from them : but I was then, in that eager- 
ness of Imagination, which, by over pleasing Fanciful Men, 
flatters them into the danger of writing ; so that, when I had 
moulded it to that shape it now bears, I looked with such dis- 
gust upon it, that the censures of our severest critics are 
charitable to what I thought, and still think of it myself. 

'Tis so far from me, to believe this perfect ; that I am apt to 
conclude our best plays are scarcely so. For the Stage being 
the Representation of the World and the actions in it ; how 
can it be imagined that the Picture of Human Life can be 
more exact than Life itself is ? 

He may be allowed sometimes to err, who undertakes to 
move so many Characters and Humours (as are requisite in a 
Play) in those narrow channels, which are proper to each of 
them ; to conduct his Imaginary Persons through so many 
various intrigues and chances, as the labouring Audience 
shall think them lost under every billow : and then, at length, 
to work them so naturally out of their distresses, that when 
the whole Plot is laid open, the Spectators may rest satisfied 
that every Cause was powerful enough to produce the Effect 
it had ; and that the whole Chain of them was, with such 



488 Lord Orrery a victim to the gout. [•'■,°'';'J^'J: 

due order, linked together, that the first Accident {Incident] 
would, naturally, beget the second, till they All rendered 
the Conclusion necessary. 

These difficulties, my Lord ! may reasonably excuse the 
errors of my Undertaking: but for this confidence of my 
Dedication, I have an argument, which is too advantageous 
for me not to publish it to the World, 'Tis the kindness 
your Lordship has continually shown to all my writings. 
You have been pleased, my Lord ! they should sometimes 
cross the Irish seas, to kiss your hands ; which passage, con- 
trary to the experience of others, I have found the least 
dangerous in the world. Your favour has shone upon me, at a 
remote distance, without the least knowledge of my person : 
and, like the inl'uence of the heavenly bodies, you have done 
good, without knowing to whom you did it. 'Tis this virtue in 
your Lordship, which emboldens me to this attempt. For 
did I not consider you as my Patron, I have little reason to 
desire you for my Judge: and should appear, with as much 
awe before you, in the Reading; as I had, when the full 
theatre sate upon the Action. 

For who so severely judge of faults, as he who has given 
testimony he commits none ? Your excellent Poems having 
afforded that knowledge of it to the World, that your enemies 
are ready to upbraid you with it as a crime, for a Man of 
Business to write so well. Neither durst I have justified 
your Lordship in it, if examples of it had not been in the 
world before you : if Xenophon had not written a Romance ; 
and a certain Roman, called Augustus C.^iSAR, a Tragedy 
and Epigrams. But their writing was the entertainment of 
tiieir pleasure ; yours is only a diversion of your pain. The 
Muses have seldom employed your thoughts, but when some 
violent fit of the gout has snatched you from Affairs of State : 
and, like the priestess of AroLLO, you never come to deliver 
his oracles, but unwillingly, and in torment. So that we are 
obliged to your Lordship's misery, for our delight. You treat 
us with the cruel pleasure of a Turkish triumph, where these 
who cut and wound their bodies, sing songs of victory as they 
pass; and divert others with their own sufferings. Other 
men endure their diseases, your Lordship only can enjoy them ! 

Plotting and Writing in this kind, are, certainly, more 
troublesome employments than many which signify more, 



■" f'^itllj:] Skilful titilation of a noble Author. 4S9 

and aie of greater moment in the world. The Fancy, Memory, 
and Judgement are then extended, like so many limbs, upon 
the rack; all of them reaching, with their utmost stress, at 
Nature: a thing so almost infinite and boundless, as can 
never fully be comprehended but where the Images of all 
things are always present [p. 549!. 

Yet I wonder not your Lordsliip succeeds so well in this 
attempt. The knowledge of men is your daily practice in the 
world. To work and bend their stubborn minds; which go 
not all after the same grain, but, each of them so particular 
a way, that the sam.e common humours, in several persons, 
must be wrought upon by several means. 

Thus, my Lord ! your sickness is but the imitation of your 
health ; the Poet but subordinate to the Statesman in you. 
You still govern men with the same address, and manage 
business with the same prudence : allowing it here, as in the 
world, the due increase and growth till it comes to the just 
height ; and then turning it, when it is fully ripe, and Nature 
calls out (as it were) to be delivered. With this only ad- 
vantage of ease to you, in your Poetry : that you have 
Fortune, here, at your command : with which. Wisdom does 
often unsuccessfully struggle in the world. Here is no 
Chance, which you have not foreseen. All your heroes are 
more than your subjects, they are your creatures : and, 
though they seem to move freely, in all the sallies of their 
passions ; yet, j-ou make destinies for them, which they can- 
not shun. They are moved, if I may dare to say so, like the 
rational creatures of the Almighty Poet ; who walk at 
liberty, in their own opinion, because their fetters are in- 
vincible : when, indeed, the Prison of their Will is the more 
sure, for being large ; and instead of an A.bsolute Power over 
their actions, they have only a Wretched Desire of doing that, 
which they cannot choose but do. 

I have dwelt, my Lord ! thus long, upon your Writing ; not 
because you deserve not greater and more noble commenda- 
tions, but because I am not equally able to express them in 
other subjects. Like an ill swimmer, I have willingly stayed 
long in my own depth ; and though I am eager of performing 
more, yet I am loath to venture out beyond my knowledge. 
For beyond your Poetry, my Lord ! all is Ocean to me. 

To speak of you as a Soldier, or a Statesman, were only 



490 Writing Plavs in Rhyme is not a [■'•?'>,1|"; 

to betray my own ignorance: and I could liope no better suc- 
cess from it, than that miserable Khetorici.in had, who so- 
lemnly declaimed before Hannibal "of the Conduct of Armies, 
and the Art of War." I can only say, in general, that the 
Souls of other men shine out at little cranies ; they under- 
stand some one thing, perhaps, to admiration, while they 
are darkened on all the other parts : but your Lordship's 
Soul is an entire Globe of Light, breaking out on every side ; 
and if I have only discovered one beam of it, 'tis not that the 
light falls unequally, but because the body which receives it, 
is of unequal parts. 

The acknowledgement of which, is a fair occasion offered 
me, to retire from the consideration of your Lordship to that of 
myself. I here present you, my Lord ! with that in Print, 
which you had the goodness not to dislike upon the Stage ; 
and account it happy to have met you here in England : 
it being, at best, like small wines, to be drunk out upon the 
place [i.e., of vintage, where produced]; and hasnotbody enough 
to endure the sea. 

I know not, whether I have been so careful of the Plot and 
Language, as I ought: but for the latter, I have endeavoured 
to write English, as near as I could distinguish it from the 
tongue of pedants, and that of affected travellers. Only, I 
am sorry that, speaking so noble a language as we do, we 
have not a more certain Measure of it, as they have in France: 
where they have an "Academy" erected for that purpose, 
and endowed with large privileges by the present King 
[Louis XIV.]. I wish, we might, at length, leave to borrow 
words from other nations ; which is now a wantonness in 
us, not a necessity : but so long as some affect to speak 
them, there will not want others who will have the boldness 
to write them. 

But I fear, lest defending the received words ; I shall be 
accused for following the New Way : I mean, of writing 
Scenes in Verse ; though, to speak properl}', 'tis no so much 
a New Way amongst us, as an Old Way new revived. For, 
many years [i.e., 1561] before Shakespeare's Flays, was the 
Tragedy o{ Queen [or rather King] GoRBODUC [of which, hew- 
ever, the authentic title is " Ferrex and PORREX"] in English 
Verse; written by that famous Lord Buckhurst, afterwards 
Earl of Dorset, and progenitor to that excellent Persoii, 



^'f'\%"'] NEW WAY, BUT AN OLD ONE REVIVED. 49I 

[Lord BucKHURST, see p. 503] who, as he inherits his Soul 
and Title, I wish may inherit his good fortune ! 

But supposing our countrymen had not received this 
Writing, till of late! Shall we oppose ourselves to the most 
polished and civilised nations of Europe ? Shall we, with 
the same singularity, oppose the World in this, as most of us 
do in pronouncing Latin ? Or do we desire, that the brand 
which Barclay has, I hope unjustly, laid upon the English, 
should still continue? Augli siios ac sua omnia iiiipense 
inirantur; cceterasnationcs dcspcdui habent. All the Spanish and 
Italian Tragedies I have yet seen, are writ in Rhyme. For 
the French, I do not name them : because it is the fate of 
our countrymen, to admit little of theirs among us, but the 
basest of their men, tlie extravagancies of their fashions, and 
the frippery of their merchandise. 

Shakespeare, who (with some errors, not to be avoided in 
that Age) had, undoubtedly, a larger Soul of Poesy than ever 
any of our nation, was the First, who (to shun the pains of 
continual rhyming) invented that kind of writing which we 
call Blank \'erse [Dryden is here wrong as to fact, Lord 
Surrey wrote the earliest printed English Blank \'erse in his 
Fourth Book of the Mntid, printed in 1548] ; but the French, 
more properly P7-0SC Mesuree : into w hich, the English Tongue 
so naturally slides, that in writing Prose, 'tis hardly to be 
avoided. And, therefore, I admire [marvel that] some men 
sJiould perpetually stumble in a way so easy : and, inverting 
the order of their words, constantly close their lines with verbs. 
Which, though commended, sometimes, in writing Latin ; yet, 
we were whipt at Westminster, if we used it twice together. 
I know some, who, if they were to write in Blank Verse 
Sir, I ask your pardon ! would think it sounded more heroi- 
cally to write c ■ j- j. j ? / 

■' Sir, I, your pardon ask ! 

I should judge him to have little command of English, 
whom the necessity of a rhyme should force upon this rock ; 
though, sometimes, it cannot be easily avoided. 

And, indeed, this is the only inconvenience with which 
Rh}me can be charged. This is that, which makes them 
say, " Rh3me is not natural. It being only so, when the 
Poet either makes a vicious choice of words ; or places them, 
for Rhyme's sake, so unnaturally, as no man would, in ordi- 



492 Advantages OF Rhyme over Blank Verse. [J-. P'^;' 



den. 
664. 



nary speaking." But when 'tis so judiciously ordered, that tlie 
first word in the verse seems to beget the second ; and tliat, 
the next; till that becomes the last word in the line, which, 
in the negligence of Prose, would be so : it must, then, be 
granted. Rhyme has all advantages of Prose, besides its own. 

But the excellence and dignity of it, were never fully known, 
till Mr. Waller taught it. He, first, made writing easily, 
an Art : lirst, showed us to conclude the Sense, most com- 
monly in distiches ; wliich in the Verse of those before him, 
runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is out of 
breath, to overtake it. 

This sweetness of Mr. Waller's Lyric Poesy was, after- 
wards, followed in the Epic, by Sir John Denham, in his 
Cooper's Hill ; a Poem which, your Lordship knows ! for the 
majesty of the style, is, and ever will be the Exact Standard 
of Good Writing. 

But if we owe the invention of it to Mr. Waller ; we are 
acknowledging for the noblest use of it, to Sir William 
D'Avenant; who, at once, brought it upon the Stage, and 
made it perfect in The Siege of Rhodes. 

The advantages which Rhyme has over Blank Verse, are 
so many that it were lost time to name them. 

Sir Philip Sidney, in his Defence of Poesy, gives us one, 
which, in my opinion, is not the least considerable : I mean, 
the Help it brings to Memory ; which Rhyme so knits up by the 
Affinity of Sounds, that by remembering the last word in one 
line, we often call to mind both the verses. 

Then, in the Quickness of Repartees, which in Discoursive 
Scenes fall very often : it has so particular a grace, and is so 
aptly suited to them, that the Sudden Smartness of the Answer, 
and the Sweetness of the Rhyme set off the beauty of each other. 

But that benefit, which I consider most in it, because I 
have not seldom found it, is that it Bounds and Circum- 
scribes the Fancy. For Imagination in a Poet, is a faculty 
so wild and lawless, that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must 
have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the Judgement. The great 
easiness of Blank \'erse renders the Poet too luxuriant. He 
is tempted to say many things, which might better be omitted, 
or, at least, shut up in fewer words. 

But when the difficulty of artful Rhyming is interposed, 



'■f'^e.e":] RhVME BEST IN ARGUMENTATIVE ScENES. 493 

where the Poet commonly confines his Sense to his Couplet ; 
and must contrive that Sense into such words that the 
Rhyme shall naturally follow them, not they the Rhyme \pp. 
571 5S1] : the Fancy then gives leisure to the Judgement to 
come in ; which, seeing so heavy a tax imposed, is ready to 
cut off all unnecessary expenses. 

This last consideration has already answered an objection, 
which some have made, that " Rh)'me is only an Em- 
broidery of Sense; to make that which is ordinary in itself, 
pass for excellent with less examination." But, certain!}', 
that which most regulates the Fancy, and gives the Judge- 
ment its busiest employment, is like[ly] to bring forth the 
richest and clearest thoughts. The Poet examines that 
most which he produceth with the greatest leisure, and 
which, he knows, must pass the severest test of the audience, 
because they are aptest to have it ever in their memory : 
as the stomach makes the best concoction when it strictly 
embraces the nourishment, and takes account of every little 
particle as it passes through. 

But, as the best medicines may lose their virtue, by being ill 
applied ; so is it withVerse, if a fit Subject be not chosen for 
it. Neither must the Argument alone, but the Characters 
and Persons be great and noble : otherwise, as Scaliger 
says of Claudian, the Poet will be Ignobiliore materia 
dcprcssus. The Scenes which (in my opinion) most com- 
mend it, are those of Argumentation and Discourse, on the 
result of which, the doing or not doing [of] some considerable 
Action should depend. 

But, my Lord ! though I have more to say upon this sub- 
ject ; yet, I must remember, 'tis your Lordship, to whom I 
speak : who have much better commended this \\'ay by your 
writing in it ; than I can do, by writing for it. Where my 
Reasons cannot prevail, I am sure your Lordship's Example 
must. Your Rhetoric has gained my cause ; as least, the 
greatest part of my design has already succeeded to my wish : 
which was, to interest so noble a Person in the Quarrel ; 
and withal, to testify to the World, how happy I esteem 
myself in the honour of being. My Lord, 

Your Lordship's most humble, and most obedient servant, 

John Dryden. 



494 




The Honourable Sir Robert Howard, 
Auditor of the Exchequer. 

Preface to Foia^ 7iew Plays. 

[Licensed 7 March 1665, Printed the same year.] 

TO THE R E A D E R. 

tlHRE is none more sensible than I am, liow f^reat 
a charity the most Ingenious may need, that expose 
their private wit to a public judgement : since the 
same Phancy from whence the thoughts proceed, 
must probably be kind to its own issue. This 
renders men no pert'ecter judges of their own writings, than 
fathers are of their own cliildren : who find out that wit in 
them, which another discerns not ; and see not those errors, 
which are evident to the unconcerned. Nor is this Self Kind- 
ness more fatal to men in their writings, than in their actions ; 
every man being a greater flatterer to himself, than he knows 
how to be to another : otherwise, it were impossible that 
things of such distant natures, should find their own authors 
so equally kind in their affections to them ; and men so 
different in parts and virtues, should rest equally contented in 
their own opinions. 

This apprehension, added to that greater [one] which I 
have of my own weakness, may, I hope, incline the Reader 
to believe me, when I assure him that these follies were made 
public, as much against my inclination as judgement. But, 
being pursued with so many solicitations of Mr. Herring- 
man's Jhc Publisher], and having received civilities from him, 
if it were possible, exceeding his importunities : I, at last, 
yielded to prefer that w^hicli he believed his interest ; be- 
fore that, which I apprehended my own disadvantage. Con- 
sidering withal, that he might pretend. It would be a real 
loss to him : and could be but an imaginary prejudice to me : 
since things of this nature, though never so excellent, or 
never so mean, have seldom proved the foundation of men's 



^'?'\)ar°"6?5'iOLD pLAYS WERE BY SPEECHES &ChORUSES. 495 

new built fortunes, or the ruin of their old. It being the fate 
of Poetry, though of no other good parts, to be wholly sepa- 
rated from Interest : and there are few that know me l3ut 
will easily believe, I am not much concerned in an unprofitable 
Reputation. 

This clear account I have given the Reader, of this seeming 
contradiction, to offer that to the World which I dislike my- 
self : and, in all things, I have no greater an ambition than 
to be belie^•ed [to be] a Person, that would leather be unkind 
to myself, than ungrateful to others. 

I have made this excuse for myself. I offer none for my 
writings ; but freely leave the Reader to condemn that which 
has received my sentence already. 



Yet, I shall presume to say something in the justification 
of our nation's Plays, though not of my own : since, in my 
judgement, without being partial to my country, I do really 
prefer our Plays as much before any other nation's ; as I do the 
best of ours before my own. 

The manner of the Stage Entertainments has differed in 
all Ages ; and, as it has increased in use, it has enlarged itself 
in business. The general manner of Plays among the 
Ancients we find in Seneca's Tragedies, for serious subjects; 
and in Terence and Plautus, for the comical. In which 
latter, we see some pretences to Plots ; though certainly short 
of what we have seen in some of Mr. [Ben.] Johnson's Plays. 
And for their Wit, especially Plautus, I suppose it suited 
much better in those days, than it would do in ours. For 
were their Plays strictly translated, and presented on our 
Stage ; they would hardly bring as many audiences as they 
have now admirers. 

The serious Plays were anciently composed of Speeches 
and Choruses ; where all things are Related, but no matter of 
fact Presented on the Stage. This pattern, the French do, 
at this time, nearly follow : only leaving out the Chorus, 
making up their Plays with almost Entire and Discoursive 
Scenes; presenting the business in Relations [p. 535]. This 
way has ver}' much affected some of our nation, who possibly 
believe well of it, more upon the account that \\hat the French 
do ought to be a fashion, than upon the reason of the thing. 



496 The French follow Tins ancient rLAx.[^';'^j[!^°™j'|: 

It is first necessary to consider, Why, probably, the com- 
positions of the Ancients, especially in their serious Plays 
were after this manner ? And it will be found, that the subjects 
they commonly chose, drave them upon the necessity; which 
were usually the most known stories and Fables \p. 522]. 
Accordingly, Seneca, making choice of Medea, Hyppolitvs, 
and Hercules Qltcens, it was impossible to show Medea 
throwing old mangled ^son into her age-renewing caldron, 
or to present the scattered limbs of HvproLiTUS upon the 
Stage, and show Hercules burning upon his own funeral 
pile. 

And this, the judicious Horace clearly speaks of, in his 
Arte Poctica ; where he says 

Non tamcn inttis 
Digna geri, promes hi sccnatn : muUaqnc tollcs 
Ex ociilis, qua; mox narret facundia prascns. 
Nee pneros coram populo Medea tnicidet r/. 537-1 

Aiit huntana paltitn coqnat extra ncfarius Atreus, 
Ant in aveni Progne vertatur, Cadmus in angnem. 
Quodcunque ostendit mihi sic, incrcdnlns odi. 

So that it appears a fault to chose such Subjects for the 
Stage; but much greater, to affect that Method which those 
subjects enforce: and therefore the French seem much mis- 
taken, who, without the necessitjs sometimes commit the 
error. And this is as plainly decided by the same author, in 
his preceding words 

Atit agitur res in Scenis aut acta referiur : 
Segnins irritant animos dcmissa per anreni ; 
Qnam qua; sunt oculis siibjeeta fidclibus, ct qiicB 
Ipse sibi tradit spectator. 

By which, he directly declares his judgement, " That every 
thing makes more impression Presented, than Related." Nor, 
indeed, can any one rationally assert the contrary. For, if 
they affirm otherwise, they do, by consequence, maintain, That 
a whole Play might as well be Related, as Acte 1 [p. 538J. 



^'? '^junTSt] Our Tragi-Comedies disapproved of. 497 

Therefore whoever chooses a subject, that enforces him to 
Relations, is to blame ; and he that does it without the 
necessity of the subject, is much more. 

If these premisses be granted, 'tis no partiality to con- 
cUide, That our Enghsh Plays justly challenge the pre- 
eminence. 

Yet, I shall as candidly acknowledge, that our best Poets 
have differed from other nations, though not so happily 
[fclicitioiidy], in usually mingling and interweaving Mirth 
and Sadness, through the whole course of their Plays. Ben. 
Johnson only excepted ; who keeps himself entire to one 
Argument. And I confess I am now convinced in my own 
judgement, that it is most proper to keep the audience in one 
entire disposition both of Concern and Attention : for when 
Scenes of so different natures, immediately succeed one 
another; 'tis probable, the audience may not so suddenly 
recollect themselves, as to start into an enjoyment of Mirth, 
or into the concern for the Sadness. Yet I dispute not but the 
variety of this world may afford pursuing accidents of such 
different natures ; but yet, though possible in themselves to 
be, they may not be so proper to be Presented. An Entire 
Connection being the natural beauty of all Plays : and 
Language, the Ornament to dress them in ; which, in serious 
Subjects, ought to be great and easy, like a high born Person 
that expresses greatness without pride or affection. 

The easier dictates of Nature ought to flow in Comedy; 
yet separated from obsceneness. There being nothing more 
impudent than the immodesty of words. Wit should be 
chaste ; and those that have it, can only write well 

Si inodo 
Scimus in iirbanum Lcpido se poncre dido. 

Another way of the Ancients, which the French follow, and 
our Stage has, now lately, practised ; is to write in Rhyme. 
And this is the dispute betwixt many ingenious peisnns. 
Whether Verse in Rhyme; or Verse icillwut the Sound, wliich 
way be called Blank Verse (though a hard expression) is to bi 
preferred ? 

But take the question, largely, and it is never to be decided 

£XG. Car. III. Qg 



498 Write Poems in Riivme, Plays in Prose-^J R^^^^^j; 

[p. 512] ; but, by right application, I suppose it may. For, in 
the general, they are both proper : that is, one for a Play; the 
other for a Poem or Copy of Verses : as Blank Verse being 
as much too low for one [i.e., a Poem or Verses] ; as Rhyme is 
unnatural for the other [i.e., a Play]. [See pp. 473, 559, 5C7.] 

A Poem, being a premeditated Form of thoughts, upon 
designed occasions : ought not to be unfurnished of any 
Harmony in Words or Sound. The other [a Play] is pre- 
sented as the present effect of accidents not thought of. So 
that, 'tis impossible, it should be equally proper to both 
these ; unless it were possible that all persons were born so 
much more than Poets, tliat verses were not to be composed 
by them, but already made in them. 

Some may object "That this argument is trivial; because, 
whatever is showed, 'tis known still to be but a Play." But 
such may as well excuse an ill scene, that is not naturally 
painted; because they know 'tis only a scene, and not really 
a city or country. 

But there is yet another thing which makes Verse upon the 
Stage appear more unnatural, that is, when a piece of a verse 
is made up by one that knew not what the other meant to say ; 
and the former verse answered as perfectly in Sound as the 
last is supplied in Measure. So that the smartness of a 
Reply, which has its beauty by coming from sudden thoughts, 
seems lost by that which rather looks like a Design of two, 
than the Answer of one [p. 56S]. 

It may be said, that " Rhyme is such a confinement to a 
quick and luxuriant Phancy, that it gives a stop to its speed, 
till clow Judgement comes in to assist it [p.^gz];" but this is 
no argument for the question in hand. For the dispute is not 
which way a man may write best in ; but which is most 
proper for the subject he writes upon. And if this were let 
pass, the argument is yet unsolved in itself; for he that 
wants Judgement in the liberty of his Phancy, may as well 
shew the defect of it in its confinement : and, to say truth, 
he that has judgement will avoid the errors, and he that wants 
it, will commit them both [pp. 560, 572]. 

It may be objected, " 'Tis improbable that any should 
speak ex tempore, as well as Beaumont and Fletcher makes 
them; though in Blank Verse." I do not only acknowledge 



Sir R. Howard.* 

? Mar. 



™665.""J The Italians excel in their Operas. 499 



that, but that 'tis also improbable any will write so well that 
way. But if that may be allowed improbable ; I believe it 
may be concluded impossible that any should speak as good 
Verses in Rhyme, as the best Poets have writ : and therefore, 
that which seems nearest to what he intends is ever to be 
preferred. 

Nor are great thoughts more adorned by Verse ; than 
Verse unbeautified by mean ones. So that Verse seems 
not only unfit in the best use of it, but much more in the 
worst, when " a servant is called," or " a door bid to be shut " 
in Rhyme [p. 569]. Verses, I mean good ones, do, in their 
height of Phancy, declare the labour that brought them 
forth ! like Majesty that grows with care : and Nature, that 
made the Poet capable, seems to retire, and leave its offers to 
be made perfect by pains and judgement. 

Against this, I can raise no argument, but my Lord of 
Orrery's writings. In whose Verse, the greatness of the 
Majesty seems unsullied with the cares, and his inimitable 
Phancy descends to us in such easy expressions, that they 
seem as if neither had ever been added to the other : but 
both together flowing from a height ; like birds got so high 
that use no labouring wings, but onl}', with an easy care, 
preserve a steadiness in motion. But this particular hap- 
piness, among those multitudes which that excellent Person 
is owner of, does not convince my reason, but employ my 
wonder. Yet, I am glad such Verse has been written for our 
Stage ; since it has so happily exceeded those whom we 
seemed to imitate. 

But while I give these arguments against Verse, I may 
seem faulty, that I have not only writ ill ones, but writ any. 
But since it was the fashion ; I was resolved, as in all in- 
different things, not to appear singular: the danger of the 
vanity being greater than the error. And therefore, I fol- 
lowed it as a fashion ; though very far off. 

For the Italian plays ; I have seen some of them, which 
have been given me as the best : but they are so inconsider- 
able that the particulars of them are not at all worthy to 
entertain the Reader. But, as much as they are short of 
others, in this; they exceed in their other performances on 
the Stage. I mean their Operas : which, consisting of 
Music and Painting ; there's none but will believe it as 



500 A Play is more artistic than a N()vicl.[^'J\^°T&6^: 

much harder to equal them in that way, than 'tis to excel 
them in the other. 

Tlie Spanish Plays pretend to more ; hut, indeed, are not 
much : being nothing but so many novels put into Acts and 
scenes, without the least attempt or design of making the 
Reader more concerned than a well-told tale might do. 
Whereas, a Poet that endeavours not to heighten the acci- 
dents which Fortune seems to scatter in a well-knit Design, 
had better have told his talc by a fireside, than presented it 
on a Stage. 

For these times, wherein we write. I admire to hear the 
Poets so often cry out upon, and wittily (as they believe) 
threaten their judges ; since the eflects of their mercy has so 
much exceeded their justice, that others with me, cannot but 
remember how many favourable audiences, some of our ill 
plays have had : and, when I consider how severe the former 
Age has been to some of the best of Mr. Johnson's never to 
be equalled Comedies ; I cannot but wonder v.hy any Poet 
should speak of former Times, but rather acknowledge that 
the want of abilities in this Age are largely supplied with the 
mercies of it. [See p. 557.] 

I deny not, but there are some who resolve to like nothing, 
and such, perhaps, are not unwise ; since, by that general 
resolution, they may be certainly in the right sometimes : 
which, perhaps, they would seldom be, if they should venture 
their understandings in different censures; and, being forced 
to a general liking or disliking (lest they should discover too 
much their own weakness), 'tis to be expected they would 
rather choose to pretend to Judgement than Good Nature, 
though I wish they could find better ways to shew either. 

But I forget myself; not considering that while I entertain 
the Reader, in the entrance, with what a good play should 
be : when he is come beyond the entrance, he must be treated 
with what ill plays are. But in this, I resemble the greatest 
part of the World, that better know how to talk of many things, 
than to perform them ; and live short of their own discourses. 

And now, I seem like an eager hunter, that has long pur- 
sued a chase after an inconsiderable quarry ; and gives over, 
weary : as I do. 



OF 



Dramatic Poesy, 



A N 



ESSAY. 



By JOHN DRYDEN Esq. 5 

Fiingar vice cotis^ acutiim 
Redder e qticeferru7n valet ^ exors ipsa secandt, 

Horat. De Arte Poet. 



LONDON, 

Printed for Henry Herringman, at the sign of the 
Anchor^ on the Lower-walk of the New- 
Exchange. 1668. 



502 

[A. Dryhkn's stanzas in the Prologue of his Sccycl Lozt, or the Maiden Queen (first 
[irinled in iCSS, the year in wliich the Controversy came to an end) thus sum- 
marizes llic principal topics of this Dramatic Essay. 

lie who writ this, (not wilhoitt pains and thoiiglit) 
From Frencli and F.nglish Theatres, has I)roiii;lit 
Th'exactest Rules by wliich a I'lay is wrought. 

Tlie Unities of Action, Place, and Time; 
The Scenes unbroken; and a mingled chime 
Of Johnson's humour with Corneille's rhyme. 

But while dead colours, he, with care, did lay : 
He fears the W it, or P lo t, he did not weigh ; 
Which are the living beauties of a Play. 

B. Three words, of frequent occurrence in the Controversy (//. 4S7-59S), require 
some discrimination. 

I. Fancy, i. In the Elizabethan Age, Faney was but another word for per- 

sonal Love or Affection. 

2. By the Restoration Age, its meaning had utterly changed. Sir Robert 
Howard, who wrote it Phancy [//. 494, 499], Dryden, and that genera- 
tion, understood by it. Imagination, the mental foiuer of Picturing forth. It 

is in this sense, that it is to be understood in//. 4S7-598 of this volume. 

3. Coleridge, in his Biographia Literaria, 1812, endeavours yet further to 
distinguish between Imagination and Faney; calling Milton an Imagina- 
tive Poet, and Cowley a fanciful owe. 

4. It is now also used in another sense, " I do not faney that." = " I do not like 
or prefer that." 

II. Verse, i. Verse (with a capital V) stands lor Poetry in rhymeJ I'erse in 

general. 
2. verse means a single line in a stanza. 

III. Scene, i. In the sense of Scenes unbroken above. Scene (always 
herein spelt with a capital S) does not refer to Place, but to Action. It means 
a Dialogue in the Play : and it is said to be unbroken when it is kept up 
without a break, either by the same Actors or by a continuous succession of 
fresh ones. "It is a good mark of a well-contrived Play, when all ihe 
persons are known to each other, and everyone of them has some afTairs with 
all the rest" [/. 517]. 

2. scene occurs sometimes in the sense o{ locality, as at//. 516, 517. 

3. scenes, meaning the painted scenery just then coining into use in the English 
theatres : //. 49S, 516, 535, 560, 596. 

It should never be forgotten that all the earlier Canons of Dramatic Poesy, 
as the Three Unities, &c., refer to a condition of things when the Slage had uo 
painted scenery to assist the Imagination in tlie illusion of the .Spectator : and 
that, as a matter of fact, when Painted Scenery became a new factor in 
Dramatic representations, it abolished the Doctrine of the Unities altogether.] 



M 


Y L 


i 


M 



503 

To the Right Honourable 
CHARLES Lord BUCKHURST. 

R D , [See/. 490] 

S / WAS lately reviewing my loose papers, amongst the 
rest I found this Essay, the writing of wliich, in this 
rude and indigested manner wherein your Lordship 
now sees it, served as an amusement to me in 
the country [in 1665], when the violence of the last 
Plague had driven me from the town. Seeing, then, our theatres 
shut up ; I was engaged in these kind[s] of thoughts with the same 
delight with ivhich men think upon their absent mistresses. 

I confess I find many things in this Discourse, ichich I do not now 
approve ; my judgement being a little altered since the writing of it : 
but whether for the better or worse, I know not. Neither indeed is it 
much material in an Essay, where all I have said is problematical. 

For thc'way of writing Plays in Verse, which I have seemed to 
favour [p. ^61]; I have, si7ice that time, laid the practice of it aside till 
I have more leisure, because I find it troublesome and slow. But I 
am no way altered from my opinion of it, at least, with any reasons 
which have opposed it. For your Lordship may easily observe that 
none are very violent against it; but those who either have not 
attempted it, or who have succeeded ill in their attempt. 'Tis enough 
for me, to have your Lordship's example for my excuse in thai 
little which I have done in it : and I am sure my adversaries can 
bring no such arguments against Verse, as the Fourth Act of 
POMPEY will furnish me with in its defence. 

Yet, my Lord! you must suffer me a little to complain of you ! 
that you too soon withdraw from tis a contentment, of which we 
expected the continuance, because yoii gave it ns so early. 'Tis a 
revolt without occasion from your Party I where your merits 
had already raised you to the highest commands ; and where you 
have not the excuse of other men that you have been ill used 
and therefore laid down arms. I know no other quarrel you can 
have to Verse, than that which Spurina had to his beauty ; when 
he tore and mangled the features of his face, only because they 
pleased too well the lookers on. It was an honour which seemed to 
wait for you, to lead out a New Colony of Writers from the Mother 
Nation ; and, upon the first spreading of your ensigns, there had 



504 Address to Lord Buckiiurst. [J- ^"^^Ij, 

been many in a readiness to have followed so fortunate a Leader ; 
if not all, yet the better pari of writers. 

Pars, indocili melior giege, mollis et expes 
Inominata perprimat cubilia. 

I ant almost of opinion that we should force you to accept of the 
command ; as sometimes the Pratorian Bands have compelled their 
Captains to receive the Empire. The Court, which is the best and 
surest judi:^e of writing, has generally allowed of Verse; and in the 
Town, it has found favourers of Wit and Quality. 

As for your own particular, my Lord! you have yet youth 
and time enough to give part of it to the Divertisement of the 
of the Public, before you enter into the serious and more unpleasant 
Business of the World. 

That w'liich the French Poet said of the Temple of Love, may be 
as well applied to the Temple of Muses. The words, as near[ly] 
as I can remember them, were these — 

La jeunesse a mauvaise grace 

N'ayant pas adore dans le Temple d'Amour; 

II faut qu'il entre : et pour le sage ; 

Si ce n'est son vrai sejour, 

Ce'st un gite sur son passage. 

I leave the words to work their effect upon your Lordship, in 

their own language ; because no other can so well express the 
nobleness of the thought : and wish you may be soon called to bear 
a part in the affaires of the Nation, where I know the World ex- 
pects you, and wonders wliy you have been so long forgotten ; there 
being no person amongst our young nobility, on whom the eyes of 
all men arc so much bent. But, in the meantime, your Lordship 
may imitate the Course of Nature, which gives ns the flower before 
the fruit ; that I may speak to you in the language of the Muses, 
wliich I have taken from an excellent Poem to the King [i.e., 
Charles II.j 

As Nature, 'when she fruit designs, thinks fit 
By beauteous blossoms to proceed to it. 
And while she does accomplish all the Spring, 
Birds, to her secret operations sing. 

I confess I have no greater reason in addressing this Essay to 
your Lordship, than that it might awaken in you the desire oj 
writing something, in whatever kind it be, which might be an 



^ ^'^'.te"'.] Address to Lord Buckiiurst. 505 

honour to our Age and country. And, methinks, it might have 
the same effect upon yon, which, HoUER tells tis, the fight of the 
Greeks and Trojans before the fleet had on the spirit ofAciULLES ; 
who, though he had resolved not to engage, yet found a martial 
warmth to steal upon him at the sight of blows, the sound of 
iruiiipets, and the cries of fighting men. 

Far my own part, if in treating of this subject, I sometimes 
dissent from the opinion of better Wits, I declare it is not so much to 
combat their opinions as to defend mine own, which were first made 
tmblic. Sometimes, like a scholar in a fencing school, I put forth 
myself, and show my own ill play, on purpose to be better taught. 
Sometimes, I stand desperately to my arms, like the Foot, when 
deserted by their Horse ; not in hope to overcome, but only to yield 
on more honourable terms. 

And yet, my Lord ! this War of Opinions, you well know, has 
fallen out among the Writers of all Ages, and sometimes betwixt 
friends : only it has been persecuted by some, like pedants, with 
violence of words ; and managed, by others, like gentlemen, icith 
candour and civilitv. Even TuLLY had a controversy ivith his 
dear Atticus; and in one of his Dialogues, makes him sustain 
the part of an enemy in Philosophy, who, in his Letters, is his con- 
fident of State, and made privy to the most weighty affairs of the 
Roman Senate: and the same respect, which was paid by TuLLY 
to Atticus ; we find returned to him, afterwards, by C/es.ar, on 
a like occasion : who, ansivering his book in praise of C.4T0, made 
it not so much his business to condemn C.4T0, as to praise CiCERO. 

But that I may decline some part of the encounter ivitii my 
adversaries, whom I am neither willing to combat, nor well able 
to resist; I will give your Lordship the relation of a dispute be- 
twixt some of our wits upon this subject : in which, they did not 
only speak of Plays in Verse, but mingled, in the freedom of 
discourse, some things of the Ancient, many of the Modern Ways 
of Writing ; comparing those with these, and the Wits of our 
Nation with those of others. 'lis true, they differed in their opinions, 
as 'tis probable they would ; neither do I take upon me to reconcile, 
but to relate them, and that, as TACITUS professes of himself, 
sine studio partium aut ira., " without passion or interest" : 
leaving your Lordship to decide it in favour of which part, you shall 
judge most reasonable / And withal, to pardon the many errors of 
Your Lordship's most obedient humble servant, 

John Dryden. 



5o6 







TO THE READER 

a 

He drift of the ensuing Discourse was 
chiefly to vindicate the honour of our English 
]]^r iters from the censure of those who 
iuiftistly prefer the French before them. This I intimate, 
lest any should think me so exceeding vain, as to teach 
others an Art which they understaiid much better than 
myself But if this incorrect Essay, zuritten in the 
country, without the help of boohs or advice of friends, 
shall find any acceptance in the World: I promise to 
viyself a better success of the Second Part, wherein the 
virtues and faults of the English Poets who have 
zvritte7i, either in this, the Epic, or the Lyric way, zuill 
be more fully treated of; and their several styles impar- 
tially imitated. 

[It is much to be regretted that this Second Part was never written. E.A.] 






507 





AN ESSAY 

OF 

Dramatic Poesy. 

T WAS that memorable day [yd of June 1665] in 
the first summer of the late war, when our Navy 
engaged the Dutch ; a day, wherein the two most 
mighty and best appointed Fleets which any Age 
had ever seen, disputed the command of the 
greater half of the Globe, the commerce of Nations, and the 
riches of the Universe. While these vast floating bodies, on 
either side, moved against each other in parallel lines ; and 
our countrymen, under the happy conduct of His Royal 
Highness [the Duke of York], went breaking by little and 
little, into the line of the enemies: the noise of the cannon 
from both navies reached our ears about the City; so that all 
men being alarmed with it, and in a dreadful suspense of the 
event v/hich we knew was then deciding, every one went fol- 
lowing the sound as his fancy [imagination] led him. And leav- 
ing the Town almost empty, some took towards the Park ; 
some cross the river, others down it : all seeking the noise in 
the depth of silence. 

Among the rest, it was the fortune of Eugenius, CraTES, 
LisiDEius and Neander to be in company together: three 
of them persons whom their Wit and Quality have made 
known to all the Town ; and whom I have chosen to hide 



508 A FAMOUS BOATLOAD OF C K I T I C S. P' ^Zf-^i. 

under these borrowed names, tliat they may not suffer by so 
ill a Relation as I am going to make, of their discourse. 

Taking then, a barge, which a servant of Lisideius had 
provided for them, they made haste to shoot the Bridge [i.e., 
London Bridge] : and [so] left behind them that great fall of 
waters, which hindered them from hearing what they desired. 

After which, having disengaged themselves from many 
vessels which rode at anchor in the Thames, and almost 
blocked up the passage towards Greenwich : they ordered the 
watermen to let fall their oars more gently ; and then, every 
one favouring his own curiosity with a strict silence, it was 
not long ere they perceived the air break about them, like 
the noise of distant thunder, or of swallows in a chimnej'. 
Those little undulations of sound, though almost vanishing 
before they reached them ; yet still seeming to retain some- 
what of their first horror, which they had betwixt the fleets. 

After they had attentivel}' listened till such time, as the 
sound, by little and little, went from them; Eugenius [i.e., 
Lord BUCKHURST] lifting up his head, and taking notice of 
it, was the first to congratulate to the rest, that happy 
Omen of our nation's victory: adding, "we had but this to 
desire, in confirmation of it, that we might hear no more of 
that noise, which was now leaving the English coast." 

When the rest had concurred in the same opinion, 
Ckites [i.e., Sir Robert Ho\v.4RD] (a person of a sharp 
judgment, and somewhat a too delicate a taste in wit, which 
the World have mistaken in him for ill nature) said, smiling, 
to us, " That if the concernment of this battle had not been 
so exceeding[ly] great, he could scarce have wished the victory 
at the price, he knew, must pay for it; in being subject to the 
reading and hearing of so many ill verses, he was sure would 
be made upon it." Adding, "That no argument could 'scape 
some of those eternal rhymers, who watch a battle with more 
diligence than the ravens and birds of prey; and the worst 
of them surest to be first in upon the quarry : while the better 
able, either, out of modesty, writ not at all ; or set that due 
value upon their poems, as to let them be often called for, 
and long expected." 

" There are some of those impertinent people you speak 
of," answered Lisideius [i.e.. Sir Charles Sedley], "who, 
to my knowledge, are already so provided, either way, that 



^' ^iZe;!":] Dryden's attack ON George Wither. 509 

they can produce not only a Panegyric upon the Victory : but, 
if need be, a Funeral Elegy upon the Duke, and, after they 
have crowned his valour with many laurels, at last, deplore 
the odds under which he fell ; concluding that his courage 
deserved a better destiny." All the company smiled at the 
conceipt of Lisideius. 

But Crites, more eager than before, began to make par- 
ticular exceptions against some writers, and said, "The 
Public Magistrate ought to send, betimes, to forbid them : and 
that it concerned the peace and quiet of all honest people, that 
ill poets should be as well silenced as seditious preachers." 

"In my opinion" replied Eugenius, "you pursue your point 
too far ! For, as to my own particular, I am so great a lover 
of Poesy, that I could wish them all rewarded, who attempt 
but to do well. At least, I would not have them worse used 
than Sylla the Dictator did one of their brethren heretofore. 
Quein in condone vidimus (says Tully, speaking of him) cmn 
ci libellum mains pocta dc populo snbjecisset, quod cpigramma in 
eum fccissct tantunimodo altcrnis vcrsibus longitictdis, siatim ex iis 
rebus quce tunc vcndcbai jnbere ciprccitiium tribui, sub ca conditione 
ne quid postca scribcret." 

"I could wish, with all my heart," replied C Kirns, "that 
many whom we know, were as bountifully thanked, upon the 
same condition, that they would never trouble us again. 
For amongst others, I have a mortal apprehension of two 
poets, whom this Victory, with the help of both her wings, 
will never be able to escape." 

" 'Tis easy to guess, whom you intend," said Lisideius, 
"and without naming them, I ask j-ou if one [i.e., George 
Wither] of them does not perpetually pay us with clenches 
upon words, and a certain clownish kind of raillery? If, now 
and then, he does not offer at a catachresis [which COTGRAVE 
defines as ' the abuse, or necessary use of one word, for lack of 
another more proper' ] or Clevelandism, wresting and torturing 
a word mto another meaning ? In fine, if be not one of those 
whom the French would call un mauvais buffon ; one that is 
so much a well wilier to the Satire, that he spares no man : and 
though he cannot strike a blow to hurt any, yet ought to be 
punished for the malice of the action ; as our witches are justly 
hanged, because they think themselves so, and suffer deser- 
vedly for believing they did mischief, because they meant it." 



510 Mis second attack, on Francis Ouarles. p '^'^t-li- 

"You Iiave described him," said Ckites, "so exactly, that I 
am afraid to come after you, with my other Extremity of 
Poetry. He 'J.e.,FRAXClsQuARLES] isoneof those, who, hav- 
ing had some advantage of education and converse [i.e., conver- 
sation, in the sense of Culture throu^^h mixture with society^^, knows 
better than the other, what a Poet should be; but puts it into 
practice more unluckily than any man. His stjle and matter 
are everywhere alike. He is the most calm, peaceable writer 
you ever read. He never disquiets your passions with the 
least concernment ; but still leaves you in as even a temper 
as he found you. He is a very Leveller in poetry ; he creeps 
along, with ten little words in everj- line, and helps out his 
numbers with For to, and Unto, and all the pretty expletives 
he can find, till he drags them to the end of another line : 
^\■hile the Sense is left, tired, halfN\-ay behind it. He doubly 
starves all his verses; first, for want of Thought, and then, of 
Expression. Hispoetry neither has wit in it, nor seems to have 
it; like him, in Martial, 

Pauper vidcri CiNNA vult, et est pauper. 

He affects plainness, to cover his Want of Imagination. 
When he writes in the serious way; the highest flight of his 
Fancy is some miserable antithesis or seeming contradiction : 
and in the comic ; he is still reaching at some thin conceit, 
the ghost of a jest, and that too flies before him, never to be 
caught. These swallows, which we see before us on the 
Thames, are the just resemblance of his Wit. You may ob- 
serve how near the water they stoop ! how many proffers they 
make to dip, and yet how seldom they touch it ! and when 
they do, 'tis but the surface ! they skim over it, but to catch a 
gnat, and then mount in the air and leave it ! " 

" Well, gentlemen !" said Eugenius, " you may speak 
3'our pleasure of these authors; but though I and some few 
more about the Town, may give you a peaceable hearing : 
yet, assure yourselves ! there are multitudes who would think 
you malicious, and them injured ; especially him whom you 
first described, he is the very ]Vithersoi the City. They have 
bought more Editions of his works, than would serve to lay 
under all their pies at the Lord ISLiyor's Christmas. When 
his famous poem [i.e., Speeuluni Speculativiuni ; Or, A Con- 
sidering Glass. Being an Inspection into the present and late 



^' ^leet-"'] The Battle of the Ancients & Moderns. 5 1 1 

sad condition of these Nations. . . . London. Wriilcn June xiii. 
XDCLX, and there imprinted the same year] first came out in 
the year 1660, I have seen them read it in the midst of 
Change time. Nay, so vehement were they at it, that they 
lost their bargain by the candles' ends ! But what will you 
say, if he has been received among the Great Ones ? I can 
assure you, he is, this day, the envy of a Great Person, who 
is Lord in the Art of Quibbling; and who does not take it 
well, than any man should intrude so far into his province." 

" All I would wish," replied Crites, " is that they who love 
his writings, may still admire him and his fellow poet. Qui 
Baviinn non odit &c., is curse sufficient." 

" And farther," added Lisideius ; " I believe there is no 
man who writes well ; but would think himself very hardly 
dealt with, if their admirers should praise anything of his. 
Nam qiios contcmniuius corum qiioque laudcs conteinniinns." 

" There are so few who write well, in this Age," said 
Crites, "that methinks any praises should be welcome. They 
neither rise to the dignity of the last Age, nor to any of the 
Ancients : and we may cry out of the Writers of this Time, with 
more reason than Petronius of his. Pace vcstra liceat dixisse, 
. primi omnium cloquenliain pcrdidislis ! ' You have debauched 
the true old Poetry so far, that Nature (which is the Soul of 
it) is not in any of your writings ! ' " 

" If your quarrel," said Eugenius, " to those who now 
write, be grounded only upon your reverence to Antiquity ; 
there is no man more ready to adore those great Greeks and 
Romans than I am : but, on the other side, I cannot think so 
contemptibly of the Age I live in, or so dishonourably of my 
own Country as not to judge [that] we equal the Ancients in 
most kinds of Poesy, and in some, surpass them ; neither 
know I any reason why I may not be as zealous for the 
reputation of our Age, as we find the Ancients themselves, 
in reference to those who lived before them. For you hear 
Horace saying 

Indignor qnidquam reprchendi, non quia crasse 
Compositum, illepide've putetur, sed quia nuper. 
And, after, 
•5^ Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit, 

' Scire velim pretinni chartis quotus arroget annus ? 



5 1 2 Dramatic Poesy chosen for discussion. [J- ^X^^!);^ 

-But I see I am engaging in a wide dispute, where the argu- 
ments are not hkellyj to reacli close, on either side \p. 497]: for 
Poesy is of so large extent, and"so many (hotli of the Ancients 
and Moderns) have done well in all kinds of it, that, in 
citing one against the other, we shall take up more time this 
evening, than each man's occasions will allow him. 'I'here- 
fore, I would ask Crites to what part of Poesy, he would 
confine his arguments? and whether he would defend the 
general cause of tiie Ancients against the Moderns ; or oppose 
any Age of the Moderns against this of ours ? 

Crites, a little while considering upon this demand, told 
EuGENius, he approved of his propositions; and, if he 
pleased, he would limit their dispute to Dramatic Poesy : in 
which, lie thought it not difficult to prove, either that the 
Ancients were superior to the Moderns ; or the last Age to 
this of ours. 

Eugenics was somewhat surprised, when he heard Crites 
make choice of that subject. " For ought I see," said he, "I 
have undertaken a harder province than I imagined. For 
though I never judged the pla\s of the Greek and Roman 
poets comparable to ours : 3"et, on the other side, those we now 
see acted, come short of many which were written in the last 
Age. But my comfort is, if we were o'ercome, it will be only 
by our own countrymen ; and if we yield to them in this one 
part of Poes}', we [the] more surpass them in all the otheris]. 

For in the Epic, or L3'ric way, it v.-ill be hard for them to 
shew us one such amongst them, as we have many now living, 
or who !a':ely were so. They can produce nothing so Courtly 
writ, or which expresses so much the con\-ersation of a 
gentleman, as Sir John Suckling ; nothing so even, 
sweet, and flowing, as Mr. Waller ; nothing so majestic, 
so correct, as Sir John Denham; nothing so elevated, so 
copious, and full of spirit, as Mr. Cowley. As for the 
Italian, French, and Spanish plays, I can make it evident, 
that those who now write, surpass them ; and that the Drama 
is wholly ours." 

All of them were thus far of Eugenius his opinion, that 
"the srt-eetness of English Verse was never understood or 
practised by our fathers " ; even Crites himself did not much 
oppose it : and every one was willing to acknowledge how 
much our Poesy is improved by the happiness of some writers 




■'•"m5-7:]'Lisideius— A Definition OF A Play. 513 

yet living, who first taught us to mould our thoughts into 
easy and significant words ; to retrench the superfluities of 
expression; and to make our Rhyme so properly a part of the 
Verse, that it should never mislead the Sense, but itself be 
led and governed by it. 

|Ugenius was going to continue this discourse, when 
LiSiDEius told him, that "it was necessary, before 
they proceeded further, to take a Standing Measure 
of their controversy. For how was it possible to be 
decided who writ the best plays, before we know what a Play 
should be ? but this once agreed on by both parties, each 
might have recourse to it ; either to prove his own advan- 
tages, or discover the failings of his adversary." 

He had no sooner said this ; but all desired the favour of 
him to give the definition of a Play : and they were the 
more importunate, because neither Aristotle, nor Horace, 
nor any other who writ of that subject, had ever done it. 

Lisideius, after some modest denials, at last, confessed 
he had a rude notion of it ; indeed, rather a Description than 
a Definition ; but which served to guide him in his private 
thoughts, when he was to make a judgment of what others 
writ. That he conceived a Play ought to be A just and 
LIVELY Image of Human Nature, repre- 
senting its passions and humours; and the 
changes of fortune, to which it is subject: 

FOR the delight AND INSTRUCTION OF 

mankind. [Sccp.^6y.] 

This Definition, though Crites raised a logical objection 
against it (that " it was only a gcnerc d fine" and so not 
altogether perfect), was yet well received by the rest. 

And, after they had given order to the watermen to turn their 
barge, and row softly, that they might take the cool of the 
evening in their return: Crites, being desired by the company 
to begin, spoke on behalf of the Ancients, in this manner. 

|F confidence presage a victory; Eugenius, in his 

own opinion, has already triumphed over the 

Ancients. Nothing seems more easy to him, than 

to overcome those whom it is our greatest praise 

to have imitated well : for we do not only build upon their 

foundation, but by their models. 

Eng. Car. in. DD 




514CRITES OPENS THE First Argument.[-'- '^.?^5!"/ 

Dramatic Poesy had time enough, reckoning from TiiEr,PiS 
vvlio iirst invented it, to Aristophanes; to be born, to grow 
up, and to llourish in maturity. 

It has been observed of Arts and Sciences, that in one and the 
same century, they have arrived to a great perfection [p. 52o\ And, 
no wonder ! since every Age has a kind of Universal Genius, 
wliich inclines those that live in it to some particular studies. 
The work then being pushed on by many hands, must, of 
necessity, go forward. 

Is it not evident, in these last hundred years, when the 
study of Philosophy has been the business of all the Virtuosi 
in Christendom, that almost a new Nature has been re- 
vealed to us ? that more errors of the School have been 
detected, more useful experiments in Philosophy have been 
made, more noble secrets in Optics, Medicine, Anatomy, 
Astronomy, discovered ; than, in all those credulous and 
doting Ages, from Aristotle to us [p. 520] ? So true it is, 
that nothing spreads more fast than Science, when rightly 
and generally cultivated. 

Add to this, the more than common Emulation that xcas, in 
tJwse times, of writing iccll : which, though it be found in all 
Ages and all persons that pretend to the same reputation : 
yet Poesy, being then in more esteem than now it is, had greater 
honours decreed to the Professors of it, and consequently the rival- 
ship was more high between them. They had Judges ordained 
to decide their merit, and prizes to reward it : and historians 
have been diligent to record of /Eschylus, Euripides, 
Sophocles, Lycophron, and the rest of them, both who they 
were that vanquished in these Wars of the Theatre, and hov/ 
often they were crowned : while the Asian Kings and Grecian 
Commonwealths scarce[ly] afforded them a nobler subject 
than the unmanly luxuries of a debauched Court, or giddy 
intrigues of a factious city. Alit oemulatio ingenia, says 
Paterculus, et nunc invidia, nunc admiratio incitationeni 
accendit: 'Emulation is the spur of wit; and sometimes 
envy, sometimes admiration quickens our endeavours.' 

But now, since the rewards of honour are taken away : 
that Virtuous Emulation is turned into direct Malice ; yet 
so slothful, that it contents itself to condemn and cry down 



^' ^Zt"'] Crites — We neglect to look on Nature. 5 1 5 

others, without attempting to do better. 'Tis a reputation 
too unprofitable, to take the necessary pains for it ; )'et 
wishing they had it, is incitement enough to hinder others 
from it. And this, in short, Eugenius, is the reason why 
you have now so few good poets, and so many severe judges. 
Certainly, to imitate the Ancients well, much labour and 
long study is required : which pains, I have already shown, 
our poets would want encouragement to take ; if yet they had 
ability to go through with it. 

Those Ancients have been faithful Imitators and wise 
Observers of that Nature, which is so torn and ill-repre- 
sented in our Plays. They have handed down to us a perfect 
Resemblance of Her, which we, like ill copyers, neglecting to 
look on, have rendered monstrous and disfigured. 

But that you may know, hov/ much you are indebted to 
your Masters ! and be ashamed to have so ill-requited 
them ! I must remember you, that all the Rules by which 
we practise the Drama at this day (either such as relate to 
the Justness and Symmetry of the Plot; or the episodical 
ornaments, such as Descriptions, Narrations, and other 
beauties which are not essential to the playj, were delivered 
to us from the Observations that Aristotle made of those 
Poets, which either lived before him, or were his contem- 
poraries. We have added nothing of our own, except we 
have the confidence to say, ' Our wit is better!' which none 
boast of in our Age, but such as understand not theirs. 
Of that book, which Aristotle has left us, Trepi. tt}? 
noiijTiKf]i;; Horace his Art of Poetry is an excellent Com- 
inent, and, I believe, restores to us, that Second Book of his 
[i.e., Aristotle] concerning Comedy, which is wanting in 
him. 

Out of these two [Authors], have been extracted the 
Famous Rules, which the French call, Des trois Unites, 
or ' The Three Unities,' which ought to be observed in 
every regular Play ; namely, of Time, Place, and 
Action. 

The UnityofTime, they comprehend in Twenty- 
four hours, the compass of a natural Day; or, as near it, as can 
be contrived. And the reason of it is obvious to every one. 
That the Time of the feigned Action or Fable of the Play 



5 1 6 C R 1 T E s — T HE Unity of Time. ['• '^,'^;;j!^; 

should be proporlioncd, as near as can be, to the duration of that 
Time in which it is represented. Since therefore all 
plays are acted on the Theatre in a space of time much 
within the compass of Twenty-four hours ; that Play is to be 
thought the nearest hnitation of Nature, whose Plot or Action 
is confined within that time. 

And, by the same Rule which concludes this General 
Proportion of Time, it follows, Tliat all the parts of it arc to 
be equally subdivided. As, namely, that one Act take not up 
the supposed time of Half a day, which is out of proportion 
to the rest ; since the other four are then to be straitened 
within the compass of the remaining half : for it is unnatural 
that one Act which, being spoken or written, is not longer 
than the rest ; should be supposed longer by the audience. 
'Tis therefore the Poet's duty to take care that no Act should 
be imagined to exceed the Time in ivhich it is Represented on the 
Stage ; and that the intervals and inequalities of time, be 
be supposed to fall out between the Acts. [See p. 595.] 

This Rule of T i m e , how well it has been observed by 
the Ancients, most of their plays will witness. You see 
them, in their Tragedies (wherein to follow this Rule is 
certainly n-wst difficult), from the very beginning of their 
Plays, falling close into that part of the Story, wliich they 
intend for the Action or principal Object of it : leaving the 
former part to be delivered by Narration. So that they set 
the audience, as it were, at the post where the race is to 
be concluded: and, saving them the tedious expectation of 
seeing the Poet set out and ride the beginning of the course; 
you behold him not, till he is in sight of the goal, and just 
upon you. [See Dryden's personal opinion on Time, at p. 596.] 

For the Second Unity, which is that of Place; the 
Ancients meant by it, That the scene [locality] ought to be 
continued, through the Play, in the same place, where it was laid 
in the beginning. For the Stage, on which it is represented, 
being but one, and the same place; it is unnatural to conceive 
it many, and those far distant from one another. I will not 
deny but by the Variation of Painted scenes [scenery li'as intro- 
duced about this time into the English theatres, by Sir WiLLlAM 
D'AvENANT and Betterton the Actor: see Vol. II. p. 278] 
the Fancy which, in these cases, will contribute to its own 



■'■ "iMt-"-] C RITES — The Unity of Place. 517 

deceit, may sometimes imagine it several places, upon some 
appearance of probability : yet it still carries the greater 
likelihood of truth, if those places be supposed so near each 
other as in the same town or city, which may all be 
comprehended under the larger denomination of One Place ; 
for a greater distance will bear no proportion to the shortness 
of time u'liich is allotted in the acting, to pass from one of them 
to another. [See pp. 523, 595.] 

For the observation of this ; next to the Ancients, the 
French are most to be commended. They tie themselves so 
strictly to the Unity of Place, that you never see in any of 
their plays, a scene [locality] changed in the middle of an 
Act. If the Act begins in a garden, a street, or [a] chamber; 
'tis ended in the same place. And that you may know it to 
be the same, the Stage is so supplied with persons, that it is 
never empty all the time. He that enters the second has 
business with him, who was on before ; and before the second 
quits the stage, a third appears, who has business with him. 
This CoRNEiLLE calls La Liaison des Scenes, 'the Continuity 
or Joining of the Scenes' : and it is a good mark of a well 
contrived Play, when all the persons are known to each other, 
and every one of them has some affairs with all the rest. 

As for the third Unity, which is that of Action, the 
Ancients meant no other by it, than what the Logicians do 
by their Finis ; the End or Scope of any Action, that which 
is the First in intention, and Last in execution. 

Now the Poet is to aim at one great and complete Action ; 
to the carrying on of which, all things in the Play, even the 
very obstacles, are to be subservient. And the reason of this, 
is as evident as any of the former. For two Actions, equally 
laboured and driven on by the Writer, would destroy the 
Unity of the Poem. It would be no longer one Play, but 
two. Not but that there may be many actions in a Play (as 
Ben. Johnson has observed in his Discoveries), but they 
must be all subservient to the great one ; which our language 
happily expresses, in the name of Under Plots. Such as, in 
Terence's Ennnch, is the deference and reconcilement of 
Thais and Phjedria ; which is not the chief business of 
the Play, but promotes the marriage of Chcerea and 
CUREUES's sister, principally intended by the Poet. 



5 1 S C R I T E s — T HE Unity of A c t i o n. [-f- ^^fy": 

'There ought to be but one Action,' says Corneille, 
' that is, one complete Action, which leaves the mind of the 
audience in a full repose.' But this cannot be brought to pass, 
but by many other imperfect ones, which conduce to it, and 
hold the audience in a delightful suspense of what will be. 

If by these Rules (to omit many others drawn from the 
Precepts and Practice of the Ancients), we should judge our 
modern plays, 'tis probable that few of them would endure 
the trial. That which should be the business of a Day, 
takes up, in some of them, an Age. Instead of One Action, 
they are the Epitome of a man's life. And for one spot of 
ground, which the Stage should represent ; we are sometimes 
in more countries than the map can show us. 

But if we will allow the Ancients to have contrived well ; 
we must acknowledge them to have writ better. Question- 
less, we are deprived of a great stock of wit, in the loss of 
Menander among the Greek poets, and of CaH;ciLius, 
Affranius, and Varius among the Romans. We may 
guess of Menander's excellency by the Plays of Terence ; 
who translated some of his, and yet wanted so much of him, 
that he was called by C. Cesar, the Half-MENANDER : and 
of Varius, by the testimonies of Horace, Martial, and 
Velleius Paterculus. 'Tis probable that these, could 
they be recovered, would decide the controversy. 

But so long as Aristophanes in the Old Comedy, and 
Plautus in the New are extant; while the Tragedies of 
Euripides, Sophocles, and Seneca are to be had : I can 
never see one of those Plays which are now written, but it 
increases my admiration of the Ancients. And yet I must 
acknowledge further, that to admire them as we ought, we 
should understand them better than we do. Doubtless, many 
things appear flat to us, whose wit depended upon some custom 
or story, which never came to our knowledge ; or perhaps upon 
some criticism in their language, which, being so long dead, 
and only remaining in their books, it is not possible they 
should make us know it perfectly [p. 525]. 

To read Macrobius explaining the propriety and elegancy 
of many words in Virgil, which I had before passed over 
without consideration as common things, is enough to assure 
me that I ought to think the same of Terence; and that, in 



■^' "St-";] Crites — The plagiaries of Father Ben. 519 

the purity of his style, which Tully so much valued that he 
ever carried his Works about him, there is yet left in him 
great room for admiration, if I knew but where to place it. 

In the meantime, I must desire you to take notice that the 
greatest man of the last Age, Ben. Johnson, was willing to 
give place to them in all things. He was not only a pro- 
fessed imitator of Horace, but a learned plagiary of all 
the others. You track him everywhere in their snow. 
If Horace, Lucan, Petronius Arbiter, Seneca, and 
Juvenal had their own from him ; there are few serious 
thoughts that are new in him. You will pardon me, there- 
fore, if I presume, he loved their fashion ; when he wore 
their clothes. [Sec p. ^^i.] 

But since I have otherwise a great veneration for him ; 
and you, Eugenius! prefer him above all other poets : I will 
use no farther argument to you than his example. I will 
produce Father Ben. to you, dressed in all the ornaments 
and colours of the Ancients. You will need no other guide 
to our party, if you follow him : and whether you consider 
the bad plays of our Age, or regard the good ones of the last : 
both the best and worst of the Modern poets will equally 
instruct you to esteem the Ancients." 

Crites had no sooner left speaking; but Eugenius, who 
waited with some impatience for it, thus began : 

Have observed in your speech, that the former part 
of it is convincing, as to what the Moderns have 
profited by the Rules of the Ancients : but, in the 
latter, you are careful to conceal, how much they 
have excelled them. 

We own all the helps we have from them ; and want 
neither veneration nor gratitude, while we acknowledge that, 
to overcome them, we must make use of all the advan- 
tages we have received from them. But to these assistances, 
we have joined our own industry : for had we sate down with 
a dull imitation of them ; we might then have lost somewhat 
of the old perfection, but never acquired any that was new. 
We draw not, therefore, after their lines ; but those of 
Nature : and having the Life before us, besides the ex- 
perience of all they knew, it is no Wonder if we hit some airs 
and features, which they have missed. 




520 EUGENIUS — No SETTLED NUMBER OF AcTS. [■■• ^Z 



den. 

665-7. 



I deny not what you ur^^'e of Arts and Sciences [p. 514] ; 
that they have flourished in some ages more than others: 
but your instance in Philosophy [p. 514] makes for me. 

For if Natural Causes be more known now, than in tiie 
time of Aristotle, because more studied ; it follows that 
Poesy and other Arts may, with the same pains, arrive still 
nearer to perfection. And that granted, it will rest for jou 
to prove, that they wrought more perfect Images of Human 
Life than we. 

Which, seeing, in your discourse, you have avoided to make 
good ; it shall now be my task to show you some of their 
Defects, and some few Excellencies of the Moderns. And I 
think, there is none amongst us can imagine I do it 
enviously ; or with purpose to detract from them : for what 
interest of Fame, or Profit, can the Living lose by the repu- 
tation of the Dead? On the other side, it is a great truth, 
which Velleius Paterculus affirms, Audita visis libcniius 
laiidamits ; et prascntia invidia, pvatcrita admiratione pruscqui- 
vitir, et his nos ohrui, illis instnii crcdimus, ' That Praise or 
Censure is certainly the most sincere, which unbribed 
Posterity shall give us.' 

Be pleased, then, in the first place, to take notice that the 
Greek Poesy, which Crites has affirmed to have arrived to 
perfection in the reign of the Old Comedy [p. 514], was so far 
from it, that the distinction of it into Acts was not knoicn to 
than ; or if it were, it is yet so darkly delivered to us, that we 
cannot make it out. 

All we know of it is, from the singing of their Chorus : and 
that too, is so uncertain, that in some of their Plays, we have 
reason to conjecture they sang more than five times. 

Aristotle, indeed, divides the integral parts of a Play 
into four. 

Firstly. The Protasis or Entrance, which gives li,L;ht 
only to the Characters of the persons ; and proceeds 
very little into any part of the Action. 

Secondly. The Epitasis or Working up of the Plot, 
where the Play grows warmer ; the Design or Action of 
it is drawing on, and you see something promising, that 
it will come to pass. 

Thirdly. The Catastasis or Counter-turn, which 



■'■ °74-7:] EuGENius — Aristotle's Image of a Play. 521 

destroys that expectation, embroils the action in new 
difficulties, and leaves you far distant from that hope in 
which it found you : as you may have observed in a 
violent stream, resisted by a narrow passage ; it turns 
round to an eddy, and carries back the waters with more 
swiftness than it brought them on. 

Lastly. The Catastrophe, which the Grecians call 
Se(7t<? ; the French, Lc dcnouiiicnt ; and we, the Discovery 
or Unravelling of the Plot. There, you see all things 
settling again upon the first foundations ; and the ob- 
stacles, which hindered the Design or Action of the Play, 
once removed, it ends with that Resemblance of Truth or 
Nature, that the audience are satisfied with the conduct 
of it. 
Thus this great man delivered to us the Image of a Play ; 
and I must confess it is so lively, that, from thence, much 
light has been derived to the forming it more perfectly, into 
Acts and Scenes. But what Poet first limited to Five, the 
number of the Acts, I know not : only we see it so firmly 
established in the time of Horace, that he gives it for a rule 
in Comedy. 

Neu hrevior quinto, neu sit pyoductior adu: 

So that you see, the Grecians cannot be said to have con- 
sumated this Art : writing rather by Entrances than by Acts ; 
and having rather a general indigested notion of a Play, 
than knowing how and where to bestow the particular graces 
of it. 

But since the Spaniards, at this day, allow but three Acts, 
which they call Jornadas, to a Play ; and the Italians, in many 
of theirs, follow them : when I condemn the Ancients, I de- 
clare it is not altogether because they have not five Acts to every 
Play ; but because they have not confined themselves to one certain 
number. 'Tis building a house, without a model : and when 
they succeeded in such undertakings, they ought to have 
sacrificed to Fortune, not to the Muses. 

Next, for the Plot, which Aristotle called to p.v9o^, and 
often Ttov TrpayfidTov avv9eai<; ; and from him, the Romans. 
Fabida. It has already been judiciously observed by a late 
Writer that ' in their Tradgedies, it was only some tale 



522EUGENIUS — Staleness of Ancients' i'lots. [•'■ ^.'J^-"/ 

derived from Thebes or Troy; or, at least, something that 
happened in those two Ages: which was worn so threadbare 
by the pens of all the Epic Poets ; and even, by tradition itself 
of the talkative Gn-ckliiigs, as I3en. Johnson calls them, 
that before it came upon tlie Stage, it was already known to all 
the audience. And the people, as soon as ever they heard the 
name of CEdipus, knew as well as the Poet, that he had 
killed his father by a mistake, and committed incest with his 
mother, before the Play ; that they were now to hear of a 
great plague, an oracle, and the ghost of LaiuS: so that they 
sate, with a yawning kind of expectation, till he was to come, 
with his eyes pulled out, and speak a hundred or two of verses, 
in a tragic tone, in complaint of his misfortunes' [p. 496^. 

But one OIdipus, Hercules, or Medea had been toler- 
able. Poor people ! They scaped not so good cheap. They 
had still the cliapon boiiillc set before them, till their appetites 
were cloyed with the same dish ; and the Novelty being gone, 
the Pleasure vanished. So that one main end of Dramatic 
Poesy, in its definition [p. 513] (which was, to cause Delight) 
was, of consequence, destroyed. 

In their COMEDIES, the Romans generally borrowed 
their Plots from the Greek poets : and theirs were commonly 
a little girl stolen or wandered from her parents, brought back 
unknown to the same city, there got with child by some lewd 
young fellow, who (by the help of his servant) cheats his 
father. And when her time comes to cry JuNO Liicina fer 
opem ! one or other sees a little box or cabinet, which was 
carried away with her, and so discovers her to her friends : 
if some god do not prevent [anticipate] it, by coming down in 
a machine [i.e., supernaturally] , and take the thanks of it to 
himself. 

By the Plot, you may guess much [many] of the characters 
of the Persons. An old Father that would willingly, before 
he dies, see his son well married. His debauched Son, kind 
in his nature to his wench, but miserably in want of money. 
A Servant or Slave, who has so much wit [as] to strike in with 
him, and help to dupe his father. A braggadochio Captain, 
a Parasite, and a Lady of Pleasure. 

As for the poor honest maid, upon whom all the story is 
built, and who ought to be one of the principal Actors in the 
Play; she is commonly a Mute in it. She has the breeding 



°765-?.']Eugenius-Ancients had no Unity of Place. 523 

of the old Elizabeth [Elizabethan] way, for " maids to be 
seen, and not to be heard " : and it is enough, you know she 
is wilhng to be married, when the Fifth Act requires it. 

These are plots built after the Italian mode of houses. 
You see through them all at once. The Characters, indeed, 
are Imitations of Nature : but so narrow as if they had imi- 
tated only an eye or an hand, and did not dare to venture on 
the lines of a face, or the proportion of a body. 

But in how strait a compass sorever, they have bounded their 
Plots and Characters, we will pass it by, if they have regu- 
larly pursued them, and perfectly observed those three Unities, 
of T I M E, Place, and Action; the knowledge of which, 
30U say ! is derived to us from them. 

But, in the first place, give me leave to tell you ! that the 
Unity of P L A C E, however it might be practised by them, 
was never any of their Rules. We neither find it in 
Aristotle, Horace, or any who have written of it ; till, in 
our Age, the French poets first made it a Precept of the Stage. 

The Unity of T i m e, even Terence himself, who was 
the best and most regular of them, has neglected. His 
Hcauiontimoronnicnos or "Self Punisher" takes up, visibly, 
two days. " Therefore," says Scaligek, " the two first Acts 
concluding the first day, were acted overnight ; the last three 
on the ensuing day." 

And Euripides, in tying himself to one day, has committed 
an absurdity never to be forgiven him. For, in one of his 
Tragedies, he has made Theseus go from Athens to Thebes, 
which was about forty English miles ; under the walls of it, 
to give battle ; and appear victorious in the next Act : and yet, 
from the time of his departure, to the return of the Niintiiis, 
who gives relation of his victory; JEthra and the Chorus 
have but thirty-six verses, that is, not for every mile, a verse. 

The like error is evident in Terence his Eunuch; when 
Laches ihz old man, enters, in a mistake, the house oi Thais; 
where, between his Exit and the Entrance of Pythias (who 
comes to give an ample relation of the garboils he has raised 
within), Parmeno who was left upon the stage, has not 
above five lines to speak. C'cst bicn employe, uii temps si court ! 
says the French poet, who furnished me with one of the[se] 
observations. 



524 EuGENius — Ancients' neglect of Time. [^-^.Zf"; 

And almost all their Tragedies will afford us examples of 
the like nature. 

'Tis true, they have kept the Continuity, or as you called 
it. Liaison dcs Scenes, somewhat better. Two do not perpe- 
tually come in together, talk, and go out together ; and other 
two succeeded them, and do the same, throughout the Act: 
which the English call by the name of " Single Scenes." But 
the reason is, because they have seldom above two or three 
Scenes, properly so called, in every Act. For it is to be ac- 
counted a new Scene, not every time the Stage is empty : but 
every person icho enters, though to others, makes it so ; 
because he introduces a new business. 

Now the Plots of thear Plays being narrow, and the persons 
few: one of their Acts was written in a less compass than 
one of our well-wrought Scenes ; and yet they are often 
deficient even in this. 

To go no further than Terence. You find in the Eunuch, 
Antipho entering, single, in the midst of the Third Act, after 
Chremes and Pythias were gone off. In the same play, 
you have likewise Dorias beginning the Fourth Act alone; 
and after she has made a relation of what was done at the 
soldier's entertainment (which, by the way, was very inarti- 
ficial to do ; because she was presumed to speak directly to 
the Audience, and to acquaint them with what was necessary 
to be known : but yet should have been so contrived by the 
Poet as to have been told by persons of the Drama to one 
another, and so by them, to have come to the knowledge of 
the people), she quits the Stage : and Ph.EDRIA enters next, 
alone likewise. He also gives you an account of himself, and 
of his returning from the country, in monologue : to which 
unnatural way of Narration, Terence is subject in all his 
Plays. 

In his Addphi or "Brothers," Syrus and Demea enter 
after the Scene was broken by the departure of Sostrata, 
Geta, and Canthara: and, indeed, you can scarce look into 
any of his Comedies, where you will not presently discover 
the same interruption. 

And as they have failed both in [the] laying of the Plots, and 
managing of them, swerving from the Rules of their own Art, 
by misrepresenting Nature to us, in which they have ill satis- 
fied one intention of a Play, which was Delight : so in the 



^' "eel-";] EUGENIUS — BaD TENDENCY OF THEIR PlAYS. 525 

Instructive part [pp-Si3, 5S2-4], they have erred worse. In- 
stead of punishing vice, and rewarding virtue ; they have 
often shown a prosperous wickedness, and an unhappy piety. 
They have set before us a bloody Image of Revenge, in 
Medea ; and given her dragons to convey her safe from 
punishment. A Priam and Astyanax murdered, and 
Cassandra ravished ; and Lust and Murder ending in the 
victory of him that acted them. In short, there is no inde- 
corum in any of our modern Plays; which, if I would excuse, I 
could not shadow with some Authority from the Ancients. 

And one farther note of them, let me leave you! Tragedies 
and Comedies were not writ then, as they are now, promis- 
cuously, by the same person : but he who found his genius 
bending to the one, never attempted the other way. This is 
so plain, that I need not instance to you, that Aristophanes, 
Plautus, Terence never, any of them, writ a Tragedy; 
.(EscHYLUs, Euripides, Sophocles, and Seneca never 
meddled with Comedy. The Sock and Buskin were not worn 
by the same Poet. Having then so much care to excel in one 
kind ; very little is to be pardoned them, if they miscarried in it. 

And this would lead me to the consideration of their Wit, 
had not Crites given me sufficient warning, not to be too 
bold in my judgement of it ; because (the languages being 
dead, and many of the customs and little accidents on which 
it depended lost to us [p. 518]) we are not competent judges of 
it. But though I grant that, here and there, we may miss 
the application of a proverb or a custom ; yet, a thing well 
said, will be Wit in all languages: and, though it may lose 
something in the translation; yet, to him who reads it in 
the original, 'tis still the same. He has an Idea of its ex- 
cellency ; though it cannot pass from his mind into any 
other expression or words than those in which he finds it. 

When Ph.EDRIA, in the Eunuch, had a command from his 
mistress to be absent two days; and encouraging himself to 
go through with it, said. Tandem ego non ilia cairain, si opus 
sit, vel totnm triduuni ? Parmeno, to mock the softness of 
his master, lifting up his hands and eyes, cries out, as it were 
in admiration, Htti ! universum triduuni ! The elegancy of 
which universum, though it cannot be rendered in our 



526 EuGENius — Cleveland's way of Elocution. [JJ,;?^ 



language ; yet leaves an impression of the Wit on our 
souls. 

But this happens seldom in him [i.e. , Terence ; in Plautus 
oftner, who is infinitely too hold in his metaphors and coin- 
ing words; out of which, many times, his Wit is nothing. 
Which, questionless, was one reason why Horace falls upon 
him so severely in those verses. 

Sed Proavi nostri Plautinos et nnmeros et 
Laudavcre sales, nimiiim paticnter ntrumqm 
Ne dicain stolide. 

For Horace himself was cautious to obtrude [in obtruding] 
a new word upon his readers : and makes custom and com- 
mon use, the best measure of receiving it into our writings. 

Multa rcnascentur quce nunc ccciderc, cadcntque 
Quce mine sunt in honore vocahula, si volet usus 
Quern penes, arhitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi. 

The not observing of this Rule, is that which the World has 
blamed in our satirist Cleveland. To express a thing hard 
and unnaturally is his New Way of Elocution. Tis true, no 
poet but may sometimes use a catachresis. Virgil does it, 

Mistaquc ridenti Colocasia fundet Acantho — 

in his Eclogue of PoLLio. 
And in his Seventh Aineid — 

Mirantur et unda, 
Miratur nemus, insuctam fnlgeutia longe. 
Scuta virnm fliivio, pictaque innare carinas. 

And Ovid once ; so modestly, that he asks leave to do it. 

Si verba audacia detur 

Hand inetuam suinnii dixisse Palatia coeli. 

calling the Court of Jupiter, by the name of Augustus his 
palace. Though, in another place, he is more bold ; where 
he says, Et longas visent Cnpitulia pampas. 



°Ms-7.'] EuGENius — Wit best, in easy language. 527 

But to do this always, and never be able to write a line 
without it, though it may be admired by some few pedants, 
will not pass upon those who know that Wit is best conveyed 
to us in the most easy language : and is most to be admired, when 
a great thought comes dressed in words so commonly received, that 
it is understood by the meanest apprehensions ; as the best meat is 
the most easily digested. But we cannot read a verse of 
Cleveland's, without making a face at it ; as if every word 
were a pill to swallow. He gives us, many times, a hard nut 
to break our teeth, without a kernel for our pains. So that 
there is this difference between his Satires and Doctor 
Donne's : that the one [Donne] gives us deep thoughts 
in common language, though rough cadence ; the other 
[Cleveland] gives us common thoughts in abtruse words. 
'Tis true, in some places, his wit is independent of his words, 
as in that of the Rebel Scot — 

Had Cain been Scot, GOD would have changed his doom, 
Not forced him wander, but confined him home. 

Si sic, omnia dixisset I This is Wit in all languages. 'Tis 
like Mercury, never to be lost or killed. And so that 
other. 

For beauty, like white powder, makes no noise, 

And yet the silent hypocrite destroys. 

You see the last line is highly metaphorical ; but it is so 
soft and gentle, that it does not shock us as we read it. 

But to return from whence I have digressed, to the con- 
sideration of the Ancients' Writing and Wit ; of which, by 
this time, you will grant us, in some measure, to be fit judges. 

Though I see many excellent thoughts in Seneca: yet he, 
of them, who had a genius most proper for the Stage, was 
Ovid. He [i.e., Ovid] had a way of writing so fit to stir up a 
pleasing admiration and concernment, which are the objects 
of a Tragedy ; and to show the various movements of a soul 
combating betwixt different passions: that, had he lived in 
our Age, or (in his own) could have writ with our advantages, 
no man but must have j'ielded to him ; and therefore, I am 
confident the Medea is none of his. For, though I esteem 



528EUGENIUS — Ancients had few Love ScExr.s.p- ^,7c'1: 

it, for the gravity and sentiousness of it (which he himself 
conckides to be suitable to a Tragedy, Omne genus scripti 
gravitate Tragcedia vincit ; yet it moves not my soul enough, 
to judge that he, who, in the Epic way, wrote things so near 
the Drama (as the stories of Myrrh A, of CAUh'US and 
BiBLls, and the rest) should stir up no more concernment, 
where he most endeavoured it. 

The masterpiece of Shneca, I hold to be that Scene in the 
Troades,whtve Ulysses is seeking for /I srr^N^.Y, to kill him. 
There, you see the tenderness of a mother so represented in 
Andromache, that it raises compassion to a high degree in 
the reader; and bears the nearest resemblance, of an\thing 
in their Tragedies, to the excellent Scenes of Passion in 
Shakespeare or in Fletcher. 

For Love Scenes, you will find but few among them. 
Their Tragic poets dealt not with that soft passion ; but with 
Lust, Cruelty, Revenge, Ambition, and those bloody actions 
they produced, which were more capable of raising horror 
than compassion in an audience : leaving Love untouched, 
whose gentleness would have tempered them ; which is the 
most frequent of all the passions, and which (being the private 
concernment of every person) is soothed by viewing its own 
Image [p. 549] in a public entertainment. 

Among their Comedies, we find a Scene or two of tender- 
ness: and that, where you would least expect it, in Plautus. 
But to speak generally, their lovers saj' little, when they see 
each other, but aniina mea ! vita mea ! ^(oij km ijrvxv ! ^s the 
women, in Juvenal's time, used to cry out, in the fury of 
their kindness. 

Then indeed, to speak sense were an offence. Any sudden 
gust of passion, as an ecstasy of love in an unexpected meeting, 
cannot bett