r PR 1121 ■^ art rj Arber - An ^English <"• o vy-i ^ r" . Southern Branch of the University of California Los Angeles Form L I PR llEl This book is DUE on the last date stamped below /■I /^^ 10 1959 WAY 3 1 1961 -5m-7,'22 %L^ i:&0^r^' K-3 .•r> AN NGLISH ARNER Volume III. T 5 J > FR L Contents of tlje Cfjirn Oolumc. ToHN Caius M D. OfEiiolish Dogs, the diversities, the names, iJu ^^ natt^';anfthe piope^ties. A "short Treatise ^.ritten zn Latin by JOHANNES Caius of late Memory, Doctor of Physic m the University of Cambridge. (1536.) And newly drawn into E7iglish by A^^Anxu Y-L-EUi^G, Student. (1570O WILLIAM PATTEN, Londoner. The Expedition iiitoScoilan^^^^^^^ most worthily fortunate Prince Edward, Duke of Somerset uncle unto our most noble sovereign Lord, the King^s Majesty EDWARi the 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 %vay of Diary. (Jan. 1 548-) • Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. Voyage, in a Portuguese carrack, to Goa, in \'^%l A .D Ralph Fitch's Voyage to the East Indies and back 1 583-1 591 -^•^• ■ay/V/i John Newbery's /t'/ZtTj Lyrics, ELEGIES, &-€. Musica Transaipina. Edited 4y Nicholas Yonge. (Oct. 1588.) J. Eldred. The first Englishmen who reached India, overland. 1 583- 1 589 .4.2?. (?i592-) Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. Account of the four English- men at Goa. (?i594-) — 1 \ZA PAGE 22 = 51 II 167 Of the Viceroy of Portugal [at ' Goal and his Government in India. (?i594-) Dairy of occurrences in the 'J^-tuguese settlements in India, 1583-1588^./?. (?I594-) - Return Voyage from Goa to Enkhuisen. 1588-1592 ^-^^ (?I594-)- Samuel Daniel. Delia. (?i59-l-) ED^VARD WRIGHT, Mathematician. The Voj age of the Earl ither 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 ! LUC A MARENZIO. 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. STEPIIANO FELIv<5 Leep ! Sleep ! mine only jewel ; Much more thou didst delight me ! Than my beloved, too cruel, That hid her face to spite me. The Second Part, Hou 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. "'oSeT""!".] Madrigals, Canzonets. &c. 4; 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 MAREiNZIO Iquid 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 dwelling. In fields to fly, chanting his roundelay ; At liberty, against the cage rebelling : 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. 44 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from p'^&Lyrsts: GIOVANNI FERRETTI [Itiiin a greenwood sweet of myrtle savour, When as the earth was with fair flowers revested; I saw a shepherd with his nymph that rested : Thus spake the 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. O 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 jPlease 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. ^'"■ollIrTSs-] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 45 ALFONSO FERABOvSCO. Sweet kiss ! full of comfort, joy, to me envied ! So often sought, so oft to me denied ! For thee! my life is wasted ; Yet thee, I never tasted ! O lips so false and wily ! 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 and 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 1 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. ^6 LvRics, Elegies, &c. from [^''■hl^,i^r7M'. I g ISi ALFONSO FERABOSCO Ady, if you so spite me ! Wherefore do 5'ou 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 ! and kill me ! So shall your heart be eased ; And I shall rest content, and die well pleased. Caittio Rustica. G 10 \' ANN I BATTISTA PINELLI DE GERARDIS. Hen I would thee embrace, rhou dost but mock me ! h.Vnd when I lament my case, Thou criest " Ty, by ! " And " No, No, No!" still saith my pigsny. ALFONSO FERABOSCO. |IIiRSis enjoyed the graces, f Of Chloris' sweet embraces ; Yet both their joys were scanted, For dark it was, and candle light they wanted : ^^'herewith 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. ^' &iy°x5i3:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 47 WILLIAM BYRD. This is Byrd's celebrated La Verginella. He 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. '^3' 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 love, I will go die for pure love ! 48 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [^'^•KeTTsfa: ALFONSO FERABOSCO. FAR from my delight, 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 but tunes of my complaining. Nymphs of the groves, or pleasant bird once heareth : vStill recount I my grief and her disdaining, To every plant that groweth or blossom beareth. T]:e Second Part. He only doth not feel it, O fields ! O mountains! O woods ! O valle3's ! O floods and fountains ! O stay no more to hear a wretch appealing ! O 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 ? Break heart! and die then ! that she that still doth pain me, May live the more content, when grief hath slain me- "^'SbeTTJs:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 49 LUCA MARENZIO Ow MUST I part, my darling I Of life and soul disseised, ^And love therewith is pleased. O, what a death is parting ! But if the fates ordain it. Who can refrain it ? O, what grief is now lacking ? Yet needs I must be packing, Farewell I die, to part constrained. Sweet heart unfeigned ! 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 Part. Ut with me, wretch ! the storms of woe persever jAnd heavy sighs, which from my heart she straineth, 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. ENG ^AJi. III. A 50 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. [TEd.by N. Yonpe L October I5b8 m 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;cpe6ition into ^cotlanU of tl)e most tnortljil^ fortunate prince CDtnarti^ ^ufee of ^omer^ctj uncle unto our ino^t nolDle jsotc^ rcign HorD, tlje astng'^ jHaje^t^ Edward tlje VL, dEfoternor of 1^10 l^tgljne^^'^ person, ann ^Brotector of 1^10 d^race'^ realms, nominion^ anD subjects ; mane in tbe JTirst gear of ©is e^amtf^ most prosperous reign : ano set out tg toajp of Diarp bp m. Ipatten, Lonooner. VIVAT VICTOR. ^ i Nto the Right Honourable Sir William Pjget^ Knight oj^ the most ?2oble Order of the Garter^ Comptroller oj the Kings Majesty s Household^ one of His Highnesses Privy Council^ Cha?icellor of the Duchy of Lancaster ; a7td his most henig7i fautor and patron : William Patten most heartily wisheth felicity, (?) 53 A VING in these last wars against Scotland, that never were any with better success achieved, made notes of [tliel acts there done, and disposed the same, since my coining home, into order of Diary, as followeth ; 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 A r undel, as also since, ye have vouchsafed to bear me: I have thought meetest to dedicate my travail unto your Honour. How smally I either am or have been, by any means, able to merit the same your gentleness, by so much the less have I need here to show; as your humane generosity , your willingbenignity 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 findeth not, still, a constant continuance thereof, where the equity of his suit may bear it? Right many, sure{ly], of the small know- ledge I have, could I myself reckon both of then and since, which here all willingly I leave unattempted to do; both because my rehearsal should be very unnecessary and vain to you that know them better than I ; and also that I shoidd tell the tale to yourself. Whom, for the respect of your honour, as I have a reverence, with vanities from your grave occupations [nof] 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. [^j; Patten, an. 1548. That same, your singular humanity wherewith ye are wont also so gently to accept all things in so thankful a part, and wherewith ye have hound me so straightly to you, 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, as clearly coming of myself. But if ought shall be thought to be aptly said, pleasant, anything savouring of wit or learning, I woidd all men should know it as I acknowledge it myself, that it must wholly be referred to you, 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 — Faster. I. IngcniuiTi vultu statque caditque tuo. Btit now 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 weaUh, Your most bounden client and pupil, W. Patten. 55 p W^M p£|\ Wft''^^^ i^ ^Jm^^ rw 'J^fC^^Wri m ^^S ^ A PREFACE 0crbing, for mud) part, in^tcaD of ^argument, for tl)e matter of tlje ^torr^ en^utng^ 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 be, 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, JifgfJ?/JY' 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 myself for slowness of answer. For considering how much in every 56 The Preface to the Diary [/j;^^*^- narration, the 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 chiefly, 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 years 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 Journey, which otherwise aptly, for unaptness of time,.! 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 sagel}'' 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; >r.Ts48G OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 57 and then overcome the double of our number 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 prowess 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 at r>e^ivz>iat.ii. all, or if there be, is ever subject, as the Platonics alTirm, 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. Lmus. Africanus for overcoming Hannibal and Syphax ; and to M. Attilius Regulus, for vanquishing the Salentines ; and, thereto, to set up images, the highest honour they had, for a perpetual memory of M. Claudius Marcellus and Mutius 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 ^^^f;"^'' the only city of Sarragossa: and the other but for P';^?,^^/" "'"' 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"'": our Protector to receive of his ? Nay, what can we worthily give him ? Howbeit, if we call to mind, how first Allhallowentide was five year, [November] 1542, 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 [see Vol. I. 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 of] 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 ^ja^^MS.] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 59 their camp, wholly as it stood ; with the loss but of one man. And from thence, returning by land to Guisnes, wan in his way, within the gunshot and rescue of Ardes, the Castle of Outings, called otherwise, the Red Pile. How hereto, by his force, 1545, was Picardy 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 left 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 seldom seen or ^as^fandent heard; but victory to his Grace seems no less ruTritlh^rl common and appropried [appropriate] than heat to by°o"rade°did the fire, or shadow to the body. That, like as the g;So^uld^' well keeping of the Pallady in Troy was ever the Jj^^^^^y^^j^ conservation and defence of the city ; even so in ^aVout of The warfare the presence of his person is a certain ^^|^;,^™ safeguard of the host and present victory over the gfoMECEsl enemy; for the which I have heard many, of right u^\f^^|'^|."j honest behaviour, say that "for surety of themselves, ^[."^s^j";^^^^' they had rather, in [the] field, be a mean soldier under ^^';f/^^^^'^ his Grace than a great captain under any other." j^'^-Yk^fed And, sure[ly], but that by my profession I am ^';^^j^^^^^'^\' bound, and do believe all things to be governed, not the image ' u >-> away with by fortune or hap (although we must be content, '^^j^"j;^^p^^^ in common speech to use the terms, of our formers thedty was •t^ - soon after [predecessors] devised) but by the mighty power ot destroyed. Almighty GOD, without whose regard a sparrow Matt.x. IS not to and 1 the 6o The Preface to the Diary pja^i'M": lighteth not upon the ground, I could count his Grace a prince that way most fortunate of any Hving. 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 victory, nor insolent upon good success, but with most moderate magnanimity, upon the re- spect of occasion, using, as the poet saith, Virgil. Pufccre suhjectis ct dchcllare superbos. 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 Svir*' """"^ ^^^*' ^y *^^ 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, might 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 all. ^jaZ^'S:] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 6i 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 the devil, for out it will) I stole, perchance more familiarly than friendly, 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 Heu of my lack) to place here. Auspice nobilium {Dux inclyte) ttirha vironmi. Utque alacris latos plebs circiimfusa per agros. Te patrice patrem comniuni voce sahitent. Scilicet et Romam victo sic hoste Camillus, Sic rediit victor doniito POMPEIUS larba Ergo tuns felix reditus, prcesentia felix. Utque Angliyfusique tua gens effera Scotti Dextra, qua nunquam visa est victoria major Det DEUS imperiiim per te coeamus in tiinint : Simus et unanimes per secula cimcta 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 only a Journal or Diary of this Expedition into Scotland : wherein I have digested out every day's deeds orderly, as they were 62 The Preface to the Diary [^jaJ!%'^8. 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, sure[ly], 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 %^^T48.] OF THE Expedition into Scotland. 63 they meant to make a Field of their fight, or meant to fight at all or not, judge ye ! by this that after ye hear. Certain it is that against their assembly and our encounter (for they were not un[a]\vare 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 ! 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 Diary [^aZ^'iMS to say, not one of us all is any whit prouder of it than would be 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 beaten 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-one-mcnt {of one Diind)]: whereby like countrymen and countrymen, like friend and friend, nay, like brother and brother, we might, in one perpetual 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 tc plain revengement of open war! Your friends indeed, nay, never wink at the word 1 thai have so long before these wars foreborn our quarrels so just, that were so loath to begin, and since, that suffered so manj ^a^^MsG ^^ "^^^^ Expedition into Scotland. 65 injuries unrevenf^ed, 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- ^"'"^^^542. 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 [an exajnple]. 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, £NG. Gar. III. c 66 The Preface TO THE Diary ['']-If;^: why ye should be forborne !) but as a man may sometimes, without boast of himself, say simply the thing 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 J AMY 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 fur- 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 ye 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 >r^M8:] 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 believe, that in all the world there should be any 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 Fellow^ship ! 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 [^ja^^' Patten. 548- 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 Extravaganis (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 tyranny for keeping of his kingdom, his covert hypocrisy 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 ye should Capi.xx. 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 prcsumptiions 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 ^Jan^'''i548.] ^F THE EXPEDITION INTO SCOTLAND. 69 shall he 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 c^Axxviii. seat ;'' where thou art but man, and not GOD, and nevertheless hast framed thy heart like the heart of GOD ! 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 xhess. 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, jer. xxiii. I must confess, than I know my cunning can Apo'^xiv?,xvii., 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 Johni. was, sure[ly], the very Son of GOD ! Matt. xv. 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 certain]]^ 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 70 The Preface to the Diary [^jan^^'s^^s! Christians) could never be brought once so much as to taste Contrary to of it: and would never abide the presumptuous whos'e%/m/^« usurpation of his insolent Impery ; but utterly, at %1-feLy!^ the first, did wisely refuse the unwieldy weight of Matt. XI. gQ 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 clearfly] 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 [gewgaws], his interdictions, his cursings, his damning to the devil, his pardons, his [asjsoilings, his plucking out of purgatory, his superstitious sorts of sects ^ja^^'S"] ^^ ^^^^ 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 saim ° . . ' o Uncumber. wax, -bound pens and pins for deliverance of bad saintMuowiN. . Saint Agnes. husbands, for a sick cow, to keep down the belly, Saim syth. and when " Kit had lost her key." Setting up candles to saints in every corner, and knakkynge [knocking] 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 ! as, first, Daniel the prophet doth declare what ye are, and show you 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 hook 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 ^2 The Preface to the Diary [^jar^"'^?: Matt. xxi. undo [destroy] the evil, and set out his vineyard to other good husbands [husbandmen], 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 he given to the nation that will 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 be^vrd'Tthe dreadful danger of this most terrible sentence, as Moon.wasiaid ^ho that the LORD, of His immeasurable mercy, by her into a ' continual sleep, y^[\\ q^^q vouchsafc to opcn your eyes, and waken in a den of , ... Mount Lat- you out of this drowsy Endymion s dream", or mus in Cana, -^ •' i • i i i • • where she ratlicr this mortal Lethargy t, wherem by the bitmg kissed him. • a. i t-. t j cic. i. Tusc. of this most venemous aspis X, 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 + A disease charity most heartily pray : for we do not so much chXfcom-'"' remember our quarrel and forget our profession, pat'i'elft to covet but tliut wc cau wish rather your amendment than nought but J , , • I dro«sy sleep, your dcstruction ! IhiiiTindto And hereto that once also, ye may see the hiVtrincT^' miserable subjection whereunto ye are thrall ! and OKuus./,/. j^^^^ ^^^ g^^^g^ ^Q p^^y ^Qj. gj.^^g ^Q thg LORD : Bitten with that ye may be quitted of that captivity, and be ca'sUnTdeldiy madc apt to receive the truth and His Holy Word, astTfflfngand and then to know who be your friends, and whether ai?P^.?and we will jou Well ! With whom by so many means, 7^hl°""'''° since GOD, of good will, hath so nigh joined you, seem not you, of frowardness, to sever asunder against the ^aZ^'SG o^ '^^^^ Expedition into Scotland, -j^^ thing that should be a general wealth and common concord, the provision of Nature, and ordinance of GOD ! And against His Holy Word, which not all unaptly, perchance, here may be cited. Qiws DE US conjunxit, homo ne separet ! Matt. 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 1 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 Hke 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 bac' 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 Diary PJa^^"48: apparel ; and their sumptuous suits of liverers [serving-men] 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 spake dryly more to taunt the sumpt [snmptnousness] 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 ^jan^^'i'SG ^^ '^^^^ Expedition into Scotland. 75 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 kind- 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 ? " taieTl'ndeed be- " In gude faith," quoth he, " I wade it sud gae furth, f;S;;tlt and baud well with the marriage : but I like not ^^t^njgouen fViic wnnincr " leave of our tniS WOOmg. L^rd to make a But now lest I may worthily be doubted by the ^„^e"firsT with a plot of my Prologue to have made the form of my i^^^^^^then^th book* like the proportion of Saint Peter's man ; I fi;'j,f„'/^tf.'^nd will here leave off further process of Preface, and ^°/^f„''jqui'uty fall to the matter. of proportion. ^ FINIS. CERTAIN iQolile men anu otljer^, being special €)fli[cer0 in t\)\% CjcpeDitton* 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 The Officers of the Expedition. Pjal^.'^^s: The Lord Dacres, 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. [See Vol. II. p. 21s]. C C>fliccr0 upon tlje ^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 Willl\m Woodhouse Knight, his Vice Admiral. There in the Army, of great ordnance, drawn forth with us, by horses. Fifteen pieces. And of carriages; 900 carts, besides many waggons. n THE STORY anti procc00 o! tlje 3;ourne^ Saturday, the 2yth of August [1547]. Y Lord Protector's Grace, (whom neither the length nor weariness of the way did any whit 1st [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 IMaster 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. 78 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^] W. Patten an. 1548 Sunday, the 2Sth of Augtist. 5 His day morning, in the fields in the north-east side of the town, muster 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 Alangerton, 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 2gth of A ngiist. Ll Captains with their bands, that had been mustered, were commanded forward. 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 the provision whereof, a man might note great cost and diligence, and in the spending, a li'ueral heart. Tuesday, the ^oth of August. K His day, 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 their sharper and smaller ends upward. Thus is it fenced round about : and hath hereto, on the east side, the sea, at flood, coming up to the hard walls. This castle is very ancient, and was called in Arthur's day, as I have heard, Joyous Gard, ^jan^^"48:] T H E Englisii Army leaves Berwick. 79 Hither 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 ngust UcH part of this day, his Grace occupied in consultation about orders and matters touching this Voyage and army. This day, 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 where there runneth a river [Eye Mill called Eyemouth 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 Gower, Marshal of Berwick. Friday, the 2nd of September. PoN commandment generally given, by sound of trumpet, all save the council, departed the town ; and encamped a two ^ flight-shots off, upon the sea-side, toward Scotland. This day, my Lord Clinton with his fleet took the seas from Berwick toward Scotland, and herefore the rather, that though they might not have always 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. 8o The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^;^^"48: My Lord Lieutenant and Master Treasurer, who remained at Newcastle after my Lord's Grace, for the full despatch of the rest of the army, came this day to Berwick. Saturday, Ik'l^ dHjY Lord Lieutenant, from out of the town, the ^rd oft^^a u did camp in the field with the army. To September, uq^ N the intent, the excuse of ignorance either L&aag-J l QJ ^j^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, whereof 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 morning of 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, for ensample like to this, I should rehearse Gen. xii. to you out of the Old Testament, how the seven plenti- ful years, and the seven years of famine in Egypt were plainly signified afore to Pharaoh by 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. jusTiNi//-. I. And hereto, out of profane authors, howAsTYAGES, IS name was us. ^auA"48:] The Duke of Somerset' s dream. 8 1 King of the Medians, was, many a day before, admonished that he should be overcome by a nephew* of his, as ♦h yet then ungotten and unborn, and lose his kingdom, *^^'* and this by a dream also, wherein he thought there sprang out of the womb of his daughter Mandane, Josephus^^ a vine, by the spreading of whose branches x^\\^capit.' ' all Asia was shadowed. And how Archelaus, '''^'"'°- King of Cappadocia, was warned afore of his ban- vaiS R!7/.'i. ishmicnt out of his country and kingdom by his '^^C!^''-^ Devir dream of ten wheat ears, full ripe, that were eaten musu-.caj: of oxen. And hereto the multitude of ensamples teLius An- besides touching this case in Tully, Valerius ^cap^f^k!''"^^^' Maximus, Pliny the second, [L.] Ccelius [Riche- fj"o J°/^'f^ ;^ Rius] Rodiginus, Suetonius, and in infinite authors ajp.''xxni' ' more; they should be too cumberous and irksom.e both forme 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 socrates Plato and also physicians affirm; or by gift oiDeRe^.ix. GOD as divine judge : I trust I shall be borne v»dth, 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, iahblicus Plotinus, Iamblicus, Mercurius, Trisme- ^^%p!!'^"'' GiSTUS, with many other doth avow ; Holy ^y^^^^^^^^ Scripture and profane stories do prove ; and in Pymand. 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 Lib- i. cap. ii. 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 Eng. Gar. III. 5 $2 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. PjaT.^'S; LiiMc^/Axv. forth. And sometimes one contrary is meant by 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 L!7>.ni ca/. ^ign of carc J to see foul water coming into the xxvii. house is a sign to see the house burning. Apollo- Lid. iv. ca/. NiDES, a surgcon, 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 incredulit}^ 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 army. Sunday, tJie j^ili 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 (divided 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 Rereward, hindermost : each Ward, his troop of horsemen, and guard of ordnance; and each piece of ordnance, his aid of Pioneers, for amendment of ways, where need should be found. We marched a six mile, and camped by a village called Roston [1 lloss], in the barony of Bonkendale. ^a^^'SG Summoning Dunglas Castle. S^ Monday, ^ ^f^isE marched a seven mile, till we came to the ^th of ^yiW^ a place called The Peaths [Pease Bridge]. Septcmhcr. ^Ja^O 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 [rumour], 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 my 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 [pitched] our camp. But while our army was thus in passage, my Lord's Grace (willing tolose no time, and thatthe 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 84 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pjin^^"^^: have cause to take you as our mere enemy. And therefore, he 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 company, 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 stayed, 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 ail 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, sureHy], 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, yarn, linen, hemp, and heaps of such baggage besides, they Ta.r''xT48:] Capture of ThorntOxN 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 Been] 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 [ = ahnost jTio in all, noiv]. A meet reward for such a work ! Ttiesday, Ip^^^lUR Pioneers were early at their work again the 6th of |g(^ I about the castle ; whose walls were so September, ^^^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- wiclz] 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. [^]i Patten. an. 1548. not get out) till his return, which should be on the morrow with munition and relief; he, with his prickers, pricked quite his ways. Anderwick [Innerwick] pertained to the Lord of Hamble- TON [i.e. Hamilton], and was kept by his son and heir „ , , (whom, of custom, they call, the Master of Hamble- 1 o be known ^ ' . •' . , . that the Scots ton), and eight more with him : gentlemen, for the call the son 1 i. i. j and neii of most part, WB heard say. theMis°er'of ^^Y Lord's Grace, at his coming nigh, sent the house unto both these Piles: which, upon summons, whereof his , . . father is called refusing to render, wcrc straight assailed. Thorn- ""^ ton, by a battery of four of our great pieces of ordnance, and certain of Sir Peter Mewtys'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 generosity, 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, jln.'^Ss"] DuNGLAS Castle blown up. Sy 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 traitors ! 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 ! Look never for it ! for ye are arrant traitors ! " then, made they petition that " If they should needs die, yet 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, sure[ly], 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 pecition 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. 8S The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^ar^T+s. 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 horsemen 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, the yth of September. ARCHiNGthis morning a two mile, we came to a fair river called Lyn [now called Tyne], running all straight eastward to wards the sea. Over this 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 l^iouse and of some strength be- like. They call it Hailes Castle. It pertaineth to the Earl Botiiwell; 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 l^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 Tan^^'S] The Earl of Warwick's services. 89 prickers by coming over the river towards 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 accustomed valiance might well be acknowledged; whereby iirst, 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 1544] — beaten [battered] 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 [? night attack] then, as they had slain many of our men and won the base [lower] town ; his Lordship killed above eight hundred, counted [accoimted] 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 Commissioners, 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, 90 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pj; . Patten. 548. he did advance his port [state] for the King's Majesty's honour and estimation of the 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 w^ars, against the enemy either nobly attempted or valiantly achieved, wherein his Lordship hath not been, either the first 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, sure[ly], for com- mendation thereof, move myself 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 Rereward was in, by reason of the disorder, caused at this passage, by the thickness of this mist, and nighness of the enemy ; 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 safety." Our young 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 ^jan^'''ir48;] ^ORD 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- struct [ed], they came pricking towards his Lordship apace. " Why," quoth he, "and will not these knaves be ruled ? Give me my staff [spear] ! " With the which, then, with s(; valiant a courage, he charged 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 man} 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 1547. Qln.^fJJs"' for how my Lord's Grace bestowed him, I wot not ; but hanged indeed he was not. To make my 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 [be]haviour, 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 suitabi}' with pasmain lace of green caddis [worsted ribbon]. Methought, he repre- sented the state of a sumner in some city or of a pedler 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^'^Ss:] English courtesy to a Lady. 9^ J 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 right 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 [Longniddry]. 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 ftf^'i^jHis morning, in the time of our dislodg- SthofSeptem- ^ ^ ing, sign was made to some of our her; bcingoiir ^^ ^ ships (whereof the most part and Lady Day. W'^-^^^ chiefest [higgcsf] 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 early, 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 The Expedition into Scotland in 1547. Pyan'!''i548: on the water, by the sight of his presence, did soon discern 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 taken, 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 flight shot directly 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 very 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 tlie 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. Hereby, rather somewhat 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 ir camping and muster of our men. My ^j;^„^^j"^s:] T II E Army reaches Prestonpans. 95 Lord Marshal [Lord Grey] minding to know their commis- sion, did make towards them with 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 v»'orn 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 [foolishly'] 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 [a] ware 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 [Prestonpans]. 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 ExrEDixioN into Scotland in 1547. Pjar^i"48: Friday, ^^ r^UIHis day is marked in the Calendar with the gth of ^^ ^ the name of Saint Gorgon ; no famous September. ^^ ^ saint, sure[ly] ; but either so obscure that [r rg'-'!». 120], with what forward hard- ness Sir George HAWARDdid bear the King's Majesty's Standard in the battle ; and there also of the industrious pain of Sir J AMES WiLFORD [p. 120] ; and Sir RALPH COP- PINGER did aid, not smally, in safeguard of the Standard of our Horsemen [/>. 1 18] ; I have been more diligent to have re- hearsed it here. Sir Thomas Wentworth. Sir John Marven. Sir Nicholas Straunge. Sir Charles Sturton. Sir Hugh Ascue. Sir Francis Salmin. Sir Richard Townley. Sir IMarmaduke Constable. Sir George Audley. Sir John Holcroft. Sir John Southworth. Sir Thomas Dandy. Sir John Talbot. Sir Rowland Clerk. Sir John Horsely. Sir John Forster. Sir Christopher Dies. Sir Peter Negroo. Sir Alonso de Ville. Sir Henry Hussey. Sir James Granado. Sir Walter Bonham. Sir Robert Brandling, Mayor of Newcastle, and made Knight there, at my Lord Grace's re- turn. ' [ TAreg I S/>aiiiajds, 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 j'et 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. Whereupon, all men may safely thus far forth, without offence, presume ; that his Grace unworthily bestowed this honour on no man. By this day, as Roxburgh was sufficiently made tenable and defensible (the w^hich 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 ^j^il^'^S] ^^^^ Expedition from the 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, ItTT^^S things were thus concluded: and the 2gth of mh^^ warning given overnight that our September, being ^^m% camp should, this day, 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 Expedition into Scotland in 1547. [^j AV. Patten, an. 1548. doing the exploits in Scotland, as I have hefore written ; the Earl of LiNNOS [Lennox ', with my Lord Wharton, Lord Warden 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 the 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 cumber [eiicwnbyance] 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. 151 M i ^mi m ^^4 A PERORATION unto tl)e gentle iSeaticr, toitlj a 01) ore reljear^al of tlje action tione* Have thus absolved my book : but neithei 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 Peroration to the gentle Reader. Pjan^'^i"^^ 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 while they were a doing, and while a man had been at them (the which indeed, I had 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 hide Art. 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] ^jan^^'j^s:] A Special 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 hest ! I know my need is to pray much. For I am not so foolish 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, have 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 [he 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 Warwick, Lieutenant of the Host (who thereby had power to make Officers), to make me one of the Judges of the Mar- shalsy [i.e., in connection with the High Marshal of the Army, Lord Grey], as Master Willla.m Cecil, now Master of the Requests [and afterwards Lord BURGHLEY] was the other. Whereby, we both (not being bound so straightly, in days of travel, to the order of march ; nor otherwhile, but when we sat in Court, to any great affairs) 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- ward. Marry, since my coming home, indeed, his gentleness being 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 mind] of that which else I might hap to have forgotten. But now, forasmuch, as it hath pleased the most benign 154 Peroration to the gentle Reader, [^ja.^^'i's^s: goodness of GOD, so favourably to aid us in these our affairs, and so much 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, v.'ith 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. '^j-1%7^ Te D E UM ! LAUDAMUs, 155 And I, trusting unto the benignity of yourgentle acceptance, who[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 I si quid novisti rectitis istis, Efiist. i. Candidus iniperti, si non, his utere niectivi. Out of the Parsonage of Saint Mary's Hill, in London, this 28th of January, 1548, Mprinted 171 LoJidon^ the last day of June^ in the secojtd year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord^ King Edward the VL ; by Richard Grafton^ Printer 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 Garden, [Miscellanies. i6Si I. Ow vainly, men themselves amaze To win the Palm, the Oak, or Bays ! And their incessant labours see Crowned from some single 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! 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. LoreT^:] TheGaRDEN. 15; 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 kind, Does straight its own resemblance hnd : Yet it creates, transcending these. Far other worlds, and other seas 1 Annihilating all that's made. To a green Thought in a green Shade. 158 TheGarden. [L'ol:Zt 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 the boughs does glide. There, like a bird, it sits and sings ; Then whets 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 Does 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 K?igltshmen who reached India^ overland^ We have already given at Vol. \.,p. 130, a letter dated Goa, the loth of November, 1579, from the first Englishman, who is known to have reached India by the Cape of Good Hope : respecting whom, see further zX pp. 165, 170, 179, 186, 190. Hereafter follow the narratives and letters of the first Englishmen who (Sir John Mandeville always excepted) are known to have reached India, overland ; via Aleppo, Bagdad, Bussorah, and Ormus. 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 Queen Elizabeth. J OHN Eldred'^ narrative. [Hakluyt's Voyages, ii. 1599.] Departed out of London in the ship called the Tiger, in the company of Master John Newbery, Master Ralph Fitch and six or seven other honest merchants, on Shrove Monday [12 February] 1583 ; and arrived at Tripolis 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 Fondeghi Ingles, built of stone, square in manner like a cloister ; and every man hath his several chamber: as is the use thereof all other Christians, of several nations. i6o Aleppo, tme Great Turk's great mart, p Eldred. ? 1592. This town standeth 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- houses 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 year it increaseth, and eateth up many gardens ; although 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 artillery. A river passeth through the midst of the city, wherewith they water their gardens and mulberry trees, on which there grow 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 [haven] is more frequented with Christian mer- chants, to wit, Venetians, Genoese, Florentines, Marseillians, 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 Hammah; which standeth on a goodly plain, replenished with corn 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, and falleth more and more to decay, 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 lives 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 ^■j^'isS-] Floating down the Euphrates. i6i Cursed he the father and the son that shall lay their hands to the repairing hereof. Refreshing ourselves one day here, we passed forward with camels, three days more, until we came to Aleppo : where we arrived the 21st of May. This is the greatest place of traffic, for a dry town [i.e., an inland town, not on a great river] that there is in all these parts. For hither resort Jews, Tartars, Persians, Armenians, Egyptians, Indians, andmany 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 Newbery 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 the country 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 flat 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 [F^/zy"a], 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 Enc. Gar. III. II 1 62 The Arabs on the Euphrates, p- Eldred. aboard the bark; and the mariners upon the shore's side, as near as they can unto the same. In many places upon the river's side, we met with troops of Arabs, of whom we bought milk, butter, eggs, 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 accustomed] 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 carr}^ 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 hundred 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 Babylon, many old ruins whereof are easily to be seen by daylight : which I, John Eldred, have often beheld at '■?™592] Description of Bagdad, in 1583 a.d. 16 my good leisure : having made three voyages between the new city of Babylon 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 show^eth 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 tow^n. It is above two English miles in compass ; and the inhabitants generally speak three lang^uages, 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 sky, night nor day. Their winter is in November, December, January, and February; 1 64 Down the Tigris to Bussorah. [-^■. Eld red. which is as warm as our summer in England, in a manner. This I know by good experience, because my abode at several times, in the city of Babylon [Bagdad], 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 [Bussorah] : 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 all 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, monthly, 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 [oahim], 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. ^■j^'^sSG 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- February 1584], during which time, I received divers letters from Master John NEWBERvfrom Ormus: who, as he passed that w'ay, with Her Majesty's letters to Zelahdim [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 days without water. Their feeding is on thistles, wormwood, magdalene, and other strong w^eeds which they find upon the way. The government and deciding of all quarrels and duties to be paid, the whole caravan committeth to one specially] rich 1 66 40 DAYS ACROSS THE DESERT TO AlEPPO. P ^^gj merchant of the company ; of whose honesty they conceive hest. 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 Gehejihaiii, 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 40s. [=£12 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 Bate, 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, b}' the way aforesaid, over the deserts of Arabia. Feb.1583] 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 EngHsh 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 22ndof December [1587],! 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 a?td back 15^3—15915 a.d. WITH 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 Eli^abeth'^ letter to THE EjviPEROR Akbar. February, 1583. LiZABETH, by the grace of GOD, &c., to the most in- vincible, and most mighty Prince, Lord Zelabdini [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 will and 1 68 The Queen's letter to Emperor of China. [Fei,.is83. intention to introduce the trade of merchandise of all nations, whatsoever they can; by which means, the mutual a7td 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 conrteoits and honest boldness, 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. And that you would do it rather for our sake, to make us greatly beholding to your Majesty, we should more earnestly, and with more words require it, if we did think it need- ftd : but, by the singidar report that is of your Imperial Majesty's humanity in these uttermost parts of the world, we are greatly eased of that burden; and therefore we use the fewer and less words. Only we request that becatise they are our subjects, they may be honestly intreated [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 the samewith as many deserts as ivecan. A nd herewith, We bid yotir Imperial Majesty farewell. Queen El^2;abeth'3 letter to THE Emperor op China. LiZABETH, by the grace of GOD, Queen of England, &c. Most 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 tJian upon the favour of your Imperial clemency and humanity, is moved to undertake a thing of so mtich difficulty, being persuaded that he having entered on so many perils, your Majesty will not dislike the same : especially if it may appear that it be not damageable unto your Royal Majesty ; and that to your ^j^S] Newbery and Fitch start for the East. 169 people it will bring some profit. Of both which things he, 7iot doubting, with more willing mind, hath prepared himself for his destinated 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 consisteth in the transporting out- tvard of such things, whereof we have plenty ; and in bringing in such things as we 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 with your men, your Majesty shall do that which belongeth 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 benefit 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 NEWBERY first went out in the Bark Reynolds in 1580 or 1581 ; see/. 172. E.A. 170 J. NeWBERy's letter to R. HaKLUYT. [iMaTisS^ fAk^TER JOHJM N'eWBERY, FROJVl Aleppo, 28th JVIay, isss, to JVIa^ter P^ICHARD HaKI^UYT 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 [1583] last, we rem.ained 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 Cosmo- graphy 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 otie we have printed in Vol. I. p. 130. Stevens arrived at Goa on the ^th November, 1570, 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 [ ? Erzroum], which is three days' journey from Trebizond ; where they shall meet with divers captains and soldiers that come from Con- ai'MayS:] ^^^ LETTER FROM Aleppo, to L. Poore. 171 stantinople and other places thereabout : and then go 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 heart}^ 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 2Sth of May, 1583. Your loving friend to command, in all that I may, John Newbery. JVIa^ter John ^fEWBERY, frojm Aleppo, 29th JVIay, 1583, to JVI/^ter I_(EONARD Poore of L(Ondon. 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 huit done. After which time, we sailed with a fair wind within the Straits [of Gibralter], 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 ! The 14th day of this present, we came from Tripolis, and the 20th day, arrived here at Aleppo ; and, with the 172 The Reynolds^ Emanuel, at TrapoLis. [4" May ^5^! help of GOD, to-morrow or next day, we begin our voyage towards Babylon and Balsora, and so into India. Our friend Master Barret hath him commended to you : who hath sent you, in the EjiudiucI, a ball of nut- megs for the small trifles you sent him ; which 1 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 have 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 England], 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 5 larincs (p, 184), i.e., 6s. each:=£^6o t]ien=^aboiit -£'2,160 now] and ambergreese for four hun- dred ducats [=;£i20 then=about £']20 now], 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 ;£'200 more than it was rated [at]. For Master Staper rated it but [at] £"i,ioo, and it is ;^i,300 : so that our part is ;£'2oo; 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 [cargo] in money ; which would hell) to put away our commodities R. Fitch 9 'llf,-^ From Aleppo to Bussorah. 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 Porter 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 ! At this instant, I have received the account of Master Barret, and the rest of the rings, with 22 ducats, 2 medins [at 40 medins the ducat of 6s. =^£6 12s. 2,d. tJien=i about ^40 7ww], 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 1 And so, once again, with my hearty commendations, I commit you to the tuition of the Almighty, who always preserve us ! From Aleppo, the 2gth of May, 1583. Yours assured, John Newbery. 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 voyage : 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 your 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. 174 Letter from Bagdad, to L. Poore. [|;fuiy'l5^: In the river Euphrates, from Bir to Felugia, there be certain places where you custom (so many medins for a Some or camel's lading ; and certain raisins and soap) which are for the sons of Aborise, 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 Bir, is a little village, from whence you go to Babylon in a day. Babylon [Bagdad] is a town not very great, but very popu- lous, and of great traffic of strangers ; for it is the way to Persia, Turkia [Turkestan], 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. JMa^ter Kewbery, from Baqdad, 20TH July, 15s 3, to JVIa^ter j_(E0NARD PoORE, OF J_(0ND0N. Y LAST, I sent you, was the 29th of May [1583] last past, from Aleppo, by George 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^isSG From Bussorah to Ormus. 175 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 [? Nestorians], and one of them hath been twice in the Indies, and hath the language very well : but he is a very lewd fellow, and therefore I will not take him with me. From Babylon [Bagdad] the 20th day of July, 1583. Yours, John Newbery. 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, 176 Letter from Ormus, to J. Eldred. [/iJ^pr^js^ in a certain ship made of boards, and sown together with Cairo, wliich 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-iive 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 the Castle, whose name was Don Matthias de Albuquerque. [See pp. 183, 189, 319, 331, 460.] John ^fEWBERY, fro)vi Orj^iu^, 213T September, 158 3, to J. Eldred aj^d W. 5hALE3 at Bug^ORAH. Right well beloved, & my assured good friends. Heartily commend me unto you ! 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, JsepTissl"] Newbery's letters from Ormus prison. 177 I with the rest, were committed to prison ; and about the middle of the next month, the Captain will send us all in his ship for Goa. The cause why we are taken, as they say, is that I brought letters from Don Antonio [who was living in England when the writer 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 be 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 hither, 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 [^£g to £12 then^^about ,^54 to £j2 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, 1583. John Kewbery, fROjvi Ormup, 24th September, 158 3, to J. Eldred and W. Shales at Bu^^orah. He bark of the Jews is arrived here, two days past ; by whom I know you did write : but your letters are not likely to come to m.y 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, Eng. Gar. III. J 2 178 Sailing from Ormus to Goa.[^, ^l'^;_ I pray you, further him what you may ! but if he should not go ; then, I pray you, despatch away a messenger with as much speed as possibly j'ou may. I can say no more ; but do for me, as j-ou would I should do for 3'ou, 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 Newbery. From Ormus, the nth of October, the Captain shipped us for Goa, unto the Viceroy; who, at that time, was Don Francesco de Mascharexhas. The ship wherein we were embarked for Goa, belonged to the Captain ; and carried 124 horses in it. All merchandize 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 forthe 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 Diu, 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 R. Kitch, ?i592 ;] Imprisoned, and charged as spies. 179 to the Portuguese, and the other to the Moors. That of the Portuguese is nearest to the 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 [tusks], 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 every 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, fojr 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 examined 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 Xcraphines, see p. 187], not to depart the town, which sureties. Father Stevens, an English Jesuit (whom we found there) and another " religious " man, a friend of his, procured for us. i8o Letter from Goa, to L. Poore. y;yaTS' John INTewbery, from Qoa, 20th jAp^UAf^Y, 1584, TO JVIa^TER X4EOJMARD PoORE, OF 1_(0ND0JM. This and the following letter were warily written ; so as not to compro- mise the writers with tlie Jesuit priests, if they had been detected and read, Y LAST 1 sent you, was from Ormus, whereby I certified you, what was happened unto me and the rest of my company : which was that, four days after our arrival there, we were all committed to prison ; except one Italian who came with me from Aleppo, whom the Captain never examined, but onl}' de- manded " What countryman he v/as ? " 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 Antonio," besides divers other lies : notwithstanding,', if we had been of any other country than of England, we might free]}' 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 [Gcr}iians], Hungarians, Italians, Greeks, Arme- nians, Nazaranies [Nestorians], 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 liberty as any other nation, except it be to go out of the country; which thing, as }et, 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 ^^■as forced to put in sureties for 2,000 pardaos not to de- part from hence, without licence of the Viceroy. Other- ?<■* /ojIrSO Archbp. 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 taken a house in the chiefest street in the town, called the Rue Drette, 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 [in 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 ship], 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 L" 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 thither." 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 Prtif res, Jesuitsof 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 1 82 J. Story enters the Jesuits' College, [^i jlr^584: younp^ men his 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 Linschoten]; 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 othcr was born in Wiltshire, in England, and nTw College, IS Called Padre 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 Aveador, 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 Fitch and William 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 [sicch 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 80 jlnTS'.] '^^^^ ^-^"^"^^ BARGAINS OF M. AlBUQUERQUE. I 8 f thence, the Captain gave order that I should deHver all my money, with the goods, into the hands of the ScrivanOy 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 Aveador General of India. But at our arrival here, the Aveador 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 [tlie 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 ^th 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 ['=£1 5s. then^£j los. now] : which the Captain of Ormus did take, and paid for the same 20 pardaos [i.e,, pardaos de larines] = 100 larins = ioo sequins [=£s tlien=^£2,o now] there or here. Also, he had five emeralds set in gold, which were worth 500 or 600 crowns [ = ;^i5o to £1^0 then = about j^goc to ;;^i,o8o now], and paid for the same 100 pardaos [:=£2$ then^ £1^0 now]. Also he had 19^^ pikes [aw Eastern measure of length] which cost in London 20s. the pike, and was worth 9 or 10 crowns [£2 14s. or £^ then = £16 4s. to £1^ now] the pike : and paid for the same 12 larins [ = 12s. then = £^ 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]. 1 84 [It may be useful to give here the following Table of the English values in Eliza- beth's reign, of the principal Coins referred to in these Eastern narratives, expressed in Portuguese Reis, on the basis of the gold Milr£is=iy. \d., see /. i8 ; with their equivalents in Spanish Maravcdies, at 374 to the Ducat ordinarily passed for 5^. 6d. English money, but here proportionately taken at 5s. 4d. Description of Coins; Portuguese. Kt'is. English. Spanish Pence ^ vetiies. The Portuguese Milreis ...— 1000 = 1600 = 13s. 4d. = 2h or<)2,S The Venetiandcr [? the gold '\ Ducat of Venice], of Goa > = 600 = 96-0 = 8s. od. = l\ or 56 1 \=\0 Tangas\ ) The Pagoda, of Goa [ = 8|^ Ta7igas\ ... J 480 = 76-8 = ll or 448-8 The French Crcnon, in Europe = 450 = 72-0 = 6s. Od. = 1^^ or 42075 The current or ordinary Ducat, in the Euphrates • = 450 = 72*0 = 6s. Od. = il or 42075 Valley j The I'iece of Eight ; which had three other names, the Jioyal of Eight, the - = 436 = 6976 = i^or404"6 Royal of Plate, and, in Goa, Pardao de Peak.. The Spanish and Portuguese Ducat " ~ 400 375 = 64-0 = 60 -o (ordinarily, as) [ 5s. 6d. J = 5s. Od, = 1 0^374 The Pardao of Larines, of Ormus Maravcdies. = 31875 The Cruzado, of Malacca [ = 6 Tangas'\ ~ 360 = 57-6 = 306 The Pardao Xeraphine, of Goa [ = 5 7^angas\ • = 300 = 48-0 => 4s. Od. = 255 The A'eysers Guilder, of Holland J _ 160 = 25-6 = (ordinarily, 23.) = 136 The Teston, of Holland ...= 100 = i6-o = 85 The Larine, of Ormus [4=1 Pardao Xeraphitte ; 5 = i 75 = 120 = is. Od. 6375 Pardao de larines'] The Sequin, at Ormus ; there taken as = the Larine ... = 75 = I2-0 = Is. Od. 6375 The good [z>., offullivcight] 60 = 9-6 51 Tanga, of Goa. [TheTanga was the monetary Unit at Goa: 5 = 1 Pardao Xeraphine\ 8= I Pagoda; 10=1 Vcnetiander.l The Spanish Rial of Silver [ 1 1 = I Ducat] The i'/«rrof Holland [10= ] _ I Teston] ) ~ The good Fm/z«of Goa [15 ) _ = 1 Tanga] / ~ A single Spanish Maravedy ... = Two Pence of Holland = a I single Portuguese Rci.. j A single good Bazarticho [5 ) -= I Vintin ; 7 5 = I Tanga] j 40 = 6-4 (ordinarily. 6d.) 34 10 = 1-6 = 8-5 4 = -64 = 3-4 1-176 = •188 = I I = •16 = •85 — - = 128 = •08 25 5n.''iS'] Fitch's letter from Goa, to L. Poore. 1S5 Besides divers other trifles that the officers 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 ;£'i2,ooo then = ;^54jOOO to ^£'72,000 now], 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 you 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 your letters to some friend at Lisbon; and from thence, by the ships [carracks], they may be conveyed hither. Let the direction of your letters be, either in Portuguese or Spanish, whereby they may come the better to my hands. From Goa^ this 20th day of January, 1584. T^ALPH Pitch, fi^om Qoa, 25th J,A,NUAr\Y, 15 84, TO JVIa^TER J_(EONARD Poore q y j_^ JM D N . Loving friend, Ince my departure from Aleppo, I have not written any letters unto you, by reason that at Babylon [Bagdad] I was sick of the flux [? diarrhoea]: 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. [2sj^;/,'534 for m}' 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 Balsora ; presently I mended, I thank GOD ! There we stayed fourteen days, and then we embarked ourselves for Ormus, where we arrived the 5th of September, and were put in prison the gth 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 fcund 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 Xeraphines], 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 Venetians] 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- \\ise : 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. Fitch. ? 1592. ] Andreas Taborer was their Surety. 187 I hope in GOD, that, at the return of the Viceroy, who is gone to Chaul and to Diu, they say 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 wanted 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 plent}^ 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 ! From Goain 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=-£4^o then=: ^^2,580 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 [tlie 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, 88 Linschoten's account of the Englishmen, [^in^'^^o choten. 594- being set over the river, we went two days' journey on foot, not without fear, not knowing the way, nor having any guide : for we durst trust none. J Continued in the Summary, at /'. 194. AN HUYGHEN VAN LiNSCHOTEN. Accou7it of the Four E72glis/ime7t at Go a. As LiNSCHOTEN says at/. 194, his information about Aleppo and Ormuswas derived from James Story, the EngUsh house painter. But see/. 310. [Discourses of Voyages t^c, 1598.] N THE month of December [or rather on \th September, sec p. 176I, 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 caffylen [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 Venetians, 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. L!nschoten.-| Jjjpj^jgQjj^jpj^^ ^p ^^^ EnGLISPIAT GoA. iSq three 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 [or rather, Don M. de Albuquerque, see pp. 176, 183, 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, bein^ 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 beguile the English, p "■ ''^^'"'^''isg'J; selves so well, that they were holden and esteemed for good and catholic Romish Christians ; yet still suspected, because they were strangers, especially Englishmen. The Jesuits still told them they should be sent prisoners 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 what 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. They, 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. H. V. Linschoten.-| -pj^g JeSUITS FIND THEM THE SuRETY. IQI country : withal desiring us, for GOD's sake, 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 then=£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 then=^ £1,^60 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 [hut 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 they 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 they ceased not still, by this 192 Jesuits covet the Englishmen's money. ['^'T'^iS Dutch Jesuit, to put them in fear, that they should be sent into Portugal to the King, counselling them to yield them- selves Jesuits into their cloister, " which if they did," he 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 Viceroy's Privy Council, which to effect," he said, "they stayed but for shipping [i.e., the Carracks] 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 " they, 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, saying, " 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 employed 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 with them a good store of meat and drink. And because they should not be suspected ; they left their house and shop, with some wares therein unsold, 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 tbere 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 w'as that Linschoten.-jg^yj^Y LEAVES THE JeSUITS, & SETTLES AT GOA. I 93 John Newbery could speak Arabic, 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=£24.o now] ; 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 Pardaos [i.e. = 8s, see p. 184. The amount was 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 by, 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 also that the 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, ^■"'i. Gar. III. 13 194 1'he 3 Englishmen separate at Agra. [^•/,' tch. 592. married a mestizo's daughter, of the town. So that he made his account to stay there, while he Hved. By this Englishman, 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 1584] there never arrived [tmtil November 1588, when 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 Fitch's travels, from Hakluyt's Voyages. They 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 180 boats laden with salt, opium, hinge, lead, carpets, and divers other commodities, down the river Jumna. Erom Agra, I came to Prage [now, Allahabad], where the Jumna entereth the mighty river Ganges, and loseth his name. Erom 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. ^?^i592.] Fitch journeys to Pegu and Malacca. 195 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 Piqueno. Not far from Porto Piqueno south-westward, standeth an haven, which is called Porto Angeli, 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 Batticola. From Batticola, I went to Serrepore [? Serampore], which standeth on the river Ganges. I went from Serrepore, the 28th of November, 1586, for Pegu ; in a small ship or foist of one Albert Carvallos. From Bengal to Pegu is ninety leagues. We 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 la-nabey. It is twenty-five days journey north-east from Pegu. The loth January [1588] 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 FiTCH.] The 2gth 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 Fitch returns home, by Goa and Aleppo. [^/I's^^i We arrived in Ce3'lon the 6th of March : where we stayed 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 pissed 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 da3's 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 Bab}'lon [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 Babylon, 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 [Urf ah], 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 went to Bir, and so passed the river Euphrates. From Bir I went to Aleppo, where I stayed certain months for companv, 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. A97 Lyrics^ Elegies^ Mc» from Madrigals^ Ca?tzonets^ &c. A Book of A1R3. B Y Thomas Campion, M.D. & Philip Rosseter, Lutenist Entered at Stationers' Hall on the Sth 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 Airs 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 1 98 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [^■Ma°y?6oi: regard of which wrongs, though he himself neglects these Hght 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 a similar Epistle by Dr. Campion, at />. 270.] Hat Epigrams are in Poetry, the same are Airs in Music : then in their chief perfection, when they are short and well seasoned. But to clog a light Song with 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 : but in Airs, I find no use they have, tmless it be to make a vulgar and trivial modulation seem to the ignorant, strange; and to the judicial y tedious. A staked Air 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 ' ''"• ""'""MayS] M A D R 1 G A L b, Canzonets, &c. 199 no imputation of shortness. The lyric poets among the Greeks and Latins were the first inventors of Airs, tying themselves strictly to the number and value 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 why 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 unskilfid 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 Memeni, they wotdd point to the hinder part of their heads ; if Video, put their finger in their eye. But such childish observing of words is altogether ridictdous : 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 didl confused Fantasy, where, in a multitude of points, the harmony is quite drowned, A irs 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. 20O Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from rT. Campion, M.D. L Before May i5oi. Lyrics^ Elegies^ Mc.fro?n Madrigals^ Canzonets^ c. SoNQ3 BY TnoMy^p Campiojh, jVI.D. Y 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 night ! 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; Yet embers live, when flames do die. ^Befor7llay'^i6o^:] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, &C. 20 I 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 country 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 ! " But when we come where comfort is, She never will say, " No ! " 202 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from ["^BfSayS: 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. J '^iefore'l^ayS:] MaDRIGALS, CaNZONETS, &C. 20 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. 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 PB^r^May^L^". What harvest half so sweet is, As still to reap the kisses Grown ripe in sowing ? ^^^^^- "'^"^ 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 ! ^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 sonl, 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. ■"Befo^^Zy'L^:] Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 205 f Ollow your 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 ! 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 ! It shall suffice that they were breathed; and died for her delight. Air ! if you expect admiring ? Sweet ! if you provoke desiring ? Grace, dear! love, with kind requiting! Fond ! 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 1 if you rule lovers' fortune ? Stars ! if men your powers importune ? Yield relief by your relenting I 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, ril fly to her again, and sue for pity, to renew my hopes distressed ! 2o6 Lyrics, Elegies, & c. from PT. Campion, M.D. |_ Before May 1601. Hou art not fair ! for all thy red and white, For 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 ! 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 1 Now show it, if thou be a woman right ! Embrace, and kiss, and love me, in despite ! Re where she flies, enraged, from me 1 View her, when she intends despite ! 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 3'ields to delight, All her thoughts are made of joys, Millions of delights inventing ; Other pleasures are but toys, To her beauty's sweet contenting. "^BetorMayYeo^:] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, &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 : i3ut 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 ! " 2oS Lyrics, Elegies, &c. FROM L'ie*?oTMa"y'6-^ > 'ssc^^aar »> •acs^^to' 1 £.vr;. Gar. 111. 35 [Of this first pri7itcd English book on Dogs, the following are the principal parts omitted here. Abraham Fleming's Latin Fpistola Dedkatoria to Doctor Perne. The Alphabetical Index, declaring &r^c. — E. A.] 227 A Prosopopoical Speech of the Book. Ome tell of stars th'influence strange, Same 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 j^j^.i^j^.^,^.^^i..^.J^.^ .^^^,^.4^ •^jg^TjijEr-^jy^-'^-^'^ -'^'rs^ 228 ^^^^^^•^^^^•:^*^^*^^^*^^«^^^^«^^-^^*^^ SF3MCM To the well disposed Reader. S EVERY manifest effect proceedeth from some certain cause, so the penning of this present Abridgment (gentle and courteous Reader) issued from a special I 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 style and tieth his invention to such methodical and orderly proceed- A, Flem "^')2;] To THE WELL DISPOSED ReADER. 229 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 evidently, 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 unhappy : yet Caius avoucheth the death of Gesner most blessed, lucky, and fortunate, as in this book, intituled De libris propriis, appeareth. 230 To THE WELL DISPOSED ReADER. Q"^' ^'^"Jj"!; But of these two 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 cvrs sola coquo, servire palato : Namque coqjius doniini debet habere gulam : 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 ! Abraham Fleming. 231 The first Section of this Discourse. The Prea?)ible or 'Entrance into this Treatise. w< m m i 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 3'our 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 !32 Three Classes of English Dogs. [a. Fuming. 1 570: promised solemnly, accomplish my determination, and satisfy your expectation ; ^vhich 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, 263-267]. A homely kind, apt for sundry neces- sary uses [pp, 250-259, 267]. A currish kind, meet for many toys [pp. 260-262, 268-g]. 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 S 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 chasing the beast In taking the bird that IS m hunting fowling In these two points 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. J. Caius. 1336."] A. Fleming. I576.J English Dogs — the Harrier. ■^00 Two kinds of dogs /One which rouseth the beast, and continueth the chase. 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 Venatici, " hunting dogs." But because we Enghsh men make a difference between hunting and fowling : for that they are called by these several words, Venaiio et Anciipkim, so they term the dogs whom they use in these sundry games by divers names ; as those which serve for the beast, are called Venatici, the others which are used for the fowl, are called Aiicupatorii [see pp. 242-246]. The first / The first in perfect smelling \ kind, called Venatici, I divide into five sorts. The second in quick spying . The third in swiftness and quickness I / , The fourth in smelling and nimbleness ' ^ The fifth in subtilty and deceitfulness Of the dog, called an Harrier; in Latin, Leverarlus. 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 I'XyevTr]'^, of tracing or chasing by the foot, or plv/]XaTO'i, 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 Leverariiis, 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. 234 English Dogs — the Terrier. [aJ; Caius. leming 1536- Some for Some for one thing, and some for another. The hare. The fox. The wolf. The hart. The huck. The badger. The otter. The polecat. The lobster. The weasel. The cony, &c. 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 with 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 Lati?i, 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 w^ith snares and nets laid over their holes to the same purpose. But these be the least in that kind, called Sagax. A. Ftag. 1576:] English Dog s — the Bloodhound. 235 0/ the dog^ called a Bloodhound ; in Lathi, Sangulnarius. He greater sort which serve to hunt, having Hps of a large si^e, and ears of no small length, do not only 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 Sanguinarii, 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 Dog s — ti i e B loodhound. [a. J-ieSg! '1576. 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; which by fortune and luck, they can- not otherwise overcome. Insomuch as it seemeth worthily and wisely written by ^Elianus in his First Book, and thirty-ninth Chapter, To evOv/xariKov koI hiaXsKTLKov, 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 the 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 taketh the water naturally : A. Fiemmg': 1576.] EnGLISH DoGS — THE GaZEHOUND. 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 : But 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 Brache, in Scottish Rache: the cause hereof resteth in the she sex, and not in the general 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 lurlongs, 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 foresight 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 G axe hound ; 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 English Dogs— the Greyhound, [a. /iemlngi 1576: indeed is clear, constant, and not uncertain. If a beast be wounded and gone astray ; this dog seeketh after it by the steadfastness of the eye. If it chance peradventure to return bemingled with the residue of the flock; tliis 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 Agasccnm, a Gaze Hound : be- cause the beams of his sight are so steadfastly settled and unmovably fastened. These dogs 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, Leporarlus. Here is another kind of dog which, for his incredible swiftness, is called Leporariiis, 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. LSiTg': 1576.] English Dogs — the Leviner. 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 habiHty of their bodies will permit and suffer. For it is a spare and bare kind of dog (of flesh, 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. is 240 English Dogs — the Tumbler, [a. fiSI: I"^. Of the dog, called a 'Tujnhler ; in hating Vertagus. His 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 [>'a6&//!]burrow, he hunts not after them, he [afjfrays them not by barking, he makes no countenance or shadow of hatred 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. When 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 convenient 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 J. Cams. iSsS."] A. Fleming. 1576.J English Dogs — the Thievish. 241 in one day's space as many conies as shall arise to as big a burden and as hea\'y 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. He like to that whom we have rehearsed, is the Thievish Dog, which at the mandate and bidding of his master fleereth and leereth 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. <[A Dial pertaining to the First Section. Dogs serving as pastime of hunting beasts. are divided into / Harriers. Terriers. Bloodhounds. Gazehounds. Leviners or i Lyemmers. I Tumblers. ^ Stealers. In Latin, called Venatiu. Eng. Gar III. 16 242 The Second Section of this Discourse. There be two sorts Of gentk dogs servmg the Hawk : arid first of the Spaniel ; called in Latin, Hispaniolus. UcH 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. The first findeth game on the land. 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. Some be called Dojs For the Falcon The Pheasant The Partridere and such like. The common sort of people call them by one general word, namely, Spaniels. As though this kind of dogs came A. Fkming. 1576.] English D o g s— t h e 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 d-og 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, [a. k^ng! l"*! the prepared net. Which cunning and artificial endeavour in a dog (being a creature dcmestical, or household servant ; brought up at home with offals of 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 therefore 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 Lathiy Aquaticus, seu Inquisitor. Hat kind of dog whose service is required in fowling upon the water, partly through a natural towardness, and partly by diligent teaching, is endued with that property. This sort is somewhat big, and of a measur- ablegreatness; havinglong, 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, by shearing of such super- fluity of hair, they might achieve more lightness and swiftness, and be less hindered in swimming, 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 thairkind. And principally ducks and drakes, whereupon he is likewise named " a Dog for tbe Duck," because in that quality he is excellent. With these dogs also, we fetch out of the A. Fiembg! isS 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 Inqiiisitores, " 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 leisurely, 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 young 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 Fisher, [a. h^^Tg. life. behalf, 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 ^LIANUS and tElius, call the Beaver, Kyvairordfjuov, 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 tbe 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 Aticupatorii, serving to take Fowl, either by land or water. 5[A Dial pertaining to the Second Section. Dogs serving the dis- ■{ port of Fowling. Land Spaniels. Setters. Water Spaniels or Finders. called in Latin Canes A u ^cupatorii. ^ The Fisher is not of their number; but several. A. rSg! 1576!] English Dogs — the Spaniel gentle. 247 The Third Section of this Abridgment. 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 sifting, 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, Melitsus 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 Callimachus call Melitceos, of the island Melita, 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^l"!: '"e. 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 hath neighbourhood enough. That plausible proverb verified upon a tyrant, namely " that he loved his sow, better than his son," may well be applied to this kmd 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 virUie which remaineth 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 them 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 thereunto applied as a plaster preservative [IJ or borne in the bosom of the diseased and weak person [!] 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 [!] 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.FieS|:i576:] English 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 Spaniel >^ /A chamber com- — It is panion, - also -{A pleasant play- In the Third Section is con- tained one kind of dog, which is called the gentle or the "Com- forter." ) called fellow, rally -called Cams vA pretty worm, ^ delicatus. ^^ 250 ^fo n^j^ ri^fjn rM^ wij^ »=5|^ «!^^ -^ "$' ^ ^ ^ "$" "^ '^ "^ "$" "^ "$" '^ ^ '^ "$" "T' "^ "i^ 'T^ The Fourth Section of this Discourse. 4 Dogs of a coarse kind^ serv'uig for majiy ?tecessary uses called in hat'm Canes rustic! ; atid first of the Shepherd's Dog ; called in Latin, Can is Pastoral is. Dogs of the JThe Shepherd's Dog | These two are coarser sort are iThe 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 which 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. Fiem'ing; I576-] Englisii Dogs — THE Shepherd's Dog. 251 that LuDWALL Prince of Wales paid yearly to Kinj^ 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 the}' be sick ; no hurt nor harm in the world, done to the simple creature. 252 English Dogs — the Mastiff, [a. FieSnl: '"e! Of the Mastiff or Bandog; called^ in Latin* Villaticus or Cathenarius. His kind of dog, called a Mastiff or Bandog, is vast, huge, stubborn, ugly, and eager; of a heavy and burdenous body, and therefore but of little swiftness; 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 FeV/ai^fcz', 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 nightwanderers. 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 life) either a pikestaff, a club, or a sword. And by using [accxistom- ing\ them to exercise as these, their dogs become more sturdy and strong. The force which is in them surmounteth 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 try masteries with 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. -Fleming. IszS English D o g s— t h e Mastiff. 253 dogs (how many soever they were in number) should 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 the regiment of 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, Cathenarius, 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 fJieyaXopp'^vrcov 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 wind 254 English Dogs — the Keeper Dog. [a. fS^: I"*: 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 ItiGVLPHV s Croyladensis, in his History, recordeth. 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 6iKovpoTBV^| mr« I^W^^ fOAiJtajf,, nl| UHDhHv^ JJ*^.y?Tj B^^'Q SI^^JP« ^» w^m bSwP^^« '// nP^SJ^M ^^ ^^^ AiN MEN ! whose follies make a god of love ; Whose blindness, beauty doth immortal deem. Praise not what you desire, but what you prove 1 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 love ! How rich of golden hope, and gay delight ! 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 wilhont 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. Campion, M^D.-] M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 287 Ow eas'ly wert thou chained, Fond heart ! by favours feigned ? Why Hved thy hopes in grace, Straight to die disdained? 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 ceaseth, 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, 8c c. from [t. campion, md r\RDEN, 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 1 What unhoped for sweet supply ! O what joys exceeding ! What an affecting charm, feel I, From 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. T. cnmpion, M.D.j 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 1 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. Eng. Gar. III. IQ 290 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. campion. m^d. 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 ; ^nd to my cloistered cares return. Yet, O yet, in vain 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 ? T. Campion, M^UJ M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 29I 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 yields 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 flowers, 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; My Sovereign 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. Wbile fond fear may colour find, love's seldom pleased : But, much like a sick man's rest, it's soon diseased. 292 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t- campion, m.d. Why should our minds not mingle so, When love and faith are plighted : That either might the others know, Alike in all delighted ? Why 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 soon returneth : Such a flame, the more you quench the more it burneth, OoD men, show! if you can tell. Where doth Human Pity dwell ? Far and near, her I would seek. So vext with sorrow is my breast. " She," they say, " to all, is meek ; And only makes th'unhappy 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 hath abused : Casting mists before mine eyes. By which my senses are confused. i r. Campion, M.D.-| Madrigals, Canzonets, &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/ 204.) And straight to be receiver Of that, which thou art giver ! 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 ! 5 294 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from |_^t. campion, m^d. He peaceful western wind, The winter storms hath tamed ; And Nature, in each kind. The kind heat hath inflamed. The forward buds so sweetly breathe Out of their earthly bowers : 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 overflown. 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 ? O Beauty ! be not thou accused Too justly in this case ! Unkindly, if true love be used ; 'Twill yield thee little grace ! f. 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: 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. 296 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [J- ca'?i''°". \^^^^ Should I then woo, that have 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 they, 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 : JYou 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 ! all is abusing! T. Campion. M^D.-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 I " 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 ? O, 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 ! Ome away ! armed with love's delights I Thy spriteful graces, bring with thee I 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 [t. campion, m.d. Is she come ? O, how near is she ! 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 ! 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 ! T. Campion, M.D.J M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S, & C. 299 Er rosy cheeks, her 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. O 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. I Here shall I refuge seek, if you refuse me ? In you, my hope ; in you, my fortune lies ! j^In you, my life ! though you unjust accuse me ! My service scorn ! and merit underprize ! 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 \jit Goa\^ and his Government i?i India. [Discourse of Voyages 6-'c. 1593.] Very three years, 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 concernelh 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. Linschoten.j 'Yue PaLACE OF THE ViCEROYS AT GoA. 3CI with velvet and nailed with gilt nails : and a cloth with two velvet 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 for the Jesuits, p-"- V. Linschoten. 1 isg-l* leagues with great and rich presents ; therewith likewise to bid the Viceroy welcome : which 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 Viceroy 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 Viceroy was an heretic ! " 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 may 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.Linschoten.1 J ^^ ViCEROYS' TRIENNIAL PROGRAMME. 303 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 troubhng 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. 304 Japanese Princes brought to Goa. [J"-^-^^'' nsclioten 1594 Jan PIuyghen van Linschoten. Diary of occurre?7ces i?i the Portuguese settle//ie?its i?i India^ 1583—1588 a.d. [Discourse 0/ Voyages &'c. 1598.] Notice the inarvellous secvnity of the Portuguese in India at this time, under their triple protection : the Papal bull of 1494 ; the power ot Spain ; and England and Holland, as yet, quiescent and at home. The exhaustive information which Linschoten gave of the East, led the way to the formation of the Dutch, and English East India Conipanies. 1583. Bout the same time [i.e., Deceinher 1583], there came certain Jesuits to Goa, from the island of Japan; and with them, three Princes (being the children of 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 only intent. They continued in Goa till the year 1584, 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 Venice, 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 them 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. Lin3choten.-| ^UE PrINCES MAKE A TOUR OF EuROPE. 305 Captains and Governors of India. So they went to Lisbon, and there took shipping, anno 1586, 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. [Seep. 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 San Lorenzo ; and was taken, in her wa}- returning home, by the Englishmen: and was the first ship that was taken coming 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, they 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, Cambaia, 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- Eng. Gar. III. 20 3o6 Portuguese & Malabars at peace, p- " V. Li.lschoten ? 1594- dition that the Portuguese should have a fort upon a certain haven 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 thereby, 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 [hinder] 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 stony 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 Irom 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 Maschareniias, 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.Lmschoten.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 hberty 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 DonJuLiANEsMASCHARENHAS; 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. Which 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 stir: they took courage, and, in great number, set upon the Admiral's foist ; and put all to 3o8 It Miserably Fails. [J- «• - Linscho.en. the sword, except such as saved themselves by swimming. And although the Admiral might well have saved himself, for a slave offered to bear him on his back ; yet 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's son ; who was 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 Jeronimo 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 houses and cut down their trees, razing all things to the ground. With which destruction, they departed thence ; no man resisting them. 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 inhalntants rose up, and would have slaiti them that v. ent about it. Whereupon they left off till J. H. V. Linschoten.-| ^ 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 King, 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 Dom 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 [gtmncrs], Netherlanders ; that brought me letters out of Holland, which was no small comfort to me. Not long after, in the same month, there arrived another ship, called Boa Viagen [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 Viceroy Don Duarte de Meneses, that had been Captain of 310 The arrival of a new Viceroy, p- "•^•L'"'''='^°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 [touching] land, before they arrived at Cochin : where the Viceroy Vv'as received with great solemnity. Being landed, he presently sent to the old Viceroy, 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 1585, 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 i)orn in Hamburg \p. i82j), travelled from Goa unto Ormus,and from thence, toBalsora; 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 Caffilas. From Aleppo he went to Tripolis ; and there he found certain ships for England, wherein he sailed 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.L;nschoten.-j Death OF Linschoten's father. 311 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 Alenqon 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 istof November after [1585], arrived at Cochin, the Sant Alberto that came from Portugal. And the ist 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] , San jfago ; 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 SiXTUsVI. 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 1586, 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 Atcgust] of the admiral San Jago, 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 22|-° S., there are certain shallows [shoals] called the " India," ninety miles from the Mozambique. Those shallows 3 1 2 The casting away of the San- J ago. [J- "• ''■7^'"''\^J9": 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 "Shoals of India" [p. 25], the Pilot took 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 tiie ship upon them, it cut the ship in tw'o 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 [flag 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. H. V. Linschotenj CoURAGE OF CyPRIAN GrIMOALDO. 313 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 the 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. [J- ''•"•, ^'"'^''"J'^^ let them fall into the sea; and they threw many overboard, being such as had not wherewith to defend themselves. Which done, they set forward, committing themselves to GOD ; with the greatest cry and pitifullest noise that ever was heard, as though heaven and earth had gone together : when 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, the)' 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.L;nschoten.j QnLY 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 1588, 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 Turkish Galleys come out of the [ ["Linschoten. '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 1585. 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 [A DBAS I.] , King [Shah] of Persia, against ihe 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 Cbief 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.-| ^^jy g ^^^ ^ BEAT THE PORTUGUESE FLEET. 3 I 7 Sea ; they found many calms upon the way, so that they endured much misery, and began to die Hke 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 3l8 800 PORTUGDESE SOLDIERS SLAIN. [J- "■ ^- Linschoten, 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 many 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 yielded 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. ? JS94 ] 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 Senora 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 = j/^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*!" but, because he thought it not then convenient, he desired her to be content ; promis- 320 For the love of whom, she dies. [J-H-v.Linschotea ing to return again with all the speed he might. Whereupon, he went to Bardes, which is the uttermost part of the river 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 Febrtiary 1585] 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 prolit 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 ; fur, otherwise, it were impossible to escape, because they overlade them, and the ships are, otherwise, so badly J. H. v.Linschoten.j ^ C ARR A CK BURSTS AT THE CaPE. 32 I provided, and with little order among their men: so that not one ship cometh home but can showof 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 Viagen, 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 5^300,000 ihcn=abo'ut ^1,800,000 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, 1586; there arrived four ships out of Portugal, in Goa, called the San Thomas, San Salvador [p. 326], the Arreliquias, the Dom Jesus de Carania : but of their admiral, the San 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 Ascention, 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. ^A'G. G^^. III. 21 32 2 Archbp. Fonseca sails to Portugal. [J- "• V. Linschoten. ? 1594. In this ship, [newly] called Nostra Smora da Sancao, my Lord the Archbishop sailed to Portugal, 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 Crusada, 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 Sebastian, 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 Jago away upon the " Flats of India," as it is said before [pp. 311-316J. The ships, at tliat 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 registerall their wares and merchandise), it so fell out that all the other ships being despatched ; the Arreliqui as on\y \\'d.s the last that laded. Which ship having taken in her whole lading, the J.H. v.Linschotenj jjjg giNKi^G OF THE ArRELIQUIAS. 323 Officers, and some of the Factors, being bribed, suffered some of the ballast 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 Tone^ and Pallenges, 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 324 All saved in her, but the slaves. [Jh. v.Lin--,choten. 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 ; wherehy the ship (being light of ballast, 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 they 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 f r 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 L;mcT,oten.-| 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 1587, 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 Sa7i Lorenzo [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 1586, being the year before, unto the coast of Melinde,to revenge the injury which they had received in the fleet 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 save themselves, and left their towns. Whereby the Portuguese did what pleased them, burning the -^2 6 Sa,v S/iLVADO/? FO\j-iiT> AT Zanzibar. rJ"-^/'>"5':''°^=" «J L ; 1594' 1594- towns with 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 victory. 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, saving 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, after a long and wearisome voyage r/». 428], arrived there in safety. The 17th of September, 1587, 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 Senora 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 [25//^ of September], the said four ships arrived in Goa, where they were received with great joy. J.II. v.Lmschoten.-j CoLOMBO BESIEGED, AND DELIVERED. 327 At the same time, the fort called Colombo, which the Portuguese 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 1588, they were received with great joy. In the month of April, the same year [1588], the army of 328 Malacca delivered, Jor destroyed. \J- H. V. Linschoten. ? 1594- Don Paulo de Lima Pereira that went to Malacca, arrived in Goa with victory : having freed Malacca, and opened the passage again to China and other places. The manner whereof was thus. In their way, as they passed the Straits of Malacca, they met with a ship belong- ing to the King of Achen [AcJiin] 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 Achen ; 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 [pallisadocd] 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 on 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 were 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 [renounced] their faith, and ^T^°*^g";]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 themselves 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 thought, 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 Viceroy. p-"-''-/''"'=''°5g"; 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 [1588] ; and there, were received with great triumph; the people singing Te DEUM laudauins', 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 4th August 1587], 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 Kings 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 country. Approaching near the Cloister of Reis Magos, being three J. H. V. Lmschoten.-j £ LECTION OF AN AD-INTERIM ViCEROY. 2)2) 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 Vias 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'Albuquerque, that had been Captain of Ormus, and, the year before [i.e., 332 A Viceroy dead ! Long live the next! p- "■ ''■}^'"''^%ll 594- January 1587, see 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, see p. 460.J He, being absent, the second Via w^as opened, with the like solemnity, and herein they found named for Viceroy, Manuel DE SousA CouTiNHO (of whom I made made mention before, [p. 327] and who was the man that raised the siege in the island of Ceylon), to the great admiration [wonderment] 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 Vicero}', 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 Te DRUM landanius, &c., and there gave him his oath to hold and observe all privi- leges and customs, accordingto theorder 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 Vicero}', 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 him ; saving only touching his own particular affairs. In the months of June, July, and August of the same year, anjio 1588, 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.LinscIioten.J ArCHBISHOP FoNSECA DIES AT SEA. 2)33 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 Thomas, 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 Scnora de Conscpcao.. By these ships, we received news of the death of my Lord the Archbishop, Don Frey Vincentk da FonsecAj who died in his voyage to Portugal, upon the 4th day of August, anno 1587, 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 r and suddenly he was taken so sick that he had not the leisure to make his 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 Lyrics^ Elegies^ &^c. fro7n Madrigals^ Canzonets^ &fc. ■^ The Thii\d yvNO Fourth Book^ of Air^ By Thomas Campion, M. D. Apparently published about 1613. To my honourable friend y Sir Thomas M onson^ Knight and Baronet, 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 Your pined health, when art despaired of it ? I, that, in your affliction, often viewed In you, the fruits of manly fortitude, Patience, and even constancy of mind That rock-like stood, and scorned both wave and wind! T. Campion, lvrD.-| jyj^jjj^jQ^LS, CaNZONETS, &C. 335 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 ! And may the joys of that Crown never end, That innocence doth pity, and defend ! Yours devoted, Thomas Campion. 336 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. campion, m.d. Lyrics J Elegies^ &^c. from Madrigals^ Canzo?iets^ &^c. The Third Book. Ft have I sighed, for him that hears me not ; Who, absent, hath both love and me forgot. yet I languish still, through his delay: Days 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, Why is she thus untimely gone ? True love abides to th'hour of dying- False love is ever flying ! T. Campion, M^D.J ]^/[ ^ j3 R I G A L S , CaNZONETS, &C. 2)o7 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 objecting, 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. Aids are simple," some men say, "They, forsooth, will trust no men." But 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. III. -22 ^^8 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [^ • camp'°n. ^/^d- OJ Safer may we credit give To a faithless wandering Jew : Than a young man's vows helieve, 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 ! 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, their mover makes them so ; Proud of a wound, the bleeding soldiers grow. Poor I, alone, dreaming, endure Grief that knows nor cause, nor cure. And whence can all this grow ? Even from an idle mind, That no delight in any good can find. Action, alone, makes the soul blest ! Virtue dies, with too much rest ! T. Campion, M^D.j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 339 Hy presumes thy pride on that, that must so private be? Scarce that 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. But 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 ! 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 wert 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. O did ever voice so sweet but only feign ? Can true love yield such delay. Converting joy to pain ? 340 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [^- c=»"ipion, ivrp. Lost is our freedom, When we submit to women so : Why do we need them, When, in their best, they work our woe ? There is no wisdom Can alter ends, by Fate prefixt, O why is the good of man with evil mixt ? Never were days yet called two, But one night went betwixt. Grief ! O 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 give ? O 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 ! Though dearly bought. Honour is honest fame. Old stories, only, goodness now contain ; And the true wisdom, that is just and plain. Never to be moved ! O beauty unrelenting 1 Hard heart ! too dearly loved ! I'ond 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 ! " T. Campion, RLD. J ]yj^j3RI GALS, CaNZONETS, & C. 34 I All comforts despaired, Distaste your 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 I "iw--^ Reak now, my heart, and die ! O no, she may relent Let my despair prevail ! O sta)', 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 L\Rics, Elegies, &c. from [T.camppM.o 1613. 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. B i Ow WINTER nights enlarge The number of their hours ; jAnd clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze ! And cups o'erflow with wine 1 Let well-tuned words amaze, With harmony divine! Now yellow 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, RLDj Madrigals, Canzonets, &C. 2)4 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. O come and dwell in love's discourses! Old renewing, new creating. The words which thy rich tongue discourses, Are not of the common rating ! 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 ! 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 ? 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, \rD. If weary, they prepare us rest ! If sick, their hand attends us ! When 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 ; vSorting 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 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 ! 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 ! r. Campion, 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 ! 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 ! 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 30ul ! too late ! 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 would make thee straight return ! 346 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from \^- '^'^"'p'""' ^g,^ Hall I come, sweet love ! to thee, When the evening beams are set ? Shall I not excluded be ? Will you find no feigned let ? Let me not, for pity, more. Tell the long hours at your door! 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. But to let such dangers pass, Which a lover's thoughts disdain : 'Tis 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. 5 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 I 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 1 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. Camp-on, 1VLD.J ]y[ ^ jj J, J Q ^ L S , CaNZONETS, & C. 347 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.^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 ! Ire ! 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 H umber, and fair Thames ! Dread Ocean ! haste with all thy streams ! And if you cannot quench my fire ; O drown both me, and my desire 1 Fire ! fire ! fire ! fire ! There is no hell to my desire. See 1 all the rivers, backward fly ! And th' Ocean doth his waves deny! For fear my heat should drink them dry. 348 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t. camj^ion, m^d. Come heavenly showers then, pouring down! Come you, that once the world did drown ! Some then you spared ; but now save all I That else must burn, and with me fall 1 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 ! 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 ! r. Campion, M^D.j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 349 Ome ! O come, my life's delight ! Let me not in languor pine ! 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 ! 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 ! 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 ! that can redeem Their engagements how they please j 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 strangle. Better never to be blest, Than to lose all, 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 ! 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 1 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 holy 1 And, with sighs, confess, " In love, that too much faith is folly 1 " T. Campion. M^D.j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 351 Yet be just and constant still ! Love may beget a wonder; Not unlike a summer's frost, or winter's fatal thunder. 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 1 and love ! and never fear! O QUICK ! so hot ! so mad is thy fond suit ! So rude, so tedious grown, in urging me 1 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 1 352 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t- campion, m^d. But roofs, too hot 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 ! 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 day, we shall have ! But never, as you dream, in bed, or grave ! Hall I then hope, when faith is fled ? Can I seek love, when hope is gone ? Or can I live, when love is dead ? Poorly 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. T.Can,pion.M.D.-]]y[^j3RIGALS, CaNZONETS, &C. 353 To my worthy friend Master John M oNsoNj Son and Heir to Sir Thomas Monson^ Knight and Baronet, N YOU ! th'affections of your father's friends, With his inheritance, by right, descends ! But 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 ! 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 S Yours ever, Thomas Campion. Enc. Gar. III. 23 354 Lyrics, 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, either in words or notes. To be brief. All these Songs are mine, if you express them well! Otherwise, they are your own ! Farewell. Yoiirs, as you are his, Thomas Campion. T. Campion, M^DJ jyj ^ j3 R I G A L S , CaNZONETS, &C. 355 Lyrics^ Elegies^ &^c.j^rom Madrigals^ Canzonets^ &^c. The Fourth Book. Eave prolonging thy distress ! All delays afflict the dying, Many 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 last ! 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 1 and losing all for one ! 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 ! 356 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. f r o m L"^- ^'"p/""- ^e,^; Hou joyest, fond boy ! to be by many loved ! To have thy beauty, of most dames approved ! For this, dost thou thy native worth disguise : And playest the sycophant, t'observe their eyes ! 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 Story : But 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 e3'es ! O hide from me The plagues that charge the curious mind ! If beauty private will not be, Suffice it yet, 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. M.D.-j Madrigals, Canzonets, &c. 35/ Very dame affects good fame, wh ate'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 ol J, 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 bread, 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! coi-tent that gives; and what he gives, enjoys! Happy dame ! content that lives; and breaks no sleep for toys ! 358 Lyrics, Elegies, &c., from [T-camp.M.D. O SWEET is thy discourse to me, And so delightful is thy sight, As I taste nothing right, but thee ! O why invented Nature, light ? Was it alone for beauty's sake, That her graced words might better take ? No more can I, old joys recall. They now to me become unknown ; Not seeming to have been at all. Alas ! how soon is this love grown To such a spreading height in me ; As with it, all must shadowed be I i 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. Campion, J.LD.J ]y[ ^ j^ j^ J g ^ L S , 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 mj'steries 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. 36o Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t- campion, m^d. 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, Whoe'er he be. Love he must, or flatter me. OvE me or not ; love her I must, or die ! Leave me or not ; follow her, needs must I ! that her grace would my wished comforts give ! How rich in her, how happy should I live! T.Can,p.o„.M.D.-]]yi^j3RIGALS, CaNZONETS, &C 361 All my desire, all my delight should be, Her to enjoy, 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 hear. 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 ! Strive to give content ! And shame not love's profession ! 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 meant : Easily could I then obtain, What now, in vain, I force ! Falsehood much doth gain : Truth yet holds the better course ! 362 Lyrics, Elegies, & c . from [^- campion, m^d. Love forbid that, through dissembling, I should thrive ! Or, in praising you, myself of truth deprive ! Let not your high thoughts debase A simple truth in me ! Great is Beauty's grace : Truth is yet as fair as she ! Praise is but the wind of pride, if it exceeds, Wealth, prized in itself, no outward value needs. Fair you are ! and passing fair ! You know it ! and 'tis true. Yet let none despair, But to find as fair as you ! 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 ! Is my fond sight deceived ? or do I Cupid spy, Close aiming at his breast; by whom, despised, I die! Shoot home, sweet Love I 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 w^anders 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 ! Campion, M.D.-] ]yi ^ j^ ^ J ^ ^ L S , CaNZONETS, & C. 363 Eauty JS 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 ! 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 ! Nly 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 ! Reason's sight, that is etern. E'en the Substance can discern. 364 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from [t- can.p!on. m^d. Soul is the Man ; for who will so The Body name ? And to that power, all grace we owe That decks our living frame. 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 surprise. Let our loving minds then meet ! For pure meetings are most sweet. Ince 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. Campion, M^D.-j Madrigals, 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." Hink'st thou to seduce me then, with words that have no meaning ! 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 ! 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 ? 366 Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from l^- ^^f'^' ^^^^ Er fair inflaming 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.-]]y[^j3RIGALS, CaNZONETS, &C. 36] Yet fled they not so fast, As her enraged mind : Still did I after haste, Still was I left behind ; Till I found 'twas to no end, With a Spirit to contend. Urn all thy thoughts to eyes ! Turn all thy hairs to ears ! Change all thy friends to spies 1 And all thy joys to fears ! True love will yet be free, 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 1 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 &^c.^in 1589. Although this cruize seems, from 'P\jkcuk'S>''s Pilg^rnnsw. p. 114.1, Ed. 1625, to have gained \oo per cent, profit ; yet it was a singularly unlucky one. They missed the Fleet of Portuguese Carracks, in which LiNSCHOTEN came back from Goa, see pp. 370-442 ; they missed enormous treasure at Fayal, see p. 449 ; and though they actually saw the Spanish West Indian Squadron going into Angra, see p. 379, the wind being contrary, robbed them of their prey ; and, finally, their best prize was wrecked off Cornwall. [Certain Errors in Navigation, St'c. 1599.I He Right Honourable the Earl of Cumberland, having, at his own charges, prepared his small fleet, of four vessels only {viz., 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 i8th 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 Francis 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, finding them 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 ^•^'igg:] Seizure of the Easterlings* ships. 369 part, was fish from Newfoundland) ; saving that there was a part thereof distributed among our small fleet, as we could find 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 gates 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 first 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 therefore 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 their several passportsfrom the cities of Hamburg and Lubeck, from Bremen, Pomerania, 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 divided 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 £"20,000 [=ahout ^120,000 now] worth of Spaniard's goods ; but then, it was too late to search them. eng. Gar. III. 24 370 Arrive at Azores, ist of August 1589. [^•^IfJ,. The ist of August [0. S.], being Friday, in the morning, we had sight o fthe island of St. Michael's, being one of the easter- most of the Azores ; towards which, we sailed 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 hearing, 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 [gims] 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 [Linschoten states, p. 442, they first left on 8th August, N.S., which would be ^oth July, O.S., or the Wednesday before this Friday ; and returned on i^th, N.S., i.e., ^rd August O.S. : and that Lord CUMBERLAND passed Angra on the previous day, the 2nd, O.S. What a piece of bad luck for the Fnglish !] 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 w^ine, certain woollen cloth, silk, taffata, &c. The 14th of August, we came to the island of Flores : where ^■^'i599.] Obtain fresh trovisions atFlores, 371 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 wfe also did the like. When we came tothem, 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 company 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." We 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 tovv'n 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 [August 1587], by certain English Ships of war [under 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 : distant 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 yard 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, seep. 442.] Of which news, we were verj glad; and sped us thitherward, with all the speed we could. 372 Daring escape of English Sailors, [^"^^'ifjj: By the way, we came to Fayal road [harbour], the 27th of August, after sunset ; where we espied certain ships riding 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 about an hour in the night : the town also discharging their great ordnance from the platform [batUry] 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 worstj 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 30th 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 Marksbury 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 Terceira, being about nine or ten leagues from the shore : where we espied x:oming 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, with that small boat, committed themselves to the sea, under GOD's providence : having no other yard for their mainsail but two pipe staves tied together by the ends ; and no more provision of victuals than they could bring in their pockets and bosoms. [See 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 before [or rather, as LiNSCHOTEN says, on yd Aui^'ust, O.S.p. 442]. Thus being without any further hope of those Carracks; we resolved to return to Fayal, 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 ^■^S] Capture of the Town of Fayal. 37; made scarce nine or ten leagues' way, lingering up and down, not far from Pico. The loth September, beingWednesday, in the afternoon, we came again to Fayal road : whereupon, immediately, my Lord sent Captain Lister, with one of 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 him 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 oath, and allegiance to King Philip, to give over without fight." [These were the Portilguese inhabitants, not Spanish soldiers, see p. 447.] Whereupon, my Lord commanded the boats of every ship to be presently [at once] manned ; and, soon after, landed his men on the sandy shore, under the side of a hill, about half a league to the northwards, from the platform. Upon the top of which hill, certain horsemen and footmen showed them- selves. Two other companies also appeared, with ancients [flags 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 I/ord's 374 Description of the Town of Fayal. [^'^'ifjj: 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-west, 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 the other, in such sort, as, all along the house from the roof 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 hollowness the edges of the former courses, in such sort 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 ^■^'Sq.] ^ 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 andkeepersfor those 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 scarcely 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 friars (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 [10th] 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,ooo 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 Victory, on the Sunday [14//^] following, so many of the inhabitants as would willingly come, save only Diego Gomez the Governor (who came but once only to parlee 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 ; 3/6 Cruizing about the Azores. [^- '^^'Jfjj who was cousin to a servant of Don Antonio, King of Portugal in England. These prisoners we detained with us. On Monday [isth], we sent our boats ashore for fresh water, which, by reason of the rain that fell in the former night, came plentifully running down the hills; and would otherwise have been hard to get there. On Tuesday [i6th] likewise, not having yet sufficiently serve our turns, we sent again for fresh water : 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 him 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 I7th-2ist. 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 money, 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. ^■^"iSJ Fight WITH ISLANDERS OF Graciosa. 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 driven to leeward, and could not get near the island. The 31st day, we sailed along Terceira ; and even against Bresil (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 land, they ran to shore and escaped us. In the afternoon, we came near to Graciosa, whereupon my Lord forthwith 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 [were without] all the rest of our 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 [flags] displayed 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 yS Who, after, supply them with wine. [_ ^•'^''igj were together in consulting what was best to be done, two of them were struck with a great shot [of a gtm] which the islanders drew from place to place with oxen ; wherewith the one lost his hand, and the other his life within two or three da3^s after. The third was shot in his neck with a small shot, without any great hurt. With this news, our company returned back again at night ; whereupon 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 any good ground to anchor in, where we might lie to to batter the town : and further, we could find no landing-place, without great danger to lose many men ; which 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 w^ould 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 boat from the shore, with a flag of truce ; wherein were three of the chief men of the island : who agreed with my Lord that he should have of themi, sixty butts of wine 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 they saved 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 ^^'iSu See the Spanish W. I. Fleet, at Angra; 379 soldiers might not come on shore, for they themselves would hring all 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 fill and bring them away, 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 that the West Indian Fleet was not yet come, but would come ver}' 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, 380 BUT ARE NOT ABLE TO GET AT THEM. [^' ^'xSJ considering the strength of the place where they rode ; being hauled and towed in nearer the town, at the first sight of our approaching, and lying under the protection of the Castle of Bresil on the one side, having in it twenty-five pieces of ordnance ; and a Fort on the other side, wherein were thirteen or fourteen great brass pieces. Besides, when we came near land, the wind proved too scant for us to attempt any such enterprise. Upon Tuesday, the 14th of October, we sent our boat to the road, to sound the depth, to see if there were any anchoring- place for us, where we might be without the shot of the Castle and the Fort, and within shot of some of those ships, that we might either make them come out to us, or sink them where they 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 days 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 they should come forth. After a while, the pinnace returned, and told us that those ships in the haven had 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 of October, see p. 449 ; and were nearly all taken by the English.] Wherefore, on the 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., sJiip in the road]; and two or three more 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 ^■^'i599-J ^^ ^^^ WATER, ATTACK St. MaRy's IsLE. 38 1 to shore for fresh water, at a brook a little to the westward of Villa Franca: but the inhabitants espying us, came down with two ancients [ensigns] displayed, and about some 1^0 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 [2^ih of 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 with us) with our long 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 five 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 were 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 themselves. 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 what 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 Failure of the attack on St. Mary's. [ E. Wright. 1599- best advantage : who immediately shot likewise at us, both with small and great shot, without danger to themselves. Notwithstanding, Captain Lister earnestly hastened for- ward the sailors that rowed, who began to shrink at the shot flying so fast about their ears ; and he first entering one of the ships, that lay a little further from the shore, we speedily followed after him into her; still plying them with our shot. And having cut in sunder her cables and hawsers, we towed her away with our pinnace. In the meantime, Captain Davis his boat overtook us, and entered into the 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 flew 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 Victory, 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 for them, 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 lay 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 day, 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. [See p. 446.] The samenight,25thof October, wedeparted 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 ^'^^'Sg'] Leave Azores, 31STOF October 1589. 383 islanders as before, to grant 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 [29th], our boats returned with fresh water; whereof they brought only six tuns for the Victory, 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 for the 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 ? " They willingly agreed that every mease [viess] 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 [0.5.], we sentthe Margaret, 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 Capture three prizes off Portugal. [^"^^fJi the afternoon : at which time, we on overtaking her, she struck sail ; and being demanded, " Who was her owner, and from whence was she?" They answered, "A Portuguese, and from Pernambuco in Brazil." She was a ship of some no tons burden, freighted with 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 told us that '* They saw another ship before them, 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 following morning, they should follow us still, if not, they should go for England. The 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, Thursday, 6th of November, being in 38° 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 hastened 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 with sugar and Brazil [wood]. Having sent our boat to them, to bring some of the chief of their men aboard ihtVidory, 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 her. She had made provision to fight with us, having hung the sides of the ship so thick with hides, wherewith especially she was ^' ^^'1599:] And set sail for England. 385 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 [5^. Juan d'Ulloa, near Vera Cruz]." This ship was of some 300 or 400 tons, and had in her 700 hides, worth los. [= ;^3 now] a piece ; six chests of cochineal, every chest holding 100 lbs. weight, and every pound worth 26s. M. [the 600 lbs. = £"800 then = :£"4,8oo now], 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 now]. 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 Sjvg. Gar. III. 25 386 The Victory runs short of water. [^- '^^■"l-^g^; 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." [See p. 449.] 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 [lyth November]. Others were imagining what a Christmas they would keep in England, with their shares of the prizes we had taken. But 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 far to leeward, that we could fetch no part of Ireland. ^' ^'SS Endure a great extremity of thirst. 3S7 So as, with heavy hearts and sad cheer, we were constrained to return back 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 wringed 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 the 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, with their tongues, licked the boards 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 of, sued to, and envied as a rich man. Quant pulchrum digito monstrari et dicer e hie est. 388 Are relieved by a storm of rain. [^ Wright. 1599. 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 healthfully, 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, j^^^. 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 with all our hearts, many a conduit, pump, spring, and stream of clear sweet running water in England. Eor 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. ^■^^'iS-'] Pluck of William Antony, the Master. 389 Herewith, 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 : Heu misero quanti monies vohmtur aqiiarum^ Jam, jam tacturos sidera siimma putes. Heu misero qitanto siibsidimt cequore valles, Jam, jam tadura tartara nigra putes. Yea, rather with the princely Prophet, Psalm cvii. 26 : " They mount up to heaven, and 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 et cceli, quid cnim nisi vota supcrsimt, Solvere quassatcs 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 iDcfore. 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 length, reach Ventrey Harbour. [^■^^Ifjj; These storms were so terrible, that there were some in our company, who confessed they 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 night) it was agreed that we should have had the next morning, two or three tuns of wane, 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 [landed] 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 ; where we had somewhat more quiet. But that being no safe harbour to ride in, the next morning, we w ent about to weigh anchor ; but, having some of our men hurt at the capstan, we were fain to give over, and leave it behind ; holding on our course toVentre [Ventrey] 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 [sheep], 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 ^■^"isS] 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 walls, 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 yet 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 seemeth to be nothing 392 The "Sovereign" of the town of Dingle. [^- '^^'^i^JJ: else within, but rocks and stones. Yet it is very fruitful and plentiful of grass and grain, as may appear by the abundance of kine and cattle there ; insomuch that we had good muttons [sheep], though somewhat less than ours in England, for 2S. [ = i2s. now] or five groats [is. M. then=^ios. now] a piece; good pigs, and hens, for ^d. [=is. 6d. now] a piece. Their great want is industrious, powerful, and husbandly inhabitants to till and trim the ground ; for the common sort, 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 [=2s. now] 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, excited 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 Common Prayer, word for word in Latin, as we have here in England. Upon the Sunday, the " Sovereign " cometh into the Church, with his Sergeant ^' ^ISg.] 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 iwait] 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 [inslant] 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 [that came Jrom the West Indies, see p. 385], had suffered shipwreck at a place upon the coast of 394 Finally reach England, at Falmouth. [^•'^^'Ifjg: Cornwall, which the Cornish men call Als Efferne, that is, " Hell Gate; " and that Captain Lister and all the men in the ship were drowned, save five or six (the one half English ; the other, Spanish) that saved themselves with swimming. Notwithstanding, much of the goods were saved and reserved for us, by Sir Francis 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 29th of December, we met with another ship that told us the same news ; and that Sir Martin Frobisher, and Captain Reymond had taken the admiral and vice-admiral of the fleet that we espied going into Terceira haven. But the admiral was sunk, with much leaking, near the Iddy Stone [Eddystonc], a rock that lieth over against Plymouth Sound; but the men were saved. This ship also certified us, that Captain [, 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 Pl}'mouth 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 fiow, and the ground soft ; so that no hurt was done. Here, with gladness, we set foot again upon the long de- sired EngHsh ground ; and refreshed ourselves, with keeping part of Christmas upon our native soil. '^ 3; iC A n o n y ni o n s . Early Seventeeiith Century Poems, \_EgertoK MS., 2,013.] Where the names of the composers of the Music with which these poems are associated are given in this Manuscript, they are inserted above the poems, as ^\. pp. 35-50. Tay, 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 ! To gaze on her, more lovely than Apollo. Renew thyself ! Continue still her youth, O, stay with her! (and him no longer follow) That is as beauteous as thy darling Truth ! Dr. John Wilson. ! TURN away those cruel eyes ! For they have quite undone me ; They used not so to tyrannize, When first those glances won me. 396 Eart. Y 17T11 Cfl^^TURY Poems, | ;, But 'tis the custom of you men ! False men ! thus 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 ! Pm sure Thou'lt one day say, when 'tis too late, " Thou never hadst a truer ! " E MUST not part, as others do, With sighs and tears, as we were two. j 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 which alone a power is given To live on earth, as they in heaven. ] Early 17TH Century Poems. 397 N LOVE with you, I all things else do hate ; I hate the Sun, that shows me not your face ! I 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 ! 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 w^ould 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. 398 Early 17T11 Century Poems. [ j Then, take this last " Farewell I " First unto you ! and then to love 1 He need not fear another hell, Who both their heats at once doth prove. Low there ! sweet Zephyrus ! where thou shalt find A breath more aromatic than thy wind, .When through the Arabian coast perfumed it flies By spicy flames in which the Phoenix 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 Phoenix, I do sacrifice My heart to her, inflamed by her eyes. John Hilton. O SAD thought, his soul affright 1 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 ! and let him wake To as many joys as cau. In this world, befall a man 1 ^ 199 Jan, Huyghen van Linschoten. Return Voyage from Goa to K7ikhuisen, 1588-1592 A.D. Notice, in the end of this Narrative, the antithesis between the Queen's ships and the King's ships, i.e., Elizabeth's and Philip II. 's : the one fighting for the liberty of the whole world, the other yet further for its enslavement. His news [i.e., of the death of his master, the Arch- bishop of the Indies, on the ^th of August 1587, ivhich reached Goa in September 1588, see p. 333] made many sorrowful hearts in India of sucli as were his well-willers and friends: and, to the contrary, such as hated him were glad and rejoiced; because he had been earnest to reprehend and correct them for their faults. 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 being one of the principal occasions of his going into Portugal : but death altered all. And although, at that time, my meaning and intent was to stay the coming [back] 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 LiNSCHOTEN SETTLES TO RETURN HOME, p "• "'■ /''"'^^"jg"; death, made me more clear of sight, 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 Goal. 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. ly, 31I : who, sailing from Setubal, in Portugal, towards Hamburg, taking his course on the back side of England [i.e., round Ireland and Scotland], 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 Viceroy and the King's Officers 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 Maiabars (and called after the name of the town of Cochin, that was likewise, by the Portuguese, called Santa Cruz), which the King of the Maiabars made in honour of the Portuguese, because he hath brotherly alliance with them, *''T*'iS] Becomes Factor of thf ^^atta Cruz. 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 voyage 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 {contracfl 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 [=;^2,66o 13s. A,d. then = about ^^16,000 now] ready money, 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 Garrit- 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, I 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 £ng. Gar. III. 26 402 Obtains itis certificates of discharge. [^'" ii&chotcn. 1 1594- called the Santa Cruz, I did obtain of the Farmers; because they were of my acquaintance. Whereupon I prepared myself to depart, and got a pass- port of the Viceroy (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 General; wherein all such as come 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 voyage. The 2Sth day, we arrived at Honor [Honauntr], 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 that ever laded there ; but from hence- ^'T'':594-] Coin shipped yearly from Portugal. 403 forward they minded, yearly, to lade one ship there. For the Queen of Batticola, that lays not far from thence, and Honor, which is within her jurisdiction or kingdom, had bound herself to deliver, yearly, 7,000 or 8,000 Quintals [ = about 1,000,000 English lbs.] of pepper ; so that the Farmers paid her half the money for the same, six months before she delivered it ; and then she would deliver it at times [by in- stalments] . 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 IQuilon], &c. T/je Farmi?tg of the Pepper; andy also^ of the Car racks that bring it to PortugaL 'Ow 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 [i.e., about 260,000 Pieces of Eight, at 436 Reis ( = 6g'y6d.) each = about 3^75,000 then = about 5r45o,ooo now], for 30,000 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 128 lbs. ; or Sixpence the lb. then-=-Three Shillings now] : and if any be cast away or taken upon the sea, it is at the Farmers' charge ; for the King dealeth only but with that which is delivered to him in Portugal, being dry and fair, lade up in the King's Storehouse in Lisbon. For the which, he payeth 404 Wholesale price of tepper in India. [J- "■^••Lmschoten. 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. First, that no man, 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, although 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 away. 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 3^ Portuguese Quintals. So that every Quintal standeth them in 12 Pardaos Xeraphines and 4 Tangas [seep. 184] : (Every Quintal is 128 [English] pounds ; and every Pardao is 3 Testons or 30 Stivers, heavy money : and every Tanga is 60 Keis or 6 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. Lmschoten.-| MeTHOD OF FARMING THE CaRRACKS. 405 [By equivalent values of the coins, at p. 184, the Pagoda was then equal to 76' 8. 312], and escaped alive (he was now Pilot of the San Thomas, the best ship in all our fleet); he had, the fore voyage [the preceding one to this, in 1587] 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 way, with the ship wherein my Lord the Archbishop sailed [/». 322]. It is almost the same way, that the ships that came from Malacca do hold, when 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, certifying 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 (perceiving 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 ; although 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 visiting or 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 ^''j^''°24.']SiGHT THE San Thomas, & 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, 428]. 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 Thouias. 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. 176J, 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 was 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 that they might pass the Cape before us ; whereof they use [are 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 Thouias, that coming to the Cape of Good Hope, it had a contrary 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 hill : 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 Sajv Thomas. \^-^-^-] Linschoten. 1594- made of wood. And this is commonly their manner, thereby the sooner to pass the Cape : which our ship could not bear; so that we put back again with 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, by the swimming of whole chests, 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 the 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 years 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 Thomas,'" thinking it impossible that it should be cast away. J. H. V. Linschoten.] TiiE Electrical Light ON THE 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 San Thomas, being in 7° 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 many other places, a certain sign [electrical sparks] which the Portuguese call Corpo Santo or " the holy body of Brother Peter Gonsalves " ; but the Spaniards call it San Elmo, and the Greeks (as ancient writers rehearse, and Ovid among the rest) Helle and Phryxus. Whensoever that sign showeth upon the mast or mainyard or in any other place ; it is £\G. Gar. III. 27 41 8 Rudder handle broke, & mended again, [^"^"'^"jg^ commonly thought, that it is a sign of better weather. When they first perceive it, the Master or Chief Boatswain whistleth, and commandeth every man to salute it with Salve, corpo snnto ! and a, Miser icordia ! 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 burneth 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 de nossa Senhora, that 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 voyage. 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.Linschoten.-j pouL WEATHER OFF Natal. 419 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 San Tlwmas. 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, 420 Dreadful weather near the Cape. \J- H. V. Linschoten. ? '594- 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 yet, it giveth them work enough to do. The i2th of March, being in 31° S., we were right in the wind [i.e., the wind icas dead ahead], and had a calm; where- upon we struck all our sails ; and so lay driving four days together, which the Portuguese call Payraes : having 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 mainyard broke : and then again we struck all our sails; and so lay driving or payraer-\ng, 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 commonly 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 Antenalcn, and are as big as ducks. The 20th of March, we had a little wind, but very sharp ; yet 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 sort, it drave so fast. Whereby we were in great danger, so that we were compelled tc bind the bonnet about the Forecastle, wliich was our sail (lor other sail we might not bear) ; and so sailed backwardb wliither the wind would J. H. V. Linschoten.-J ^j, g poRCED 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 fiiade them swell : whereby 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 Maiigas de V ellud 0, tha.t js, " 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 de la Goa, or " the Bay of the Lake " in 33F s. The 9th of April, at night, we were again right in the wind, in 35° 30' S., with a great storm g.nd foul weather, tliat 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 421 Settle to go back to Mozambique. [JH-^,' H. V. Linschoten. had danger enough ; for the sea came behind and over our ship, and filled all the hatches : whereby we were compelled to bind our masts, cables, and all the ship round about with ropes; that, with the great force of the sea, it might not stir, and fly 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- hind, upon the stern of the ship [which was now going back- 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, andthen the Chief Pilot spake tothem at the rudder "to hold stiff! "and commanded the ropes that were at the Fouke- 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, requiescant 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 pieces, 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 they 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. y.Linschoten.-| QQD FAVOURS EnGLISH HERETICS. 423 pass the Cape; for they were to sail again by the land of Natal, which they feared as much 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 year, 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 whereof 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 cairo 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 bring their matters to pass, not once remembering what may fall out : but when they are in danger ; then, there is nothing else but crying Miseri- 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 iSth June 1580; or Cavendish's ship, the Desire, eleven months before, viz,, 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 themselves in 37°S.p- H. V. Linschoten ? 1594 in this manner, we perceived divers vessels [casks, &c.], and boards with dead men bound upon them, driving in the sea : which comforted us a Httle, we thinking 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 those were the signs of the casting away of the 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 [astonish- ment] of all the comipany. 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 highest. 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 carrieth with a very strong stream [current] towards the Cape : as the Pilot told us he had proved at other times ; yet he thought not that the water had run with so great a sitream 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 de vclludo or " Velvet sleeves ; " which are certain signs of the Cape of Good Hope ; and, about evening, a swallow Hew 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.L;nschoten.-| fRY ONCE MORE FOR THE CaPE. 425 US. This being concluded [settled], we sang the Litany with Ora pro nobis I 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 safety, 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 i8th 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. To 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- tinued 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 no-ne. 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 the 426 At length, they pass the Cape, P"''?^''""'*'°5g": 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 tht. 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 vv'ell 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 they once pass it, they cannot come to it again : because there bloweth continually but one kind of wind, which is south-east [Trade Wijid]. Thus having passed the Cape, we got before the wind. The 24th of April, the Pilot willed us to give bona viagcn 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. For 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, Feisoins, somewhat greater J.H. 1594 ] AND ARRIVE AT St. HeLENA. 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 29th 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 strike 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; whereunto 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 the ships, but the ^^.v Thomas. [^'"/''''°59^ 594- not steer without wind, so it drave upon the land : whereby our boresprit [bowsprit] touched the shore ; and therewith, we thought that ship and goods had all been cast away. But, by reason of the great depth, being ten fathoms, 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 zyth 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 Sefiora de Concepcao, which came thither but the day before us [i.e., 11th 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 after[wards] . Our admiral [flag 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 with 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 befor-e our arrival at St. Helena [i.e., in February 1589] there had been a ship, which, 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 I. H. v.Linschoten.-j LiNSCHOTEN MEETS AfHUISEN THERE. 429 another place I have declared [see 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 next 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 the Straits ot 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 country, until Malacca was re- lieved asT 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 Description of St. Helena, in 1589.P" . V. Linschoten ? 1594- they were enforced to take in other unskilful men, in Malacca, to bring the ship home. This Gerrard van Afhuisen, being of mine acquaint- ance, and my good friend before my departure out of Portugal for India, marvelled and joyed 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 lying about it ; both as to their manner of dealing in trade or merchandise, as in other memorable things. Sf. Helena 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 dry. Also 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.Linschoten.j J ^ IS AN EARTHLY 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 year 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 groweth 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 of 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 were 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 £.hips, and cannot well sail in them, are left there in the 432 St. Helena, a Portuguese sanatorium. [^'", schoten. 1594- island; with some provision of rice, biscuit, oil, and spices: for fish and fiesh, they may have enough. For when the ships are gone, then all the beasts (which, by reason of the great number of people, fly into the mountains) come down again into the valleys ; 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 ships 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 year. The King will not suffer any man to dwell in it, because they should not destroy and spoil the country, 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 presently 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, wdiich 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, when 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 were perceived, 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 years, 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 to Portugal. J. H. v.L!nschoten.-| ThE CaRRACKS LEAVE St. H ELENA. 43 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 island 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 2ist of May [iV.5.], being Saint Helena's Dayand Whit- sunday, after we had taken in all our fresh water and other necessaries, we set sail altogether in company, and directed our course towards Portugal : leaving about fifteen sick men in the island, and some slaves that ran out of the ships. The 26th of May, in the evening, we spoke with the Smtta Maria, and the next day [2yth 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, [2yih] one of our slaves fell overboard, and although we used all the means we could to save him; yet v/e could not do it, by reason we sailed 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. £ng. Gar. III. 28 434 The ships pass close by Ascension, p "■ V. Linschoten. ? 1594- In the morning of the 28th of May, we sailed about 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. Her 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 80 to 50 and 40 fathoms of water. And although they might have gone closer to the land, yet 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 they 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 Sniita 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 8° 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- T.H.v.Linschoten.-]^j^j3 SAIL THROUGH THE Sargasso Sea. 435 by-west, to i" N., where there lieth a cliff [rock] called Penedo de Sam Pedro [or St. Paul 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. The ships separated themselves, 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 floweth 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 Sargasso 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 400 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 they 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 island?), most strange to behold. In that country, it is as cold in winter as it is here with us [in Holland], when it freezes not: 436 Sight the Azores, & meet English ships. [^'T'^S which the Portuguese esteem a great cold ; and clothe them- selves against it, as we do in a mighty great frost. The 2nd of July, we were in the height [latitude] of the Canary Islands, in 28° N. and 29° N. ; which lay on our right hand. The 6th of July, we were under 32° N., where we lost the General North-east Wind, and had a calm, and saw much 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 herb, but a fair clear sea. The i8th of July, we were in 39° N., under which height lieth the islands of Corvo and Terceira ; 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 vo5'age, 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 twenty-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 company; whereby we perceived them to be Englishmen (for they bare an English flag upon their maintop), but none of them J.H.T.Linschoten.-| ^^^ EnGLISH FIGHT THE SaNTA CrUZ. 437 showed to be about 60 tons in greatness \wMU the size of each Carrack was about 1,600 tons]. 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 [Z'^rd], being betwixt the island of St. George that lay on our right hand, and the small island of Gracioso on our left hand ; we espied the three English ships, still following us, take counsel together t 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 together 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 [firing at] us with musket and caliver, and some great pieces j which did not hurt us in the body of our ship, but spoiled ail 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 their 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 438 All amazed at the news, at Angra, [^^' nschoten. ? 1594. to be risen from death to life : although we were not well assured, neither yet void of fear, till we lay in the road befoie 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 they 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 the Spanish fleet [the Armada in 1588] before England; and that the Englishmen had been before the gates of Lisbon [with Don Antonio, and under Sir F. Drake and Sir John NORRIS, in May 1589] : 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. For they thought it too dangerous for us to go to Lisbon. J.H.v.Linscho^en.-j ^jjERE THE CaRRACK fleet anchors. 439 This news put our fleet in great fear, and made us look upon each other, not knowing what to say. It being dangerous for the ships to put into the road, because it lieth open to the sea : so that the Indian ships, although 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 arrive at the Azores, till the I i.th A ugust, 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. 14th] 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 lay 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 they blow, they lie in a thousand dangers : especially the East India ships, which are very heavily ladened and so full 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. [J- "• ''•J Linschoten. was such 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 were 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 Ahandega 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 pitiful complaints that ^T^'S] '^^^^ Carrack Fleet leave the Azores. 441 they had not wherewith 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 ; yet could they not obtain their requests, but were answered, that " The King, for the assurance of his custom and of all the goods ; would send an annado 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 armado. 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 unfortunate 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 fine device that the Merchants, for their own uses, bring out of India, if the Officers hke them, they must have them ; yet they will 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 were best to do ; thinking it not good to follow the King'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 veiy 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 442 LiNSCHOTEN STAYS 2^ YEARS AT AnGRA. [J" "• ""j Linschoten. 1594. stay the danger of the haven. For that the winter did daily more and more increase ; so that they were not to look for any better weather. And, in that sort, appointing themselves as well as they could, and taking in all necessary provisions, the same day i^oth 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, sta3'ed at Terceira to save such goods as, by any means, might be saved ; and by that means to help themselves : among the which was the Factor of the Pepper, being one of my acquaintance. At whose request, as also because the pepper of that ship, and of all the other ships belonged all to one Farmer, by whom I w'as 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 w^hich goods, we saved a great quantity by means of duckers [divers] 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 3'Ou 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 find. The [T,rd 0. S.] 13th [N. S.] of August, the 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., see 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; ^'"^''iSg":] 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, the quickest of the jive Carracks, lasted from 20th Jatmary to the 2^th August 1589 N.S., 217 days; against the smoother voyage outward, in 1583, of the San Sal- vador, in i65 days, seep. 30] , you may sufficiently perceive how that only, by the grace and special favour of GOD, the Indian ships do perform their voyages ; yet 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 hath 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, they 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 Terceira, called Insida de Jesus Christ de Terceira. It is between fifteen or 444 The watch pillars in Terceira. [J-H.v.Lmschoten. sixteen miles in compass ; and is altogether a great cliff of land, whereby there is little room in it. For it is, as it were, walled round about with cliffs ; but where any strand or sand is, there standeth a fort. It hath no havens, nor entrance of waters, for the security and safety of the ships ; except that before thechief town, called Angra: whereit hath anopenhaven which, in form, is like a Half Moon, by the Portuguese called Angra; whereof the town hath its name. It hath on the one side, in the manner of an elbow sticking forth, two high hills, called Bresil, which 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 there is a sentinel placed, that continually w^atcheth 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 l^ag upon the pillar in the west. And when the ships, \\'hich he descrieth, are more than five, then he setteth up a great Ancient [ensign] ; betokening a great fleet of ships. The like he doth upon the other pillar, which standeth in the East, for such ships as come from Portugal or other places 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 those two J. H.v.Lmschoten.-j Ljj^g(.^Q^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 [see 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, but 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 King's service, as " Factors for the King's Pepper," and because they 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, [^'"j PLinschoten. 1594. 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 lodging, a French 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 [wrest] 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 other 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 [land on] ; whereby the inhabitants themselves are sufficient and able to defend it), to take in fresh w'ater and some other victuals [see p. 382J ; 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 feedeth 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. 27S] ; 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 fresh water; J. H.v.Linschoten.-j pAYAL GARRISONED WITH SPANIARDS. 447 which they wilHngly 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 themselves, 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 [seep. 373] , 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 [very kind] to the Netherlanders and strangers. Between Corvo and Flores [70 miles west of Terceira], and round about them, the Englishmen do commonly sta}', 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 The Spanish W. I. Fleet at Angr^v. [Jh-^l; nschoten. 1594- ^3 f Of certain notable and 7nemorable incidents that happened during Linschoten's con- tinuance in Terceira^ from October 1589, to July 1592. 1589. He 2nd of October, anno 1589 [N.S.'], at the town of Villa da PiT.ya in the island of Terceira, two men being in a field hard without the town, were killed with lightning. The gth of the same month, there arrived in Terceira [O.S., see 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, eleven sank in the Channel by foul weather ; and the rest, by a storm, were scattered and separated one from the other. The next day [10th], there came another ship of the same company, that sailed close under the island so to get into the road : where she met with an English ship that had not above three cast pieces ; and the Spaniard had twelve. They fought a long time 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 under water ; 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 viras, at the least, to the value of 200,000 ducats [=about ;£"55,ooo then = about ^330,000 now] in gold, silver, and pearls. The rest of the men were drowned, which might be about fifty persons ; J.H.v.Linschoten.-| ^-^^ MILLIONS OF GoLD AND SiLVER. 449 among the which were some friars and women, which the EngHsh would not save. Those that they did save, they set on land ; and then they sailed away. The [lyth O.S.] 27th [iY.5.] 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 [or rather, from 11th 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 Cumberland had been in the island of Fayal, and was departed thence [which was on the 16th O.S., or 26th, N.S., September, 1589,/). 376], 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 £"10,000,000 [ten millions sterling) then = about £60,000,000 {sixty millions sterling) now] of gold and silver. Having, with all speed, refreshed their ships ; fearing the coming of the Englishmen, they set sail, and arrived safely in San Lucar de 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 Cumberland sailed again by that island [viz., on 2yd September, O.S., or yd October, N.S., i^8g, p. 376]. So that it appeared that GOD would not let them have it : for £ng. Gar. III. 2g 450 A MiLIJON AND A HALF STERLING, MORE-^- "' ''■ Liiischoten. ? 1594. if they had once had sight thereof, without doubt it had been theirs ; as the Spaniards themselves confessed. In the month of November, there arrived in Terceira, two ships, which were the admiral and vice-admiral of the fleet, ladened ^\■ith 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, they unladed and discharged above 5,000,000 of silver [i.e., to the value of 5,000,000 {five millions) of ducats = about -^^i, 500, 000 {a viillion and a half sterling) then = about ^Tg, 000, 000 {nine millions 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 the weak- 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 Lisl)on, whichever they could lirst 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 Al\'Aro Flores had alone, for his own J.H.v.Linschc4en.-| DURING ESCAPE OF EnGLISH SAILORS. 45 I part, above 50,000 ducats [= about ^^13,000 then = about ^100,000 iioia] in pearls: which he shewed unto us, and sought to sell them ; or barter them with us, for spices or bills of e.Nchange. The said two ships set sail, with 300 or 400 men, as well soldiers as others, that came with them out of [the West] 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, brought 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 verj' 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., see /). 372; 10th 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 the 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 English brothers-in-law. p "• V. Linschoten. ? 1594. the Merchant [Supercargo] of the said EngHsh ship. This Master had a brother-in-law dwelHngin 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 ^hem ; for he was my great acquaintance. The ships being taken, that were worth 300,000 ducats [=^80,000 the?i = £ ^80,000 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 f^eet of a hun- dred ships, which put out from the Firm Land [the Spanish Main, or Central A nierica] oi the 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] L!nschoten.-j Pqul ATROCITY OF A Spanish Officer. 453 I594-J Santo Domingo, Havana, Cape de Verde, Brazil, Guinea, &c., in the year 1589, 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 the 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 Misericordia ! 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 conduct. [^'"/''''° schoten. 94. been prisoners three or four days [i.e., about 18th of March 1590 N.S.], there was a Spanish Ensign-bearer in the ship, that had a brother slain in the fleet that came for England [the Armada of 1588], who (then minding to revenge his death, Vind withal to shew his manhood to the English captives that were 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 Englishmen 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 ver}^ 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 bloody and dishonest minds of the Spaniards, when they have 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] only [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 would soon have revenged themselves: as, after- ivards, many 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!; and was sold to the Spaniards that then came from the [Westj Indies [p. 449] ; wherewith they J. H.v.Linschotenj ENGLISH 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 his 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. Although 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 voyage. 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. 45^ A PRODIGIOUS, BUT BASELESS RUMOUR. [•'' rl. V. Linscnoten. ? 1594. In the month of May, a caravel of Fayal arrived in the haven or road of Angra, at Terceira, ladened with oxen, sheep, hens, and other 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 swimming, 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; being 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 offerings, to say masses for his soul. [What 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 1588, see Vol. u. />p. 1 17-127.] The ist 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 1588], 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 live 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, VIZ., about December 1588,/. 429, was then at Angra ; and would, of course, be able to contradict this part of this immense offspring ol 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 [? where], 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 Venice, and from thence to Madrid. [In this remarkably developed specimen of a baseless rumour, we trace the fear of the English, after the defeat of the Spanish Armada, spreading through the Portuguese settlements in India.] J.H.v.L!nschotenJ SiR M. FrOBISHER's FLEET OFF CoRVO. 457 The 7th of August, a navy of English ships was seen before Terceira, being twenty in number, and live of them Queen's ships. Their General was one Sir Martin Fro- BiSHER ; 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 them ; 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 30th of August, we received very certain news out of Portugal, that there were eighty ships put out of the Corunna [called by the English, the Groine], 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. [^'"f sichoten. 1594- failed of the 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 the King, of the news they had heard. The ist of September, there came to the island of St. Michael, a Portuguese ship out of the haven of Pernambuco in Brazil, which brought news that the Admiral of the Portuguese fleet 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 Ribero 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 [thisyeari5go]: though theadmiral 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 ; having 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.j -piiE 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 tieet, 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 day, 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 not 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 Pride & vanity of M. Albuquerque. \J- "■ "-j Linschoten. »594- 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 [East] Indies, four of them were turned back again to Portugal, after they had 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, 280 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, with this posy, Qiicroquc vcncas! that is, " I will have thee to overcome ! " which being read by the Cardinal and other gentlemen, that, to honour him, brought him aboard his ship ; 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 fool peep out of their sleeves ; specially when they are in authority. For I knew the said Matthias d'Albuquerque in India, being a soldier and a Captain ; where he was 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 /. H. V. Linschoten.-| Qre^t EARTHQUAKE AT THE AzORES. 46 I King to be Viceroy; he 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, anno 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 [=^about £137,500 then=: £825,000 now] in Rials of Eight ; besides other wares. It departed from Lisbon in the month of November 1590, 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 Sojfala, see 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.e., 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 Franca, 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 removed from one place to another ; and some hills were defaced, and made even with the ground. The earth- 462 The Last Fight of H.M.S. Revenge, p- "• ^7''"''''°;;",: quake was so strong, that the ships which lay in the road and on the sea, shaked as if the world \vould have turned round. There also sprang a fountain out of the earth ; from whence, for the space of four days, there flov ed a most clear water; and, after that, it ceased. At the same time, they 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 j-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 Armada, 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 13th 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- vn.LE, being in the ship called the Revenue [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. Linschoten.j 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 1,200 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 Paulo, 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, with a joyful and quiet mind, for I have ended my life as a true soldier ought 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 Richard 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, inasmuch, 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 464 Officers of H. M.S. Revenge visit [^T'^S had their great sail in a readiness, and might, possibly enough, have sailed away ; 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 bravery, 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 [C7zs(i^7z], 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., Afhuise'N\,\Q) hear some news, went on board one of the ships, being a great Biscayen, and one of the twelve Apostles, whose Captain was called Bartandono, that had been General of the Biscayens in the Fleet that went for England [i.e., the Spanish Armada of 1588]. 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 he could not tell us anything, for he could speak no other language but English, and Latin, which Bartandono could also speak a little. Lwschoten.-JLjj^g^,jjQ^j,j^ 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 Terteira bade him to dinner; and shewed him great courtesy. The Master likewise, with licence of Bartandono, 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 the 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 afiirm 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 continually, 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, Eng. Gar. III. 30 466 Wreck of the White Dove, in 1592.P H. V. Linschoten. ? 1594. nothing else was heard but complaining, crying, lamenting, and telling, " Here is a ship broken 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, seventy men, Gallicians, Biscayens, and others, with some of the captive Englishmen ; whereof but one was saved, that got up upon the chffs alive, and had his body and head all wounded. He, being on shore, brought us the news, desiring 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 away about Terceira, was likewise 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 tomaketowards the island. The Master refused to do it, saying, that " They were most sure there to be cast away, 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 ! 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 J. H. V. L;nschoten.-j FrIGHTFUL CyCLONE 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 embraced 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 young : and may have some hope to save thy life ; but as for me, I am old, it is no great matter what 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 [single] example may well be seen. Whereby may be considered how the other ships sped [in the previous storm of October 1591] : 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. f^eorge, 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.Lmschoten. 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 : yea, 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 1588] ; 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 Revenge 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 andtorments 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 fleet that came from Santo Domingo, there were 14 J.H.v.Lmschoten.-|QQj) ^j^L PLAGUE THE SPANIARDS. 469 cast away, comlnof 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 the 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 us ; and give us a happy end in all our affairs. LiNSCHOTEJsrs return ho??te to Enk/misen, Y 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 tnust have patience till it please GOD to send a fitter time ; and that we received further advices and order from His Majesty of Spain. All 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 LlNSCHOTEN SAILS FROM TeRCEIRA TO [ Linschotsn. 1594' what ship he would, at his own adventure ; which, after long suit, was granted in the end : upon condition that every man should put in sureties to deliver the goods into the Custom 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 ladened 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 after 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 \further 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 [bow- 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 L;i«choten.-|LiSBON; &FROM THENCE, TO THeTeXEL. 47I 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 but ten in company. The ist of August, being ninety miles in the [out at] sea, because the wind held contrary, 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 : whereupon 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 [otU at] sea, which is called, the Half Sea. The i8th, 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 ground ; 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 28th, we descried 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., m England]. Then we had a scant wind, wherewith we entered into the North Sea; not seeing anybody. The ist 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 told us they had seen land saying, " It was the Texel" ; willing us to follow them. And 472 LiNSCHOTEN ARRIVES AT EnKHUISEN. p "• ''•/^'"'''^°Jg": SO we discovered land, it being the Vlie : but we, thinking 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 being alread}' 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 [A^vS.], we arrived at Enkhuisen ; where I 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. Relatio7is with John Milton. \The History of the Life Sr'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 Dryden to Charlton, in Berkshire. MiLTON had, by then, finished his great Epic Poem, in Blank Verse ; which Sir Robert Howard, in his Preface [p. 498], 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 [pp. 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, when I was a boy, I made some good progress in learning ; and lost it all again before I came to be a man : nor was 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 Ellwood ALONE AT Crowell, IN 1661 ; BUTpJ Ellwood. I7I3. world, for the accurate pieces he had written on various subjects and occasions. This person, having filled a public station in the former times, lived now a private and retired life in London : and, having wholly lost his sight, kept a man to read to him ; which, usually, 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 (which, 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 Crowell] 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. Ellwood. ^""y 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 [m the Spring of 1662J, and, in the first place, went to wait upon him. He received me courteously, as well for the sake of Dr. Paget, 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 First 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 Anglice 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 industry, 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 Improhns. Incessant pains, The end obtains. 476 III in the country all the summer. [' T. Ellwood. ? 1713. And so, did I : which made my reading the more acceptable to my Master. He, on the other hand, perceiving with what 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 SENT TO 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 8th month [which, according to the reckoning of the Society of Friends, was October. Their First month down to 1752, was March], 1662, at the Meeting, at the Bull and MoiUh, 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 : when they were taken to Newgate, ex- pecting to be called at the Old Bailey sessions : but, not being called, were sent 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 full, 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 whither 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 Word, 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." 478 Released from Bridewell, Jan. 1663. [' T. Ellwood. 1713. I do not remember we had 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 have 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 we 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 home 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 tiie heat of the storm was somewhat abated, or by what other 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 LORD; 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 arljitrary injustice, these invincible Quakers shamed the reckless Crime which, in those days, went by the name of The Law : and such stories as Ellwood's Life and George Fox's Journal abound with like splendid victories of patience, T.Ellwood.-] jg TUTOR TO I. PeNINGTON's CHILDREN. 479 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 ELLWOOD'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, Isaac 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 through in a day : and was received by my friends there, with such demonstration of hearty kindness, as made my journey very easy to me. I intended only a visit hither, not a continuance ; and therefore purposed, after I had 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 young : 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 have 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, he 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 then 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 health, he kept : he 480 Stays with the Peningtons till 1669. \^'-f Ellwood. 1713- 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 — Qtii docet indoctos, licet indoctissiJiius esset, Ipse bvevi reliqicis, doctior esse qucat. 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 [the 28th October in] 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- T. Ellwood. 9 j°°3;] Outrage BY Justice Bennet, i July 1665. 481 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 Banishment [16 Car. II. c. 4. 1664], fell with the greatest weight and force upon some other parts, as at London, Hertford, &c.: yet 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 [July], 1665) : 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 anything 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 Eng. Gar. III. 31 482 Ten Friends sent to Aylesbury Gaol ; [' T. Ellwood. 1713. 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 thus 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- w^ay, 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 way, 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 biried it there. When 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 AmershamJ to the charge of keeping us, there, that night and T. ElUvood ;°°3:] WHICH THEY ENTER ON THE 3RD JuLY 1 665. 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 [on Monday, ^rd 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., Buckinghamshire]; whom he, combining with the Clerk of the Peace, whose name was Henry 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 suifering, 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 Vv^ait on the Judges, who came in, that day [^rd 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 t h e m. ["^^ f T. Ellwood. 1713. 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 the 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 [ifi 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-house : where they chose to be. During the Assize, we were brought before Judge Morton [Sir William Morton, Recorder 0/ Gloucester], a sour angry man, who [being 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 '°°3:] While in gaol; Milton comes to Chalfont. 485 EUwood. ? 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 Banishncnt. 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 ^rd July, 1665], I was desired by my quondam Master, Milton, 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 Buckingham- shire at this time, till after the ^rd 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 s\jggy.si:s Paradise Found, i665.['^- Ellwood. ? 1713. After some common discourses had passed between us [evidently at Ellwood's first visit], he 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 which Isaac Penington, with his family {including THOMAS Ellwood) was, by military force, expelled about a month after their first return from Aylesbury gaol {i.e., about the middle of September) ; and he again sent to the same prison], and had set myself to read it ; 1 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 \idi% licensed for publication on 2nd July, 1C70.] I 48; John Dryden. Dedicatory Epistle to The Rival Ladies, [Printed in 1664.] To THE Right Honourable Roger, Earl of Orrery. 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. Pj^'^;66": due order, linked together, that the first Accident [Incidenf] 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 influence 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 Caesar, a Tragedy and Epigrams. But their writing was the entertainment of their 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 Apollo, 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 those 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'^SG Skilful titilation of a noble Author. 489 and are of greater moment in the world. The Fancy, Memor}^ and Judgement are then extended, hke so many hmbs, 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 Lordship 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 same 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, you 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 Absolute 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 Plays in Rhyme is not a [^-f'^lTi. to betray my own ignorance: and I could hope no better suc- cess from it, than that miserable Rhetorician 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 has not body 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 properly, 'tis no so much a New Way amongst us, as an Old Way new revived. For, many years [i.e., 1561] before Shakespeare's Plays, was the Tragedy of 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 Person, ^ ?Z%1] NEW WAY, BUT AN OLD ONE REVIVED. 49 1 [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? Angli stios ac sua omnia impense miyanUir; coeterasnationes dcspedui hahcnt. 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, the 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 Verse [Dryden is here wrong as to fact, Lord Surrey wrote the earliest printed English Blank Verse in his Fourth Book of the Mneid, printed in 1548' ; but the French, more \)ropQv\y Prose Mesuree : into which, the English Tongue so naturally slides, that in writing Prose, 'tis hardly to be avoided. And, therefore, I admire [marvel that] some men should 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 o • 7- . j 7 , Sir, 1, your pardon ask ! I should judge him to have little command of English, whom the necessity of a rhyjjie should force upon this rock ; though, sometimes, it cannot be easily avoided. And, indeed, this is the only inconvenience with which Rhyme can be charged. This is that, which makes them say, *' Rhyme 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- f'^/e^"; nary speaking." But when 'tis so judiciously ordered, that the first word in the verse seems to beget the second ; and that, 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 : first, showed us to conclude the Sense, most com- monly in distiches ; which 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 Willl^m 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 Suiartness of the Answer, and the Sweetness of the RJiynie 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 Verse 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, ^'?'^i%1\] Rhyme 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. 571 581] : 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 " Rhyme is only an Em- broidery of Sense ; to make that which is ordinary in itself, pass for excellent with less examination." But, certainly, 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 depressus. 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 Way 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 Four new Plays, [Licensed 7 March 1665, Printed the same year.] TO THE READER. Here is none more sensible than I am, how great 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 perfecter judges of their own writings, than fathers are of their own children : 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 liattererto himself, than he knows how to be to another : otherwise, it w^ere 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 [the Publisher], and having received civilities from him, if it were possible, exceeding his importunities : I, at last, yielded to prefer that which 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 Sir R. Howard ? Mar, ri665'.]OLD 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 but 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 believed [to be] a Person, that would rather 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 very much affected some of our nation, who possibly believe well of it, more upon the account that what the French do ought to be a fashion, than upon the reason of the thing. 49^ The French follow this ancient plan-P \ "°';665; 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, Hyppolitus, and Hercules CEtceus, it was impossible to show Medea throwing old mangled ^SON into her age-renewing caldron, or to present the scattered limbs of Hyppolitus upon the Stage, and show Hercules burning upon his own funeral pile. And this, the judicious Horace clearly speaks of, in his Arte Poetica ; where he says Non tamen intus Digna geri, promes in scenam : multaqiic tolles Ex oculis, qucB mox narret facnndia prcEsens. Nee pueros coram populo Medea trucidet [/• 537-] Aut humana palam coqiiat extra nefarius Atreus, Ant in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem, Quodcnnqiic ostendit mihi sic, incredulus 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 necessity, sometimes commit the error. And this is as plainly decided by the same author, in his preceding words Aiit agitur res in Scenis aut acta refertur : Segnius irritant animos dcmissa per aurem ; Qiiam qucB sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et qucB 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 Acted [p. 538J. ^'? ^Mar?'i665;] ^^R 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- clude, That our English 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 [felicitiously], 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; j-et 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 modo Scinius in itrbaniun Lepido se ponere 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 persons. Whether Verse in Rhyme; or Verse without the Sound, which way be called Blank Verse (though a hard expression) is to b& preferred ? But take the question, largely, and it is never to be decided £.VG. Gar. III. 22 498 Write Poems in Rhyme, Plays in PROSE.p '^i^,"*^^ [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, 567.] 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, that verses were not to be composed by them, but already made in them. Some may ol:)ject " 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. 568]. It may be said, that " Rhyme is such a confinement to a quick and luxuriant Pliancy, that it gives a stop to its speed, till .low 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 libert}- of his Pliancy, 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, M^r^'i'S] I'ke 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 only, 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 Novel. [^'^^^""'Ims. much harder to equal them in that way, than 'tis to excel them in the other. The Spanish Plays pretend to more ; but, 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 tale 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, f:.nd wittily (as they believe) threaten their judges ; since the effects 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 why 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. [Seep. 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.; Fimgar vice cotis^ aciitum Redder e qiiceferrtun valet ^exors ipsasecandt, 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. Dryden's stanzas in the Prologue of his Secret Love, or the Maiden Queen (first printed in i66S, the year in which the Controversy came to an end) thus sum- marizes the principal topics of this Dramatic Essay. He who writ this, (not without pains and thought) From French and English Theatres, has brought Th'exactest Rules by which a Play is wrought. The 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 I T, or P L O T, he did not weigh ; Which are the living beauties of a Play. B. Three words, of frequent occurrence in the Controversy (//. 487-598), require some discrimination. I. Fancy, i. In the Elizabethan Age, Fancy 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 [pp. 494, 499], Dryden, and that genera- tion, understood by it, Imagination, the mental pcnver of Picturing forth. It is in this sense, that it is to be understood in //. 487-598 of this volume. 3. Coleridge, in his Biographia Literaria, 1812, endeavours yet further to distinguish between Imagination and Fancy ; calling MiLTON an Imagina- tive Poet, and Cowley a. fanciful one. 4. It is now also used in another sense, " I do not fancy that."= " I do not like ox prefer that." II. Verse, i. J^erse (with a capital F) stands for Poetry in rhymed Verse 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 the persons are known to each other, and eveiyone of them has some affairs with all the rest" [/. 517]. 2. scene occurs sometimes in the sense oi locality, as ^^ pp. 516, 517. 3. scenes, meaning the painted scenery just then coming into use in the English theatres : //. 498, 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 Stage had 7to painted scenery to assist the Imagination in the 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.] 503 To the Right Honourable CHARLES Lord BUCKHURST. My Lord, [See/.49o] ^S I WAS lately reviewing my loose papers, amongst the rest I found this Essay, the writing of which, 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 ivith which men think upon their absent mistresses. I confess I find many things in this Discourse, which I do not now approve ; my judgement being a little altered since the writing of it : but whether for the better or worse, I knoiv not. Neither indeed is it 7nuch material in an Essay, where all I have said is problematical. For the way of writing Plays in Verse, which I have seemed to favour[p. 561] ; / have, since 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 that 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 us a contentment, of which we expected the continuance, because you gave it v.s so early. 'Tis a revolt without occasion from your Party ! 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 becaicse 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 r 04 Address to Lord Buck hurst. [J- ^'\t6"^\ been many in a readiness to have followed so fortunate a Leader ; if not all, yet the better part of writers. Pars, indocili melior grege, mollis et expes Inominata perprimat cubilia. I am almost of opinion that we should force you to accept of the command ; as sometimes the Prcetorian Bands have compelled their Captains to receive the Empire. The Court, which is the best and surest judge of writing, has generally allowed^of Verse ; and m the Town, it has found favourers of Wit and Quality. As for your own partictdar, my Lord! you have yet youth and time enough to give part of it to tJie Divcitiscment of the of the Public, before you enter into the serious and more unpleasant ISusiness of the World. That which 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 vr?i 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 wJiy you have been so long forgotten ; there being no person amongst our young nobility, on whom the eyes of all men are so much bent. But, in the meantime, your Lordship may imitate the Course of Nature, which gives us the flower before the fruit ; that I may speak to you in the language of the Muses, which I have taken from an e xcellent Poem t o the King [i.e., Charles IL] (As Nature, when she fruit designs, thinks fit By beauteous blosso}iis to proceed to it. And while she docs 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 ^ ^''^'I'eT?.] Address to Lord Buck hurst. 505 honour to our Age and country. And, methinks, it might have the same effect upon you, which, HoMER tells us, the fight of the Greeks and Trojans before the fleet had on the spirit of Achilles ; who, though he had resolved not to engage, yet found a martial warmth to steal upon liim at the sight of blows, the sound oj trtitiipets, and the cries of fighting men. For my own part, if in treating of this subject, I sometimes dissent from the opinion of better Wits, I declare it is not so nutch to combat their opinions as to defend mine own, which were first made bublic. Sometimes, like a scholar in a fencing schd'Ot', 1' 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, with candour and civility. Even TuLLY had a controversy with 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 tJie Roman Senate : and the same respect, which was paid by TuLLY to Atticus ; we find returned to him, afterwards, by C^SAR, on a like occasion : who, answering his book in praise of Cato, made it not so much his busijiess to condemn Cato, as to praise CiCERO. But that I may decline some part of the encounter with 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 Aticient, many of the Modern Ways of Writing ; comparing those with these, and the Wits of our Nation with those of others. 'Tis 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 -5hi:-^ TO THE READER \//jS drift of the ensumg Discourse was chiefly to vindicate the honour of our English Writers fro77i the censure of those who tuijtistly prefer the French before them. This 1 ijitiniate, lest any should think me so exceeding vain, as to teach others an Art which they 2Lnderstand much better tJian myself. But if this incorrect Essay, written in the cotmtry, without the help of books or advice of friends, shall find any acceptance in the World: I promise to myself a better success of the Second Part, wherein the virtues and faults of the English Poets who have wiHtten, either in this, the Epic, or the Lyric way, luill 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.] k 507 AN ESSAY OF Dramatic Poesy. T WAS that memorable day [yd of June 1665] in the first silTi!«»er-of~ the- late war, when our Navy engaged_the Dutch ; a day, wherein the two most mighty ancTbest 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 vvhich 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 dowi'^ it : all seeking the noise in the depth of silence. Among the rest, it was the fortune of EjiGENms, Crites , LisiDEius and Neander to be in company together"! three ofThem personsT'wTiom their Wit and Quality have made known to all the Town ; and whom I have chosen to hide 5o8 A FAMOUSBO A TL OA D O F C R I T I C S. P" ^.Zf-^j'. under these borrowed names, that 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 chimney. 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 attentively 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, Crites [i.e., Sir Robert Howard] (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 n o argume nt 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 }'ou speak of," answered Lisideius [i.e.. Sir Charles Sedley], "who, to my knowledge, are already so provided, either way, that ^,'^^!^;] 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. Quern in condone vidimus (says Tully, speaking of him) ctim ei libellum mains poeta de populo subjecisset, quod epigranima in enm fecisset tantinnnwdo alternis versibus longiuculis, statini ex iis rebus quce tunc vendebat jiibere ei proeniium tribiii, sub ea conditione ne quid postea scriberet." "1 could wish, with all my heart," replied Ckites, "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 apprel-iensin n of two poet s, 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 you if one [i.e., George Wither] of them does not perpetually pay us with clenche s upon words, and a certain clownish kind of raillery ? If, now and then, he does not offer at acatach_resis [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 nne, 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." -f\J»M^Ui \U: 510 His second attack, on Francis Quarles. p- ^;^;^:"; "You have described him," said Crites, "so exactly, that I am afraid to come after you, with my other Extremity of Poetry. He [j. ^. , F/?/liY c/S (^f/^i^X-fiS] is one of those, who, hav- mg had some advantage of education and converse [i.e., conver- sation, in the sense of Culture through mixture with society], knows better than the other, what a Poet should be; but puts it into practice more unluckily than any man. His style 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 every line, and helps out his numbers with 7"or to, and Unto, and all the pretty expletives he can find, till he drags tliem to the end of another lineT while the Sense is left, tired, halfway behind it. He doubly starves all his verses; first, for want of Thought, and then, of Expression. His poetry neither has wit in it, nor seems to have it; like him, in Martial, Pauper videri 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 your pleasure of these authors ; but though I and some few more about the Town, may give you a peaceable hearing : \et, assure yourselves ! there are multitudes who would think \ou malicious, and them injured ; especially him whom you iirst described, he is the very Withers of the City. They have bought more Editions of his works, than would serve to lay under all their pies at the Lord Mayor's Christmas. When his famous poem [i.e., Speculum Spcculativiuui ; Or, A Con- siderijig Glass. Being an Inspection into the present and late J- ^^es"?^ "Tf^E Battle of the Ancients & Moderns. 5 1 1 sad condition of these Nations. . . . London. Written June xiii. XDCLX, and there imprinted the same year] first came out in the yenr 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 Bavinui 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 quos contemnimiis eoruni quoqne laudes contemnimus.''^ "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 vestra liceat dixisse, primi omnium eloquentiam perdidistis ! ' 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 quidquam reprehendi, nofi quia crasse Compositum, illepide've putetur, sed quia nuper. And, after, Si meliora dies, ut vina, poemata reddit^ Scire velim pretium chartis quotus arroget annus ? 512 Dramatic Poesy chosen for discussion. [J- ^,'^53!"; But I see I am engaging in a wide dispute, where the argu- ments are not like[ly] to reach close, on either side [p. 497]: for Poesy is of so large extent, and so many (both 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 lum. There- fore, I would ask Crites to what part of Poesy, he would confine his arguments? and whether he would defend the general cause of the 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, he thought it not difficult to prove, either that the Ancients were superior to the Moderns ; or the last Age to this of ours. EuGENius 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 plays 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 Poesy, we [the] more surpass them in all the other[s]. For in the Epic, or Lyric way, it will be hard for them to shew us one such amongst them, as we have many now living, or wl;o la'ely were so. They can produce nothing so Courtly writ, or which expresses so much the conversation of a gentleman, as Sir John ~ Suckliwg ; nothing so even, sweet, and flowing^ as Mr. \A'alx,er ; nothing so majestic, so correct, as Sir John 1)i:niiam; nothing so elevated, so copious, and full of spirit, as Mr. Cowley. As for the Italian, French, and Spanish pTiyrrT't'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 Eugeniu s his opinion, that "the sweetness of English Verse was never understood or practised b\- 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 •'■ ^1665-7:] 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 nj 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. [See p. 567.] This Definition, though Crites raised a logical objection against it (that " it was only a genere et 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. jF 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. GAR. III. 3 5 514CRITES OPENS THE First Argument. [J- ^,76^5!^: Dramatic Poesy had time enough, reckoning from Thespis who first invented it, to Aristophanes ; to be born, to grow up, and to flourish 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. 520J . And, no wonder ! since every Age has a kind of Universal Genius, which incHnes 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 was, in those times, of writing well : 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 ^sciiylus, Euripides, Sophocles, Lycophron, and the rest of them, both who they were that vanquished in these Wars of the Theatre, and how 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 amulatio ingenia, says Paterculus, et nunc invidia, nunc admiratio incitationem 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 ^' ^1665-":] Ckites — 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 ; yet 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, how 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 theObservations that Aristotle made of those Poets, which Either liv-ed 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, Trept rP]. 513, 582-4], they have erred worse. In- ■sTea^'bT 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, wrtt a Tragedy; ^^scHYLUs, 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 tlie_ original, 'tis still the sanie. 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 Phmdria, in iho. 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 caream, si opus sit, vel totum triduum ? Parmeno, to mock the softness of his master, lifting up his hands and eyes, cries out, as it were in admiration, Hui/ universum triduumj The elegancy of which universum, though it cannot be rendered in our 526 EuGENius — Cleveland's way of Elocution, [fe^s^?" 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 bold 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 ei numeros et Laudavere sales, nimium patienter utnimque Ne dicam stolide. For ^ORACE himself was cautious to obtrude [in obtruding] a new \vord~upefl his readers : and makes custom and com- mon use, the best measure of receiving it into our writings. Mnlta renascentur quce nunc cecidere, cadentque QucB nunc sunt in honore vocabula, si volet 7isus Quern penes, arbitrium 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, Mistaqiie ridenti Colocasia/undet Acantho — in his Eclogue of Pollio. And in his Seventh Mneid — Mirantur et unda, Miratur neinns, insuetam fidgentia longe. Scuta virum fliivio, pictaque innare carinas. And Ovid once ; so modestly, that he asks leave to do it. Si verbo audacia detur Hand metiiam siimmi dixisse Palatia cceli. calling the Court of Jupiter, by the name of Augustus his palace. Though, in another place, he is more bold ; where he says, Et tongas visent Capitolia pampas. ^.665-7."] 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, thai 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 ! 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 [ue., Ovid] had a way of writing so fit to stir up a phasing 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 yielded to him ; and therefore, I am confident the Medea is none of his. For, though I esteem 52SEUGENIUS — Ancients had few Love Scenes.^- ^^Zf-^. it, for the gravity and sentiousness of it (which he himself concludes to be suitable to a Tragedy, Omne genus scni>ti 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 Caunus and BiBLls, and the rest) should stir up no more concernment, where he most endeavoured it. Th^ masterpiece of Seneca, I hold to be that Scene in the Troa^^s, where t/LYSS£S is seeking for A styanax, to kill him. ThereTybu 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 anything 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 say little, when they see each other, but aninia niea ! vita mea ! ^(orj Kat, ■^vxv ! as 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 better be expressed than in a word and a sigh, breaking one another. Nature is dumb on such occasions ; and to make her speak, would be to represent her unlike herself. But there are a thousand other concernments of lovers as jealousies, complaints, contrivances, and the like; where, not to open their minds at large to each other, were to be wanting to their own love, and to the expectation of the audience : who watch the Movements of their Minds, as much as the Changes of their Fortunes. For the Imaging of the first [/>. 549], is properly the work of a Poet ; the latter, he borrows of the Historian." ^' ^leel-":] CrITES CONCLUDES THE FiRST ARGUMENT. 529 EuGENius was proceeding in that part of his discourse, when Crites interrupted him. j^%| ^^] See," said he, " Eugenius and I are never likely i^^ ^y to have this question decided betwixt us : for he ¥^ %M'\ iT'^iritains the Moderns have acquired a new perfec- ' tion in writings I only grant, they have altered the mode of it. """ Homer describes his heroes, [as] men of great appetites ; lovers of beef broiled upon the coals, and grod fellows : con- trary to the practice of the French romances, whose heroes neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep for love. Virgil makes Ai,neas, a bold avower of his own virtues, Sum plus AiNEAS fama super athera notus ; which, in the civility of our Poets, is the character of a Fanfaron or Hect or. For with us, the Knight takes occasion to walk out, or sleep, to avoid the vanity of telling his own story ; which the trusty Squire is ever to perform for him [p. 535]. So, in their Love Scenes, of which Eugenius spoke last, the Ancients were more hearty ; we, the more talkative. They writ love, as it was then the mode to make it. And I will grant thus much to Eugenius, that, perhaps, one of their Poets, had he lived in our Age, Siforet hoc nostrum fato dclupsus in cBVum, as Horace says of Lucilius, he had altered many things : not that they were not natural before ; but that he might ac- commodate himself to the Age he lived in. Yet, in the mean- time, we are not to conclude anything rashly against those great men ; but preserve to them, the dignity of Masters : and give that honour to their memoiies, qnos lihitina sacravit ', part of which, we expect may be paid to us in future times." This moderation of Crites, as it was pleasing to all the company, so it put an end to that dispute : which Eugenius, who seemed to have the better of the argument, would urge no further. But LisiDEius, afterhe had acknowledged himself of Euge- nius his opinion, concerning the Ancients; yet told him, Eng.Gar. III. Ol 530 LisiDEius — Opens the Second Argument.^- ^.Zf-"^'. " He had forborne till his discourse was ended, to ask him, Why he preferred the English Plays above those of other nations ? and whether we ought not to submit our Stage to the exactness of our next neighbours ?" " Though," said Eugenius, " I am, at all times, ready to defend the honour of my country against the French ; and to maintain, we are as well able to vanquish them with our pens, as our ancestors have been with their swords : yet, if you please ! " added he, looking upon Neander, " I will commit this cause to my friend's management. His opinion of our plays is the same with mine. And besides, there is no reason that Crites and I, who have now left the Stage, should re I n er so suddenly upon it : which is against the laws of Comedy," F THE question had been stated," replied Lisideius, " Who had writ best, the French or English, forty years ago [i.e., in 1625]? I should have been of your opinion ; and adjudged the honour to our own nation: but, since that time," said he, turning towards Neander, *' we have been so long bad Englishmen, that we had not leisure to be good Poets." — BeauMo'isIT [d. 1615], Fletcher [d. 1625], and Johnson [/. i637J,'who were only [alone] capable of bringing us to that degree of perfec- tion which we have, were just then leaving the world ; as if, in an Age of so much horror. Wit and those milder studies of humanity had no farther business among us. But the Muses, who ever follow peace, went to plant in another country. It was then, that the great Cardinal de Richelieu began to take them into his protection ; and tITat, "byhis encouragement, Corneille and some other Frenchmen reformed their Theatre : which, before, was so much below ours, as it now surpasses it, and the rest of Europe. But because Crites, in his discourse for the Ancients, has prevented [anticipated] me by touching on many Rules of the Stage, which the Moderns have borrowed from them; I shall only, in short, demand of }ou, ' Whether you are not con- vinced that, of all nations, the French have best observed them ? ' In the Unity of T i M E , you find them so scrupulous, that it yet remains a dispute among their Poets, ' Whether the ■^' °i665-7'.] LisiDEius — Tragi-Comedy IN England. 531 artificial day, of twelve hours more or less, be not meant by Aristotle, rather that the natural one of twenty-four ? ' and consequently, 'Whether all Plays ought not to be reduced into that compass ? ' This I can testify, that in all their dramas writ withiathese last twenty years [1645-1G65] and upwards, I have not observed any, that have extended the time to thirty hours :/^/). 576, 595]. In the Unity of Place, they are full[y] as scrupulous. For many of their critics limit it to that spot of ground, where the Play is supposed to begin. None of them exceed the compass of the same town or city. The Unity of A c T i o n in all their pla3's, is yet more conspicuous. For they do not burden them with Under Plots, as the English do ; which is the reason why many Scenes of our Tragi-Comedies carry on a Design that is nothing of kin to the main Plot : and that we see two distincts webs in a Play, like those in ill-wrought stuffs ; and two Actions (that is, two Plays carried on together) to the confounding of the audience : who, before they are warm in their concern- ments for one part, are diverted to another; and, by that means, expouse the interest of neither. [See p. 540.] I From hence likewise, it arises that one half of our Actors [i.e., the Characters in a Play] are not known to the other. They keep their distances, as if they were Montagues and Capulrt s ; and seldom begin an acquaintance till the last Scene ofthe fifth Act, when they are all to meet on the Stage. There is no Theatre in the world has anything so absurd as the English Tragi-Comedy. 'Tis a Drama of our own invention ; and the fashion of it is enough to proclaim it so. Here, a course of mirth ; there, another of sadness and pas- sion ; a third o f honour; and the fourth, a duel. Thus, in two hours and "a haF, we run through all the fits of Bedlam. The French afford you as much variety, on the same day; but they do it not so unseasonably, or vial apropos as we. Our Poets present you the Play and the Farce to- gether ; and our Stages still retain somewhat of the original civility of the '^Red Bull " [See Vol. IL, p. 275]. Atqiie ursum et pugiles, media inter carmina poscunt. 'The end of Tragedies or serious Plays,' says Aristotle, 'is to begeTTAdmiration [wonderment], Compassion, or Concern- 532 LisTDEius — Truth inwoven with Fiction. [•^- ^j^^^!"; rnent.' But are not mirth and compassion things incompatible? and is it not evident, that the Poet must, of necessity, destroy the former, by interminghng the latter? that is, he must ruin the sole end and object of his Tragedy, to introduce somewhat that is forced in, and is not of the body of it ! Would you not tliink that physician mad ! who. having prescribed a purge, should immediately order you to take restringents upon it ? But to leave our Plays, and return to theirs. I have noted one great advantage they have had in the Plotting of their Tragedies, that is, they are always grounded upon some known History, according to that of Horace, Ex nolo fictnm carnifii scqiiar: and in that, they have so imitated the Ancients, that they have surpassed them. For the Ancients, as was observed before [p. 522], took for the foundation of their Plays some poetical fiction ; such as, under that consideration, could move but little concernment in the audience, because they al- ready knew the event of it. But the French[manj goes farther. Aique ita mentitur^ sic vcris falso remiscet, Primo ne mediuui, medio ne discrepet imnm. He so interweaves Truth with probable Fiction, that he puts a pleasing fallacy upon us ; mends the intrigues of Fate ; and dispenses with the severity of History, to reward that virti e, which has been rendered to us, there, unfortunate. Sometimes the Story has left the success so doubtful, that the writer is free, by the privilege of a Poet, to take that whi -h, of two or more relations, will best suit his Design. As, for example, the death of Cyrus; whom Justin and some others report to have perished in the Scythian War; but Xei ophon affirms to have died in his bed of extreme old age. Nay more, when the event is past dispute, even then, we are willing to be deceived : and the Poet, if he contrives it wit 1 appearance of truth, has all the audience of his party [on his side], at least, during the time his Play is acting. So na u rally, we are kind to virtue (wiien our own interest is not in question) that we take it up, as the general concernment of mankind. On the other side, if you consider the Historical Plays of Shakespeare; they are rather so many Chronicles of Kings, J- ^/^gj!^;] LisiDEius — We crave Truth, or its shew. 533 or the business, many times, of thirty or forty years crampt into a Representation of two hours and a half: which is not to imitate or paint Nature, but rather to draw her in minia- ture, to take her in little ; to look upon her, through the wrong of a perspective [telescope], and receive her Im.ages [pp. 528, 549], not only much less, but infinitely more imperfect than the Life. This, instead of making a Flay delightful, renders it ridiculous. Quodcimque ostendis milii sic, incredidns odi. For the Spirit of Man cannot be satisfied but with Truth, or, at least. Verisimilitude : and a Poem is to contain, if not TO. eTVjjua, yet eTUfioLcnv ojxoLa ; as one of the Greek poets has expressed it. [See p. 589.] Another thing, in which the French differ from us and from the Spaniards^ is that they do not embarrass or cumber themselves with too much Plot. They only represent so . much of a Story as will constitute One whole and great Action sufficient for a Play. We, who undertake more, do but Ts\\.\\i\^\y Adventures [pp. 541, 552] ; which (not being produced from one another, as Effects from Causes, but, barely, follow- ing) constitute many Actions in the Drama, and consequently make it many Plays, But, by pursuing close[ly] one Argument, which is not cloyed with many Turns ; the French have gained more liberty for Verse, in which they write. They have leisure to dwell upon a subject which deserves it ; and to represent the passions [^.542] (which we have acknowledged to be the Poet's work) without being hurried from one thing to another, as WF^re in the plays of Calderon ; which we have seen lately upon our theatres, un'der the name of Spanish Plots. I have taken notice but of one Tragedy of ours ; whose Plot has that uniformity and unity of Design in it, which I have commended in the French ; ._and that is, ROLLO, or rather under the name of RoLLQ,ih^'€ioYfoT Bassanius and GcETA, in Herodian. There, indeed, the plot is neither large nor intricate ; but just enough to fill the minds of the audience, not to cloy them. Besides, you see it founded on the truth of History; only the time of the Action is not reduceable to the strictness of the Rules. And you see, 534 A French Play exalts one chief CHARACTER.Pg^gj!"; in some places, a little farce mingled, which is below the dignity of the other parts. And in this, all our Poets are ex- tremely peccant ; even Ben. Johnson himself, in SsyANUS and Catiline, has given this Oleo [hodge-podf^e] of a Play, this unnatural mixture of Comedy and Tragedy : which, to me, sounds just as ridiculous as The History of David, with the merry humours of GoLlAS. In Se^ANUS, you may take notice of the Scene between LiviA and the Physician; which is a pleasant satire upon the artificial helps of beauty. In Catiline, you may see the Parliament of Women; the little envies of them to one another ; and all that passes betwixt Curio and Fulvia. Scenes, admirable in their kind, but of an ill mingle with the rest. [See pp. 497, 541.] But I return again to the French Writers : who, as I have said, do not burden themselves too much with Plot ; which has been reproached to them by an Ingenious Person of our nation, as a fault. For he says, ' They commonly make but one person considerable in a Play. They dwell upon him and his concernments ; while the rest of the persons are only subservient to set him off.' If he intends this by it, that there is one person in the Play who is of greater dignity than the rest ; he must tax not only theirs, but those of the Ancients, and (which he would be loath to do) the best of ours. For it 'tis impossible but that one person must be more conspicuous in it than any other ; and consequently the greatest share in the Action must devolve on him. We see it so in the management of all affairs. Even in the most equal aristocracy, the balance cannot be so justly poised, but some one will be superior to the rest, either in parts, fortune, interest, or the consideration of some glorious ex- ploit ; which will reduce [lead] the greatest part of business into his hands [p. 543]. But if he would have us to imagine, that in exalting of one character, the rest of them are neglected ; and that all of them have not some share or other in the Action of the Play: I desire him to produce any of Corneille's Tragedies, wherein every person, like so many servants in a well governed family, has not some employment ; and who is not necessary to the carrying on of the Plot, or, at least, to your understanding it. •^" ■'^iTet-"'.] LiSIDEIUS — Two KINDS OF RELATIONS. 535 There are, indeed, s ome prota ctic persons [precursors] in the Ancients ; whom they make use of m their Plays, either to hear or give the Relation : but the French avoid this with great address; making their Narrations only to, or by such, who are some way interessed [interested] in the main Design. And now I am speaking of Relations; I cannot take a fitter opportunity to add this, in favour of the French, that they often use them with better judgement, more apropos than the English do [pp. 495, 529]. Not that I commend Narrations in general ; but there are two sorts of them : One, of those things which are antecedent to the Play, and are related to make the Conduct of it more clear to us. But 'tis a fault to choose such subjects for the Stage, as will in- force us upon that rock: because we see that they are seldom listened to by the audience; and that it is, many times, the ruin of the play. For, being once let pass without attention, the audience can never recover themselves to understand the Plot ; and, indeed, it is somewhat unreasonable that they should be put to so much trouble, as that, to comprehend what passes in their sight, they must have recourse to what was done, perhaps ten or twenty years ago. But there is another sort of Relations, that is, of things happening in the Action of a Play, and supposed to be done behind the scenes : and this is, many times, both convenient and beautiful. For by it, the French avoid the tumult, which we are subject to in England, by representing duels, battles, and such like ; which renders our Stage too like the theatres where they fight for prizes [i.e., tJieatres iLsed as Fencing Schools, for Assaults of Arms, &c.]. For what is more ridiculous than to represent an army, with a drum and five men behind it ? All which, the hero on the other side, is to drive in before him. Or to see a duel fought, and one slain with two or three thrusts of the foils ? which we know are so blunted, that we might give a man an hour to kill another, in good earnest, with them. I have observed that in all our Tragedies, the audience cannot forbear laughing, when the Actors are to die. 'Tis the most comic part of the whole Play. All Passions may be lively Represented on the Stage, if, 53^ LiSIDEIUS 1 M A G I N A T I O N F. S I G li T. [J* ^^g-"! to the well writing of them, the Actor supplies a good commanded voice, and limbs that move easily, and without stiffness : but there are many Actions, which can never be Imitated to a just height. Dying, especially, is a thing, which none but a Roman gladi- ator could naturally perform upon the Stage, when he did not Imitate or Represent it, but naturally Do it. And, therefore, it is better to omit the Representation of it. The words of a good writer, which describe it lively, will make a deeper impression of belief in us, than all the Actor can persuade us to, when he seems to fall dead before us : as the Poet, in the description of a beautiful garden, or meadow, will please our Imagination more than the place itself will please our sight. When we see death Represented, we are convinced it is but fiction ; but when we hear it Related, our eyes (the strongest witnesses) are wanting, w'hich might have undeceived us : and we are all willing to favour the sleight, when the Poet does not too grossly impose upon us. They, therefore, who imagine these Relations would make no concernment in the audience, are deceived, by confound- ing them with the other ; which are of things antecedent to the Play. Those are made often, in cold blood, as I may say, to the audience ; but these are warmed with our concern- ments, which are, before, awakened in the Play. What the philosophers say of Motion, that ' when it is once begun, it continues of itself ; and will do so, to Eternity, with- out some stop be put to it,' is clearly true, on this occasion. The Soul, being moved with the Characters and Fortunes of those Imaginary Persons, continues going of its own accord ; and we are no more weary to hear what becomes of them, when they are not on the Stage, than we are to listen to the news of an absent mistress. But it is objected, ' That if one part of the Play may be related ; then, why not all [p. 496, ? ' I answer. Some parts of the Action are more fit to be Represented ; some, to be Related. Corneille says judi- ciously, 'That the Poet is not obliged to expose to view all particular actions, which conduce to the principal. He ought to select such of them to be Seen, which will appear with the greatest beauty, either by the magnificence of the shew, or the vehemence of the passions which they produce, ^' ^iZet-":] LisiDEius — Emotion, the noblest Action. 537 or some other charm which they have in them : and let the rest i^rrive to the audience, by Narration.' 'Tis a great mistake in us, to believe the French present no part of the Action upon the Stage. Every alteration, or crossing of a Design; every new sprung passion, and turn of it, is a part of the Action, and much the noblest : except we conceive nothing to be Action, till they come to blows ; as if the painting of the Hero's Mind were not more properly the Poet's work, than, the strength of his Body. Nor does this anything contradict the opinion of Horace, where he tells us Segnius irritant aminos demissa per aurem [p. 496] Quam qnce sunt occnlis snhjecta fidclibiis. For he says, immediately after, Non tanien intiis Digna geri promes in scenam, Midtaqiie tolles Ex occnlis, qncs niox narret facimdia prcesens. Among which " many," he recounts some, Nee pueros coram popido Medea trncidet, Ant in aveni Progne mutetur, Cadmus in angnent, &c. that is, 'Those actions, which, by reason of their cruelty, will cause aversion in us ; or (by reason of their impossibilit}^) un- belief [pp. 496, 545], ought either wholly to be avoided by a Poet, or only delivered by Narration.' To which, we may have leave to add, such as * to avoid tumult,' as was before hinted [pp. 535, 544]; or 'to reduce the Plot into a more reasonable compass of time,' or 'for defect of beauty in them,' are rather to be Related than presented to the eye. Examples of all these kinds, are frequent ; not only among all the Ancients, but in the best received of our English poets. We find Ben. Johnson using them in his Magnetic Lady, where one comes out from dinner, and Relates the quarrels and disorders of it ; to save the indecent appearing of them on the Stage, and to abbreviate the story : and this, in express imitation of Terence, who had done the same before him, in 53'^ LisiDEius — Uses of Relations in Plays, p- ^.^^J."; his Eunuch} where PFT////1S makes the like Relation of what had happened within, at the soldiers' entertainment. The Relations, likewise, of SEyANUS's death and the pro- digies before it, are remarkable. The one of which, was hid from sight, to avoid the horror and tumult of the Representa- tion : the other, to shun the introducing of things impossible to be believed. In that excellent Play, the King and no King, Fletcher goes yet farther. For the whole unravelling of the Plot is done by Narration in the Fifth Act, after the manner of the Ancients: and it moves great concernment in the audience; though it be only a Relation of what was done many years before the Play. I could multiply other instances ; but these are sufficient to prove, that there is no error in chosing a subject which re- quires this sort of Narration. In the ill managing of them, they may. But I find, I have been too long in this discourse; since the French have many other excellencies, not common to us. As that, you never see any of their Plays end with a Con- version, or simph^hxnge'of Will : v/hich is the ordinary way our Poets use [are accustomed] to end theirs. , It shows little art in the conclusion of a Dramatic Poem, when they who have hindered the felicity during the Four Acts, desist from it in the Fifth, without some powerful cause to take them off: and though I deny not but such reasons may be found ; yet it is a path that is cautiously to be trod, and the Poet is to be sure he convinces the audience, that the motive is strong enough. As, for example, the conversion of th e Usurer in the Scornful Lady, seems to me, a little forced! For, being a Usurer, which implies a Lover of Money in the highest degree of covetousness (and such, the Poet has represented him) ; the account he gives for the sudden change, is, that he has been duped by the wild young fellow: which, in reason, might render him more wary another time, and make him punish himself with harder fare and coarser clothes, to get it up again. But that he should look upon it as a judgement, and so repent ; we may expect to hear of in a Sermon, but I should never endure it in a Play. '■^1665-7-]-'^^^^^^^^^ — Rhyme v. Blank Verse. 539 I pass by this. Neither will I insist upon the care they take, that no person, after his first entrance, shall ever appear ; hut the business which brings upon the Stage, shall be evident. Which, if observed, must needs render all the events of the Play more natural. For there, you see the probability of every accident, in the cause that produced it ; and that which appears chance in the Play, will seem so reasonable to you, that you will there find it almost necessary : so that in the Exits of their Actors, you have a clear account of their purpose and design in the next Entrance ; though, if the Scene be well wrought, the event will commonly deceive you. ' For there is nothing so absurd,' says Corneille, ' as for an Actor to leave the Stage, only because he has no more to say 1 ' I should now speak of tJie beauty of their Rhyme, and the just reason I have to prefer tJiat way of writing, in Tragedies, before ours, in Blank Verse. But, because it is partly re- ceived by us, and therefore, not altogether peculiar to them ; I will say no more of it, in relation to their Plays. For our own ; I doubt not but it will exceedingly beautify them : and I can see but one reason why it should not generally obtain ; that is, because our Poets write so ill in it [pp. 503, 578, 598]. This, indeed, may prove a more prevailing argument, than all others which are used to destroy it: and, therefore, I am only troubled when great and judicious Poets, and those who are acknowledged such, have writ or spoke against it. As for others, they are to be answered by that one sentence of an ancient author. Sed ut primo ad consequcndos eos quos priores ducimus accendimiir, ita ubi aut prcetcriri, aut ccquari eos posse desperavimus, stiidiuni cum spe senescit : quod, scilicet, assequi non potest, sequi desinit; pra:teritoque eo in quo eminere non possumus, aliquid in quo nitamnr conquirimtis." LisiDEius concluded, in this manner; and Neander, after a little pause, thus answered him. Shall grant Lisideius, without much dispute, a great part of what he has urged against us. For I acknowledge the French contrive their Plots more regularly ; observe the laws of Comedy, and decorum of the Stage, to speak generally, with more exactness 540 Neander — French have Tragi- Comedy. P' ^^''J"; than the English. Farther, I deny not but he has taxed us justly, in some irregularities of ours ; which he has mentioned. Yet, after all, I am of opinion, that neither our faults, nor their virtues are considerable enough to place them above us. For the lively Imitation of Nature being the Definition of a Play [p. 513] ; those which best fulfil that law, ought to be esteemed superior to the others. 'Tis true those beauties of the French Poesy are such as will raise perfection higher where it is ; but are not sufficient to give it where it is not. They are, indeed, the beauties of a Statue, not of a Man ; because not animated with the Soul of Pcesy, which islmitation of Humour and Passions. [See p. 549.] And this, Lisideius himself, or any other, however biased to their party, cannot but acknowledge ; if he will either compare the Humours of our Comedies, or the Characters of our serious Plays with theirs. He that will look upon theirs, which have been written till [within] these last ten years [i.e., 1655, when MoLlERE began to write], or thereabouts, will find it a hard matter to pick out two or three passable Humours amongst them. Corneille himself, their Arch Poet ; what has he produced, except the Liar? and you know how it was cried up in France. But when it came upon the English Stage, though well translated, and that part of DORANT acted to so much advantage by Mr. Hart, as, I am confident, it never received in its own country; the most favourable to it, would not put it in com- petition with many of Fletcher's or Ben. Johnson's. In the rest of Corneille's Comedies you have little humour. He tells you, himself, his way is first to show two lovers in good intelligence with each other ; in the working up of the Play, to embroil them by some mistake ; and in the latter end, to clear it up. But, of late years, de Moliere, the younger Corneille, QuiNAULT, and some others, have been imitating, afar off, the" qOTck turns and graces of the English Stage. They have mixed their serious Pla-ys with mirth, like our Tragi- comedies, since the death of Cardinal Richeli];u '/;; 1642J : which Lisideius and many "oThers not observing, have com- mended that in them for a virtue [p. 531], which they them- selves no longer practise. ^■^1665-7^ Neander — Defence of Tragi-Comedy. 541 Most of their new Plays are, like some of ours, derived from the Spanish novels. There is scarce one of them, without a veil ; and a trusty Diego, who drolls, much after the rate of tlie Adventures [pp. 533, 552]. But their humours, if I may grace them with that name, are so thin sown ; that never above One of them comes up in a Play. I dare take upon me, to find more variety of them, in one play of Ben. Johnson's, than in ajj__theirs_tQg.ether : as he who has seen the Alchemist, the Silent Woman, or Bartholomew Fair, cannot but acknowledge witit—^fter- I grant the French have performed what was possible on the ground work of the Spanish plays. What was pleasant before, they have made regular. But there is not above one good play to be writ upon all those Plots. They are too much alike, to please often ; which we need not [adduce] the experience of our own Stage to justify. As for their New Way of mingling Mirth with serious Plot, I do not, with Lisideius, condemn the thing; though I can- not approve their manner of doing it. He tells us, we cannot so speedily re-collect ourselves, after a Scene of great Passion and Concernment, as to pass to another of Mirth and Humour, and to enjoy it with any relish. But why should he imagine the Soul of Man more heavy than his Senses? Does not the eye pass from an unpleasant object, to a pleasant, in a much shorter time than is required to this ? and does not the un- pleasantness of the first commend the beauty of the latter ? The old rule of Logic might have convinced him, that ' Con- traries when placed near, set off each other.' A continued gfavityTceeps the spirit too much bent. We must refresh it sometimes ; as we bait [lunch] upon a journey, that we may go on with greater ease. A Scene of Mirth mixed with Tragedy, has the same effect upon us, which our music has betwixt the Acts ; and that, we find a relief to us from the best Plots and Language of the Stage, if the discourses have been long. I must, therefore, have stronger arguments, ere I am con- vinced that Compassion and Mirth, in the same subject, destroy each other : and, in the meantime, cannot but con- clude_to the honour of our Nation, that we have invented, increased, and perfected a more pleasant way of writing for the Stage than was ever known to the Ancients or Moderns of any nation; which is, Tragi-Comedy. And this leads me to wonder why Lisideius [/». 533], and 542 Neander — French Verse is frigid and p- ■^,'^3!"; many others, should cry up the barrenness of the French Plots above the variety and copiousness oj the English ? Their Plots are single. They carry on one Design, which is pusH ^forward by all the Actors ; every scene in the Play contributing and moving towards it. Ours, besides the main Design, have Under Plots or By-Concernments of less con- siderable persons and intrigues; which are carried on, with the motion of the main Plot : just as they say the orb [lorbits] of the fixed stars, and those of the planets (though they have motions of their own), are whirled about, by the motion of the Priinum Mobile in which they are contained. That similitude expresses much of the English Stage. For, if con- trary motions may be found in Nature to agree, if a planet can go East and West at the same time; one way, by virtue of his own motion, the other, by the force of the First Mover : it will not be difficult to imagine how the Under Plot, which is only different [from], not contrary to the great Design, may naturally be conducted along with it. EuGENius [? LISIDEIUS] has already shown us [p. 534], from the confession of the French poets, that the Unity of Action i-s- sufficiently preserved, if all the imperfect actions of the Pla}' are conducing to the main Design : but when those petty intrigues of a Play are so ill ordered, that they have no coherence with the other; I must grant, that Lisideius has reason to tax that Want of due Connection. For Co-ordjna- tion in a Play is as dangerous and unnatural as in a State, nrrhe meantime, he must acknowledge, our Variety (if well ordered) will afford a greater pleasure to the audience. As for his other argument, that by pursuing one single Theme, they gain an advantage to express j and work' up the passions [p. 533] ; I wish any example he could bring from them, would make it good. For I confess their verses are, to me, the Ipoldest I have ever read. Neither, indeed, is it possible for them, in the way they take, so to express Passion as that the effects of it should ap- pear in the concernment of an audience; their speeches being so many declamations, which tire us with the length : so that, instead of persuading us to grieve for their imaginary heroes, we are concerned for our own trouble, as we are, in the tedious visits of bad [dull] company ; we are in pain till they are gone. J- -"^i^ej!":] PASSIONLESS ; THEIR PlAYS BUT MONOLOGUES. 543 When the French Stage came to be reformed by Cardinal Richelieu, those long harangues were introduced, to comply with the gravity of a Churchman. Look upon the CiNNA and PcrMTEY^' They are not so properly to be called Plays, as long Discourses of Reason[s] of State: and Polieucte, in matters of Religion, is as solemn as the long stops upon our organs. Since that time, it has grown into a custom ; and their Actors speak by the hour glass, as our Parsons do. Nay, they account it the grace of their parts ! and think themselves disparaged by the Poet, if they may not twice or thrice in a Play, entertain the audience, with a speech of a hundi'ed or two hundred lines. I deny not but this may suit well enough with the French : for as we, who are a more sullen people, come to be diverted at our Plays ; they, \vho are of an airy and gay temper, come thitherlQ make themselves mofTserious. And this I conceive to be one reason why Comedy is more pleasing to us, and Tragedy to them. But, to speak generally, it cannot be denied that short Speeches and Replies are more apt to move the passions, and beget concernment in us ; than the other. For it is unnatural for any one in a gust of passion, to speak long together ; or for another, in the same condition, to suffer him without interruption. Grief and Passion are like floods raised in little brooks, by a sudden rain. They are quickly up; and if the Concernment be poured unexpectedly in upon us, it overflows us : but a long sober shower gives them leisure to run out as they came in, without troubling the ordinary current. As for Comedy, Repartee is one of its chiefest graces. The greatest pleasure of the audience is a Chase of Wit, kept up on both sides, and swiftly managed. And this, our forefathers (if not we) have had, in Fletcher's Plays, to a much higher degree of perfection, than the French Poets can arrive at. There is another part of Lisideius his discourse, in which he has rather excused our neighbours, than commended them ; that is, for aiming only [simply] to make one person considerable in their Plays [p. 534]. 'Tis very true what he has urged, that one Character in all Plays, even without the Poet's care, will have the advantage 544 Neander — Our Plays have more variety.[J- ^Zt'l: of all the others; and that the Design of the whole Drama will chiefly depend on it. But this hinders not, that there may- he more shining Characters in the Play ; many persons of a second magnitude, nay, some so very near, so almost equal to the first, that greatness may be opposed to greatness: and all the persons be made considerable, not onlyby their Quality, but their Action. 'Tis evident that the more the persons are; the greater will be the variety of the Plot. If then, the parts are managed so regularly, that the beauty of the whole be kept entire ; and that the variety become not a perplexed and confused mass of accidents : you will find it infinitely pleasing, to be led in a labyrinth of Design ; where you see some of your way before you, yet discern not the end, till you arrive at it. And that all this is practicable; I can produce, for examples, many of our English plays, as the Maid's Tragedy, the Alchemist, the Silent Woman. — ^ I was going to have named the Fox; but that the Unity of Design seems not exactly observed in it. For there appear two Actions in the Play ; the first naturally ending with the Fourth Act, the second forced from it, in the Fifth. Which yet, is the less to be condemned in him, because the disguise of VoLPONE (though it suited not with his character as a crafty ortrt)vett)us person) agreed well enough with that of a voluptuary: and, by it, the Poet gained the end he aimed at, the punishment of vice, and reward of virtue; which that disguise produced. So that, to judge equally of it, it was an excellent Fifth Act ; but not so naturally proceeding from the former. But to leave this, and to pass to the latter part of Lisideius his discourse; which concerns Relations. I must_acIfnow- ledge, with him, that the French have reason, when they hide that part of the Action, which ■would occasion too much tumult on the Stage ; and choose rather to have it made known by Nar- ration to the audience [p. 535]. Farther; I think it very con- venient, for the reasons he has given, that all incredib le A ctio ns were removed [p. 537] : but, whether custom has so insinuated itself into our countrymen, or Nature has so formed them to fierceness, I know not ; but they will scarcely suffer combats '^la^s-zG Neander — J onson'sattack ON Shakespeare. 545 or other objects of horror to be taken from them. And indeed the indecency of tumults is all which can be objected against fighting. For why may not our imagination as well suffer itself to be deluded with the probability of it, as any other thing in the Play. For my part, I can, with as great ease, persuade myself that the blows, which are struck, are given in good earnest ; as I can, that they who strike them, are Kings, or Princes, or those persons which they represent. For objects of incredibility \p. 537], I would be satisfied from LisiDEius, whether we have any so removed from all ap- pearariLCfi-of truth, as are those in CoRNEiLLE's^iV£)i?Oii/£;£>£ ? A Play that has been frequented [repeated] the most, of any he has writ. If the Perseus or the son of the heathen god, the Pegasus, and the Monster, were not capable to choke a strong belief? let him blame any representation of ours here- after! Those, indeed, were objects of delight; yet the reason is the same as to the probability: for he makes it not a Ballette [Ballet] or Masque; but a Play, which is, to resemble truth. As for Death, that it ought not to be represented [p. 536J : I have, besides the arguments alleged by Lisideius, the autho- rity of Ben. Johnson, who has foreborne it in his Tragedies : for both the death of Se^anus and Catiline are Related. Though, in the latter, I cannot but observe one irregularity of that great poet. He has removed the Scene in the same Act, from Rome to Catiline's army ; and from thence, again to Rome : and, besides, has allowed a very inconsiderable time after Catiline's speech, for the striking of the battle, and the return of Petreius, who is to relate the event of it to the Senate. Which I should not animadvert upon him, who was otherwise a painful observer of ro Trpeirov or the Decorum of the Stage : if he had not used extreme severity in his judgement [in his " Discoveries "j upon the incomparable Shakespeare, for the same fault. To conclude on this subject of Relations, if we are to be blamed for showing too much of the Action ; the French are as faulty for discovering too little of it. A mean betwixt both, should be observed by every judicious writer, so as the audience may neither be left unsatisfied, by not seeing what is beautiful ; or shocked, by beholding what is either incredible or indecent. I hope I have already proved in this discourse, that though £NG. GAR. III. 35 54^ Neander — Losses through the Unities. [J- ^//gj!"; we are not altogether so punctual as the French, in observing the laws of Comedy : yet our errors are so few, and [so] little ; and those things wherein we excel them so considerable, that we ought, of right, to be preferred before them. But what will Lisideius say ? if they themselves acknow- ledge they are too strictly tied up by those laws : for the breaking which, he has blamed the English ? I will allege Corneille's words, as I find them in the end of this Discourse of The three Unities. II est facile aiix spccnlatifs d'etre severe, &c. ' 'Tis easy, for speculative people to judge severely : but if they would produce to public view, ten or twelve pieces of this nature ; they would, perhaps, give more latitude to the Rules, than Ihavedone: when, by experience, they had known how much we are bound up, and constrained by them, and how many beauties of the Stage they banished from it.' To illustrate, a little, what he has said. By their servile imitations of the Unities of Time and Place, and IntegrityofScenes; they have brought upon them- selves the Dearth of Plot and Narrowness of Imagination which may be observed in all their Plays. How many beautiful accidents might naturally happen in two or three days ; which cannot arrive, with any probability, in the compass of twenty-four hours ? There is time to be allowed,also,for maturity of design: which, amongst great and prudent persons, such as are often represented in Tragedy, cannot, with any likelihood of truth, be brought to pass at so / short a warning. ( Farther, by tying themselves strictly to the Unity of Place and Unbroken Scenes; they are forced, many times, to omit some beauties which cannot be shown where the Act began : but might, if the Scene were interrupted, and the Stage cleared, for the persons to enter in another place. And therefore, the French Poets are often forced upon absurdities. For if the Act begins in a Chamber, all the persons in the Play must have some business or other to come thither ; or else they are not to be shown in that Act : and sometimes their characters are very unfitting to appear there. As, suppose it were the King's Bedchamber ; yet the niC'anest man in the Tragedy, must come and despatch his business there, rather than in the Lobby or Courtyard (which ^4-7'JNeANDER — SCENES REVOLVING ,' AcTORS FIXED. 547 is [were] fitter for him), for fear the Stage should be cleared, and the Scenes broken. Many times, they fall, by it, into a greater inconvenience : for they keep their Scenes Unbroken ; and yet Change the Place. As, in one of their newest Plays [i.e., before 1665]. Where the Act begins in a Street : there, a gentleman is to meet his friend ; he sees him, with his man, coming out from his father's house ; they talk together, and the first goes out. The second, who is a lover, has made an appointment with his mistress : she appears at the Window ; and then, we are to imagine the Scene lies under it. This gentleman is called away, and leaves his servant with his mistress. Presently, her father is heard from within. The young lady is afraid the servingman should be discovered ; and thrusts him through a door, which is supposed to be her Closet [Boudoir], After this, the father enters to the daughter ; and now the Scene is in a House : for he is seeking, from one room to another, for his poor Philipin or French Diego : who is heard from within, drolling, and breaking many a miserable conceit upon his sad condition. In this ridiculous manner, the Play goes on ; the Stage being never empty all the while. So that the Street, the Window, the two Houses, and the Closet are made to walk about, and the Persons to stand still ! Now, what, I beseech you! is more easy than to write a regular French Play ? or more difficult than to write an irregular English one, like those of Fletcher, or of Shakespeare ? If they content themselves, as Corneille did, with some flat design, which (like an ill riddle) is found out ere it be half proposed ; such Plots, we can make every way regular, as easily as they : but whene'er they endeavour to rise up to any quick Turns or Counter-turns of Plot, as some of them have attempted, since Corneille's Plays have been less in vogue; you see they write as irregularly as we ! though they cover it more speciously. Hence the reason is perspicuous, why no French plays, when translated, have, or ever can succeed upon the English Stage. For, if you consider the Plots, our own are fuller of variety; if the Writing, ours are more quick, and fuller of spirit : and therefore 'tis a strange mistake in those who decry the way of writing Plays in Verse ; as if the English therein imitated the French. 54S Neander — English Plays better in Plot, peal-".' We have borrowed nothing from them. Our Plots are weaved in English looms. We endeavour, therein, to follow the variety and greatness of Characters, which are derived to us from Shakespeare and Fletcher. The copiousness and well knitting of the Intrigues, we have from Johnson. And for the Verse itself, we have English precedents, of elder date than any of Corneille's plays. Not to name our old Comedies before Shakespeare, which are all writ in verse of six feet or Alexandrines, such as the French now use : I can show in Shakespeare, many Scenes of Rhyme together ; and the like in Ben Johnson's tragedies. In Catiline and SEJANUSy sometimes, thirty or forty lines. I mean, besides the Chorus or the Monologues ; which, by the way, showed Ben. no enemy to this way of writing: especially if you look upon his Sad_Shepherd, which goes sometimes upon rhyme, sometimeTuponT)lanl: verse ; like a horse, who eases himself upon trot and amble. You find him, likewise, commending Fletcher's pastoral of the Faitliful Shepherdess: which is, for the most part, [in] Rhyme; though not refined to that purity, to which it hath since been brought. And these examples are enough to clear us from a servile imitation of the French. But to return, from whence I have digressed. I dare boldly affirm these two things of the English Drama. First. That we have many Plays of ours as regular as any of theirs ; and which, besides, have more variety of Plot and Characters. And Secondly. That in most of the irregular Plays of ;| Shakespeare or Fletcher (for Ben. Johnson's are for the most part regular), there is a more masculine Fancy, land greater Spirit in all the Writing, than there is in any I of the French. I could produce, even in Shakespeare's and Fletcher's Works, some Plays which are almost exactly formed ; as the Merry ]Vives of Windsor and the Scornful Lady. But because, generally spLukint;-, Shakiest] are, wlio writ first, did not perfectly observe the laws of Comedy; and Fletcher, who came nearer to perfection [1)1 this respect], yet, through care- lessness, made many faults: I will take the pattern of a per- fect Play from Ben Johnson, who was a careful and learned ^iZel-":] Characters, & Writing, than the French. 549 observer of the Dramatic Laws ; and, from all his Comedies, I shall select the Silent Wmnan lpj,^y], of which I will make a short exairien [examination], according to those Rules which the French observe." As N BANDER was beginning to examine the Silent Woman : EuGENius, looking earnestly upon him, " I beseech you, Neander! " said he, "gratify the company, and me in particular, so far, as, before you speak of the Play, to give us a Character of the Author : and tell us, frankly, your opinion ! whether you do not think all writers, both French and English, ought to give place to him ? " Fear," replied Neander, "that in obeying your commands, I shall draw a little envy upon my- self. Besides, in performing them, it will be first necessary to speak somewhat of Shakespeare and Fletcher his Rivals in Poesy ; and one of them, in my opinion, at least his Equal, perhaps his Superior. To begin then with Shakespeare. He was the man, who, of all Modern and perhaps Ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive Soul [p. 540]. All the Images of Nature [pp. 528, 533] were still present [apparent] to him [p. 489] : and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily [felicitously]. When he describes anything; you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning; give him the greater commendation. He was natur- ally learned. He needed not the spectacles of books, to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say, he is everywhere alike. Were he so ; I should do him injury to compare him [even] with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid : his comic wit degenerating into clenches; his serious swelling, into bombast. But he is always great, when some great occasion is pre- sented to him. No man can say, he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets. Quantum lenta solent, inter viberna ciipressi. The consideration of this, made Mr. Hales, of Eton, say, * That there was no subject of which any poet ever writ ; but he would produce it much better treated of in Shakespeare.' 550 Neander — Beaumont and Fletcher's [_^,76f"'. And however others are, now, generally preferred before him ; yet the Age wherein he lived (which had contemporaries with him, Fletcher and Johnson) never equalled them to him, in their esteem. And in the last King's [Charles L] Court, when Ben.'s reputation was at [the] highest; Sir John Suckling, and with him, the greater part of the Courtiers, set our Shakespeare far above him. Beaumont and Fletcher (of whom I am next to speak), had, with the advantage of Shakespeare's wit, which was their precedent, great natural gifts improved by study. Beaumont, especially, being so accurate a judge of plays, that Ben. Johnson, while he [i.e., Beaumont] lived, submit- ted all his writings to his censure ; and, 'tis thought, used his judgement in correcting, if not contriving all his plots. What value he had for [i.e., attached to] him, appears by the verses he writ to him: and therefore I need speak no farther of it. The first Play which brought Fletcher and him in esteem, was their Philaster. For, before that, they had written two or three very unsuccessfully : as the like is reported of Ben. Johnson, before he writ Every Man in his Humour [acted in T598]. Their Plots were generally more regular than Shakespeare'Sj^ especially those which were made before Beaumont's death : and they understood, and imitated the conversation of gentlemen [in the conventional sense in which it was understood in Dryden's time], much better [i.e., than Shakespeare] ; whose wild debaucheries, and quickness of wit in repartees, no Poet can ever paint as they have done. This Humour, which Ben.Johnson derived from particular persons ; they made it not their business to describe. They represented all the passions very lively ; but, above all, Love. I am apt to believe the English language, in them, arrived to its highest perfection. What words have since been taken in, are rather superfluous than necessary. Their Plays are now the most pleasant and frequent en- . tertainments of the Stage ; two of theirs being acted through the year, for one of Shakespeare's or Johnson's. The reason is because there is a certain Gaiety in their Comedies, and Pathos in theirTnore serious Plays, which suit generally with ali men's humours. Shakespeare's Language is likewise a little obsolete; and Ben. Johnson's Wit comes short of theirs. •'■^I'SS:] LANGUAGE, THE PERFECTION OF ENGLISH. 55 1 As for Johnson, to whose character I am now arrived ; if we look upon him, while he was himself (for his last Plays were but his dotages) I think him the most learned and judicious Writer which any Theatre ever had. He was a most severe judge of himself, as well as others. One cannot say-he wanted Wit ; but rather, that he was frugal of it [p. 572]. In his works, you find little to retrench or alter. Wit and Language, and Humour also in some measure, we had before him ; but something of Art was wanting to the Drama, till he came. He managed his strength to more advan- tage than any who preceded him. You seldom find him making love in any of his Scenes, or endeavouring to move the pas- sions: his genius was too sullen and saturnine to doit grace- fully; especially when he knew, he came after those who had performed both to such a height. Humour was his proper s pher e ; and in that, he delighted most to represent mechanic [uncultivated] people. He was deeply conversant in the Ancients, both Greek and Latin ; and he borrowed boldly from them. There is scarce a Poet or Historian, among the Roman authors of those times, whom he has not translated in Sejanus and Catiline: but he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law. He invades authors, like a Monarch ; and what would be Theft in other Poets, is only Victory in him. With the spoils of these Writers, he so represents old Rome to us, in its rites, ceremonies, and customs ; that if one of their own poets had written either of his Tragedies, we had seen less of it than in him. [See p. 519.] If there was any fault in his Language, 'twas that he weaved it too closely and laboriously in his serious Plays. Perhaps, too, he did a little too much Romanize our tongue ; leaving the words which he translated, almost as much Latin as he found them : wherein, though he learnedly followed the idiom of their language, he did not enough comply with ours. If I would compare him with Shakespeare, I must acknow- ledge him, the more correct Poet ] but Shakespeare, the greater Wit. ^""Shakespeare was the Homer, or Father of €mr Dramatic Poets; Johnson was the Virgil, the pattern of elaborate writing. I admire him ; but I love Shakespeare, To conclude of him. As he has given us the most correct 552 Neander — Discussion of Ben. Jonson's p-'^.'^'j!"- Plays ; so in the Precepts which he has laid down in his Discoveries, we have as many and profitable Rules as any wherewith the French can furnish us. Having thus spoken of this author ; I proceed to the ex- amination of his Comedy, the Silent Woman, Exa?7ien of the ^^ Silent WoJitanT begin, first, with the Length of the Action. It is so far from exceeding the compass of a natural day, that it takes not up an artificial one. 'Tis all in- cluded in the limits of three hours and a half; which is no more Than is required for the presentment [represen- tation of it] on the Stage. A beauty, perhaps, not much observed. If it had [been] ; we should not have looked upon the Spanish Translation [i.e., the adaptation from the Spanish] of Five Hours [pp. 533, 541], with so much wonder. The Scene of it is laid in London. The Latitude of Place is almost as little as you can imagine : for it lies all within the compass of two houses ; and, alter the First Act, in one. ' The Continuity of Scenes is observed more than in any of our Plays, excepting his own Fox and AlcJicmist. They are not broken above twice, or thrice at the most, in the whole Comedy : and irTtHe tWO best of Corneille's Plays, the Cm and CiNNA, they arF interrupted once a piece. The Action of the Play is entirely One : the end or aim of which, is the settling Morose's estate on Dauphine. The Intrigue of it is the greatest and most noble of any pure unmixed Comedy in any language. You see in ii, many persons of various Characters and Humours ; and all delightful. As first, Morose, an old man, to whom all noise, but his own talking, is offensive. Some, who would be thought critics, say, " This humour of his is forced." But, to remove that objection, we may consider him, first, to be naturally of a delicate hearing, as many are, to whom all sharp sounds are unpleasant : and, secondly, we may attribute much of it to the peevishness of his age, or the wayward authority of an ^lael-";] Epicene, as the pattern of a perfect Play. 553 old man in his own house, where he may make himselt obeyed ; and this the Poet seems to allude to, in his name Morose. Besides this, I am assured from divers persons, that Ben Johnson was actually acquainted with such a man, one altogether as ridiculous as he is here represented. Others say, ' It is not enough, to find one man of such an humour. It must be common to more ; and the more common, the more natural.' To prove this, they instance in the best of comical characters, Falstaff. There are many men resembling him ; Old, Fat, Merry, Cowardly, Drunken, Amorous, Vain, and Lying. But to convince these people; I need but [to] tell them, that Humour is the ridiculous extravagance of conversation^ wherein one man differs from all otiiers. If then it be common, or communicated to any ; how differs it from other men's ? or what indeed causes it to be ridiculous, so much as the singularity of it. As for Falstaff, he is not properly one Humour ; but a Miscellany of Humours or Images drawn from so many several men. That wherein he is singular is his Wit, or those things he says, prater ex- pectatum,-' unexpected by the audience'; his quick evasions, when you imagine him surprised : which, as they are extre- mely diverting of themselves, so receive a great addition from his person ; for the very sight of such an unwieldy old debauched fellow is a Comedy alone. And here, having a place so proper for it, I cannot but enlarge somewhat upon this subject of Humour, into which I am fallen. The Ancients had little of it in their Comedies : for the to jeXolop [facetious absurdities] of the Old Comedy, of which Aristophanes was chief, was not so much to imitate a man ; as to make the people laugh at some odd conceit, which had commonly somewhat of unnatural or obscene in it. Thus, when you see Socrates brought upon the Stage, you are not to imagine him made ridiculous by the imitation of his actions : but rather, by making him perform something very unlike himself; something so childish and absurd, as, by comparing it with the gravity of the true Socrates, makes a ridiculous object for the spectators. In the New Comedy which succeeded, the Poets sought, indeed, to express the ^9o/). 497-500J. First, then, I am of opinion, that Rhyme is unnatural in a Play, because Dialogue, there, is presented as the effect of Hidden tJiought. For a Play is the Imitation of Nature: and J- ^,'^65-7:] AND SAYS Rhyme is not fit for Tragedy. 559 since no man, without premeditation, speaks in rhyme ; neither ought he to do it on the Stage. This hinders not but the Fancy may be, there, elevated to a higher pitch of thought than it is in ordinary discourse ; for there is a probability that men of excellent and quick parts, may speak noble things ex tempore : but those thoughts are never fettered with the numbers and sound of Verse, without study ; and therefore it cannot be but unnatural, to present the most free way of speaking, in that which is the most constrained. ' For this reason,' says Aristotle, ' 'tis best, to write Tragedy in that kind of Verse, which is the least such, or which is nearest Prose' : and this, among the Ancients, was the Iambic ; and with us, is Blank Verse, or the Measure of Verse kept exactly, without rhyme. These numbers, therefore, are fittest for a Play : the others [i.e., RJiymed Verse] for a paper of Verses, or a Poemf^. 566]. Blank Verse being as much below them, as Rhyme is improper for the Drama: and, if it be objected that neither are Blank Verses made extempore; yet, as nearest Nature, they are still to be preferred [^. 498]. But there are two particular exceptions [objections], which many, beside myself, have had to Verse [i.e., in rhyme]; by which it will appear yet more plainly, how improper it is in Plays. And the first of them is grounded upon that very reason, for which some have commended Rhyme. They say, 'The quickness of Repartees in argumentative scenes, receives an ornament from Verse [pp. 492, 49S].' Now, what is more unreasonable than to imagine that a man should not only light upon the Wit, but the Rhyme too ; upon the sudden ? This nicking of him, who spoke before, both in Sound and Measure, is so great a happiness [felicity], that you must, at least, suppose the persons of your Play to be poets, Arcades Cannes et cantare pares et rcspondere parati. They must have arrived to the degree of quicquid conabar dicere, to make verses, almost whether they will or not. If they are anything below this, it will look rather like the design of two, than the answer of one. It will appear that your Actors hold intelligence together; that they per- form their tricks, like fortune tellers, by confederacy. The hand of Art will be too visible in it, against that maxim of all professions, ^rs est celare artem ; 'that it is the greatest perfection of Art, to keep itself undiscovered.' 560 Crites — Rhyme cannot express great [J- ^/^J": Nor will it serve you to object, that however you manage it, 'tis still known to be a Play; and consequently the dia- logue of two persons, understood to be the labour of one Poet. For a Play is still an Imitation of Nature. We know we are to be deceived, and we desire to be so : but no man ever was deceived, but with a probability of Truth ; for who will suffer a gross lie to be fastened upon him ? Thus, we sufficiently understand that the scenes [i.e., the scenery which was just now coming into use on the English Stage], which represent cities and countries to us, are not really such, but only painted on boards and canvas. But shall that excuse the ill painture [painting] or designment of them ? Nay rather, ought they not to be laboured with so much the more diligence and exactness, to help the Imagination ? since the Mind of Man doth naturally bend to, and seek after Truth ; and therefore the nearer anything comes to the Imitation of it, the more it pleases. [See p. 589.] [.? T/ie Second Exception left out here by the Author. See p. 499. Then is clearly a gap In the argument^ Thus, you see ! your Rhyme is incapable of expressing the greatest thoughts, naturally ; and the lowest, it cannot, with any grace. For what is more unbefitting the majesty of Verse, than 'to call a servant,' or * bid a door be shut' in Rhyme ? And yet, this miserable necessity you are forced upon! [See /)^. 570, 575, 584.] ' But Verse,' you say, ' circumscribes a quick and luxuriant Fancy, which would extend itself too far, on every subject; did not the labour which is required to well-turned and polished Rhyme, set bounds to it [pp. 492-493].' Yet this argument, if granted, would only prove, that wc may write better in Verse, but not more naturally [p. 498]. Neither is it able to evince that. For he who wants judgement to confine his Fancy, in Blank Verse ; may want it as well, in Rhyme : and he who has it, will avoid errors in both kinds [pp. 498, 571]. Latin Verse was as great a con- finement to the imagination of those poets, as Rhyme to ours: and yet, you find Ovid saying too much on every subject. Ncscivit, says Seneca, quod bene ccssit rclinqucre : of which he [Ovid] gives you one famous instance in his description of the Deluge. ■f- ^i66l-7.'] THOUGHTS NATURALLY ; OR LOW ONES, WELL. 56 I Omnia pontus erat, deerant quoque litora ponto. Now all was sea; nor had that sea a shore. Thus Ovid's Fancy was not limited by Verse ; and Virgil needed not Verse to have bounded his. In our own langua,^e, we see Ben. Johnson confining him- self to what ought to be said, even in the liberty of Blank Verse ; and yet Corneille, the most judicious of the French poets, is still varying the same Sense a hundred ways, and dwelling eternally upon the same subject, though confined by Rhyme. Some other exceptions, I have to Verse ; but these I have named, being, for the most part, already public : I conceive it reasonable they should, first, be answered." T CONCERNS me less than any," said Neander, seeing he had ended, " to reply to this discourse, because when I should have proved that Verse may be natural in Plays ; yet I should always be ready to confess that those which I [i.e., Dry den, see pp. 503, 566] have written in this kind, come short of that perfection which is required. Yet since you are pleased I should under- take this province, I will do it : though, with all imaginable respect and deference both to that Person [i.e.. Sir Robert Howard, see p. 494] from whom you have borrowed your strongest arguments; and to whose judgement, when I have said all, I finally submit. [See p. 598.] But before I proceed to answer your objections ; I must first remember you, that I exclude all Comedy from my defence ; and next, that I deny not but Blank Verse may be also used : and content myself only to assert that in serious Plays, where the Subject and Characters are great, and the Plot unmixed with mirth (which might allay or divert these concernments which are produced), Rhyme is there, as natural, and more ejfectual than Blank Verse. [See pp. 575, 581.] And now having laid down this as a foundation : to begin with Crites, I must crave leave to tell him, that some of his arguments against Rhyme, reach no farther that from the faidts or defects of ill Rhyme to conclude against the use of it in Eng. Gar. III. 36 562 Neander confesses Rhyme is unfit for p- ^,'^65-^ general [p. 598]. May not I conclude against Blank Verse, by the same reason ? If the words of some Poets, who write in it, are either ill-chosen or ill-placed ; which makes not only Rhyme, but all kinds of Verse, in any language, unnatural: shall I, for their virtuous affectation, condemn those excellent lines of Fletcher, which are written in that kind ? Is there anything in Rhyme more constrained, than this line in Blank Verse ? I, heaven invoke! and strong resistance make. Where you see both the clauses are placed unnaturally ; that is, contrary to the common way of speaking, and that, with- out the excuse of a rhyme to cause it : yet you would think me very ridiculous, if I should accuse the stubbornness of Blank Verse for this ; and not rather, the stiffness of the Poet. Therefore, C rites ! you must either prove that words, iJwugJi well chosen and duly placed, yet render not Rhyme natural in itself; or that, however natural and easy the Rhyme may be, yet it is not proper for a Play. If you insist on the former part ; I would ask you what other conditions are required to make Rhyme natural in itself, besides an election of apt words, and a right disposing of them ? For the due choice of your words expresses your Sense naturally, and the due placing them adapts the Rhyme to it. [Seep. 584.] If you object that one verse may he made for the sake of another, though both the words and rhyme be apt, I answer it cannot possibly so fall out. For either there is a dependence of sense betwixt the first line and the second; or there is none. If there be that connection, then, in the natural position of the words, the latter line must, of necessity, flow from the former : if there be no dependence, yet, still, the due ordering of words makes the last line as natural in itself as the other. So that the necessity of a rliyme never forces anv but bad or lazy writers, to say what they would not otherwise. 'Tis true, there is both care and art required to write in Verse. A good Poet never concludes upon the first line, till he has sought out such a rhyme as may fit the Sense already prepared, to heighten the second. Many times, the Close of the Sense falls into the middle of the next verse, or farther J- ^/^6s!";] Comedy; but is fit for T raged y. 563 off: and he may often prevail [avail] himself of the same advantages in English, which Virgil had in Latin ; he may break off in the hemistich, and begin another line. Indeed, the not observing these two last things, makes Plays that are writ in Verse so tedious : for though, most commonly, the Sense is to be confined to the Couplet ; yet, nothing that does pcrpetuo tenore fluere, ' run in the same channel,' can please always. 'Tis like the murmuring of a stream : which, not varying in the fall, causes at first atten- tion ; at last, drowsiness. Variety of Cadences is the best Rule ; the greatest help to the Actors, and refresh- ment to the Audience. If, then, Verse may be made natttral in itself; how becomes it improper to a Play ? You say, ' The Stage is the Repre- sentation of Nature, and no man, in ordinary conversation, speaks in Rhyme ' : but you foresaw, when you said this, that it might be answered, ' Neither does any man speak in Blank Verse, or in measure without Rhyme !' therefore you concluded, 'That which is nearest Nature is still to be pre- ferred.' But you took no notice that Rhyme might be made as natural as Blank Verse, by the well placing of the words, &c. All the difference between them, when chey are both correct, is the sound in one, which the other wants : and if so, the sweetness of it, and all the advantages resulting from it which are handled in the Preface to the Rival Ladies [pp. 487-493], will yet stand good. As for that place of Aristotle, wdiere he says, 'Plays should be writ in that kind of Verse which is nearest Prose' : it makes little for you. Blank Verse being, properly, but Measured Prose. Now Measure, alone, in any modern language, does not constitute Verse. Those of the Ancients, in Greek and Latin, consisted in Quantity of Words, and a determinate number of Feet. But when, by the inundations of the Goths and Vandals, into Italy, new languages were brought in, and barbarously mingled with the Latin, of which, the Italian, Spanish, French, and ours (made out of them, and the Teutonic) are dialects : a New Way of Poesy was practised, new, I say, in those countries ; for, in all probability, it was that of the conquerors in their own nations. The New Way consisted of Measure or Number of Feet, and Rhyme. 564 Neander — The Romance Nations and \J- ^,Zf-"i. The sweetness of Rhyme and observation of Accent, supply- ing the place of Quantity in Words : which could neither exactly be observed by those r>arbarians who knew not the Rules of it ; neither was it suitable to their tongues, as it had been to the Greek and Latin. No man is tied in Modern Poesy, to observe any farther Rules in the Feet of his Verse, but that they be dissyllables (whether Spondee, Trochee, or Iambic, it matters not) ; only he is obliged to Rhyme. Neither do the Spanish, French, Italians, or Germans acknowledge at all, or very rarely, any such kind of Poesy as Blank Verse among them. There- fore, at most, 'tis but a Poetic Prose, a scrmo pcdcstris ; and, as such, most fit for Comedies: where I acknowledge Rhyme to be improper [pp. 539, 556, 558, 583]. Farther, as to that quotation of Aristotle, our Couplet Verses may be rendered as near Prose, as Blank Verse itself; by using those advantages I lately named, as Breaks in the Hemistich, or Running the Sense into another line: thereby, making Art and Order appear as loose and free as Nature. Or, not tying ourselves to Couplets strictly, we may use the benefit of the Pindaric way, practised in the Siege of Rhodes; where the numbers vary, and the rhyme is disposed carelessly, and far from often chiming. Neither is that other advantage of the Ancients to be de- spised, of changing the Kind of Verse, when they please, with the change of the Scene, or some new Entrance. For they con- fine not themselves always" to Iambics; but extend their liberty to all Lyric Numbers; and sometimes, even, to Hexameter. I]ut I need not go so far, to prove that Rhyme, as it suc- ceeds to all other offices of Greek and Latin Verse, so especially to this of Plays ; since the custom of all nations, at this day, confirms it. All the French, Italian, and Spanish Tragedies are generally writ in it ; and, sure'lyl, the Universal Consent of the most civilised parts of the world ought in this, Js it doth in other customs, [to] include the rest. But perhaps, you may tell me, I have proposed such away to make Rli^me naiiiyal ; and, consequently, proper to Plays, as is impracticable; and that I shall scarce find six or eight lines together in a Play, where the words are so placed and chosen, as is required to make it natural. J- ^/g^J.";] THE Germans have no Blank Verse. 565 I answer, no Poet need constrain himself, at all times, to it. It is enough, he makes it his general rule. For I deny not but sometimes there may be a greatness in placing the words otherwise; and sometimes they may sound better. Sometimes also, the variety itself is excuse enough. But if, for the most part, the words be placed, as they are in the negligence of Prose ; it is sufficient to denominate the way practicable : for we esteem that to be such, which, in the trial, oftener succeeds than misses. And thus far, you may find the practice made good in many Plays : where, you do not remember still ! that if you cannot find six natural Rhymes together; it will be as hard for you to produce as many lines in Blank Verse, even among the greatest of our poets, against which I cannot make some reasonable exception. And this, Sir, calls to my remembrance the beginning of your discourse, where you told us we should never find Ihe audience favourable to this kind ofiuriting, till we could produce as good plays in Rhyme, as Ben. Johnson, Fletcher, and Shakespeare had writ ozf2! of it [/). 558]. But it is to raise envy to the Living, to compare them with the Dead. They are honoured, and almost adored by us, as they deserve ; neither do I know any so presumptuous of themselves, as to contend with them. Yet give me leave to say thus much, without in- jury to their ashes, that not only we shall never equal them ; but they could never equal themselves, were they to rise, and write again. We acknowledge them our Fathers in Wit : but they have ruined their estates themselves before they came to their children's hands. There is scarce a Humour, a Character, or any kind of Plot ; which they have not blown upon. All comes sullied or wasted to us : and were they to entertain this Age, they could not make so plenteous treat- ments out of such decayed fortunes. This, therefore, will be a good argument to us, either not to write at all ; or to attempt some other way. There are no Bays to be expected in their walks, Tentanda via est qua me quoque possum tollere humo. This way of Writing in Verse, they have only left free to us. Our Age is arrived to a perfection in it, which they never knew : and which (if we may guess by what of theirs we have seen in Verse, as the Faithful Shepherdess and Sad 566 Neander — Blank Verse is too low for [J- ^2'oy"\ Shepherd) 'tis probable they never could have reached. For the Genius of every Age is different : and though ours excel in this; I deny not but that to imitate Nature in that perfec- tion which they did in Prose [i.e., Blank Verse] is a greater commendation than to write in Verse exactly. As for what you have added, that the people are not generally inclined to like this way : if it were true, it would be no wonder but betwixt the shaking off of an old habit, and the introduc- ing of a new, there should be difficulty. Do we not see them stick to Hopkins and Sternhold's Psalms ; and forsake thos3 of David, I mean Sandys his Translation of them ? If, by ihQ people, you. understand the Multitude, the oIttoWol; 'tis no matter, what they think ! They are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong. Their judgement is a mere lottery. Est nbi plehs recte putat, est nhipeccat. Horace says it of the Vulgar, judging Poesy. But if you mean, the mixed Audience of the Populace and the Noblesse : I dare confidently affirm, that a great part of the latter sort are already favourable to Verse; and that no serious Plays, writ- ten since the King's return [May 1660], have been more kindly received by them, than the Siege of Rhodes, the MuSTAPHA, the Indian Queen and Indian Emperor. [Seep. 503.] But I come now to the Inference of your first argument. You said, ' The dialogue of Plays is presented as the eftect of sudden thought ; but no one speaks suddenly or, ex tempore, in Rhyme ' [p. 498] : and your inferred from thence, that Rhyme, which you acknowledge to be proper to Epic Poesy [p. 559], cannot equally be proper to Dramatic; unless we could suppose all men born so much more than poets, that verses should be made in them, not by them. It has been formerly urged by 3^ou [p. 499] and confessed by me \p. 563] that ' since no man spoke any kind of verse ex tempore ; that which was nearest Nature was to be pre- ferred.' I answer you, therefore, by distinguishing betwixt what is nearest to the nature of Comedy : which is the Imi- tation of common persons and Ordinary Speaking: and, what is nearest the nature of a serious Play. This last is, indeed, the Representation of Nature ; but 'tis Nature wrought up to an higher pitch. The Plot, the Characters, the Wit, the Passions, the Descriptions are all exalted above the level of J- ^,76*5!":] A Poem ; how much more for a Tragedy ? 567 common converse [conversniion'], as high as the Imagination of the Poet can carry them, with proportion to verisimiUty [verisimiliUtde] . Tragedy, we know, is wont to Image to us the minds and fortunes of noble persons : and to pourtray these exactly, Heroic Rhyme is nearest Nature ; as being the noblest kind of Modern Verse. Indignatiir enim privatis, et prope socco, D ignis carminihus narrari ccena ThyesTQL, says Horace. And in another place, Ejfutire leveis indigna tragcedia versus. Blank Verse is acknowledged to be too low for a Poem, nay more, for a paper of Verses [pp. 473, 498, 559] ; but if too low for an ordinary Sonnet, how much more for Tragedy 1 which is, by Aristotle, in the dispute between the Epic Poesy and the Dramatic, (for many reasons he there alleges) ranked above it. But setting this defence aside, your argument is almost as strong against the use of Rhyme in Poems, as in Plays. For the Epic way is everywhere interlaced with Dialogue or Dis- coursive Scenes: and, therefore, you must either grant Rhyme to be improper there, which is contrary to your assertion ; or admit it into Plays, by the same title which you have given it to Poems. For though Tragedy be justly preferred above the other, yet there is a great affinity between them; as may easily be discovered in that Definition of a Play, which Lisideius gave us [p. 513]. The genus of them is the same, A just and LIVELY Image of Human Nature, in its ACTIONS, PASSIONS, AND TRAVERSES OF Fortune: so is the End, namely, for the de- light AND benefit of MANKIND. The Characters and Persons are still the same, viz., the greatest of both sorts : only the manner of acquainting us with those actions, passions, and fortunes is different. Tragedy performs it, viva voce, or by Action in Dialogue: wherein it excels the Epic Poem ; which does it, chiefly, by Narration, and there- fore is not so lively an Image of Human Nature. However, 568 Neander — Rhymed Repartees are no p- ^.'^J"; the agreement betwixt them is such, that if Rhyme be proper for one, it must be for the other. Verse, 'tis true, is not 'the effect of Sudden Thought.' But this hinders not, that Sudden Thought may be repre- sented in Verse : since those thoughts are such, as must be higher than Nature can raise them without premeditation, especially, to a continuance of them, even out of Verse : and, consequently, you cannot imagine them, to have been sudden, either in the Poet or the Actors. A Play, as I have said, to be like Nature, is to be set above it; as statues which are placed on high, are made greater than the life, that they may descend to the sight, in their just proportion. Perhaps, I have insisted too long upon this objection ; but the clearing of it, will make my stay shorter on the rest. You tell us, Crites! that 'Rhyme is most unnatural in Repartees or Short Replies : when he who answers, it being presumed he knew not what the other would say, yet makes up that part of the Verse which was left incomplete; and sup- plies both the sound and the measure of it. This,' you say, * looks rather like the Confederacy of two, than the Answer of one [p. 498, 559.].' This, I confess, is an objection which is in every one's mouth, who loves not Rhyme ; but suppose, I beseech you ! the Repartee were made only in Blank Verse ; might not part of the same argument be turned against you ? For the measure is as often supplied there, as it is in Rhyme : the latter half of the hemistich as commonly made up, or a second line subjoined as a reply to the former; which any one leaf in Johnson's Plays will sufficiently make clear to you. You will often find in the Greek Tragedians, and in Seneca; that when a Scene grows up into the warmth of Repartees, which is the close fighting of it, the latter part of the trimeter is supplied by him who answers : and yet it was never ob- served as a fault in them, by any of the Ancient or Modern critics. The case is the same in our verse, as it was in theirs : Rhyme to us, being in lieu of Quantity to them. But if no latitude is to be allowed a Poet ; you take from him, not only his license of quidlibct aiidcndi : but you tie him up in a straighter compass than you would a Philosopher. J- ^.'^J.";] MORE A Confederacy than a Dance is. 569 This is, indeed, Musas colere sevcriores. You would have him follow Nature, but he must follow her on foot. You have dismounted him from his Pegasus ! But you tell us ' this supplying the last half of a verse, or adjoining a whole second to the former, looks more like the Design of two, than the Answer of one [/>/>. 498, 559].' Suppose we acknowledge it. How comes this Confederacy to be more displeasing to you, than a dance which is well contrived ? You see there, the united Design of many persons to make up one Figure. After they have separated themselves in many petty divisions ; they rejoin, one by one, into the gross. The Confederacy is plain amongst them ; for Chance could never produce anything so beautiful, and yet there is nothing in it that shocks your sight. I acknowdedge that the hand of Art appears in Repartee, as, of necessity, it must in all kind[s] of Verse. But there is, also, the quick and poignant brevity of it (which is a high Imitation of Nature, in those sudden gusts of passion) to mingle with it : and this joined with the cadency and sweet- ness of the Rhyme, leaves nothing in the Soul of the Hearer to desire. 'Tis an Art which appears ; but it appears only like the shadowings of painture [painting], which, being to cause the rounding of it, cannot be absent : but while that is con- sidered, they are lost. So while we attend to the other beauties of the Matter, the care and labour of the Rhyme is carried from us ; or, at least, drowned in its own sweetness, as bees are some times buried in their honey. When a Poet has found the Repartee ; the last perfection he can add to it, is to put it into Verse. However good the Thought may be, however apt the Words in which 'tis couched; yet he finds himself at a little unrest, while Rhyme is wanting. He cannot leave it, till that comes naturally ; and then is at ease, and sits down contented. From Replies, which are the most elevated thoughts of Verse, you pass to the most mean ones, those which are common with the lowest of household conversation. In these you say, the majesty of the Verse suffers. You instance in "the calling of a servant " or "commanding a door to be shut " in Rhyme. This, Crites ! is a good observation of yours ; but no argument. For it proves no more, but that such thoughts should be waved, as often as may be, by the 570 Neander — The English Language is [^■'^^o^-^. address of the Poet. But suppose they are necessary in the places where he uses them ; yet there is no need to put them into rhyme. He may place them in the beginning of a verse and break it off, as unfit (when so debased) for any other use: or granting the worst, that they require more room than the hemistich will allow; yet still, there is a choice to be made of best words and least vulgar (provided they be apt) to express such thoughts. Many have blamed Rhyme in general for this fault, when the Poet, with a little care, might have redressed it : but they do it, with no more justice, than if English Poesy should be made ridiculous, for the sake of [John Taylor] the Water Poet's rhymes. Our language is noble, full, and significant ; and I know not why he who is master of it, may not clothe ordinary things in it, as decently as the Latin ; if he use the same diligence in his choice of words. Delectus verborum origo est eloquentice w-as the saying of Julius C^sar; one so curious in his, that none of them can be changed but for the worse. One w^ould think "Unlock the door!" was a thing as vulgar as could be spoken ; and yet Seneca could make it sound high and lofty, in his Latin — Reserate clusos regit posies Laris. But I turn from this exception, both because it happens not above twice or thrice in any Play, that those vulgar thoughts are used : and then too, were there no other apology to be made, yet the necessity of them (which is, alike, in all kind[s] of writing) may excuse them. Besides that, the great eagerness and precipitation with which they are spoken, makes us rather mind the substance than the dress ; that for which they are spoken, rather than what is spoke [n]. For they are always ihe effect of some hasty concernment ; and something of consequence depends upon them. Thus, Crites ! I have endeavoured to answer your objections. It remains only that I should vindicate an argument for Verse, which you have gone about to overthrow. It had formerly been said 'b 492] that, 'The easiness of ^' ^iS-":] NOBLE, FULL, AND SIGNIFICANT. 57I Blank Verse renders the Poet too luxuriant ; but that the labour of Rhyme bounds and circumscribes an over fruitful fancy : the Sense there being commonly confined to the Couplet ; and the words so ordered that the Rhyme naturally follows them, not they, the Rhyme.' To this, you answered, that ' It was no argument to the question in hand : for the dispute was not which way a man may write best ; but which is most proper for the subject on which he writes [p. 498].' First. Give me leave, Sir, to remember you ! that the argument on which 5'Ou raised this objection was only secondary. It was built upon the hypothesis, that to write in Verse was proper for serious Plays. Which supposition being granted (as it was briefly made out in that discourse, by shewing how Verse might be made natural) : it asserted that this way of writing was a help to the Poet's judgement, by putting bounds to a wild, overflowing Fancy. I think therefore it will not be hard for me to make good what it was to prove. But you add, that, 'Were this let pass ; yet he who wants judgement in the liberty of the Fancy, may as well shew the defect of it, when he is confined to Verse : for he who has judgement, will avoid errors ; and he who has it not will commit them in all kinds of writing [pp. 498, 560].' This argument, as you have taken it from a most acute person, so I confess it carries much weight in it. But by using the word Judgement here indefinitely, you seem to have put a fallacy upon us. I grant he who has judgement, that is, so profound, so strong, so infallible a judgement that he needs no helps to keep it always poised and upright, will commit no faults ; either in Rhyme, or out of it : and, on the other extreme, he who has a judgement so weak and crazed, that no helps can correct or amend it, shall write scurvily out of Rhyme; and worse in it. But the first of these Judge- ments, is nowhere to be found ; and the latter is not fit to write at all. To speak, therefore, of Judgement as it is in the best Poets; they who have the greatest proportion of it, want other helps than from it within : as, for example, you would be loath to say that he who was endued with a sound judgement, had no need of history, geography, or moral philosophy, to write correctly. 5/2 CONCLUSIONOFTIIE DiSCUSSION. [J- ^Z^"?. Judgement is, indeed, the Master Workman in a Play; but he requires many subordinate hands, many tools to his assistance. And Verse, I affirm to be one of these. 'Tis a ' Rule and Line ' by which he keeps his building compact and even ; which, otherwise, lawless Imagination would raise, either irregularly or loosely. At least, if the Poet commits errors with this help ; he would make greater and more without it. 'Tis, in short, a slow and painful, but the surest kind of working. Ovid, whom you accuse [^^.561] for luxuriancy in Verse, had, perhaps, been farther guilty of it, had he writ in Prose. And for your instance of Ben. Johnson [p. 561] ; who, you say, writ exactly, without the help of Rhyme : you are to remember, 'tis only an aid to a luxuriant Fancy ; which his was not \P- 551]- As he did not want Imagination ; so, none ever said he had much to spare. Neither was Verse then refined so much, to be a help to that Age as it is to ours. Thus then, the second thoughts being usually the best, as receiving the maturest digestion from judgement ; and the last and most mature product of those thoughts, being art- full and laboured Verse : it may well be inferred, that Verse is a great help to a luxuriant Fancy. And this is what that argument, which you opposed, was to evince. Neander was pursuing this discourse so eagerly that EuGENius had called to him twice or thrice, ere he took notice that the barge stood still ; and that they were at the foot of Somerset vStairs, where they had appointed it to land. The company were all sorry to separate so soon, though a great part of the evening was already spent : and stood a while, looking back upon the water ; which the moonbeams played upon, and made it appear like floating quicksilver. At last, they went up, through a crowd of Frencli people, who were merrily dancing in the open air, and nothing con- cerned for the noise of the guns, which had alarmed the Town that afternoon. Walking thence together to the Piazza, they parted there, EuGENius and Lisideius, to some pleasant appointment they had made; and Crites and Neander to their several lodgings. FINIS. 57 The Honourable Sir Robert Howard, Auditor of the Exchequer. Preface to The great Favourite^ or the Duke of Lerma, [Published in 1668.] TO THE READER. Cannot plead the usual excuse for publishing this trifle, which is commonly the subject of most Prefaces, by charging it upon the importunity of friends ; for I confess I was myself willing, at the first desire of Mr. Herringman [the Publisher], to print it : not for any great opinion that I had entertained ; but for the opinion that others were pleased to express. Which, being told me by some friends, I was concerned to let the World judge what subject matter of offence was con- tained in it. Some were pleased to believe little of it mine ; but they are both obliging to me, though perhaps not inten- tionally : the last, by thinking there was anything in it that was worth so ill designed an envy, as to place it to another author; the others, perhaps the best bred Informers, by con- tinuing their displeasure towards me, since I most gratefully acknowledge to have received some advantage in the opinion of the sober part of the World, by the loss of theirs [p. 581]. For the subject, I came accidentally to write upon it. For a gentleman brought a Play to the King's Company, called. The Ditke of Lerma ; and, by them, I was desired to peruse it, and return my opinion, " Whether I thought it fit for the Stage ! " After I had read it, I acquainted them that, " In my judgement, it would not be of much use for such a design, 574 Occasion of writing The great Favourite^^"^"^^^ A. 668. since the Contrivance scarce would merit the name of a Plot ; and some of that, assisted by a disj^uise : and it ended abruptly. And on the person of Philip III., there was fixed such a mean Character; and on the dauj:;hter of the Duke of Lerma, such a vicious one: that I could not but judge it unfit to be presented by any that had a respect, not only to Princes, but indeed, to either Man or Woman." And, about that time, being to go in the country, I was persuaded by Mr. Hart to make it my diversion there, that so great a hint might not be lost, as the Duke of Lerma saving himself, in his last extremity, by his unexpected dis- guise : which is as wellin the true Story {hhtoyy'\, as the old Play. And besides that and the Names; my altering the most part of the Characters, and the whole Design, made me uncapable to use much more, though, perhaps, written with higher Style and Thoughts than I could attain to. I intend not to trouble myself nor the World any more in such subjects; but take my leave of these my too long ac- quaintances : since that little Fancy and Liberty I once en- joyed, is now fettered in business of more unpleasant natures. Yet, were I free to apply my thoughts, as my own choice directed them ; I should hardly again venture into the Civil Wars of Censures. [See pp. 5S6, 587.] Uhi . . . Nullos hahiiura triiimplios. In the next place. I must ingeniously confess that the manner of Plays, which now are in most esteem, is beyond my power to perform [p. 587] ; nor do I condemn, in the least, anything, of what nature soever, that pleases ; since nothing could appear to me a ruder folly, than to censure the satis- faction of others. I rather blame the unnecessary under- derstanding of some, that have laboured to give strict Rules to things tliat are not mathematical; and, with such eager- ness, pursuing their own seeming reasons, that, at last, we are to apprehend such Argumentative Poets will grow as strict as Sancho Panza's Doctor was, to our very appetites : for in the difference of Tragedy and Comedy, and of Pars [farce] itself, there can be no determination, but by the taste ; nor in the manner of their composure. And, v.'ho- IlowarJ i668, •J Tragedy, Comedy, & Farce not different. 575 ever would endeavour to like or dislike, by the Rules of others; he will be as unsuccessful, as if he should try to be persuaded into a power of believing, not what he must, but what others direct him to believe. But I confess, 'tis not necessary for Poets to study strict Reason : since they are so used to a greater latitude [pp. 568, 588], than is allowed by that severe Inquisition, that they must infringe their own Jurisdiction, to profess themselves obliged to argue well. I will not, therefore, pretend to say, why I writ this Play, some Scenes in Blank Verse, others in Rhyme; since I have no better a reason to give than Chance, which waited upon my present Fancy : and I expect no better reason from any Ingenious Person, than his Fancy, for which he best relishes. I cannot, therefore, but beg leave of the Reader, to take a little notice of the great pains the author of an Essay of Dra- matic Poesy has taken, to prove " Rhyme as natural in a serious Play, and more effectual i\\diX\ Blank Verse" [pp. ^61, 581]. Thus he states the question, but pursues that which he calls natural, in a wrong application : for 'tis not the question, whether Rhyme or not Rhyme be best or most natural for a grave or serious Subject : but what is nearest the nature of that which it presents [p. 581]. Now, after all the endeavours of that Ingenious Person, a Play will still be supposed to be a Composition of several per- sons speaking ex tempore and 'tis as certain, that good verses are the hardest things that can be imagined, to be so spoken [p. 582]. So that if any will be pleased to impose the rule of measuring things to be the best, by being nearest Nature; it is granted, by consequence, that which is most remote from the thing supposed, must needs be most improper : and, there- fore, I may justly say, that both I and the question were equally mistaken. For I do own I had rather read good verses, than either Blank Verse or Prose; and therefore the author did himself injury, if he like Verse so well in Plays, to lay down Rules to raise arguments, only unanswerable against himself. But the same author, being filled with the precedents of the Ancients writing their Plays in Verse, commends the thing; and assures us that **our language is noble, full, and significant," charging all defects upon the ill placing of words; 576 The Unities, figments based on Nothing. \_^°'l owai d. 668. and proves it, by quoting Seneca loftily expressing such an ordinary thing, as " shutting a door," [p. 585] Reserate chisos regii pastes Laris. I suppose he was himself highly affected with the sound of these words. But to have completed his Dictates [injunctions]] together with his arguments, he should have obliged us by charming our ears with such an art of placing words, as, in an English verse, to express so loftily "the shutting of a door" : that we might have been as much affected with the sound of his words. This, instead of being an argument upon the question, rightly stated, is an attempt to prove, that Nothing may seem Something by the help of a verse ; which I easily grant to be the ill fortune of it : and therefore, the question being so much mistaken, I wonder to see that author trouble himself twice about it, with such an absolute Triumph declared by his own imagination. But I have heard that a gentleman in Parlia- ment, going to speak twice, and being interrupted by another member, as against the Orders of the House : he was excused, by a third [member] assuring the House he had not yet spoken to the question [p. 582J. But, if we examine the General Rules laid down for Plays by strict Reason; we shall lind the errors equally gross: for the great Foundation that is laid to build upon, is Nothing, as it is generally stated ; which will appear on the examina- tion of the particulars. First. We are told the Plot should not be so ridiculously contrived, as to crowd several Countries into one Stage. Secondly, to cramp the accidents of many years or days, into the Representation of two hours and a half. And, lastly, a conclusion drawn that the only remaining dispute, is con- cerning Time ; whether it should be contained in twelve or four and twenty hours ; and the Place to be limited to the spot of ground, either in town or cit}^ where the Play is sup- posed to begin [p. 531]. And this is cdW^d nearest to Nature. For that is concluded most natural, which is most probable, and nearest to that which it presents. I am so well pleased with any ingenious offers, as all these Howard. 1668, •J There are no Rules in Dramatic Poesy. 577 are, that I should not examine this strictly, did not the con- fidence of others force me to it: there being not anything more unreasonable to my judgement, than the attempts to in- fringe the Liberty of Opinion by Rules so little demonstrative. To shew, therefore, upon what ill grounds, they dictate Laws- for Dramatic Poesy ; I shall endeavour to make it evident that there's no such thing, as what they All pretend [p. 592]. For, if strictly and duly weighed, 'tis as impossible for one Stage to represent two houses or two rooms truly, as two countries or kingdoms ; and as impossible that five hours or four and twenty hours should be two hours and a half, as that a thousand hours or years should be less than what they are, or the greatest part of time to be comprehended in the less. For all being impossible ; they are none of them nearest the Truth, or nature of what they present. For impossibilities are all equal, and admit no degrees. And, then, if all those Poets that have so fervently laboured to give Rules as Maxims, would but be pleased to abbreviate; or endure to hear their Reasons reduced into one strict Definition ; it must be. That there are degrees in impossibilities, and that many things, which are not possible, may yet be more or less im- possible ; and from this, proceed to give Rules to observe the least absurdity in things, which are not at all. I suppose, I need not trouble the Reader, with so imperti- nent a delay, to attempt a further confutation of such ill grounded Reasons, than, thus, by opening the true state of the case. Nor do I design to make any further use of it, than from hence, to draw this modest conclusion : That I would have all attempts of this nature, be submitted to the Fancy of others ; and bear the name of Propositions [p. 590], not of confident Laws, or Rules made by demonstration. And, then, I shall not discommend any Poet that dresses his Play in such a fashion as his Fancy best approves ; and fairly leave it for others to follow, if it appears to them most convenient and fullest of ornament. But, writing this Epistle, in much haste ; I had almost forgot one argument or observation, which that author has most good fortune in. It is in his Epistle Dedicatory, before his Essay of Dramatic Poesy, where, speaking of Rhymes in Plays, he desires it may be observed, ** That none are Eng. Gar. III. 37 578 DrYDEN, a self-deceived person! [^'"^""^eei* violent against it : but such as have not attempted it; or who have succeeded ill in the attempt {pp. 503, 539, 598]," which, as to myself and him, I easily acknowledge : for I confess none has written, in that wa}', better than himself; nor few worse than I. Yet, I hope he is so ingenious, that he would not wish this argument should extend further than to him and me. For if it should be received as a good one : all Divines and Philosophers would find a readier way of confutation than they yet have done, of any that should oppose the least Thesis or Definition, b}' saying, " They were denied by none but such as never attempted to write, or succeeded ill in the attempt." Thus, as I am one, that am extremely well pleased with most of the Propositions, which are ingeniously laid down in that Essay, for regulating the Stage : so I am also always concerned for the true honour of Reason, and would have no spurious issue fathered upon her Fancy, may be allowed her wantonness. But Reason is always pure and chaste : and, as it re- sembles the sun, in making all things clear ; it also resembles it, in its several positions. When it shines in full height, and directly ascendant over any subject, it leaves but little shadow : but, when descended and grown low, its oblique shining renders the shadow larger than the substance ; and gives the deceived person [i.e., Dryden] a wrong measure of his own proportion. Thus, begging the Reader's excuse, for this seeming im- pertinency ; I submit what I have written to the liberty of his unconfined opinion : which is all the favour I ask of others, to afford me. 579 Jo HN DrYDEN. A Defence of Kn Essay of Dramatic Poesy. Being an Answer to the Preface of The great Favourite or the Duke of Lerma. [Prefaced to the Second Edition of The Indian Emperor. 1668.] He former Edition of the Indian 'Emperor, being full of faults, which had escaped the printer; 1 have been willing to overlook this Second with more care : and, though I could not allow r yself so much time as was necessary, yet, by that little I have done, the press is freed from some gross errors which it had to answer for before. As for the more material faults of writing, whi h are properly mine ; though I see many of them, I want leisure to amend them. ' Tis enough for those, who make one Poem the business of their lives, to leave that correct * ; yet, excepting Virgil, I never met with any which was so, in any language. But while I was thus employed about this impression, there came to my hands, a new printed Play, called, The great Favourite, or the Duke of Lerma. The author of which, a noble and most ingenious Person, has done me the favour to make some observations and animadversions upon my Dramatic Essay. I must confess he might have better consulted his rep ita- tion, than by matching himself with so weak an advers ry. But if his honour be diminished in the choice of his an- tagonist, it is sufficiently recompensed in the election of his * O John ! John ! what an audacious avowal of carelessness, and want of finish ! E. A. 1880. 580 Banters Sir R. Howard Defence &c. p- ^'^'^ den. 668. cause : which being the weaker, in all appearance (as com- bating the received opinions of the best Ancient and Modern authors), will add to his glory, if he overcome ; and to the opinion of his generosity, if he be vanquished, since he engages at so great odds, and so (like a Cavalier) undertakes the protection of the weaker party. I have only to fear, on my own behalf, that so good a cause as mine, may not suffer by my ill management or weak defence ; yet I cannot, in honour, but take the glove, when 'tis offered me : though I am only a Champion, by succession; and, no more able to defend the right of Aristotle and Horace, than an infant Dymock, to maintain the title of a King. For my own concernment in the controversy, it is so small, that I can easily be contented to be driven from a few Notions of Dramatic Poesy, especially by one who has the reputation of understanding all things [1] : and I might justly make that excuse for my yielding to him, which the Philo- sopher made to the Emperor, " Why should I offer to contend with him, who is Master of more than twenty Legions of Arts and Sciences ! " But I am forced to fight, and there- fore it will be no shame to be overcome. Yet, I am so much his servant as not to meddle with anything which does not concern mc in his Preface. There- fore, I leave the good sense, and other excellencies of the first twenty lines [i.e., of the Preface, see p. 573] to be con- sidered by the critics. As for the Play of The Duke of Lerma ; having so much al ered and beautified it, as he has done, it can be justly belong to none but him. Indeed, they must be extreme[ly] ignorant as well as envious, who would rob him of that honour : for you see him putting in his claim to it, even in the first two lines. Repulse Mpon repulse, like waves thrown hack. That slide to hang upon obdurate rocks. After thir,, let Detraction do its worst I for if this be not •^' ^"^'iliTs.] Defence &c. & returns his Salute. 581 his, it deserves to be. For my part, I declare for Distributive Justice ! and from this, and what follows, he certainly de- serves tlio^e advantages, which he acknowledges, to have received from the opinion of sober men [p. 573]. In the next place, I must beg leave to observe his great address in courting the Reader to his party. For, intending to assault all Poets both Ancient and Modern, he discovers not his whole Design at once ; but seems only to aim at me, and attack me on my weakest side, my Defence of Verse. To begin with me. He gives me the compellation of "The Author of a Dramatic Essay"; which is a little Dis- course in dialogue, for the most part borrowed from the observations of others. Therefore, that I may not be wanting to him in civility, I return his compliment, by calling him, *' The Author of The Duke of Lerma." But, that I may pass over his salute, he takes notice [p. 575] of my great pains to prove " Rhyme as natural in a serious Play; and more effectual that Blank Verse " [p. 561]. Thus, indeed, I did state the question, but he tells me, I pursue that which I call natural, in a wrong application; for 'tis not the question whether Rhyme or not Rhyme be best or most natural for a serious Subject ; but what is nearest the nature of that it represents [p. 575]. If I have formerly mistaken the question ; I must confess my ignorance so far, as to say I continue still in my mistake. But he ought to have proved that I mistook it ; for 'tis yet but gratis dictum. I still shall think I have gained my point, if I can prove that " Rhyme is best or most natural for a serious Subject." As for the question, as he states it, " Whether Rhyme be nearest the nature of what it represents"; I wonder he should think me so ridiculous as to dispute whether Prose or Verse be nearest to ordinary conversation ? It still remains for him, to prove his Inference, that, Since Verse is granted to be more remote than Prose from ordinary conversation ; therefore no serious Plays ought to be writ in Verse : and when he clearly makes that good, I will ac- knowledge his victory as absolute as he can desire it. The question now is, which of us two has mistaken it ? 5S2 Literal v. Poetic Likeness. Defeaxe &c. p- '^'^f^ en. 668. And if it appear I have not, the World will suspect what gentle- man that was, who was allowed to speak twice in Parliament, because he had not yet spoken to the question [p. 576]: and, per- haps, conclude it to be the same, who (as 'tis reported) maintained a contradiction in terminis, in the face of three hundred persons. But to return to Verse. Whether it be natural or not in Plays, is a problem which is not demonstrable, of either side. 'Tis enough for me, that he acknowledges that he had rather read good Verse than Prose [p. 575] : for if all the enemies of Verse will confess as much, I shall not need to prove that it is natural. I am satisfied, if it cause Delight ; for Delight is the chief, if not the only end of Poesy. Instruction can be admitted but in the second place ; for Poesy only instructs as it delights. [Sec pp. 513, 584, 588.] 'Tis true, that to Imitate Well is a Poet's work: but to affect the soul, and excite the passions, and, above all, to move Admiration [wondering astonishment] (which is the Delight of serious Plays), a bare Imitation will not serve. The converse [conversation] therefore, which a Poet is to imitate, must be heightened with all the arts and ornaments of Poesy; and must be such as, strictly considered, could never be supposed [to be] spoken by any, without premeditation. As for what he urges, that, A Play will still he supposed to he a composition of several persons speaking ex tempore ; and that good verses are the hardest things, which can be imagined, to be so spoken [/».575] : I must crave leave to dissent from his opinion, as to the former part of it. For, if I am not deceived, A Play is supposed to be the work of the Poet, imitating or representing the conversation of several persons : and this I think to be as clear, as he thinks the contrary. But I will be bolder, and do not doubt to make it good, though a paradox, that, One great reason why Prose is not to be used in serious Plays is because it is too near the nature of converse [conversation]. There may be too great a likeness. As the most skilful painters affirm there may be too near a resemblance in a picture. To take every lineament and feature is not to make an excellent piece, but to take so much only as will make a beautiful resemblance of the whole ; and, ^' ^'^iiosj Defence &c. Prose, Blank Verse, Rhyme. 583 with an ingenious flattery of Nature, to heighten the beauties of some parts, and hide the deformities of the rest. For so, says Horace — Ut ptdura Poesis erit HcBc amat ohscurum ; vult hcec sub luce videri^ Judicis argutum qucB non formidat acumen. Et quce Desperat, tractata nitescere posse, relinquit. In Bartholomew Fair, or the lowest kind of Comedy, that degree of heightening is used which is proper to set off that subject. 'Tis true, the author was not there to go out of Prose, as he does in his higher arguments of Comedy, the Fox and Alchemist; yet he does so raise his matter in that Prose, as to render it dehghtful : which he could never have performed had he only said or done those very things that are daily spoken or practised in the Fair. For then, the Fair itself would be as full of pleasure to an Ingenious Person, as the Play ; which we manifestly see it is not : but he hath made an excellent Lazar of it. The copy is of price, though the origin be vile. You see in Catiline and SEyANUS; where the argument is great, he sometimes ascends to Verse, which shews he thought it not unnatural in serious Plays : and had his genius been as proper for Rhyme as it was for Humour, or had the Age in which he lived, attained to as much knowledge in Verse, as ours ; 'tis probable he would have adorned those Subjects with that kind of writing [seep. 558]. Thus Prose, though the rightful Prince, yet is, by common consent, deposed ; as too weak for the Government of serious Plays : and he failing, there now start up two competitors! one, the nearer in blood, which is Blank Verse; the other, more fit for the ends of Government, which is Rhyme. Blank Verse is, indeed, the nearer Prose; but he is blemished with the weakness of his predecessor. Rhyme (for I will deal clearly!) has somewhat of the Usurper in him ; but he is brave and generous, and his dominion pleasing. For this reason of Delight, the Ancients (whom I will still believe as wise as those who so confidently correct them) wrote all their 584 Dryden's great error. Defence &c.\^ . Drvden. 1668. Tragedies in Verse: though they knew it most remote from conversation. But I perceive I am falling into the danger of another re- buke from my opponent : for when I plead that " the Ancients used Verse," I prove not that, They would have admitted Rhyme, had it then been written. All I can say, is, That it seems to have succeeded Verse, by the general consent of Poets in all modern languages. For almost all their serious Plays are written in it : which, though it be no Demonstration that therefore it ought to be so ; yet, at least, the Practice first, and then the Continua- tion of it shews that it attained the end, which was, to Please. And if that cannot be compassed here, I will be the first who shall lay it down. For I confess my chief endeavours are to delight the Age in which I live [p. 582]. If the Humour of this, be for Low Comedy, small Accidents [Incidents], and Raillery ; I will force my genius to obey it : though, with more reputation, I could write in Verse. I know, I am not so fitted, by nature, to write Comedy. I want that gaiety of Humour which is required to it. My conversation is dull and slow. My Humour is saturnine and reserved. In short, I am none of those, who endeavour to break jests in company, or make repartees. So that those who decry my Comedies, do me no injury, except it be in point of profit. Reputation in thein is the last thing to which I shall pretend. I beg pardon for entertaining the reader with so ill a subject : but before I quit that argument, which was the cause of this digression ; I cannot but take notice how I am corrected for my quotation of Seneca, in my defence of Plays in Verse. [See pp. 560, 575.] My words were these [p. 570] : ** Our language is noble, full, and significant ; and I know not why he, who is master of it, may not clothe ordinary things in it, as decently as the Latin ; if he use the same diligence in his choice of words." One would think, " Unlock the door," was a thing as vulgar as could be spoken : yet Seneca could make it sound high and lofty in his Latin. Reserate clusos regii posies Laris, ^' ^'^i66s:] Defence &c. Sir Robert's bad Latin. 5S5 But he says of me, That being filled with the precedents of the Ancients who Writ their Plays in Verse, I commend the thing; declaring our language to be fidl, noble, and significant, and charging all the dejects upon the ill placing of words ; which I prove by quoting Seneca's loftily expressing such an ordinary thing as shutting the door [pp. 575-576]. Here he manifestly mistakes. For I spoke not of the Placing, but the Choice of words : for which I quoted that aphorism of Julius C^sar, Delectus verborum est origo elo- qucnticE. But delectus verborum is no more Latin for the "Placing of words;" than Reserate is Latin ior " Shut iho. the door ! " as he interprets it ; which I, ignorantly, construed " Unlock or open it ! " He supposes I was highly affected with the vSound of these words ; and I suppose I may more justly imagine it of him : for if he had not been extremely satisfied with the Sound, he would have minded the Sense a little better. But these are, now, to be no faults. For, ten days after his book was published, and that his mistakes are grown so famous that they are come back to him, he sends his Errata to be printed, and annexed to his Play ; and desires that in- stead of Shutting, you should read Opening, which, it seems, was the printer's fault. I wonder at his modesty ! that he did not rather say it was Seneca's or mine : and that in some authors, Reserate was to Shut as well as to Open; as the word Barach, say the learned, is [in Hebrew] both to Bless and Curse. Well, since it was the printer['s fault] ; he was a naughty man, to commit the same mistake twice in six lines. I warrant you ! Delectus verborum for Placing of words, was his mistake too ; though the author forgot to tell him of it. If it were my book, I assure you it should [be]. For those rascals ought to be the proxies of every Gentleman-Author ; and to be chastised for him, when he is not pleased to own an error. Yet, since he has given the Errata, I wish he would have enlarged them only a few sheets more ; and then he would have spared me the labour of an answer. For this cursed printer is so given to mistakes, that there is scarce a sentence in the Preface without some false grammar, or hard sense [i.e., difficidty in gathering the meaning] in it ; which will all be 586 Sir Robert's worse English. Defence &cS^- ^'^; den. 1668. charged upon the Poet : because he is so good natured as to lay but three errors to the Printer's account, and to take the rest upon himself; who is better able to support them. But he needs not [to] apprehend that I should strictly examine those little faults ; except I am called upon to do it. I shall return, therefore, to that quotation of Seneca ; and answer not to what he writes, but to what he means. . I never intended it as an Argument, but only as an Illus- tration of what I had said before [p. 570] concerning the Election of words. And all he can charge me with, is only this, That if Seneca could make an ordinary thing sound well in Latin by the choice of words ; the same, with like care, might be performed in English. If it cannot, I have committed an error on the right hand, by commending too much, the copiousness and well sounding of our language : which I hope my countrymen will pardon me. At least, the words which follow in my Dramatic Essay will plead somewhat in my be- half. For I say there [p. 570], That this objection happens but seldom in a Play ; and then too, either the meanness of the expression may be avoided, or shut out from the verse by breaking it in the midst. But I have said too much in the Defence of Verse. For, after all, 'tis a very indifferent thing to me, whether it obtain or not. I am content, hereafter to be ordered by his rule, that is, "to write it, sometimes, because it pleases me" [p. 575] ; and so much the rather, because "he has declared that it pleases him " [p. 575]. But, he has taken his last farewell of the Muses ; and he has done it civilly, by honouring them with the name of his louf^ acquaintances [p. 574] : which is a compliment they have scarce deserved from iiim. For my own part, I bear a share in the public loss ; and how emulous soever I may be, of his Fame and Reputation, I cannot but give this testimony of his Style, that it is ex- treme[ly] poetical, even in Oratory ; his Thoughts elevated, sometimes above common apprehension ; his Notions politic and grave, and tending to the instruction of Princes and re- formation of State : that they are abundantly interlaced with variety of fancies, tropes, and figures, which the Critics have ^' '^Zfes'^ Defence &c. He has left the Muses ! 587 enviously branded with the name of Obscurity and False Grammar. Well, he is now fettered in business of more unpleasant nature [p. 574]. The Muses have lost him, but the Commonwealth gains by it. The corruption of a Poet is the generation of a Statesman. He will not venture again into the Civil Wars of Censure [Criticism]. Ubi .... nullos habitura triumphos [p. 574]. If he had not told us, he had left the Muses ; we might have half suspected it by that word, tibi, which does not any way belong to thein, in that place. The rest of the verse is indeed Lucan's : but that ubi, I will answer for it, is his own. Yet he has another reason for this disgust of Poesy. For he says, immediately after, that the manner of Plays which are now in most esteem, is beyond his power to perform [p. 574]. To perform the manner of a thing, is new English to me. However he condemns not the satisfaction of others, but rather their unnecessary understanding ; who, like Sancho Panza's Doctor, prescribe too strictly to our appetites. For, says he, in the difference of Tragedy and Comedy and of Farce itself; there can be no determination but by the taste; nor in the manner of their composure [p. 574]. We shall see him, now, as great a Critic as he was a Poet : and the reason why he excelled so much in Poetry will be evident ; for it will have proceeded from the exactness of his Judgement. In the difference of Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce itself; there can be no determination but by the taste. I will not quarrel with the obscurity of this phrase, though I justly might : but beg his pardon, if I do not rightly understand him. If he means that there is no essential difference betwixt Comedy, Tragedy, and Farce ; but only what is made by people's taste, which distinguishes one of them from the other : that is so manifest an error, that I need lose no time to contra- dict it. Were there neither Judge, Taste, or Opinion in the world; yet they would differ in their natures. For the Action, 588 Poesy must^^ Ethical. Dei, 'tis absolutely impossible for a thing to he and not to be, at the same time : but, for a stone to move naturally upward, is only impossible ex parte materice ; but it is not impossible for the First Mover to alter the nature of it. His last assault, like that of a Frenchman, is most feeble. For where I have observed that "None have been violent against Verse; but such only as have not attempted it, or have succeeded ill in their attempt " [pp. 503, 539, 561, 578], he will needs, according to his usual custom, improve my Observation into an Argument, that he might have the glory to confute it. But I lay my observation at his feet: as I do my pen, which I have often employed, willingly, in his deserved com- mendations; and, now, most unwillingly, against his judge- ment. For his person and parts, I honour them, as much as any man living: and have had so many particular obligations to him, that I should be very ungrateful, if I did not acknowledge them to the World. But I gave not the first occasion of this Difference in Opinions. In my Epistle Dedicatory, before my Rival Ladies [pp. 487-493], I said somewhat in behalf of Verse: which he was pleased to answer in his Preface to his Plays [//>. 494- 500]. That occasioned my reply in my Essay [pp. 501-572] : and that reply begot his rejoinder in his Preface to The Duke of Lerma [pp. 573-578J. But, as I was the last who took up arms; I will be the first to lay them down. For what I have here written, I submit it wholly to him [p. 561]; and, if I do not hereafter answer what may be objected to this paper, I hope the World will not impute it to any other reason, than only the due respect which I have for so noble an opponent. 599 Samuel Daniel. DEL I A. Mtas prima canat veneres, postrema timiultus. IDelia and KOSAMOND augmented b'c. 1594.] To THE Right Honourable THE Lady Mary, Countess of Pembroke. Onder of these ! Glory of other times! Thou, whom Envy, ev'n, is forced f admire I Great Patroness of these my hnmble rhymes^ Which Thou, from out thy greatness, dost inspire ! Since only Thou hast deigned to raise them higher; Vouchsafe now, to accept them as thine own J Begotten by thy hand, and my desire ; Wherein my zeal, and thy great might is shown. And seeing this tmto the world is known ; O leave not, still, to grace thy work in me ! Let not the quickening seed he overthrown, Of that which may be horn to honour Thee ! Whereof, the travail I may challenge mine ; But yet the glory. Madam ! must be thine I 6oo Of the Fifty-five Sonnets which follow this Dedication, in the aug- mented edition of Delia ; we have already printed, from the earlier impression of 1591 (where they occur as an Appendix to Astrophel and Stella), ihQ following Nineteen in Volume I. pp. 5S0-594 ; together with nine other Sonnets (there numbered 3,6, 8, 10, 12, 13, 16, 23, and 25), which Daniel did not include in this Collection. There are variations in the readings of the two editions. Of this reprint of Delta, the following numbers are here omitted, and will be found in Volume I. 2. Go, wailing verse ! the infant of my love. Poem, I., 580. 3. If so it hap the offspring of my care. Sonnet I, I., 581. 9. If this be love, to draw a weary breath. Sonnet 22, I., 591. II. Tears, vows, and prayers gain the hardiest heart. Sonnet 4, I., 582. 13. Behold what hap PYGMALION had to frame. Sonnet 7, I., 584. 15. If a true heart and faith unfeigned. Sonnet 14, I., 587. 16. Happy in sleep ; waking, content to languish. Soiinet 19, I., 590. 18. Since the first look that led me to this error. Sonnet 15, I., 588. 19. Restore thy tresses to the golden ore. Somiet 11, I., 586. 20. If Beauty bright be doubled with a frown. Somtet 20, I., 590. 21. Come Death ! the anchor hold of all my thoughts. Sonnet 21, I., 59 !• 22. These sorrowing sighs, the smokes of mine annoy. Sonnet 2, I., 581. 24. Look in my griefs ! and blame me not to mourn. Sonnet 18, I., 589. 25. Reign in my thoughts ! fair hand! sweet eye ! rare voice ! Sonnet 9, I., 585 26. Whilst by her eyes pursued, my poor heart flew it. \_Alluding to the sparroiu pursued by a haTvk, thatjleiv into the bosom o/Zenocra tes^ Sonnet 17,1.5589. 29. The star of my mishap imposed my paining. Sonnet 24, I., 592. 31. Raising my hope on hills of high desire. Sonnet 27, I., 594. 32. Why doth my mistress credit so her glass? Somiet 5, I., 5S3. 33. I once may I see, when years may wreck my wrong. Sonnet 26, I., 593. Between the two impressions, we therefore possess, so far in this series, sixty-five Sonnets, and the Ode on p. 620, written by this elegant Elizabethan poet. 6oi r^ T O DELIA SONNET I, Nto the boundless Ocean of thy beauty, Runs this poor river, charged with streams of zeal ; Returning Thee, the tribute of my duty, Which here my love, my youth, my plaints reveal. Here, I unclasp the Book of my charged Soul ; Where I have cast th'accounts of all my care : Here, have I summed my sighs. Here, I enrol How they were spent for thee ! Look ! what they are ! Look on the dear expenses of my youth ! And see how just I reckon with thine eyes ! Examine well, thy beauty with my truth ! And cross my cares, ere greater sums arise ! Read it. Sweet Maid ! though it be done but slightly : Who can shew all his love, doth love but lightly. 6o2 Delia, [^^Til: SONNET IV. Hese plaintive verse[s], the Posts of my desire, Which haste for succour to her slow regard; Bear not report of any slender fire, Forging a grief, to win a fame's reward. Nor are my passions limned for outward hue, For that no colours can depaint my sorrows : Delia herself, and all the world may view Best in my face, where cares hath tilled deep furrows. No bays I seek, to deck my mourning brow, O clear-eyed Rector of the holy Hill I My humble accents bear the olive bough Of intercession to a tyrant's will. These lines I use, t'unburden mine own heart ; My love affects no fame, nor 'steems of art. SONNET V. HiLST Youth and Error led my wandering mind, And set my thoughts, in heedless ways to range ; All unawares, a goddess chaste I find, D I AN A-like, to work my sudden change. For her, no sooner had mine eye bewrayed ; But with disdain to see me in that place. With fairest hand, the sweet unkindest maid Casts water-cold disdain upon my face : Which turned my sport into a hart's despair. Which still is chased, while I have any breath, By mine own thoughts, set on me by my Fair. My thoughts, like hounds, pursue me to my death. Those that I fostered, of mine own accord, Are made by her, to murder thus their Lord. S. Daniel. 1594 :] Delia. toi SONNET VI. Air is my love, and cruel as she's fair irowns, although her eyes are Her brow shades sunny ; Her smiles are lightening, though her pride despair; And her disdains are gall, her favours honey. A modest maid, decked with a blush of honour. Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love ; The wonder of all eyes that look upon her : Sacred on earth, designed a saint above, Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes, Live reconciled friends within her brow : And had she Pity, to conjoin with those ; Then who had heard the plaints I utter now ? O had she not been fair, and thus unkind ; My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind! S N N E T V 1 1. Had she not been fair, and thus unkind! Then had no finger pointed at my lightness. The world had never known what I do find. And clouds obscure had shaded still her brightness. Then had no Censor's eye these lines surveyed. Nor graver browns have judged my Muse so vain : No sun, my blush and error had bewrayed ; Nor yet the world had heard of such disdain. Then had I walked with bold erected face ; No downcast look had signified my miss : But my degraded hopes, with such disgrace, Did force me groan out griefs, and utter this. For, being full, should I not then have spoken ; My sense, oppressed, had failed, and heart had broken. 6o4 Delia . [~S. Daniel L ? 1594- And And Yet 'Tis SONNET VIII. Hou, poor Heart ! sacrificed unto the fairest, Hast sent the incense of thy sighs to heaven ! And still against her frowns, fresh vows repaiiest ; And made thy passions with her heauty even, you, mine Eyes ! the agents of my heart, Told the dumb message of my hidden grief: And oft, with careful tunes, with silent art, Did 'treat the cruel Fair to yield relief, you, my Verse ! the advocates of love. Have followed hard the process of my case : And urged that title, which doth plainly prove My faith should win, if justice might have place, though I see, that nought we do can move her; not disdain, must make me cease to love her. SONNET X. Then love I, and draw this weary breath For her, the cruel Fair; within whose brow, I, written find, the sentence of my death. In unkind letters, wrought, she cares not how! O thou that rul'st the confines of the night ! Laughter-loving Goddess ! Worldly pleasures' Queen ! Intenerate that heart ! that sets so light The truest love that ever yet was seen : An.l cause her leave to triumph, in this wise. Upon the prostrate spoil of that poor heart! That serves a Trophy to her conquering eyes, And must their glory to the world impart. Once, let her know ! sh' hath done enough to prove me; And let her pity, if she cannot love me ! %°^,"3S:] Delia. 605 SONNET XII. Y SPOTLESS love hovers, with purest wings, About the temple of the proudest frame ; Where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things, Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame. M' ambitious thoughts, confined in her face, Affect no honour, but what she can give : My hopes do rest in limits of her grace ; I weigh no comfort, unless she relieve. For she, that can my heart imparadise. Holds in her fairest hand, what dearest is. ]\Iy Fortune's Wheel 's the Circle of her Eyes ; Whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss ! All my life's sweet consists in her alone ; So much I love the most unloving one. SONNET XIV, Hose snary locks are those same nets, my Dear! Wherewith my liberty, thou didst surprise ! Love was the flame that fired me so near : The dart transpiercing were those crystal eyes. Strong is the net, and fervent is the flame ; Deep is the wound, my sighs do w^ell report. Yet I do love, adore, and praise the same That holds, that burns, that wounds in this sort ; And list not seek to break, to quench, to heal The bond, the flame, the wound that festereth zOy By knife, by liquor, or by salve to deal : So much I please to perish in my woe. Yet lest long travails be above my strength ; Good Delia! Loose, quench, heal me, now at length ! 6o6 Delia. S. Dairel. . ? 1594- SONNET XVII, Hy should I sing in verse? Why should I frame These sad neglected notes, for her dear sake ? Why should I offer up unto her name, The sweetest sacrifice my youth can make ? Why should I strive to make her live for ever, That never deigns to give me joy to live ? Why should m'afflicted Muse so much endeavour Such honour, unto cruelty to give ? If her defects have purchased her this fame ; What should her virtues do ? her smiles ? her love ? If this, her worst ; how should her best inflame ? What passions would her milder favours move ? Favours, I think, would sense quite overcome ; And that makes happy lovers ever dumb. SONNET XXII I. Alse Hope prolongs my ever certain grief, Traitor to me, and faithful to my Love. A thousand times it promised me relief, Yet never any true effect I prove. Oft, when I find in her no truth at all, I banish her, and blame her treacherv : Yet, soon again, I must her back recall. As one that dies without her company. Thus often, as I chase my Hope from me. Straightway, she hastes her unto Delia's eyes Fed with some pleasing look, there shall she be ; And so sent back. And thus my fortune lies. Looks feed my Hope, Hope fosters me in vain ; Hopes are unsure, when certain is my Pain. 5. Daniel."] ? 1594J Delia, 607 SONNET XXVII. Till in the trace of my tormented thought, My ceaseless cares must march on to my death. Thy least regard too dearly have I bought, Who, to my comfort, never deign'st a breath ! Why should'st thou stop thine ears now to my cries ? Whose eyes were open, ready to oppress me ! Why shutt'st thou not, the cause whence all did rise ? Or hear me now, or seek how to redress me 1 Injurious Delia! Yet, I'll love thee still ! Whilst that I breathe in sorrow of my smart ; I'll tell the world that I deserved but ill, And blame myself, for to excuse thy heart ! Then judge ! who sins the greater of us twain : I, in m.y love ; or thou, in thy disdain ! SONNET XXVIII. Ft do I marvel, whether Delia's eyes Are eyes, or else two radiant stars that shine ? For how could Nature ever thus devise Of earth, on earth, a substance so divine ? Stars, sure, they are 1 Whose motions rule desires ; And calm and tempest follow their aspects : Their sweet appearing still such power inspires. That makes the world admire so strange effects. Yet whether fixed or wandering stars are they. Whose influence rules the Orb of my poor heart ? Fixed, sure, they are 1 But wandering, make me stray In endless errors ; whence I cannot part. Stars, then, not eyes ! Move you, with milder view, Your sweet aspect on him that honours you ! 6o8 Delia. rS. D.-iniel. L ? 1594- SONNET XXX. Nd yet, I cannot reprehend the flight, Or blame th'attempt, presuming so to soar: The mounting venture, for a high dehght, Did make the honour of the fall the more. For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore ? Danger hath honour ! great designs, their fame ! Glory doth follow ! courage goes before ! And though th'event oft answers not the same ; Suffice that high attempts have never shame. The Mean-observer (whom base safety keeps) Lives without honour, dies without a name ; And in eternal darkness ever sleeps. And therefore, Delia! 'tis to me, no blot ; To have attempted, though attained thee not ! SONNET XXXIV. OoK, Delia! how we 'steem the half-blown rose, (The image of thy blush ! and summer's honour) Whilst, in her tender green, she doth inclose The pure sw^eet beauty Time bestows upon her ! No sooner spreads her glory in the air. But straight her full-blown pride is in declining ; She then is scorned, that late adorned the fair. So clouds thy beauty, after fairest shining ! No April can revive thy withered flowers, Whose blooming grace adorns thy glory now! Swift speedy Time, feathered with flying hours, Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. O let not then such riches waste in vain ! But love ! whilst that thou may'st be loved again ! ^''rs91:] Delia. 609 SONNET XXXV. Ut love ! whilst that thou may'st be loved again ! Now, whilst thy May hath filled thy lap with flowers ! Now, whilst thy beauty bears without a stain ! Now, use thy summer smiles, ere Winter lowers! And whilst thou spread'st unto the rising sun, The fairest flower that ever saw the light ; Now joy thy time, before thy sweet be done ! And, Delia! think thy morning must have night ! And that thy brightness sets at length to West ; When thou wilt close up that, which now thou showest ! And think the same becomes thy fading best, Which, then, shall hide it most, and cover lowest ! Men do not weigh the stalk, for that it was ; When once they find her flower, her glory pass. SONNET XXXVI, Hen men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass : And thou, with careful brow, sitting alone, j Received hast this message, from thy glass; That tells the truth, and says that " All is gone ! " Fresh shalt thou see in me, the wounds thou madest ; Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining. I that have loved thee thus before thou fadest. My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning! The world shall find this miracle in me, That fire can burn, when all the matter 's spent. Then what my faith hath been, thyself shalt see ! And that thou wast unkind, thou may'st repent ! Thou may'st repent, that thou hast scorned my tears. When Winter snows upon thy golden hairs. Eng. Gar. III. 39 6lO Delia rS. Daniel L ? 1 594. SONNET XXXVII. Hen Winter snows upon thy golden hairs, And frost of Age hath nipped thy flowers near ; When dark shall seem thy day, that never clears, And all lies withered that was held so dear: Then take this picture, which I here present thee ! Limned with a pencil, not all unworthy, Here, see the gifts that GOD and Nature lent thee ! Here, read thy Self! and what I suffered for thee ! This may remain thy lasting monument. Which, happily, posterity may cherish : These colours, with thy fading, are not spent ; These may remain, when thou and I shall perish. If they remain, then thou shalt live thereby ! They will remain, and so thou canst not diel Wj 1 SONNET XXXVIII. Hou canst not die, whilst any zeal abound In feeling hearts, that can conceive these lines: Though thou, a Laura, hast no Petrarch found ; In base attire, yet, clearly. Beauty shines. And I, though born within a colder clime, Do feel mine inward heat as great (I know it). He never had more faith, although more rhyme : I love as well, though he could better show it. But I may add one feather to thy fame, To help her flight throughout the fairest Isle ; And if my pen could more enlarge thy name, Then should'st thou live in an immortal style. For though that Laura better limned be ; Suffice, thou shalt be loved as well as she ! S. Daniel."] ? 1S94J Delia. 611 SONNET XXXIX. I Be not grieved that these my papers should Bewray unto the world, how fair thou art ! Or that my wits have shewed, the best they could, The chastest flame that ever warmed heart. Think not, sweet Delia! this shall be thy shame, My Muse should sound thy praise with mournful warble ! How many live, the glory of whose name Shall rest in ice, while thine is graved in marble ! Thou may'st, in after ages, live esteemed ! Unburied in these lines, reserved in pureness. These shall entomb those eyes, that have redeemed Me, from the vulgar ; thee, from all obscureness. Although my careful accents never moved thee ! Yet count it no disgrace, that I have loved thee ! SONNET XL, |Elia! These eyes that so admireth thine! Have seen those walls the which ambition reared To check the world. How they, entombed, have lain Within themselves: and on them ploughs have eared. Yet found I, that no barbarous hand attained The spoil of Fame, deserved by virtuous men, Whose glorious actions, luckily, had gained Th'eternal annals of a happy pen. Why then, though Delia fade ! let that not move her ! Though time do spoil her of the fairest veil That ever yet mortality did cover ; Which must instar the Needle and the Rail. That grace, that virtue, all that served t'in-woman, Doth her, unto eternity assommon. 6l2 Delia. rS. Dar L » IS "S. Dariel. JS94- SONNET X L I. Air and lovely Maid ! Look from the shore ! See thy Leander striving in these waves ! Poor soul ! quite spent, whose force can do no more. Now send forth hopes ! (for now calm pity saves) And waft him to thee, with those lovely eyes 1 A happy convoy to a Holy Land. Now show thy power 1 and where thy virtue lies ! To save thine own, stretch out the fairest hand ! Stretch out the fairest hand ! a pledge of peace ; That hand that darts so right, and never misses ! I shall forget old wrongs. My griefs shall cease. And that which gave me wounds, I'll give it kisses. O then, let th'ocean of my care find shore ! That thou be pleased, and I may sigh no more. SONNET X L I I, |Ead in my face, a volume of despairs ! The wailing Iliads of my tragic woe ; Drawn with my blood, and printed with my cares, Wrought by her hand that I have honoured so. Who, whilst I burn, she sings at my soul's wrack. Looking ah^ft from turret of her pride : There, my Soul's Tyrant 'joys her in the sack Of her own scat ; whereof I made her guide. There do these smokes, that from affliction rise, Ser"€ as an incense to a cruel Dame. A sacrifice thrice-grateful to her eyes, Because their power serves to exact the same. Thus ruins She, to satisfy her will, The Temple, where her name was honoured still. ? 1594- Delia. 613 SONNET X L 1 1 1. |Y Delia hath the waters of mine eyes, (The ready handmaids on her grace attending) That never fall to ebb, but ever rise; For to their flow, she never grants an ending. Th'ocean never did attend more duly Upon his Sovereign's course, the night's pale Queen ; Nor paid the impost of his waves more truly, Than mine unto her Deity have been. Yet nought, the rock of that hard heart can move ; Where beat these tears with zeal, and fury driveth : And yet, I rather languish in her love, Than I would joy the fairest she that liveth. I doubt to find such pleasure in ray gaining ; As now I taste, in compass of complaining. SONNET X L I V. Ow long shall I, in mine affliction mourn ? A burden to myself, distressed in mind ; When shall my interdicted hopes return From out despair, wherein they live confined ? When shall her troubled brow, charged with disdain, Reveal the treasure which her smiles impart ? When shall my faith that happiness attain. To break the ice, that hath congealed her heart ? Unto herself, herself my love doth summon, (If love in her, hath any power to move) : And let her tell me, as she is a woman. Whether my faith hath not deserved her love ? I know she cannot ! but must needs confess it ; Yet deigns not, with one simple sign t'express it. 6i4 Del I a , SONNET X L V. rS. Dan-el. i 1594- Eauty, sweet love ! is like the morning dew ; Whose short refresh upon the tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show: And straight 'tis gone, as it had never been. Soon doth it fade, that makes the fairest flourish; Short is the glory of the blushing rose : The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish ; Yet which, at length, thou must be forced to lose. When thou, surcharged with burden of thy years, Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth ; When Time hath made a passport for thy fears, Dated in age, the Kalends of our death : But, ah! no more! This hath been often told; And women grieve to think they must be old. SONNET XL VI. I Must not grieve my love! whose eyes would read Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile ! Flowers have a time, before they come to seed ; And she is young, and now must sport the while. Ah, sport ! sweet Maid ! in season of these years ; And learn to gather flowers before they wither ! And where the sweetest blossom first appears ; Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither! Lighten forth smiles ! to clear the clouded air. And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise I Pity and Smiles do best become the fair; Pity and Smiles shall yield thee lasting praise! I hope to say, when all my griefs are gone, " Happy the heart, that sighed for such a one ! " S'^ta Delia, O15 SONNET XLV 1 1 . A t the A utho/s going into Italy. Whither, poor Forsaken ! wilt thou go ? To go from sorrow, and thine own distress ; Wlien every place presents like face of woe, And no remove can make thy sorrows less ! Yet go, Forsaken ! Leave these woods, these plains ! Leave her and all ! and all for her, that leaves Thee and thy love forlorn ; and both disdains : And of both, wrongful deems, and ill conceives. Seek out some place ! and see if any place Can give the least release unto thy grief ! Convey thee from the thought of thy disgrace ! Steal from thy self ! and be thy cares own thief! But yet what comfort, shall I hereby gain ? Bearing the wound, I needs must feel the pain. SONNE T XL VIII. C This Sonnet was made at the Author's being in Italy. Rawn with th'attractive virtue of her eyes, My touched heart turns it to that happy coast ; My joyful North ! where all my fortune lies, The level of my hopes desired most. There, where my Delia, fairer than the sun. Decked with her youth, whereon the world doth smile, Joys in that honour, which her eyes have won : Th'eternal wonder of our happy isle. Flourish, fair Albion !, Glory of the North ! Neptune's best darling! held between his arms: Divided from the world, as better worth ; Kept for himself, defended from all harms ! Still let disarmed peace deck her, and thee ! And Muse-foe Mars, abroad far fostered be ! 6i6 Delia. \^-^'ilt L J 1 594' SONNET X LI X. ARE-charmer Sleep ! Son of the sable Night ! Brother to Death ! In silent darkness, born ! Relieve my anguish, and restore the light ! With dark forgetting of my cares, return! And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth 1 Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, Without the torment of the night's untruth ! Cease, Dreams ! th'imag'ry of our day desires. To model forth the passions of the morrow ! Never let rising sun approve you liars ! To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow. Still let me sleep ! embracing clouds in vain ; And never wake to feel the day's disdain. SONNET L. Et others sing of Knights and Palladins, In aged accents, and untimely words ! Paint shadows, in imaginary lines ! Which well the reach of their high wits records : But I must sing of Thee ! and those fair eyes ! Authentic shall my verse, in time to come, When yet the unborn shall say, " Lo, where she lies ! Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb ! " These are the arks, the trophies I erect. That fortify thy name against old age ; And these, thy sacred virtues must protect Against the dark, and Time's consuming rage. Though th'error of my youth, they shall discover; Suffice they shew I lived, and was thy lover ! S. Daniel. 1 1 1594.-I Del I a . 617 SONNET LI. S TO the Roman, that would free his land, His error was his honour and renown ; And more the fame of his mistaking hand, Than if he had the tyrant overthrown. So, Delia!, hath mine error mr.de me known, And my deceived attempt, deserved more fame : Than if I had the victory mine own, And thy hard heart had yielded up the same. And so, likewise, renowned is thy blame ! Thy cruelty ! thy glory ! O strange case ! That errors should be graced, that merit shame ; And sin of frowns bring honour to the face. Yet, happy Delia!, that thou wast unkind ; But happier yet, if thou would'st change thy mind ! SONNET L 1 1. Ike as the lute, that joys or else dislikes, As is his art that plays upon the same : So sounds my Muse, according as she strikes On my heart strings, high tuned unto her fame. Her touch doth cause the warble of the sound. Which here I yield in lamentable wise, A wailing " descant " on the sweetest " ground," Whose due reports give honour to her eyes. Else harsh my style, untunable my Muse; Hoarse sounds the voice, that praiseth not her name ! If any pleasing relish here I use ; Then judge, the world ! her beauty gives the same. O happy " ground" that makes the music such I And blessed hand that gives so sweet a touch ! 6i8 Del I a . [S S. Daniel. »594 SONNE T L III. One other fame, mine unambitious Muse Affected ever, but t'eternize Thee ! All other honours do my hopes refuse, Which meaner prized and momentary be. For, GOD forbid ! I should my papers blot With mercenary lines, with servile pen ; Praising virtues in them that have them not, Basely attending on the hopes of men. No ! no ! My Verse respects not Thames, nor Theatres Nor seeks it to be known unto the great : But Avon, poor in fame, and poor in waters, Shall have my song, where Delia hath her seat. Avon shall be my Thames, and She my Song ; I'll sound her name, the river all along. SONNET LIV, Nhappy pen! and ill accepted papers ! That intimate, in vain, my chaste desires: I My chaste desires, the ever-burning tapers, Enkindled by her eyes' celestial fires. Celestial fires ! and unrespecting powers, That deign not view the glory of your might 1 In humble lines, the work of careful hours, The sacrifice I offer to her sight. But since she scorns her own ; this rests for me. I'll moan, myself; and hide the wrong I have : And so content me, that her frowns should be To m'infant style, the cradle and the grave. What though myself no honour get thereby ; Each birds sings to herself, and so will I ! S. Daniel.] t 159-t-J Del I a. 619 SONNE T LV. HERE, the impost of a faith unfeigning, That love hath paid, and her disdain extorted ! Behold the message of my just complaining, That shews the world, how much my grief im- ported ! These tributary plaints, fraught with desire, I send those Eyes, the Cabinets of Love ! The Paradise, whereto my hopes aspire. From out this Hell, which mine afflictions prove. Wherein I thus do live, cast down from mirth ; Pensive, alone, none but despair about me ; My joys abortive, perished at their birth; My cares long lived, and will not die without me. This is my state ! and Delia's heart is such ! I say no more. I fear, I said too much. FINIS. f^7> 620 Delia, I S. Daniel 1594 An Ode. Ow EACH creature joys the other , passing happy days and hours; One bird reports unto another, in the fall of silver showers ; Whilst the Earth, our common mother, hath her bosom decked with flowers : Whilst the greatest Torch of heaven, with bright rays, warms Flora's lap; Making nights and days both even, cheering plants with fresher sap : My field, of flowers quite bereaven, wants refresh of better hap. Echo, daughter of the Air, babbling guest of rocks and hills, Knows the name of my fierce Fair, and sounds the accents of my ills. Each thing pities my despair ; whilst that She, her lover kills. Whilst that She, cruel Maid ! doth me and my love despise ; My life's flourish is decayed, that depended on her eyes : But her will must be obeyed ; and well, he ends ! for love, who dies. FINIS. E R IT A I N'S BUSS, O R A COMPUTATIO as well of the Charge of a Buss or Herring Fishing Ship ; as also of the Gain and Profit tliereby. By £. 6*. LONBON. Printed by William Jaggard for Nicholas Bourne^ and are to be sold at his shop at the South Entry of the Royal Exchange. I 6 i 5. [All the following prices should be multiplied by 4.\, to give the modern value. E.A.] B R IT JIN' S BUSS. ^M ^M kS K^l ^MJb^ ^Vi^ l&M^'^a S^JmM K^^aSS ^^mA^ IvERS TREATISES have been published here in England, some long since, some very lately, all of them inviting to the building and employing of English fishing ships, such as our neighbouring Hol- landers call Busses, principally to fish for herrings : with which kind of fish. Almighty GOD, of His rich bounty (blessed be His name therefore!), hath abundantly stored His Majesties streams on the coasts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, above all the known parts of the world. Four books I have seen of this subject. One called the British Monarchy, written Anno Domini 1576 [Vol. II., p. 61], which is near[ly] forty years past. The second, entitled Hitchcock's New Year's Gift [Vol. II., p. 133], printed about thirty[-five] years since. The third, named England's Way to Win Wealth and to increase ships and, mariners published within these two years : whose author [TOBIAS Gentleman, Mariner, (of Yqrmotith)], I have heard, was trained up from his youth, and is very expert, both in navigation and fishing [See Vol. IV. p. 323.] The fourth, styled The Trade's Increase, now newly come abroad. In all which four books; but especially in the two last, the necessity, faculty, profit, and use of that fishing trade is proponed [set forth] and handled. After I had read three of the former books, and before the fourth and last came to light, I was much affected with the business. And the more I consider it, the more is my 624 The first English Adventurers in Bussec. [_f^,l- affection confirmed and increased. And out of vehement desire to see this work, which I conceive to tend so much to GOD's glory, to the honour of our noble King, to the general strength, safety, and commodity of all His Majesty's large kingdoms and dominions, and to the private and peculiar benefit and advancement of every private Undertaker herein : I say, out of vehement desire to see this work in hand, and the prosperity thereof, I inquired, as often as conveniently I could, what Busses or fishing ships were in building on our coasts, or were bought or used by any English. At length, I was informed, and that very truly, that one Roger Godsdue, Esquire, of Bucknam Ferry in Norfolk, had begun to apply himself to this worthy work, and had on the stocks at Yarmouth, five Busses ; whereof I understand one is, since that time, launched, and that the other four are in good forwardness. But when, upon inquiry after the gentleman, I heard him to be a man of such undoubted honesty and integrity, besides his other virtues and worth; methought I did see GOD beginning this good business in a good hand. Soon after, I heard that another worthy gentleman, namely. Sir William Harvey, Knight, had on the stocks at Limehouse, in the yard of Master Stevens, shipwright, another very fair large Buss near[ly] as big as any Flemish Buss: which Buss I did afterwards see myself, when she was in launching; and she is now in the Thames before Ratcliffe. But besides these two gentlemen, I have not yet heard of any English that have yet applied themselves that way. Now because, after many considerations of that matter, I perceived that none of the four treatises before mentioned, had set down in very plain particulars, the exact Charge of building, manning, victualling, and furnishing of such a Buss ; and of the Gain or Profit, which, by GOD's blessing, in probability may redound yearly to the particular owner and adventurer of such a ship ; and conceiving hope, that the publication of such particulars, might be some furtherance of the action : I resolved to bestow my best labours to get such particulars* And to that end, I travailed and conferred with such ; both shipwrights, mariners, fishermen, netmakers, and others, as I thought to be able to inform me in the fe^s:] Divisions of the present Work. 625 premises : that so I also might bring straw or mortar to that noble building, or that I might pick or teaze oakum, or do somewhat, that am not able to do much. And for that, upon conference with some experienced in this herring fishery, I am informed that a Buss of thirty-five Last, that is, of seventy Tons, is of a very good and meet size or scantling, wherewith, in four month's fishing, yearly, to make the gain or profit by herrings only [as] hereafter in particular [is] set down; besides her employment yearly also in cod fishing, &c : I have therefore here imparted such instructions, as I could attain unto. I. First[ly], of the precise dimensions or proportions of such a Buss of thirty-five Last, that is, of seventy Tons. [p. 626] 2. Secondly, of the uttermost charges of such a Buss, and the particulars of all her masts, yards, sails, flags, pulleys, shivers, tackling, cables, and anchors ; together also with hercock-boat and oars. [/i/. 626-628] 3. Thirdly, the particulars of her Carpenter's store ; and of her Steward's store ; and of her weapons, and the charge of them all. [pp. 628, 629] 4. Fourthly, the particulars of her herring-nets, and of the warropes and other ropes, cords, and lines ; [of] cork, pynbols or buyes belonging to those nets ; with the particular charges of them all. [pp. 629-631] 5. Fifthly, the particular tools and implements used in dressing and packing of the said herrings, and their particular prices. [pp. 631, 632] 6. Sixthly, the charge of one hundred Last of herring casks or barrels, and of salt needful for the packing of a hundred Last of herrings. [p. 632] 7. Seventhly, the particular charge of four month's victuals for sixteen persons to serve in the said Buss; and the particular charge of physic and surgery helps, for those sixteen persons. [pp. 633, 634] 8. Eighthly, the particular utmost wages of the said sixteen persons for the said four months. [p. 634] 9. Lastly, the Gain or Profit, by GOD's blessing, hoped for by such a four months' herring fishing, [pp. 635, 636] Afterwards is also set down the yearly charges of repairing ENG. GAR. in. 40 626 Dimensions of a 70 ton Herring Buss, [f^,' the said Buss ; and of her apparel and furniture, and also of the said nets, &c. : together with the rest of the Second Year's Charge and Gain. [pp. 637, 638J By which Second Year's Charge and Gain, you shall see the charge and gain of every year following, so long as the Buss lasteth; which, by GOD's blessing and good usage, may well be twenty years at least. E THAT will give a probable estimate of any Charge, must tie himself to some particular proportions, which he must admit as the very just allowances. But I would have none to imagine that I intend these particulars to be such as may not be varied. If any be so vain [as] to make scornful constructions, I hold such fellows to be not worth the thinking on. Buss of thirty-five Last, that is, of 70 Tons, must be on the keel, in length And on the main beam And her rake on the stem forward And her rake on the sternpost eastward on And her waist from her lower edge of her deck-ledges unto her ceilings Fifty feet. Seventeen feet Sixteen feet. Seven feet. Thirteen feet. UCH a Buss, with her cabins, cook room, and other rooms, fitted for the sea, and to this fishing service, together with her rudder, iron- work, bolts, chain-bolts, shroud-chains, nails, &c. ; and her cock-boat and oars, will cost, at £ s. most 260 o All her masts and yards will cost, at most 8 o The making and fitting her said masts and yards 2 o Her pulleys and shivers [or shcc'Z'crs], at most 2 o Her rigging or tackling ropes of the fittest sizes or scantlings, will come to, at most, 8 cwt. of ropes ; which will cost, at most, 30s. a cwt., which comes to 12 o Her mainsail and two bonnets must be eleven yards deep and sixteen cloths broad of Ipswich polcdavis ; which comes unto 176 yards of poledavis: which at ninepence a yard will cost 612 Her main topsail must be eight yards dtcp and eight cloths broad at the vard, and sixteen cloths broad at the clews; d. o o o o IjI] Cost of Hull, Masts, Sails, &c. 627 which takes 96 yards of Bungay canvas : which at eight- £ s. d. pence a yard will cost 3 4 o Her foresail, the course, and two bonnets must be ten yards deep and twelve cloths broad, taking up 120 yards of Ipswich poledavis : which at ninepence a yard comes to 4 10 o Her mizen or back-sail must be four cloths broad and five yards deep ; which takes 20 yards of Bungay cloth : which at eightpence comes to o 13 4 So that all the sails take 420 yards of sailcloth of both sorts, which 420 yards (at 28 yards to a bolt) makes almost 15 bolts of cloth. And the Sailmaker will have for his work five shillings a bolt, which comes to 3 ^5 o Bolt ropes for all the said sails, and twine, &c., to make the said sails withal, will cost, at most i 15 8 £304 10 by, with Wo FLAGS or fans, to observe the wind their staves ; at two shillings a piece Two or three hand[s]pikes, of ash, at most Two waterskeits, to wet the sails ; at eighteen- pence a piece Two water-buckets, at sixpence Six maps [?;io/>s], to cleanse the Buss withal, at sixpence ... Compasses and boxes, two ; at ten shillings a piece, at most Hour-glasses, three or four, at most, at eighteen-pence A lanthorne for the poop Two other lanthornes, at eighteen-pence a piece Fenders or long poles, four, at two shillings ... Long oars, six, at three shillings and fourpence An iron crow, of I5lbs., at fourpence [per /(^.]... I^our Cables. Ne cable of nine inches [and nearly three inches thick] about, and one hundred fathoms, i.e., two hundred yards long. A will weigh about.. second cable ei^ht inches and a-ha!f [about 2>^ inches thick] about, and of the length above said, well weigh about A third cable seven inches and a-half [about 2 inches thick] about, and of like length, will weigh The fourth cable seven inches [about 2 inches thick] about, and of like length, will weigh 18 cwt. 15 cwt. 1 1 cwt. 10 cwt. £ o o o o o I o o o o I o J I 3 o 6 10 3 8 o 5 o o o o o o o o o o o o £4 5 54 cwt. So all the tour cables will weigh about 54 cwt. ; which 54 cwt. of cables, at 30s. \per\ cwt., will cost £81 =4 628 Cost of Anchors, and Steward's Store. [fg^J 1 Four AncJwrs. Ne anchor to weigh about A second to weigh about ... A third to weigh about A fourth to weigh about ... 4 cwt. y/z cwt. zyi cwt. 2 cwt. So all the four anchors, weighing 12 cwt., at 26s. 8d. a cwt., will cost ^16 o o Four anchor stocks, and the fitting of them, at ten shillings a piece 2 o o And so the four anchors, and their four stocks will Vv^-'Illvi^tO*** ••• ••« ••« ••■ ••« ••« (■• («■ ••• Steward's Store. HoRT iron pot-hangers ; two, at twelve- pence Pothooks, two pair, at tenpence A large iron Pease-pot, of five or six gal- lons o o o 2 2 O A large copper fish-kettle, about 32lbs. weight, at fifteen-pence a pound 2 A wooden scummer \ski}ii]ne7-\ or two o Wooden ladles, two or three o A gridiron, at most o A fryingpan o Pipkins, two or three o A chafing dish, of iron o A small fire-shovel, and a pair of tongs o A pair of bellows o Trays, two, at fifteen-pence a piece o Trugs, two, at ninepence a piece o Wooden platters, twelve, at fourpence o Wooden potagers, twenty-four o Trenchers, four dozen, at threepence o IJaskets for mess-bread, six, at fourpence o Beer cans, bigger and lesser, twelve o Taps and fawcets, four or five o Wooden Butter scales, a pair 010 Leaden weights, 4lbs., 2lbs., lib., /^Ib., and X^l^-j at twopence [/>c'r /iiJ.] 014 Tinder boxes, two, well furnished o ?. 6 Candles, at most for 16 weeks, 3olbs., at fourpence o 10 o Candlesticks, with iron wires, six, at eightpence... £0 4 o A Candlebox, with lock and key, at most o 5 o o o o 10 d. o 8 o 4 4 6 6 6 o 6 8 6 6 o o o o o £18 8 feisG Cost of Carpenter's Store, and Weapons. 629 Carpente}"' s Store. Ron essles to mend the shroud chains £, s. d. withal, if any should chance to break; ten, of I lb. a piece, at fourpence a pound Fids or Hammers, two, at twelve-pence Orlop nails, three hundred, at sixteen- pence a hundred Scupper nails, two hundred, at sixpence Spikes, five pounds, at fourpence a lb Sixpenny nails, three hundred [at sixpence a hun- dred] Fourpenny nails, three hundred [at fourpence a hundred] Pump nails, three hundred, at t/ "'pence a hundred i\. SaW • ■• ••• t«« ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• o o o o o o o o 4 I I I o 3 o 6 o £0 18 Weapons. Alf pikes, ten, at two shillings [each] ... Muskets, with bandaleers, rests, and moulds, six [at one pound each] Gunpowder, six lbs. at tenpence Leaden bullets, six lbs. at threepence ... 6 o o o o o o 6 £7 6 6 Nets with their appurtenances. He Buss aforesaid must have fifty nets. Each Net must be thirty yards ; that is, fifteen fathoms long upon the rope. Each net must also hang full, and not stretched on the rope. Therefore each net before it come to be fastened to the rope ; (being stretched out) must be thirty-five yards. Each net must be in depth, seven deepings. Each deeping must be a fathom, that is two yards, deep. So as each net of seven deepings takes seven times thirty-five yards of line or netting (of sixty masks or mashes \inesJies\ or holes deep), which comes to just 245 yards of Lint or Netting, of a fathom breadth or depth. Which 245 yards of Lint or Netting (ready inade or knit) will £, s. d. cost three pence a yard ; which comes to for one net 3^3 Each net must have a Net Rope on the top of the net ; so each net must have fifteen fathoms of net rope. This net rope must not be a stiffed-tarred rope, but lithe and gentle [supple^ ; and is best made of old ropes. This 1 5 fathom of net rope for each net will cost two shillings 020 630 Cost of fifty Nets complete. [fg^J Round about tho head and two sides of each net, but not at the bottom, must be set a small cord, about the bigness of a bow- string, which is called [the] Head-Roping or Nostelling. So each net takes 1 5 fathoms ; and 7 fathoms and 7 fathoms : which comes to 29 fathoms of head-roping. There is twenty fathoms of this head-roping in a pound weight of it. So each net takes almost a pound and a half of this £ s. d. head-roping : which is sold for sixpence a pound. So the pound and a half costeth 009 The seven deepings of each net are to to be sewn, each to [the] other, altogether, with a small thread called, Twine Masking [ ? Meshing\ Each net takes a pound of this twine-masking, which is sold for o o 6 Each net is to be fastened to her ropes with short pieces of cords or lines, of two feet long a piece, called Nozzels. These nozzels are tied very thick, viz., at four meshes or holes asunder. So each net takes 150 nozzels. These nozzels are sold, ready cut, for eightpence a hundred. So 150 nozzels will cost 010 Each net must have a rope five or six fathoms long and an inch through, that is, three inches and better about, called a Seazing, to fasten the net unto the War-rope. This rope will cost fourpence a fathom. So, for the said six fathom o 2 o The Seaming or Sewing together of the said seven deepings of each net, and the head-roping of each net as aforesaid, and the bringing of each net to the rope or setting on the nozzels, all this, I say, is usually done by a woman, working it at lourpence a day [with] meat and drink ; or tenpence a day, at most, finding herself. Which wom.an will so despatch, at least, two or three nets in a day. So each net so finishing, will cost, at most 005 Every net must be tanned in a tan-fat, which will cost, at most, o o 10 JVds, War-ropes, &c. Ll the said fifty nets being finished, must be hanged all arow [in a row] upon a strong large rope, called a War-rope ; which must be in bigness four inches about. This War-rope must be as long as all the said fifty nets ; that is, fifty times fifteen fathoms long, that is 750 fathoms of War-rope. So each net takcth up fifteen fathoms of War-rope. A cwt., that is, 1 12 lbs., of this rope is sold for, at most, thirty shillings; that is, almost 3X^1- a pound. fg-jj-.] Cost of War-ropes, Cork, &c. 63 i A hundred fathoms of this rope will weigh nearly four cwt. At which rate, each fathom will weigh almost 4X lbs. ; which at £ s. d. y4A. a pound, will cost I4>2d. a fathom. So for each net, 15 fathoms at I4>^d. will cost 0182 Each net must have half-a-pound of Leghorn Cork placed all along the net, at half a yard asunder. At which distance, each net takes sixty corks or sixty half pounds of cork, that is, 30 lbs. of cork at twopence halfpenny a pound [i.e., £1 3s. 4d. a hundredweight), will cost 063 Those sixty corks must have sixty Cork-bands to tie them to the net. Each cork-band must be a fathom long. These cork-bands are made ot the aforesaid Head-roping Line, whereof twenty fathoms weigh a pound, as aforesaid. So the said sixty fathoms will weigh 3 lbs. which at sixpence a pound will cost 016 For every two nets, there must be a Pynboll or Bwy hooped, which will cost eightpence. So to each net allow for half a Pynboll or Bwy ....004 Each Pynboll or Bwy must have a rope of a yard long, to fasten it to the War-rope, which yard of rope will cost, at most, sixpence. So to each net allow for half such a rope o o 3 So it appears, by the particulars aforesaid, that each Net with War-ropes and all other appurtenances, will cost 4 15 3 And so the said fifty nets, at ^4 1 5s. 3d. a piece, will cost ir. all jE238 2 6 Tools a7id Iinplcments used in drying and packing of Herring[s\. Ipping or Gilling knives, 24, at four- £ s. d. pence 080 Roaring baskets or scuttles, 24, at sixpence o 12 o Addesses, for Cooper's work, 6, at two shillings o 12 o Drifts, to beat down hoops, 12, at one penny ...010 Irons, to pull up barrel heads, 6, at fourpence ... o 2 o Iron pipes, to blow and try casks whether they be tight or not, 3, at eightpence o 2 o Bended hoops to supply such as shall chance to break or fly off. For a hundred Last, that is, of 1,200 barrels ; 2,400 hoops, at two shillings a hundred 280 632 Each Buss should fill 24 barrels, a day. [f^-^^; Iron marks or letters to brand the barrels withal, £ s. d. viz., A.B. for the best ; S. for the second ; W. for the worst ; at eightpence a piece, at most ... o 2 o Caske. Erring barrels, an hundred Last, that is 1,200 barrels, which containeth 32 gallons a piece : will cost fifteen shillings a Last, that is, fifteen- — pence a piece ; which cometh to £75 Salt. Water Bushel (that is, five pecks) of Spanish salt, will salt a barrel of herrings. So to salt the said hundred Last, or 1,200 barrels of Herrings, must be 1,200 [water] bushels of salt, that is, (at forty [water] bushels of salt to a W ey) just thirty Wey of salt : which, at 40 shillings a £4 7 Wey, that is, twelvepence a bushel, will cost £60 Memorandum, Flemish Buss doth often take seven or eight Last of herrings in a da}^ But if GOD gave a Buss, one day with another, but two Last of herrings a day, that is, twelve Last of herrings in a week ; then, at that rate, a Buss may take, dress, and pack the said whole Proportion of a hundred Last of herrings (propounded to be hoped for), in eight weeks and two days. And yet is herein[after] allowance made for victuals and wages for sixteen weeks, as after followeth. Of which sixteen weeks time, if there be spent in rigging and furnishing the said Buss to sea, and in sailing from her port to her fishing-place ; if these businesses, I say, spend two weeks of the time, and that the other two weeks be also spent in returning to her port after her fishing season, and in unrigging and laying up the Buss : then I say (of the sixteen weeks above allowed for) there will be twelve weeks to spend only in fishing the herring. ^33 Vlcttmls and fuel for Sixteen men and boys, serving in the Buss aforesaid. for iiie herring-fislmtg time, and the time of her settim^ out and of her return home, viz., from the 2\th of May until the z\st of September, which is \\2 days; that is, sixteen weeks; that is, four months. BEER, i mi fs j ^ J liuu B ^O ALLOW for every man and boy, a gallon of beer a day (which is the allowance made in the King's ships), that is, for the said sixteen persons, sixteen gallons : that is, just half a herring barrel full, a day. That is, for the whole voyage, or sixteen weeks, or 112 days, fifty- six [of] such barrels of beer. Seven of these herring barrels contain a tun of beer : so as the said 56 herring barrels full of beer do make just eight tun of beer, which, at 40s. a tun, comes to... Biscuit. To allow for every man and boy (as in His Majesty's ships), a pound of biscuit a day; that is, for every man and boy for the said four months or 112 days, an cwt. of biscuit. That is, for the said 16 persons, 16 cwt. of biscuit, which at 13s. 4d. a cwt. will come to Oatmeal or Pease. To allow, amongst the said sixteen persons, a gallon a day, that is, half a pint a piece, every day : that is, 1 1 2 gallons for them all, for the said 112 days or four months ; which comes to just I4bushels, which, at 4s. a bushel, will cost ' Bacon. To alloiv also for each man and boy, two pounds of bacon for four meals a week ; that is, for each person for the said sixteen weeks, 32 lbs. ; that is four stone of bacon. And so for the said sixteen persons, 64 stone of bacon ; which, at 2s. 2d. a stone, will come to Fresh Fish. They may take, daily, out of the sea, as much fresh fish as they can eat. Butter. To allow every man and boy (to butter their fish, or otherwise to eat, as they like) a quarter of a pound of butter a day, that is, for each person 28 lbs. of butter, which is half a firkin of Suffolk butter. And so for the said sixteen men, eight firkins of butter, at 20s. the firkin Cheese. To allow every of the said sixteen men and boys, half a pound of Holland cheese a day ; that is, for each person 56 lbs., that is, half a hundredweight of cheese. And so for the said sixteen persons to allow eight cwt. of Holland £ s. d. 16 o o 10 13 4 2 16 o 6 18 8 800 634 Provisions, a little over ids. a day. [fgV cheese : which at twopence halfpenny the pound ; £ s. (\. that is, 23s. 4d. the hundredweight, will cost... Vinegar. To allow amongst the said sixteen persons, three pints of Vinegar a day; that is, for the said 112 days, 42 gallons; that is, a tierce of vinegar, which at £6 the Tun, caske and all, will cost Fuel. To allow for the dressing and boiling of their victuals, eight hundred of Kentish faggots, that is, seven faggots a day, and sixteen faggots over in the whole time : which 800 of faggots, at 8s. a hundred, comes to 340 Sum of all the said four months' Victuals is £57 18 8 I am informed that the Dutch Busses have not half so much allowance of victuals; but take almost all theirs out of the sea. Physic and Surgejy helps. [Permaceti, and a box for it o 3 Stone pitch, and a box for it o i \AqnavitcF, 16 quarts are 4 gallons, at three shillings o 12 ilZante Oil, 16 pints are 2 gallons, at six shillings Honey, 16 pints are 2 gallons, at five shillings Sugar, 4 pounds at one shilling Nutmegs, a quarter of a pound Ginger, half a pound Pepper, 16 02., that is, a pound T5alsam and other salves, and old linen Syzers {scissors] a pair A steel Pleget, to spread plaisters A Chest, with partitions, for all these things JVages to sixteen men. A Master for the said four months at ^5 a month ; that is,^i 5s. od. a week, or 4s. 2d. a day for six days, or 3s. 634fd. a day for seven days To two Mates, at 24s. a month, a piece To six other men, at 20s. a piece, per month To six other men, at i6s. a piece, per month To a boy, at 6s., a month 4 4 12 10 4 I 6 1 10 6 I 4 12 £3 10 20 9 12 24 19 4 I 4 £74 1 3 E3l*'^al fg^l] Total Outlay, the First Year. 635 Sum of all the Stock and Charge of one entire Buss, &c., the First Year will be about ... £ 934 5 8 The difference 07" odds betzveen the Charge aiid the Adventure. |T appears before, in particulars, that a new Buss, with her nets and other appurtenances, together with all the First Year's charge of salt, caske, £ S. d. victuals, wages, &:c., will come to... 934 5 8 But it is to be observed, that the Owner and Adventurer of such a Buss shall not be out of purse, nor Adventure so much money the said First Year by 171 10 For the Wages aforesaid are never paid "~ ~^ till the return of the Ship or Buss, which if it should never return (as GOD forbid!), then are no wages paid. So Wages is part of the Charge, but no part of the Adventure. And so the wages is spared from the Adventure, which comes to, as before in particulars £74 Also, it must be observed, that the Buss can conveniently stow at once but 34 Last of Caske, which is but the Third part of her said hundred Last in Charge ; and so is also spared from the Adventure, Two-thirds of her Caske, which is 66 Last of caske, which, at 15s., comes to... £49 lOs. Likewise, the Buss cannot conveniently stow, at once, above ten Weys of salt; which is but a Third part of her Salt, in Charge. And so is also spared from the Adventure, Two-thirds of her said salt, which is twenty Weys of salt, which at 40s. a Wey comes to £40 Neither can the Buss conveniently stow, at once, above one-half of her said 8 Tuns of beer, in Charge. And so also is spared from the Adven- ture the one-half of her said beer, which is four Tuns, which at 40s. a Tun comes to £8 Total spared from the Adventure 171 10 Which £171 lOs. being deducted out of the said charge of £934 5s. 8d.; there resteth to be Adventured the First Year, only 762 15 8 636 The net profit on the first Adventure, [f^v The First Years Gain, in hope and likelihood. Bout a month after the Busses are gone out to sea, a Yager (which is a caravel or a merchant's ship employed to seek out the said Herring Busses, and to buy of them their herrings upon the first packing) ; this Yager, I say, whereof divers are so employed, comes to the said Buss, amongst others, and buys all such herrings as she hath barrelled: which barrels, upon the first packing, are called Sticks. And, in part of payment for her said Herring Sticks, delivers such salt, caske, hoops, nets, beer, and other necessaries as the Buss shall then want ; wherewith the said Yager comes always furnished. The rest, the said Yager pays in ready money to the Bussman. In this manner, comes the Yager to the Busses, two or three times or oftener, in a Summer Herring fishing time. So as the said Yager buys of the said Buss (if GOD give them to the Buss) all her said hundred Last of Herring Sticks. For which said hundred Last of Herring Sticks ; if the Yager do pay but after the rate of ;£'io a Last, that is, i6s. 8d. a barrel, then are the said hundred Last of Herring Sticks sold for just £1,000 So (by the grace and blessing of GOD) the very First Year's herrings only, may bring in to the Adventurer or Owner ; all his whole both of Stock and Charges of £934 5s. 8d. aforesaid. And also £65 14s. 4d. over and above. And so the said Adventurer or Buss master is like, by GOD's blessing, to gain clearly the very First Year, the Buss aforesaid, with all her apparel and furniture, together with her nets, &c. : and £65 14s. 4d. in money over and above, towards the use or interest of the said £762 15s. 8d., which the said Adventurer disburseth the First Year, out of purse. Which is almost £d in the hundred, also for use [interest]. 63 The Secoftd Years Charge, AULKING or carrying [^ar^^w- £ s. d, insf] the said Buss, yearly, will cost about 5 o o Repairingthetacl-dings (which cost at first ^12, as before 0.626]) 600 Repairing the sails (which cost at first ^20 los. od. [p. 627]) 10 o o Repairing the pulleys, shivers, and other petty things, about 100 Repairing the cables (which cost at first ^81 O.627J), about 24 o o Towards the reparation of the anchors (which cost at first ^18 [p. 628]) allow 300 Repairing the Carpenter's store (which cost at first 15s. [p. 629]) about o 12 o Repairing the Steward's store (which cost at first ^5 8s. od.) about, at most 280 Renewing shot and powder, and scouring the muskets, &c., about o 10 o Repairing of nets with the appurtenances, with fifty new decpings, and a hundred fathom of war-rope, &c. (which cost first, as before in particulars, ^238 2S. 6d. \_fip. 629-631], the third part whereof is just ^79 7s. 6d.), [say] 77 o o Renewing of tools to dress and pack herrings withal (which cost at first £4 5s. od. [/. 631]) 200 Renewing the whole hundred Last of caske, at 15s. [a last] 75 o o Renewing the whole thirty Weys of salt, at 40s.... 60 o o Renewing the whole proportion of victuals afore- said 57 18 ft Renewing part of the physic and surgery helps (which cost at first ^3 los. od. [/. 634]) in 4 Wages, as at the first 74 o o 638 Continuous Profit of Herring Fishing only. [fgV The Sum total of the Charge of the Second Year's herring fishing, will he, as appears, about ... , — But the Second Year's Adventure and Disburse- ment will be the less than the said Charge (as it was for the First Year) by And so the Second Year's Adventure will be only about Towards which Adventure and Charge, there is before accompted to be gotten in money by the First Year's herring fishing, as before appears £ s. d. 400 171 10 228 10 G5 14 4 So then the Second Year's Charge, beside the said £6^ 14s. 4d. before gained, will be but 334 5 8 But the said Second Year's Adventure, besides the said Gain, will be but 162 15 8 So it appears, that if the Buss be only employed in fishing the herring, and in that but only four months in every year; and that the Buss lie still in her own port all the rest of the year, yet she gains clearly every year, in that four months only, the sum of £600 : if GOD give her in that time but the said hundred Last of herrings, which being sold at £10 the last, yield £1,000; out of which, deducting the gained said Second Year's Charge of £400, there resteth as clearly £600 yearly by the said Buss. 639 MEMORANDUM. If the Adventurer of a Buss will also hire a Yager by the Last, to take in his herrings and carry them into Dantsic, Melvyn, Sweathland [Sweden], France, or else- where : then the Charge and Gain of that course will be as folio weth or thereabouts, viz. : Ou MAY HIRE a Caravel or other Merchant's ship,foraYager, to carry our herrings from the Buss into Dantsic, Melvyn, &c. ; and to stay there for relading 14 or 2odays, and then to bring back to London such wares or merchandise as you shall there freight her withal. For which fraught [freight] outward, and stay there, and fraught home back again ; the said ship will have, at most £2 los. od. a Last, this is, 25s. a tun, in and out. So the fraught of a hundred Last of herrings into Dantsic and the fraught of another hundred Last of pitch, hemp, flax, or corn, &c., back again to London, will cost, at most, at £2 los. od The TOLL at Elsmore will cost, out and in, about. . . I think no Custom [duty] is paid for herrings in the East Country, yet suppose for custom, four shillings a Last, that is fourpence a barrel ; at which rate, the hundred Last of Sticks comes to For Cranage there, allow at most one shilling a 250 s. d 3 20 O O 640 Total Profit OF FREIGHTING A Jager, [fg,^: Last ; which for the said hundred Last of £ s. d. herrings is 5 o o For Wharfage there, allow also after the rate of twelve-pence a Last 500 For Warehouse-room there, till the herrings be sold, allow, at most 2 o o The repacking of the herrings by the sworn Coopers of that place, and for new hooping seventy-five Last of caske, which will be filled with the said hundred Last of Herring Sticks, allowing twenty-five Last, that is, a fourth part of the hundred Last, to be shrunk away. That 75 Last, repacking and hooping, at most, at 8s. a Last, will cost 30 o o Sum, which never goes out of purse, but is paid when the herrings are sold 315 So if the said hundred Last of herrings, so sent from the Buss to Dantzic, do shrink a fourth part ; then will rest to be sold in Dantzic, Mel- vyn, &c., seventy-five Last full of repacked herrings. Which seventy-five Last will be there sold, for, at least, £1^ 12s. od. a Last, that is, 31S. a barrel : which is 4s. id. a hundred ; which is more than two and a half herrings a penny, by 7 herrings in a hundred. And so the seventy- five Last of herrings will be sold for 1 395 Which is for the herrings :^ilioo o o And for the freight in and out ... 315 o o And so is gained, outward only 80 1 395 Besides, there may well be gained, by the return of £139 worth of corn or other merchandise, at least £120 more. \_A''ote, this profit is gained on only One Hundred Last; being one-tenth 0/ the proposed annual catch of the Buss.] 641 [Con AND Ling fishing?^ EsiDES the said herring fishing which is performed in four months, as aforesaid, the same Buss may be also employed the same year, presently [immediately^ after the said herring season, in fishing for Cod and Ling. For the herring fishing being begun yearly, as before is shewed, about the 24th of May, and the Buss being returned home again about the 21st of September, which is sixteen weeks after : then the said Buss and her men may rest in port about ten weeks, viz., from the 21st of September until St. Andrew's tide {-^o N ovemheV], or the ist of December after, and then set sail again ; furnished with hooks, lines, salt, caske, and all other things (hereinafter particularly mentioned) needful for the winter cod fishing : which may, by GOD's blessing, be despatched, and the Buss be at home again in her own port, by the ist of March, which is thirteen weeks after, that is, ninety-one days. And so between the said ist of March and the 24th of May, which is just eight weeks, the said Buss may be carined [careened] or caulked, and repaired, victualled and provided of all things against the Second or next Year's herring fishing. And so is the whole year ended and spent as aforesaid. Eng. Gar. III. 41 642 Cost of Tools and Implements, [fg,' Now the diaries of i]is said first Cod fishing in the Buss aforesaid^ with the sixteen men and boys aforesaid, durini^ the aforesaid time oj thirteen weeks, or ninety-one aays^ wilt be as Jolloweth, thus : — Tools and Implements. ACH MAN fishing for Cod and Ling useth at once two K I P - li O O K S . So sixteen men may use at once 32 of those hooks. But because they lose their hooks sometimes, therefore allow for every of the men a dozen £^ s. d. hooks, that is 16 dozen of Kiphooks : which, at most, will cost twelve-pence a dozen, that is ... o 16 o S TR I N G S, ior each man, six : that is, for the sixteen men, eight dozen oi strings. Every string must be fifty lathom long, and about the bigness of a jack-line ; and it must be tanned. Every such string will cost about twelve-pence : and so, the said 8 dozen of strings will cost 4 16 O C H O P S T I C K S, fi)r every man, four, is in all 64 chopsticks. A chopstick is an iron about the bigness of a curtain rod, and a yard long ; and, upon this iron, is a hollow pipe of lead, eight or nine inches long, and weighs about 4 lbs., and the iron weighs about a pound. Which iron and lead will cost about twelve-pence a piece : so 64 chopsticks at 1 2d. will cost 340 For every man, two G A R F A N L E- H O O K s. Total, 32 Garfangle-hooks. This Garfangle-hook is an ashen plant six or eight feet long ; with an iron hook, like a boat hook, at the end of it. One of these Garfinglc-hooks will cost sixpence, so the 32 Garfangle-hooks will cost o 16 o Four Heading Knives, like Chopping knives, at twelve-pence 040 Four S PLITTi N G Knives, like Mincin:,^ knives, at twelve-pence Six Gutting Knives, at fourpence A Grindstone and Trough \V H ETSTO N E S, two or three Some of the old herring nets, to get herrings to bait their hooks. Or else to buy a hogshead full of Lamprils \lai)ipreys\ which are the best bait for 4 c 2 5 3 E.S, 1615. ] Cost of Caske, Salt, and ]\Iedicines. 643 cod and ling. There is store of Lamprils to be ^ had at Woolwich, Norwich, and Hull ; which may COSl uDOUl ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •■• ••• ••• ••• Baskets, some of those before bought and used for the dressing of herrings, and twelve other great baskets at 2s. 6d. a piece s. 2 10 I 10 £14 10 V Caske. Or BARRKLLKD Cod, to provide thirty- five Last of barrels ; which are the very same, every way, with the herring barrels aforesaid. So the said 35 Last of caske, at 1 5s. the last will cost 26 5 As for the Lings (in hope) there is no caske used for them ; but they are only salted and packed one upon another in the ship's hold. And if they take any ling they bring home the less cod ; and then also, they save some of the said caske. Salt. AcH barrel of Cod will take a bushel of " salt upon salt" {Vol. II., p. 143]. So the thirty-five Last of Cod afore- said takes just 420 bushels of "salt upon salt," that is, ten Weys and an half of salt, which at ^3 a Wey, that is, eighteenpence a bushel, will cost 31 10 o Physic and Surgeiy Helps. O ALLOW as before is allowed [see_^. 634] for the herring - fishing time ; which (besides the Chest) will cost, as before in particulars 218 O ^M He Steward's store and Carpenter's store aforesaid, will serve this voyage. So for them needeth no allowance -£60 13 644 Cost of Provisions and Fuel, [f^,^; Victuals and Fuel. For sixteen men and boys to ser-ve in the said Buss for the said ccd- Jishins^ ti7ne, and the time of setting out, and [of] retttrn home, viz., from about the first of December unto the first of March, which is just thirteen weeks, that is, ninety-one days. Beer. |p>j* ^ .'_tjii g ^ O allow every person a gallon of beer a day (as in the King's ships), that is, for the said sixteen persons, 16 gallons, that is, just half a herring barrel a day, that is, for the whole voyage 91 half barrels ; that is, almost 46 of those herring barrels. Seven ot these herring barrels contain a Tun of £ s. d. beer, so as the said 46 barrels contain six tun and a half of beer; which, at 40s. a tun will cost 13 o o Biscuit. To allow for every person (as in His Majesty's ships) a pound of Biscuit a day, that is, for all the said sixteen persons, 112 lbs. (that is, an hundred weight) of Biscuit a week ; that is, for the said thirteen weeks, 13 cwt. of Biscuit ; which at 13s. 4d. a cwt. will cost 8134 Pease. To allow for every person half a pint of peas a day (to be watered, and eaten with butter, or else with bacon) that is, a gallon a day amongst them all ; that is, in all 91 gallons, that is, eleven bushels and a peck and a half of peas ; which, at 4s. a bushel, will cost 256 Bacon. To allow for every person two pounds of bacon a week, for four meals in every week, that is, for the said sixteen persons, 32 lbs. ; that is, 4 stone of bacon a week amongst them all, that is, for the said thirteen weeks, 52 stone of bacon ; which, at 2s. 2d. a stone, will cost 5^2 8 Fresh Fish. They may take dailyout of the sea as much as they can eat. Butter. To allow every person a quarter of a pound of butter a day, that is, 4 lbs. of butter a day amongst them all. So for the said thirteen weeks or ninety-one days, must be 364 lbs. of butter; that is, just six firkins and a half of Suffolk butter; which, at twenty shiHings a firkin, will cost 6 10 o Cheese. To allow every person half a pound of Holland cheese a day ; that is, 8 lbs. a diy among them all. So for the said thirteen weelcs fe^j;] Adventure, Charge, & Gain of Cod fishing. 645 or ninety-one days, 72S lbs. of cheese ; this is, 6% cwt. ot Holland cheese ; which at 2^d. pound £ s. d. (that is, ^i 3s. 4d. the cvvt.), will cost 7 11 8 Vinegar. To allow amorgst them all three pints of vinegar a day, that is, for the said ninety- one days almost thirty-four gallons. Allow a tierce [36 gallons] which at ^6 a tun, cask and all, will CUoL ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••■ ••• ••• ••■ ■•• 1 O w Fuel. To allow also eight Kentish faggots a day, which for the said ninety-one days will come to seven hundred and a quartern of laggots, which at eight shillings a hundred will cost 2 18 o Sum of all the said thirteen weeks' Victuals and Fuel, will come to, as appears £47 112 Wages. O A Master, for these thirteen weeks, at ;^5 a month, that is, 25s. a week, is 16 5 o To two Mates at 24s. a month, that is, six shillings a week a piece, is for both 7 16 o To six other men at 20s. a piece per month, is five shillings a week a piece 19 10 o To six other men at i6s. a piece per month, is four shillings a week a piece 15 12 o To the boy at 6s. a month, that is, eighteen- pence a week o 19 £60 2 6 [The] Sum of all the Charge of the First winter's Cod fishing will be, as before in par- ticulars, about £132 16 But here is to be remembered that the wages is no part of the Adventure, though it be part of the Charge. And so the Adventure shall be out of purse, for this First Codfishing voyage but, only, at most £122 4 2 Now if it please G O D in this Voyage to afford unto this Buss the filling of her said caske, that is thirty-five Last of Cod only : that Cod will 646 Yearly profits of Herring 8c Cod Fishing, [fg.s: yield at least 20s. a barrel, that is, but £12 a Last. So the said 35 Last, will yield at least £420 Of the livers of those thirty-five Last of fish, may well be made five Tun of train oil [what is now called unptirified Cod's Liver Oil] worth at least 5^12 a tun; that is but twelve-pence a gal- lon. At which rate, five Tun of oil will yield... 60 So, by the blessing of GOD, this Codfishing, may bring in to the Adventurer, as before in particulars, just £480 Out of which £480, deduct the Charge abovesaidof 182 16 8 And then resteth to be cleared, yearly, by the Codfishirg .. ., £297 3 4 And so it appears that there may be gained, yearly, by one Herring fishing and one Cod fishing, in such a Buss, the sum of £897 3s. 4d. ; all Charges borne; and without any Stock after the First year. t-JT-^'* 647 Y THAT which is before set down, it ap- peareth, that one Adventurer or divers Partners, buying or building, and furnish- ing such a Buss, and adventuring her to sea as aforesaid, shall disburse before and in the first Herring voyage, the sum of £762 15s. 8d. out of purse. And that the same £762 15s. 8d. is clearly inned again, together wdth all other charges; and £Q5 14s. 4d. over and above, within less than a year : and so the Buss, with her nets and furniture, and the said £Q5 14s. 4d. in money, is gained clearly the First Voyage. And that if the Buss do also, that year, make a Cod fishing voyage, as aforesaid ; then I say, within the space of the said First Year, the Adventurer or the said Partners shall have all their Stocks into their purse again as aforesaid, and shall also have in purse gained clearly the said First Year, £362 17s. 8d. : which Gain is more than is to be disbursed the Second Year in repairing the said Buss, with her appurten- ances, &c. ; and also in furnishing her with' new herring cask, salt, victuals, &c., for the Second Year's fishing. And that the said Adventurer or Partners, after the said First Year, shall never be out of purse any money at all. But that the First Year's clear Gain will stock him or them so sufficiently for the use of this Buss, as by the same, they may get clearly after the said First Year, by two such voyages in that Buss, yearly, over and above all charges, £897 3s. 4d. And that if the said Adventurer or Partners will make but only one Herring voyage yearly, then by that one only Herring voyage yearly, the said Buss may get clearly per annum, as is before declared, £600, over and above all Charges. 648 English Fishings, the Dutch Gold Mine, [f^v Confess the private gain to every Undertaker before propounded may seem too great to be hoped for. But before any conclude so, let them read the Proclamation concerning this business made by those thriving States of the United Provinces of the Low Countries : and let them consider what should move those States in that public Proclamation, to call this herring fishing the "chiefest trade and principal gold mine" of those United Provinces, and to show such jealousy, and provide so very for the preservation thereof; if the gain thereby were not exceedingly great and extraordinary. And for myself, I say that I know that " no man may do evil, that good may come of it " : therefore I would not devise a lie to persuade any to a work how good soever, nor commend that to others, which my own heart were not first strongly persuaded to be commendable. Yet, as I deny not but that I may err in some of so many particulars ; so I disdain not, but rather desire to see such errors, honestly and fairly corrected by any that (out of more skill, and desire of perfecting and furthering this good work) shall find out any such errors. And whether this fishery be necessary for the common wealth or no, let the present condition and estate of our shipping and mariners, sea towns, and coasts, which (as the means) should be the walls and strength of this Islandish Monarchy ; I say, let them speak ! I will say no more to this point, as well for other reasons as also because this matter is but for a few, alas : namely for those only that prefer the common wealth to their own private [gains] ; and they are wise, and a word is enough for such. If any be so weak to think this mechanical fisher-trade not feasible to the English people ; to them, I may say, with Solomon, "Go to the pismire [ant] !" Look upon the Dutch ! Thou sluggard ! learn of them ! They do it daily in the sight of all men at our own doors ; upon our own coasts. But some will needs fear a lion in every way ; because they will em- ploy their talents no way, but lie unprofitably at home always. 649 The difficulties that Unwillingness hath objected, consist in Want of Men, of Nets, of Caske, of Timber and Plaiik, of Utterance of Sale, and of the fear of the Pirates. Of every of which, a word or tiuo. He sixteen men and boys before admitted to serve in the said Buss may be these, viz.: — A Master, a Mate, four ordinary sailors and four fishermen. There are ten. And then six landsmen and boys to be trained up by the ten former men in the Art of Sailing, and Craft of Fishery. By which means, every Buss shall be a seminary of sailors and fishers also, for so shall every Buss breed and make six new mariners; and so every hundred Busses breed six hundred new mariners to serve in such other Busses as shall be afterwards built : which is also no small addition to the strength of this State. Mariners. Now if there were one hundred Busses presently to be built, I would make no doubt (hard as the world goes) but before they could be fitted for the sea, there may be gathered up about the coast towns of His Majesty's dominions, at least an hundred able Masters to take charge of them, and another hundred of mariners to go with them as their Mates, and four hundred sailors to serve under the said hundred Masters. That is in all but 600 mariners and sailors. For I find in the 35th page of England s Way to Win Wealth (the author where- of was a Yarmouth man) that, the last winter but one, ''there were in that one town of Yarmouth three hundred 650 Objections as to Men, Nets, &c,, answered. [f^-.J idle men that could get nothing to do, living poor for lack of employment, who most gladly would have gone to sea in Pinks, if there had been any for them to go in," I have re- ported his own words. Fishermen. And for the four hundred fishermen to serve in the hundred Busses, they would soon be furnished [obtained] out of those poor fishers in small boats, as trawles, cobbles, &c., which fish all about the coasts : which poor men by those small vessels can hardly get their bread, and therefore would hold it as a great preferment to be called into such Busses where they may have meat, drink, and wages, as before is liberally propounded for such. Besides which, if need be, there are too too many [far too many] of those pernicious Trinkermen, who with trinker- boats destroy the river of Thames, by killing the fry and small fish there, even all that comes to net, before it be either meat or marketable. Which Trinkermen (if the}^ will not offer themselves) may, by order and authority of our State, be compelled to give over that evil, and to follow this good trade. Landsmen for a Seminary. But for the said six hundred landmen to serve in these hundred Busses we need not study where to find them ; if such should not seek for service in these Busses, the very streets of London and the suburbs will soon shew and afford them, if it were so many thousand [required], I think. Idle vagrants so extremely swarm there, as all know. So much for men. Nets. Nets will be the hardest matter to provide at the first ; yet, I understand that the beforenamed knight. Sir William Harvey, had in a few weeks or months, provided all his nets for his great Buss. And myself was offered nets for half a dozen Busses, if I would have had them last summer ; and if there were now a hundred Busses in build- ing, I am informed of one that will undertake to furnish them with nets. And after these Busses shall once be seen ; many for their own gain will provide for hemp, twine, and all necessaries to the making of nets enough. And doubtless Scotland and Ireland will presently afford good help in this behalf. Caskc. Caske will be plentifully served by Scotland and Ireland, [even] though we should make none of English timber. fe'ilG 500 Busses will serve England. 651 Timber and Plank. And for all the great and pitiful waste of our English woods ; yet will England afford timber and plank enough for many Busses : but, to spare England a while, Ireland will yield us Busses enough, besides many other good ships, if need be ; and Scotland will help us with masts. But if we would spare so near home, we may help ourselves out of Virginia and Sommer Islands [the Bermudas]. I wis [thmk] the Dutch, who have no materials in any dominions of their own, have made harder and dearer shifts for their multitudes of ships of all sorts. If they had shifted off the building of ships, because they had no timber or other shipping stuff of their own in their own lands, what a poor, naked, servile people had that free people been, ere this day ? Utterance or Sale. Touching Utterance and Sale of Her- rings, when we shall have them ; I am informed that there is yearly uttered and spent in His Majesty's own dominions, at least 10,000 Last [=120,000 barrels] of herrings: which, being served by ourselves, will keep in the land abundance of treasure, which the Dutch yearly carry out for the herrings, which they catch on our own coasts, and sell to us. Now if such a Buss, as aforesaid, get yearly a hundred Last of Herrings as aforesaid, then an hundred Busses, taking yearly a hundred Last a piece, do take in all 10,000 Last of herrings. So then His Majesty's own dominions will utter all the herrings which the hundred Busses shall take in a year. And then if we shall have five hundred Busses more; I am per- suaded we may, in France and in Dantsic and in other foreign parts, have as good and ready sale for them, as the Dutch have for theirs : for I hear that the Dutch could yearly utter double so many as they do sell, if they had them. But if that should not be so, surely it were too great poverty for English minds (like horses that know not their strength) to fear to set foot by the Dutch or any other people under heaven : or to fear to speed worse in any market or place than they, and yet not be driven to beat down the markets either, except the Dutch should prove more froward and fond thati can yet mis- trust ; but if they should, I will not be persuaded to think, but that the worser part would fall out to their share, at last. If there will be employment but for a thousand Busses, methinks, they should thank us (as for many other benefits, 652 Objections as to a Sale, &c., answered. [fg.J so for this) we may be contented that they share with us, by using only five hundred Busses; and to fish friendly in consort, as it were, with other five hundred Busses of ours. But if they should allege that they now having a thousand, shall have in that case no employment for the other five hundred : why then, perhaps, we may in friendly manner cope [bargain] with them, and buy of them the other five hundred of the said Busses. I thank GOD! I neither hate, nor envy the Dutch. Nay, for good and due respects, I prefer them to all other foreign nations in my love : and they acknowledging us, as they ought, we shall, I hope, do them no wrong ; and they must do us right. I have herein been longer than I meant to be, only be- cause there came even now to my mind some reports that I have heard, but do not believe, of very foul and insolent dealing of their Buss men with our poor weak fishermen upon our coasts. But if it were true, as I doubt it at least, yet I would not hate nor speak evil of a whole State for the saucy presumptions of a particular man or of a few men ; and those perhaps provoked thereto by our own Double Beer of England. Pirates and Enemies. It is too true that all seas are too full of pirates, and that amongst them (which we have great cause to lament) our English abound ; who are too ready to justify their lewd [wicked] errors, with the want of employ- ment. It is true also, that men are not to get their living by sinful violence and unlawful courses : yet I would that they were stript of that colour and pretence ; which a good fleet of Busses would do. Besides such a fleet of Busses will, by GOD's grace, be soon able to maintain about them a guard of strong warlike ships well appointed to defend them ; and in time of need also, to serve His Majesty, and offend his enemies. And such a guard will be very requisite : although GOD hath so laid and placed the herrings, as our Busses shall seldom need to lie, or to labour out of the sight of our own shores. So much of the facility. Lastly, touching the use of this famous fisher-trade, I will only commend unto your considerations, that which is written Jiereof in all the four books before mentioned, namely in The British Monarchy, and Hitchcock's A^'^ie' Year's Gift, and in 5,5;] Social effects of a Fleet of Busses. 65; England's Way to Win Wealth S-c, and in The Trade's Increase. The Dutch have thereby, as by their only or chief means, curbed and bearded their adversaries. What then may we do by it, if GOD please ; we, I say, to whom He hath vouch- safed multitudes of other helps (which Dutch-land hath not) to second this. This trade sets awork all their idle folks ; and it keeps their gold and silver in their dominions, and multiplies it. And I see not why the same trade should not be of the same use to us. Ow ABOARD our Busscs again ! which once well established and followed, will, in short time, I hope, by GOD's blessing, set many ploughmen here on work to sow hemp or flax ; both in England, Scotland, and Ireland. 2. And will convert our idle bellies, our beggars, our vagabonds and sharks into lusty hempbeaters, spinners, carders, rope-makers, networkers, coopers, smiths, ship- wrights, caulkers, sawyers, sailors, fishermen, biscuit-bakers, weavers of poledavis, sailmakers, and other good labouring members. 3. And will more warrant and encourage our Magistrates to punish the idle, the sturdy beggar, and the thief; when these Busses shall find employment for those that will work. 4. And will be a means that the true poor, aged, and im- potent shall be better and more plentifully, yet more easily and with less charges relieved ; when only such shall stand at devotion, and no valiant rogues shall share in the alms of the charitable, as now they do. 5. And will help to bring every one to eat their own bread. 6. Yea, and will supply His Majesty's armies and garrisons in time of need with many lusty able men instead of our bare- breeched beggars, and nasty sharks; that are as unskilful and as unwilling to fight as to work. 7. And will keep and bring in abundance of gold and silver. I know and confess that it is not in man to promise these, or any of them peremptorily ; but all these are the evident effects of this fishery among the Dutch. And therefore I may conclude, That we are to hope for like blessing by our like lawful and honest endeavours in this 654 May BE done by two kinds of Busses, g,^; Trade of fishery, which Almighty GOD hath brought home to our doors, to employ us in ; whereby He also gives us a com- fortable calling to the work. O BEGIN withal, if but some of our Noblemen and some of our gentry, and some citizens and others of ability, each man for himself, would speedily provide and employ at least one Buss a piece ; so as some good store of Busses may, amongst them, in that manner, be speedily provided and employed to join with Sir William Harvey, w^ho is already entered the field alone : no doubt but His Majesty will be pleased, at their humble suit, to encourage and incorporate them with privileges, immunities, and authority ; and so they may choose amongst themselves, some meet officers and overseers, and make meet laws and orders for the due and seasonable taking, curing, packing, and selling of the said herrings, &c. As the French and Straits [of Gibraltar] Merchants, who being so incorporated, yet have every man his own ship or the ship he hires : and each man by himself or by his factor, goes out, returns, buys and sells, not transgressing the private laws and orders of their respective Companies. But if, at the first entrance, there will [shall] not be any competent number of Busses so provided and adventured as abovesaid : if His Majesty will be pleased so to incorporate some fit for this work, and out of that Corporation, a sufficient Treasurer and other needful Officers be here chosen and made known ; then may all that please, of w^hatsoever honest condition, bring in by a day to be assigned^ what sum of money any shall like to Adventure herein, from £^ upwards. And when there shall be brought in ^^70,000 or ;^8o,ooo ; then presently the said Officers to provide an hundred Busses, which with that money will [shall] be royally built and furnished: and all their First Year's charge defrayed. And as more Stock shall come in, so also more Busses to be provided and added to those former, &c. All which may be (as in the now East India Company) the Joint Stock and Busses of the Company. Of which Joint Stock and Busses, every Adventurer accord- ing to the proportion of his said adventure may yearly know, fg,!] A Joint Stock like the East India Co. 655 give, and receive his proportion; as shall please GOD to dispose of the whole fleet and business. But whereas in the said East India Company, and others such like, as have a common Treasury whereinto every Adventure is promiscuously put, the said Adventurers, once brought in, are there still continued in bank, and often additions called for : in this Fishing Company every adventurer shall but only, as it were, lend the money he adventureth for one year or thereabouts ; as before is shewed. Now for the good government and sincere disposition of this Joint Stock, &c. ; it would be specially provided, amongst other ordinances and provisions, that all Officers be only annual, and that those be freely chosen and yearly changed by the more [majority of\ votes of the Company, yearly to be assembled for that purpose. And that whatsoever gratuities, or rewards, or fees, shall be yearly given to such Officers, may, not only in gross, but in particular, be distributed or set down by the more part of voices of the Company so assembled : and not one gross sum given, be divided or distributed by any one man. For so may the Company with their own money arm and enable one mian, first thereby made proud, to overrule and keep under himself, by binding his fellow officers to himself to the neglect of the generality ; whose proper gifts they be, though by that ill means it be not acknowledged : besides many other mischiefs and inconveniences, which may come by the overweening of one or few men, whilst others of better deserts perhaps, are neglected and not looked on ; to the moving of much offence, murmuring and envy in some, and of pride, insolency, and arrogancy in others. IBy this last mentioned promiscuous course of Joint Stock, after the rate of Adventure, and Charge, and Gain ; before in particulars set down, it appears that Every Adventurer of ^^loo may gain clearly Every Adventurer of ^^40 may gain clearly Every Adventurer of ;£'20 may gain clearly And every Adventurer of 5^5 may gain clearly . Surely, I hope this famous City (ever forward for the Kingdom's good) will, for its part, provide and furnish the first hundred of Busses at the least, and thereby, according to Per Ann7uii. £75 30 15 3 15 656 London, the Cresset to England. [f^,l\ their former noble examples (as the Cresset to the Kingdom) give light to the rest of the land to follow them by. And I think the East India Company will liberally further this work, for that thereby some of their greatest wants are likely to be supplied. I speak as I think, without insinuation ; which I hate as much as railing. As I neither hope for nor desire any other gain hereby than my share in the common good, that all this land shall, by GOD's blessing, reap by this business; and the proportionable gain of mine Adventure therein. THE END OF THE Cfjirn Oolume OF An English Garner. TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. ^"7 i