A Token That His Guest He Doth Esteeme. Where He Is Wont To Haue A Beares Skinne For His Bed,

And must, in stead of pillow, clap his saddle to his head. In Russia other shift there is not to

Be had, For where the bedding is not good, the boalsters are but bad I mused very much, what made them so to lie, Sith in their countrey Downe is rife, and feathers out of crie: Vnlesse it be because the countrey is so hard, They feare by nicenesse of a bed their bodies would be mard, I wisht thee oft with vs, saue that I stood in feare Thou wouldst haue loathed to haue layd thy limmes vpon a beare, As I and Stafford did, that was my mate in bed: And yet (we thanke the God of heauen) we both right well haue sped. Loe thus I make an ende: none other newes to thee, But that the countrey is too colde, the people beastly bee. I write not all I know, I touch but here and there, For if I should, my penne would pinch, and eke offend I feare. Who so shall read this verse, coniecture of the rest, And thinke by reason of our trade, that I do thinke the best. But if no traffique were, then could I boldly pen The hardnesse of the soile, and eke the maners of the men. They say the Lions paw giues iudgement of the beast: And so may you deeme of the great, by reading of the least.

[Footenote: _Suggested emendation_: Them.]

To Parker. [Footnote: Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury. See an excellent account of him and his writings in Allibone's Dictionary.]

My Parker, paper, pen, and inke were made to write, And idle heads, that little do, haue leisure to indite: Wherefore, respecting these, and thine assured loue, If I would write no newes to thee, them might'st my pen reproue. And sithence fortune thus hath shou'd my shippe on shore: And made me seeke another Realme vnseene of me before: The maners of the men I purpose to declare. And other priuate points besides, which strange and geazon are. The Russie men are round of bodies, fully fac'd, The greatest part with bellies bigge that ouerhang the waste, Flat headed for the most, with faces nothing faire, But browne, by reason of the stone, and closenesse of the aire: It is their common vse to shaue or els to sheare Their heads, for none in all the land long lolling locks doth weare, Vnlsse perhaps he haue his souereigne prince displeas'd, For then he neuer cuts his haire, vntil he be appeas'd, A certaine signe to know who in displeasure be, For euery man that viewes his head, will say, Loe this is he. And during all the time he lets his locks to grow, Dares no man for his life to him a face of friendship show. Their garments be not gay, nor handsome to the eye, A cap aloft their heads they haue, that standeth very hie, Which Colpack they do terme. They wears no ruffes at all; The best haue collers set with pearle, which they Rubasca call. Their shirts in Russie long, they worke them downe before, And on the sleeues with coloured Silks, two inches good and more. Aloft their shirts they weare a garment iacket wise Hight Onoriadka, and about his burlie waste, he tyes His portkies, which in stead of better breeches be: Of linnen cloth that garment is, no codpiece is to see. A paire of yarnen stocks to keepe the colde away, Within his boots the Russie weares, the heeles they vnderlay With clouting clamps of steele, sharpe pointed at the toes, And ouer all a Shuba furd, and thus the Russe goes. Well butned is the Shube, according to his state, Some Silke, of Siluer other some: but those of poorest rate Do weare no Shubs at all, but grosser gownes to sight, That reacheth downe beneath the calfe, and that Armacha hight: These are the Russies robes. The richest vse to ride From place to place, his seruant runnes, and followes by his side. The Cassacke beares his felt, to force away the raine: Their bridles are not very braue, their saddles are but plaine. No bits but snaffles all, of birch their saddles be, Much fashioned like the Scottish seates, broad flakes to keepe the knee From sweating of the horse, the pannels larger farre And broader be then ours, they vse short stirrups for the warre: For when the Russie is pursued by cruel foe, He rides away, and suddenly betakes him to his boe, And bends me but about in saddle as be sits, And therewithall amids his race his following foe he hits. Their bowes are very short, like Turkie bowes outright, Of sinowes made with birchen barke, in cunning maner dight. Small arrowes, cruell heads, that fell and forked bee, Which being shot from out those bowes, a cruel way will flee. They seldome vse to shoo their horse, vnlesse they ride In post vpon the frozen flouds, then cause they shall not slide, He sets a slender calke, and so he rides his way. The horses of the countrey go good fourescore versts a day, And all without the spurre, once pricke them and they skippe, But goe not forward on their way, the Russie hath his whippe To rappe him on the ribbes, for though all booted bee, Yet shall you not a paire of spurres in all the countrey see. The common game is chesse, almost the simplest will Both giue a checke and eke a mate, by practise comes their skill. Againe they dice as fast, the poorest rogues of all Will sit them downe in open field, and there to gaming fall Their dice are very small, in fashion like to those Which we doe vse, he takes them vp, and ouer thumbe he throwes Not shaking them a whit, they cast suspiciously, And yet I deeme them voyd of art that dicing most apply. At play when Siluer lacks, goes saddle, horse and all, And eche thing els worth Siluer walkes, although the price be small. Because thou louest to play friend Parker other while, I wish thee there the weary day with dicing to beguile. But thou weart better farre at home, I wist it well, And wouldest be loath among such lowts so long a time to dwell. Then iudge of vs thy friends, what kinde of life, we had, That neere the frozen pole to waste our weary dayes were glad. In such a sauage soile, weere lawes do beare no sway, But all is at the king his will, to saue or else to slay. And that sans cause, God wot, if so his minde be such. But what meane I with Kings to deale?

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