Notes upon Russia/Volume 1/Certaine Letters in Verse
CERTAINE LETTERS IN VERSE,
WRITTEN BY MASTER GEORGE TURBERUILE,
OUT OF MOSCOUIA,
Which went as Secretaire thither with Master Tho. Randolph, her
Maisties Embassadour to the Emperour, 1568, to certaine
friends of his in London, describing the manners
of the countrey and people.
(Referred to at p. cxxvii of the Introduction.)
TO HIS ESPECIALL FRIEND, MASTER EDWARD DANCIE.
My Dancie deere, when I recount within my brest,
My London friends, and wonted mates, and thee above the rest:
I feele a thousand fittes of deepe and deadly woe,
To thinke that I from land to sea, from bliss to bale did goe.
I left my native soyle, full like a retchlesse man,
And unacquainted of the coast, among the Russies ran:
A people passing rude, to vices vile inclinde.
Folke fitting to be of Bacchus’ trayne, so quaffing is their kinde,
Drinke is their whole desire, the pot is all their pride,
The sobrest head doeth once a day stand needfull of a guide.
If he to banquet bid his friends, he will not shrinke
On them at dinner to bestowe a douzen kindes of drinke:
Such licour as they have, and as the countrey gives,
But chiefly two, one called Kuas, whereby the Mousike lives,
Small ware and waterlike, but somewhat tarte in taste,
The rest is Meade of honie made, wherewith their lippes they haste.
And if he goe unto his neighbour as a guest,
He cares for litle meate, if so his drinke be of the best;
No wonder though they use such vile and beastly trade,
Sith with the hatchet and the hand their chiefest gods be made;
Their idoles haue their heartes—on God they never call,
Unlesse it be (Nichola Bough[1]) that hangs against the wall.
The house that hath no god or paynted saint within,
Is not to be resorted too—that roofe is full of sinne.
Besides their priuate gods, in open places stand
Their crosses, unto which they crooch, and bless themselves with hand;
Devoutly downe they ducke with forehead to the ground,
Was neuer more deceit in ragges and greasie garments found.
Almost the meanest man in all the countrie rides;
The woman eke, against our use, her trotting horse bestrides:
In sundry colours they, both men and women goe,
In buskins all, that money haue on buskins to bestoe.
Eche woman hanging hath a ring within her eare,
Which all of auncient vse, and some of very pride doe weare;
Their gate is very brave, their countenance wise and sadde,
And yet they follow fleshly lustes, their trade of living badde.
It is no shame at all accounted, to defile
Anothers bedde, they make no care their follies to concile;
Is not the meanest man in all the land but hee,
To buy her paynted colours, doth allow his wife a fee,
Wherewith she deckes herselfe, and dyes her tawnie skinne,
She prankes and paints her smoakie face, both browe, lippe, cheeke, and chinne.
Yea those that honest are, if any such there be
Within the land, doe use the like; a man may plainely see
Upon some womens cheekes the paynting how it lies,
In plaister sort for that too thick, her face the harlot dies.
But such as skilfull are, and cunning dames indeed,
By daily practise doe it well, yea sure they doe exceede;
They lay their colours so, as he that is full wise,
May easly be deceiv’d therein, if he doe trust his eyes.
I not a little muse, what madnes makes them paint
Their faces, waying how they keepe the stoove by meere constraint;
For seldome when, vnlesse on church or marriage day,
A man shall see the dames abroade that are of best aray;
The Russie meanes to reape the profit of her pryde,
And so he mewes her to be sure she lye by no mans side.
Thus much, friend Dancie, I did meane to write to thee,
To let thee weete in Russia land what men and women bee.
Hereafter I perhaps of other things will write
To thee, and other of my friendes, which I shall see with sight;
And other stuffe besides, which true report shall tell,
Meanewhile I ende my louing lines, and bid thee now farewell.
My London friends, and wonted mates, and thee above the rest:
I feele a thousand fittes of deepe and deadly woe,
To thinke that I from land to sea, from bliss to bale did goe.
I left my native soyle, full like a retchlesse man,
And unacquainted of the coast, among the Russies ran:
A people passing rude, to vices vile inclinde.
Folke fitting to be of Bacchus’ trayne, so quaffing is their kinde,
Drinke is their whole desire, the pot is all their pride,
The sobrest head doeth once a day stand needfull of a guide.
If he to banquet bid his friends, he will not shrinke
On them at dinner to bestowe a douzen kindes of drinke:
Such licour as they have, and as the countrey gives,
But chiefly two, one called Kuas, whereby the Mousike lives,
Small ware and waterlike, but somewhat tarte in taste,
The rest is Meade of honie made, wherewith their lippes they haste.
And if he goe unto his neighbour as a guest,
He cares for litle meate, if so his drinke be of the best;
No wonder though they use such vile and beastly trade,
Sith with the hatchet and the hand their chiefest gods be made;
Their idoles haue their heartes—on God they never call,
Unlesse it be (Nichola Bough[1]) that hangs against the wall.
The house that hath no god or paynted saint within,
Is not to be resorted too—that roofe is full of sinne.
Besides their priuate gods, in open places stand
Their crosses, unto which they crooch, and bless themselves with hand;
Devoutly downe they ducke with forehead to the ground,
Was neuer more deceit in ragges and greasie garments found.
Almost the meanest man in all the countrie rides;
The woman eke, against our use, her trotting horse bestrides:
In sundry colours they, both men and women goe,
In buskins all, that money haue on buskins to bestoe.
Eche woman hanging hath a ring within her eare,
Which all of auncient vse, and some of very pride doe weare;
Their gate is very brave, their countenance wise and sadde,
And yet they follow fleshly lustes, their trade of living badde.
It is no shame at all accounted, to defile
Anothers bedde, they make no care their follies to concile;
Is not the meanest man in all the land but hee,
To buy her paynted colours, doth allow his wife a fee,
Wherewith she deckes herselfe, and dyes her tawnie skinne,
She prankes and paints her smoakie face, both browe, lippe, cheeke, and chinne.
Yea those that honest are, if any such there be
Within the land, doe use the like; a man may plainely see
Upon some womens cheekes the paynting how it lies,
In plaister sort for that too thick, her face the harlot dies.
But such as skilfull are, and cunning dames indeed,
By daily practise doe it well, yea sure they doe exceede;
They lay their colours so, as he that is full wise,
May easly be deceiv’d therein, if he doe trust his eyes.
I not a little muse, what madnes makes them paint
Their faces, waying how they keepe the stoove by meere constraint;
For seldome when, vnlesse on church or marriage day,
A man shall see the dames abroade that are of best aray;
The Russie meanes to reape the profit of her pryde,
And so he mewes her to be sure she lye by no mans side.
Thus much, friend Dancie, I did meane to write to thee,
To let thee weete in Russia land what men and women bee.
Hereafter I perhaps of other things will write
To thee, and other of my friendes, which I shall see with sight;
And other stuffe besides, which true report shall tell,
Meanewhile I ende my louing lines, and bid thee now farewell.
TO SPENCER.
If I should now forget, or not remember thee,
Thou, Spencer, mightest a foule rebuke and shame impute to mee;
For I to open shew did loue thee passing well,
And thou wert he at parture whom I loathed to bid farewell;
And as I went thy friend, so I continue still,
No better proofe thou canst then this desire of true good will.
I doe remember well when needes I should away,
And that the poste would licence us no longer time to stay;
Thou wrongst me by the fist, and holding fast my hand,
Didst crave of me to send thee newes, and how I liked the land.
It is a sandy soile, no very fruitfull vaine,
More waste and woodie grounds there are then closes fit for graine:
Yet graine there growing is, which they untimely take,
And cut or eare the corne be ripe; they mowe it on a stake;
And laying sheafe by sheafe, their haruest so they drie;
They make the greater haste for feare the frost the corne destroy.
For in the winter time, so glarie is the ground,
As neither grass nor other graine in pastures may be found:
In coms the cattel then, the sheepe, the colt, the cowe,
Fast by his bed the mowsike then a lodging doth allowe,
Whom he with fodder feedes, and holds as deere as life,
And thus they weare the winter with the mowsike and his wife.
Seuen months the winter dures, the glare it is so great,
As it is May before he turne his ground to sowe his wheate;
The bodies eke that die, unburied lie they then,
Laid up in coffins made of firre, as well the poorest men,
As those of greater state; the cause is lightly found,
For that in winter time they cannot come to breake the ground;
And wood so plenteous is, quite throughout all the land,
As rich and poor, at time of death, assur’d of coffins stand.
Perhaps thou musest much, how this may stand with reason,
That bodies dead can uncorrupt abide so long a season;
Take this for certaine trothe, as soon as heate is gone,
The force of colde the bodie binds as hard as any stone,
Without offence at all to any living thing:
And so they lye in perfect state till next returne of springe.
Their beasts be like to ours, as farre as I can see,
For shape and shewe, but somewhat lesse of bulke and bone they be;
Of watrish taste, the flesh not firme like English beefe,
And yet it serues them very well, and is a good releefe.
Their sheepe are very small, sharpe singled, handfull long,
Great store of fowle on sea and land, the moorish reedes amonge,
The greatnes of the store doth make the prices lesse;
Besides in all the land they knowe not how good meate to dresse.
They use neither broach nor spit, but when the stooue they heate,
They put their victuals in a pan, and so they bake their meate;
No pewter to be had, no dishes but of wood,
No use of trenchers; cups cut out of byrche are very good.
They use but wooden spoones, which hanging in a case,
Eache mowsike at his girdle ties, and thinkes it no disgrace;
With whitles two or three, the betterman the moe,
The cheefest Russies in the land with spoone and kniues doe goe.
Their houses are not huge of building, but they say
They plant them in the loftiest ground to shift the snowe away;
Which in the winter time, each where full thicke they lie,
Which makes them have the more desire to set their houses high;
No stonework is in use, their roofes of rafters be,
One linked in another fast, their walls are all of tree;
Of masts both long and large, with mosse put in betweene,
To keepe the force of weather out, I neur earst haue seene;
A grosse deuise so good, and on the roofe they lay,
The burthen barke, to rid the raine, and sudden showers away.
In euery roome a stoue, to serue the winter turne,
Of wood they haue sufficient store as much as they can burne;
They have no English glasse, of slices of a rocke,
Hight Sluda, they their windowes make, that English glass doth mocke.
They cut it very thinne, and sowe it with a thred,
In pretie order like to panes, to serue their present neede;
No other glasse good faith, doth giue a better light,
And sure the rocke is nothing rich, the cost is very slight.
The chiefest place is that, where hangs the god by it,
The owner of the house himself doth neuer sit,
Unlesse his better come, to whom he yeelds the seat;
The stranger bending to the god, the ground with brow must beat,
And in that very place which they most sacred deeme,
The stranger lyes; a token that his guest he doth esteeme.
Where he is woont to have 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 theyr countrey downe is rife, and feathers out of crie;
Unlesse it be because the countrey is so hard,
They feare by nicenesse of a bed theyr bodyes would be mard.
I wisht thee oft with us, saue that I stood in feare,
Thou wouldst haue loathed to haue layd thy limmes upon a beare,
As I and Stafford did, that was my mate in bed;
And yet (we thank the God of heauen) we both right well haue sped.
Loe thus I make an end; 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 heere and there;
For if I should, my pen 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 traffike 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.
Thou, Spencer, mightest a foule rebuke and shame impute to mee;
For I to open shew did loue thee passing well,
And thou wert he at parture whom I loathed to bid farewell;
And as I went thy friend, so I continue still,
No better proofe thou canst then this desire of true good will.
I doe remember well when needes I should away,
And that the poste would licence us no longer time to stay;
Thou wrongst me by the fist, and holding fast my hand,
Didst crave of me to send thee newes, and how I liked the land.
It is a sandy soile, no very fruitfull vaine,
More waste and woodie grounds there are then closes fit for graine:
Yet graine there growing is, which they untimely take,
And cut or eare the corne be ripe; they mowe it on a stake;
And laying sheafe by sheafe, their haruest so they drie;
They make the greater haste for feare the frost the corne destroy.
For in the winter time, so glarie is the ground,
As neither grass nor other graine in pastures may be found:
In coms the cattel then, the sheepe, the colt, the cowe,
Fast by his bed the mowsike then a lodging doth allowe,
Whom he with fodder feedes, and holds as deere as life,
And thus they weare the winter with the mowsike and his wife.
Seuen months the winter dures, the glare it is so great,
As it is May before he turne his ground to sowe his wheate;
The bodies eke that die, unburied lie they then,
Laid up in coffins made of firre, as well the poorest men,
As those of greater state; the cause is lightly found,
For that in winter time they cannot come to breake the ground;
And wood so plenteous is, quite throughout all the land,
As rich and poor, at time of death, assur’d of coffins stand.
Perhaps thou musest much, how this may stand with reason,
That bodies dead can uncorrupt abide so long a season;
Take this for certaine trothe, as soon as heate is gone,
The force of colde the bodie binds as hard as any stone,
Without offence at all to any living thing:
And so they lye in perfect state till next returne of springe.
Their beasts be like to ours, as farre as I can see,
For shape and shewe, but somewhat lesse of bulke and bone they be;
Of watrish taste, the flesh not firme like English beefe,
And yet it serues them very well, and is a good releefe.
Their sheepe are very small, sharpe singled, handfull long,
Great store of fowle on sea and land, the moorish reedes amonge,
The greatnes of the store doth make the prices lesse;
Besides in all the land they knowe not how good meate to dresse.
They use neither broach nor spit, but when the stooue they heate,
They put their victuals in a pan, and so they bake their meate;
No pewter to be had, no dishes but of wood,
No use of trenchers; cups cut out of byrche are very good.
They use but wooden spoones, which hanging in a case,
Eache mowsike at his girdle ties, and thinkes it no disgrace;
With whitles two or three, the betterman the moe,
The cheefest Russies in the land with spoone and kniues doe goe.
Their houses are not huge of building, but they say
They plant them in the loftiest ground to shift the snowe away;
Which in the winter time, each where full thicke they lie,
Which makes them have the more desire to set their houses high;
No stonework is in use, their roofes of rafters be,
One linked in another fast, their walls are all of tree;
Of masts both long and large, with mosse put in betweene,
To keepe the force of weather out, I neur earst haue seene;
A grosse deuise so good, and on the roofe they lay,
The burthen barke, to rid the raine, and sudden showers away.
In euery roome a stoue, to serue the winter turne,
Of wood they haue sufficient store as much as they can burne;
They have no English glasse, of slices of a rocke,
Hight Sluda, they their windowes make, that English glass doth mocke.
They cut it very thinne, and sowe it with a thred,
In pretie order like to panes, to serue their present neede;
No other glasse good faith, doth giue a better light,
And sure the rocke is nothing rich, the cost is very slight.
The chiefest place is that, where hangs the god by it,
The owner of the house himself doth neuer sit,
Unlesse his better come, to whom he yeelds the seat;
The stranger bending to the god, the ground with brow must beat,
And in that very place which they most sacred deeme,
The stranger lyes; a token that his guest he doth esteeme.
Where he is woont to have 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 theyr countrey downe is rife, and feathers out of crie;
Unlesse it be because the countrey is so hard,
They feare by nicenesse of a bed theyr bodyes would be mard.
I wisht thee oft with us, saue that I stood in feare,
Thou wouldst haue loathed to haue layd thy limmes upon a beare,
As I and Stafford did, that was my mate in bed;
And yet (we thank the God of heauen) we both right well haue sped.
Loe thus I make an end; 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 heere and there;
For if I should, my pen 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 traffike 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.
TO PARKER.
My Parker, 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, thou 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 faste,
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 stoue, and closenesse of the aire;
It is theyr common vse to shaue or els to sheare
Theyr heads, for none in all the land long lolling locks doth weare,
Unlesse perhaps he haue his souereigne prince displeas’d,
For then he neur cuts his haire vntill he be appeas’d.
A certaine signe to know who in displeasure be,
For every man that views 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.
Theyr garments be not gay, nor handsome to the eye,
A cap aloft theyr heads they haue that standeth very hye,
Which colpacke they do terme. They weare no ruffes at all;
The best haue collers set with pearle, which they rubasca call;
Theyr shirts in Russie long, they worke them downe before,
And on the sleuees with coulered silks two inches good and more.
Aloft theyr shirts they weare, a garment iacket wise,
Hight onoriadka, and about his burlie waste he tyes
His portkies, which in stead of better breeches bee:
Of linnen cloth that garment is, no codpiece is to see.
A payre of yarnen stocks to keep the colde away,
Within his boots the Russie weares, the heeles they underlay
With clouting clamps of steele sharp-pointed at the toes,
And ouer all a suba furd, and thus the Russies goes.
Well butned is the sube according to his state,
Some silke, of silver other some, but those of poorest rate
Do weare no subes at all, but grosser gowns 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 bee,
Much fashioned like the Scotish seats, broad flacks to keepe the knee
From sweating of the horse, the pannels larger farre,
And broader be then ours, they use short stirrups for the warre;
For when the Russie is pursued by cruell foe,
He rides away, and suddenly betakes him to his boe,
And bends me but about in saddle as he sits,
And therewithall amids his race his following foe he hits.
Theyr bowes are very short, like Turkie bowes outright,
Of sinowes made with birchen barke, in cunning maner dight;
Small arrowes, cruel heads, that fell and forked bee,
Which being shot from out those bowes, a cruell way will flee:
They seldome vse to shoo their horse, vnlesse they ride
In post vpon the frozen fluds, then cause they shall not slide
He sets a slender calke, and so he rides his way.
The horses of the countrey go good fourscore versts a day,
And all without the spurre, once prick them and they skippe,
But go not forward on their way, the Russie has his whippe
To rappe him on the ribbes, for though all booted bee,
Yet shall ye not a payre 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 theyr skill.
Againe the dice as fast, the poorest rogues of al
Will sit them downe in open field, and there to gaming fall;
Their dice are very small, in fashion like to those
Which we do vse; he takes them up, and ouer his thumb he throwes,
Not shaking them a whit, the cast suspiciouslie,
And yet I deeme them void of art that dicing most applie.
At play when siluer lacks, goes saddle, horse, and all,
And each thing else 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 fare at home, I wist it well,
And wouldest be loathe 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 wer glad;
In such a sauage soile, where lawes do beare no sway,
But all is at the king his will, to saue or els to slay;
And that sans cause, God wot, if so his mind be such:
But what meane I with kings to deale, we ought no saints to touch.
Conceiue the rest yourselfe, and deeme what liues they lead,
Where lust is law, and subiects liue continually in dread;
And where the best estates have none assurance good,
Of lands, of liues, nor nothing falles vnto the next of blood:
But all of custome doth vnto the prince redowne,
And all the whole revenue comes vnto the king his crowne.
Good faith I see thee muse at what I tell thee now,
But true it is, no choice, but all at princes pleasure bow.
So Tarquine ruled Rome, as thou remembrest well,
And what his fortune was at last, I know thy selfe canst tell;
Where will in common weale doth beare the onely sway,
And lust is law, the prince and realme must needs in time decay;
The strangenesse of the place is such for sundry things I see,
As if I would, I can not write, ech priuate point to thee.
The colde is rare, the people rude, the prince so full of pride,
The realme so stored with monks and nunnes, and priests on euery side:
The maners are so Turkie like, the men so full of guile,
The women wanton, temples stuft with idols that defile
The seats that sacred ought to be, the customes are so quaint,
As if I would describe the whole, I feare my penne would faint.
In summe, I say, I never saw a prince that so did raigne,
Nor people so beset with saints, yet all but vile and vaine:
Wilde Irish are as ciul as the Russies in theyr kinde,
Hard choice which is the best of both, ech bloudy, rude and blinde.
If thou be wise, as wise thou art, and wilt be rulde by me,
Liue still at home, and couet not those barbarous coasts to see;
No good befalles a man that seekes, and findes no better place,
No ciul customes to be learned, where God bestowes no grace.
And truelie ill they do deserue to be belou’d of God,
That neither loue nor stand in awe of his assured rod:
Which though be long, yet plagues at last the vile and beastly sort,
Of sinful wights, that all in vice do place theyr chiefest sport.
Adieu, friend Parker, if thou list to know the Russies well,
To Sigismundus booke repayre, who all the trueth can tell,
For he long earst in message went unto that sauage king,
Sent by the Pole, and true report in ech respect did bring.
To him I recommend myself, to ease my penne of paine,
And now at last do wish thee well, and bid farewell againe.
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, thou 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 faste,
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 stoue, and closenesse of the aire;
It is theyr common vse to shaue or els to sheare
Theyr heads, for none in all the land long lolling locks doth weare,
Unlesse perhaps he haue his souereigne prince displeas’d,
For then he neur cuts his haire vntill he be appeas’d.
A certaine signe to know who in displeasure be,
For every man that views 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.
Theyr garments be not gay, nor handsome to the eye,
A cap aloft theyr heads they haue that standeth very hye,
Which colpacke they do terme. They weare no ruffes at all;
The best haue collers set with pearle, which they rubasca call;
Theyr shirts in Russie long, they worke them downe before,
And on the sleuees with coulered silks two inches good and more.
Aloft theyr shirts they weare, a garment iacket wise,
Hight onoriadka, and about his burlie waste he tyes
His portkies, which in stead of better breeches bee:
Of linnen cloth that garment is, no codpiece is to see.
A payre of yarnen stocks to keep the colde away,
Within his boots the Russie weares, the heeles they underlay
With clouting clamps of steele sharp-pointed at the toes,
And ouer all a suba furd, and thus the Russies goes.
Well butned is the sube according to his state,
Some silke, of silver other some, but those of poorest rate
Do weare no subes at all, but grosser gowns 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 bee,
Much fashioned like the Scotish seats, broad flacks to keepe the knee
From sweating of the horse, the pannels larger farre,
And broader be then ours, they use short stirrups for the warre;
For when the Russie is pursued by cruell foe,
He rides away, and suddenly betakes him to his boe,
And bends me but about in saddle as he sits,
And therewithall amids his race his following foe he hits.
Theyr bowes are very short, like Turkie bowes outright,
Of sinowes made with birchen barke, in cunning maner dight;
Small arrowes, cruel heads, that fell and forked bee,
Which being shot from out those bowes, a cruell way will flee:
They seldome vse to shoo their horse, vnlesse they ride
In post vpon the frozen fluds, then cause they shall not slide
He sets a slender calke, and so he rides his way.
The horses of the countrey go good fourscore versts a day,
And all without the spurre, once prick them and they skippe,
But go not forward on their way, the Russie has his whippe
To rappe him on the ribbes, for though all booted bee,
Yet shall ye not a payre 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 theyr skill.
Againe the dice as fast, the poorest rogues of al
Will sit them downe in open field, and there to gaming fall;
Their dice are very small, in fashion like to those
Which we do vse; he takes them up, and ouer his thumb he throwes,
Not shaking them a whit, the cast suspiciouslie,
And yet I deeme them void of art that dicing most applie.
At play when siluer lacks, goes saddle, horse, and all,
And each thing else 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 fare at home, I wist it well,
And wouldest be loathe 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 wer glad;
In such a sauage soile, where lawes do beare no sway,
But all is at the king his will, to saue or els to slay;
And that sans cause, God wot, if so his mind be such:
But what meane I with kings to deale, we ought no saints to touch.
Conceiue the rest yourselfe, and deeme what liues they lead,
Where lust is law, and subiects liue continually in dread;
And where the best estates have none assurance good,
Of lands, of liues, nor nothing falles vnto the next of blood:
But all of custome doth vnto the prince redowne,
And all the whole revenue comes vnto the king his crowne.
Good faith I see thee muse at what I tell thee now,
But true it is, no choice, but all at princes pleasure bow.
So Tarquine ruled Rome, as thou remembrest well,
And what his fortune was at last, I know thy selfe canst tell;
Where will in common weale doth beare the onely sway,
And lust is law, the prince and realme must needs in time decay;
The strangenesse of the place is such for sundry things I see,
As if I would, I can not write, ech priuate point to thee.
The colde is rare, the people rude, the prince so full of pride,
The realme so stored with monks and nunnes, and priests on euery side:
The maners are so Turkie like, the men so full of guile,
The women wanton, temples stuft with idols that defile
The seats that sacred ought to be, the customes are so quaint,
As if I would describe the whole, I feare my penne would faint.
In summe, I say, I never saw a prince that so did raigne,
Nor people so beset with saints, yet all but vile and vaine:
Wilde Irish are as ciul as the Russies in theyr kinde,
Hard choice which is the best of both, ech bloudy, rude and blinde.
If thou be wise, as wise thou art, and wilt be rulde by me,
Liue still at home, and couet not those barbarous coasts to see;
No good befalles a man that seekes, and findes no better place,
No ciul customes to be learned, where God bestowes no grace.
And truelie ill they do deserue to be belou’d of God,
That neither loue nor stand in awe of his assured rod:
Which though be long, yet plagues at last the vile and beastly sort,
Of sinful wights, that all in vice do place theyr chiefest sport.
Adieu, friend Parker, if thou list to know the Russies well,
To Sigismundus booke repayre, who all the trueth can tell,
For he long earst in message went unto that sauage king,
Sent by the Pole, and true report in ech respect did bring.
To him I recommend myself, to ease my penne of paine,
And now at last do wish thee well, and bid farewell againe.
- ↑ Nicholas of Bari.