At Adlington, near Macclesfield he doth dwell,
Beloved, respected, and reputed well.

Through his great love, my stay with him was fixed,
From Thursday night, till noon on Monday next,
At his own table I did daily eat,

Whereat may be supposed, did want no meat,
He would have given me gold or silver either,
But I, with many thanks, received neither.
And thus much without flattery I dare swear,
He is a knight beloved far and near,
First he's beloved of his God above,
(Which love he loves to keep, beyond all love)
Next with a wife and children he is blest,
Each having God's fear planted in their breast.
With fair demaines, revenue of good lands,
He's fairly blessed by the Almighty's hands,
And as he's happy in these outward things,
So from his inward mind continual springs
Fruits of devotion, deeds of piety,
Good hospitable works of charity,
Just in his actions, constant in his word,
And one that won his honour with the sword,
He's no carranto, cap'ring, carpet knight,
But he knows when, and how to speak or fight,
I cannot flatter him, say what I can,
He's every way a complete gentleman.
I write not this, for what he did to me,

But what mine ears, and eyes did hear and see,

Nor do I pen this to enlarge his fame.
But to make others imitate the same,
For like a trumpet were I pleased to blow,
I would his worthy worth more amply show,
But I already fear have been too bold,
And crave his pardon, me excused to hold.
Thanks to his sons and servants every one,
Both males and females all, excepting none.
To bear a letter he did me require,

Near Manchester, unto a good Esquire:

His kinsman Edmund Prestwitch, he ordained,
That I was at Manchester entertained

Two nights, and one day, ere we thence could pass,
For men and horse, roast, boiled, and oats, and

grass;

This gentleman not only gave harbour,

But in the morning sent me to hls barber,

Who laved, and shaved me, still I spared my purse,

Yet sure he left me many a hair the worse.
But in conclusion, when his work was ended,
His glass informed, my face was much amended.
And for the kindness he to me did show,
God grant his customers beards faster grow,
That though the time of year be dear or cheap,
From fruitful faces he may mow and reap.

Then came a smith, with shoes, and tooth and nail,
He searched my horse's hoofs, mending what did

fail,

Yet this I note, my nag, through stones and dirt,
Did shift shoes twice, ere I did shift one shirt:
Can these kind things be in oblivion hid?
No, Master Prestwitch, this and much more did,
His friendship did command and freely gave
All before writ, and more than I durst crave.
But leaving him a little, I must tell,

How men of Manchester did use me well,
Their loves they on the tenter-hooks did rack,

Roast, boiled, baked, too-too-much, white, claret,

sack,

Nothing they thought too heavy or too hot,
Can followed can, and pot succeeded pot,

That what they could do, all they thought too little,
Striving in love the traveller to whittle.

We went into the house of one John Pinners,
A man that lives amongst a crew of sinners)
And there eight several sorts of ale we had,
All able to make one stark drunk or mad.
But I with courage bravely flinched not,
And gave the town leave to discharge the shot.
We had at one time set upon the table,
Good ale of hyssop, 'twas no Æsop-fable:

Then had we ale of sage, and ale of malt,
And ale of wormwood, that could make one halt,
With ale of rosemary, and betony,

And two ales more, or else I needs must lie.
But to conclude this drinking aley-tale,

We had a sort of ale, called scurvy ale.
Thus all these men, at their own charge and cost,
Did strive whose love should be expressed most,
And farther to declare their boundless loves,
They saw I wanted, and they gave me gloves,
In deed, and very deed, their loves were such,
That in their praise I cannot write too much;
They merit more than I have here compiled,
I lodged at the Eagle and the Child,

Whereas my hostess, (a good ancient woman)
Did entertain me with respect, not common.
She caused my linen, shirts, and bands be washed,
And on my way she caused me be refreshed,
She gave me twelve silk points, she gave me bacon,
Which by me much refused, at last was taken,

In troth she proved a mother unto me,
For which, I evermore will thankful be.
But when to mind these kindnesses I call,
Kind Master Prestwitch author is of all,
And yet Sir Urian Leigh's good commendation,
Was the main ground of this my recreation.
From both of them, there what I had, I had,
Or else my entertainment had been bad.
O all you worthy men of Manchester,
(True bred bloods of the County Lancaster)
When I forget what you to me have done,
Then let me headlong to confusion run.
To noble Master Prestwitch I must give

Thanks, upon thanks, as long as I do live,
His love was such, I ne'er can pay the score,
He far surpassed all that went before,

A horse and man he sent, with boundless bounty, To bring me quite through Lancaster's large county, Which I well know is fifty miles at large,

And he defrayed all the cost and charge.

This unlooked pleasure, was to me such pleasure,
That I can ne'er express my thanks with measure.
So Mistress Saracoal, hostess kind,

And Manchester with thanks I left behind.
The Wednesday being July's twenty nine,
My journey I to Preston did confine,

All the day long it rained but one shower,
Which from the morning to the evening did pour,
And I, before to Preston I could get,

Was soused, and pickled both with rain and sweat,
But there I was supplied with fire and food,
And anything I wanted sweet and good.

There, at the Hind, kind Master Hind mine host,
Kept a good table, baked and boiled, and roast,
There Wednesday, Thursday, Friday I did stay,
And hardly got from thence on Saturday.
Unto my lodging often did repair,

Kind Master Thomas Banister, the Mayor,
Who is of worship, and of good respect,

And in his charge discreet and circumspect.