Two miles from thence, we sat us down and dined,
Well bulwarked by a hedge, from rain and wind.
We having fed, away incontinent,
With weary pace toward Daventry we went.
Four miles short of it, one o'ertook me there,
And told me he would leave a jug of beer,
At Daventry at the Horse-shoe for my use.
I thought it no good manners to refuse,
But thanked him, for his kind unasked gift,
Whilst I was lame as scarce a leg could lift,
Came limping after to that stony town,
Whose hard streets made me almost halt right
There had my friend performed the words he said,
And at the door a jug of liquor staid,
The folks were all informed, before I came,
How, and wherefore my journey I did frame,
Which caused mine hostess from her door come
(Having a great wart rampant on her snout.)
The tapsters, hostlers, one another call,
The chamberlains with admiration all,
Were filled with wonder, more than wonderful,
As if some monster sent from the Mogul,
Some elephant from Africa, I had been,
Or some strange beast from the Amazonian Queen.
As buzzards, widgeons, woodcocks, and such fowl,
Do gaze and wonder at the broad-faced owl,
So did these brainless asses, all amazed,
With admirable Nonsense talked and gazed,
They knew my state (although not told by me)
That I could scarcely go, they all could see,
They drank of my beer, that to me was given,
But gave me not a drop to make all even,
And that which in my mind was most amiss,
My hostess she stood by and saw all this,
Had she but said, come near the house my friend,
For this day here shall be your journey's end.
Then had she done the thing which [she] did not,
And I in kinder words had paid the shot.
I do entreat my friends, (as I have some)
If they to Daventry do chance to come,
That they will baulk that inn; or if by chance,
Or accident into that house they glance,
Kind gentlemen, as they by you reap profit,
My hostess care of me, pray tell her of it,*
Yet do not neither; lodge there when you will,
You for your money shall be welcome still.
From thence that night, although my bones were
I made a shift to hobble seven miles more :
The way to Dunchurch, foul with dirt and mire,
Able, I think, both man and horse to tire.
On Dunsmoor Heath, a hedge doth there enclose
Grounds, on the right hand, there I did repose.
*See Dedication to The Scourge of Baseness.
Wit's whetstone, Want, there made us quickly learn,
With knives to cut down rushes, and green fern,
Of which we made a field-bed in the field,
Which sleep, and rest, and much content did yield.
There with my mother earth, I thought it fit
To lodge, and yet no incest did commit :
My bed was curtained with good wholesome airs,
And being weary, I went up no stairs :
The sky my canopy, bright Phæbe shined
Sweet bawling Zephyrus breathed gentle wind,
In heaven's star-chamber I did lodge that night,
Ten thousand stars, me to my bed did light ;
There barricadoed with a bank lay we
Below the lofty branches of a tree,
There my bed-fellows and companions were,
My man, my horse, a bull, four cows, two steer :
But yet for all this most confused rout,
We had no bed-staves, yet we fell not out.
Thus nature, like an ancient free upholster,
Did furnish us with bedstead, bed, and bolster ;
And the kind skies, (for which high heaven be
Allowed us a large covering and a blanket;
Auroras face 'gan light our lodging dark,
We arose and mounted, with the mounting lark,
Through plashes, puddles, thick, thin, wet and dry,
I travelled to the city Coventry.
There Master Doctor Holland1 caused me stay
The day of Saturn and the Sabbath day.
Most friendly welcome, he me did afford,
I was so entertained at bed and board,
Which as I dare not brag how much it was,
I dare not be ingrate and let it pass,
But with thanks many I remember it,
(Instead of his good deeds) in words and writ,
He used me like his son, more than a friend,
And he on Monday his commends did send
To Newhall, where a gentleman did dwell,
Who by his name is hight Sacheverell.
The Tuesday July's one and twentieth day,
I to the city Lichfield took my way,
At Sutton Coldfield with some friends I met,
And much ado I had from thence to get,
There I was almost put unto my trumps,
My horse's shoes were worn as thin as pumps ;
But noble Vulcan, a mad smuggy smith,
All reparations me did furnish with.
The shoes were well removed, my palfrey shod,
And he referred the payment unto God.
'MASTER DOCTOR HOLLAND.-The once well-known Philemon Holland, Physician, and "Translator-General of his Age," published translations of Livy, 1600; Pliny's "Natural History," 1601; Camden's "Britannica," &c. He is said to have used in translation more paper and fewer pens than any other writer before or since, and who "would not let Suetonius be Tranquillus." Born at Chelmsford, 1551; died 1636.
I found a friend, when I to Lichfield came,
A joiner, and John Piddock is his name.
He made me welcome, for he knew my jaunt,
And he did furnish me with good provant :
He offered me some money, I refused it,
And so I took my leave, with thanks excused it,
That Wednesday, I a weary way did pass,
Rain, wind, stones, dirt, and dabbling dewy grass,
With here and there a pelting scattered village,
Which yielded me no charity, or pillage:
For all the day, nor yet the night that followed.
One drop of drink I'm sure my gullet swallowed.
At night I came to a stony town called Stone.
Where I knew none, nor was I known of none:
I therefore through the streets held on my pace,
Some two miles farther to some resting place:
At last I spied a meadow newly mowed,
The hay was rotten, the ground half o'erflowed:
We made a breach, and entered horse and man,
There our pavilion, we to pitch began,
Which we erected with green broom and hay,
To expel the cold, and keep the rain away;
The sky all muffled in a cloud 'gan lower,
And presently there fell a mighty shower,
Which without intermission down did pour,
From ten a night, until the morning's four.
We all that time close in our couch did lie,
Which being well compacted kept us dry.
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