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.
For I protest to God I never saw,
A town more wisely governed by the law.
They told me when my Sovereign there was last,
That one man's rashness seemed to give distaste.
It grieved them all, but when at last they found,
His Majesty was pleased, their joys were crowned.
He knew, the fairest garden hath some weeds,
He did accept their kind intents, for deeds:
One man there was, that with his zeal too hot,
And furious haste, himself much overshot.
But what man is so foolish, that desires.
To get good fruit from thistles, thorns and briars?
Thus much I thought good to demonstrate here,
Because I saw how much they grieved were;
That any way, the least part of offence,
Should make them seem offensive to their Prince.
Thus three nights was I staid and lodged in Preston,
And saw nothing ridiculous to jest on,
Much cost and charge the Mayor upon me spent,
And on my way two miles, with me he went, There (by good chance) I did more friendship get, The under Sheriff of Lancashire we met,
A gentleman that loved, and knew me well,
And one whose bounteous mind doth bear the bell. There, as if I had been a noted thief,
The Mayor delivered me unto the Sheriff.
The Sheriff's authority did much prevail,
He sent me unto one that kept the jail.
Thus I perambuling, poor John Taylor,
Was given from Mayor to Sheriff, from Sheriff to Jailor.
The Jailor kept an inn, good beds, good cheer,
Where paying nothing, I found nothing dear,
For the under-Sheriff kind Master Covill named,
(A man for house-keeping renowed and famed)
Did cause the town of Lancashire afford
Me welcome, as if I had been a lord.
And 'tis reported, that for daily bounty,
His mate can scarce be found in all that county.
The extremes of miser, or of prodigal,
He shuns, and lives discreet and liberal,
His wife's mind, and his own are one, so fixed,
That Argus eyes could see no odds betwixt,
And sure the difference, (if there difference be)
Is who shall do most good, or he, or she.
Poor folks report, that for relieving them,
He and his wife, are each of them a gem;
At the inn, and at his house two nights I staid,
And what was to be paid, I know he paid:
If nothing of their kindness I had wrote,
Ungrateful me the world might justly note:
Had I declared all I did hear, and see,
For a great flatterer then I deemed should be,
Him and his wife, and modest daughter Bess,
With earth, and heaven's felicity, God bless.
Two days a man of his, at his command,
Did guide me to the midst of Westmoreland,
conductor with a liberal fist,
To keep me moist, scarce any alehouse missed.
The fourth of August (weary, halt, and lame)
We in the dark, to a town called Sedbergh came,
There Master Borrowed, my kind honest host,
Upon me did bestowed unasked cost.
The next day I held on my journey still,
Six miles unto a place called Carling hill,
Where Master Edmund Branthwaite doth reside,
Who made me welcome, with my man and guide.
Our entertainment, and our fare were such,
It might have satisfied our betters much;
Yet all too little was, his kind heart thought,
And five miles on my way himself me brought,
At Orton he, I, and my man did dine,
With Master Corney a good true Divine,
And surely Master Branthwaite's well beloved,
His firm integrity is much approved :
His good effects, do make him still affected
Of God and good men, (with regard) respected.
He sent his man with me, o'er dale and down,
*EDMUND BRANTHWAITE.-Robert Branthwaite, William Branthwaite Cant., and "Thy assured friend" R. B., have each written Commendatory Verses to ALL THE WORKS OF JOHN TAYLOR. London 1630. And Southey in his "Lives and Works of Uneducated Poets," has the following :— "One might have hoped in these parts for a happy meeting between John Taylor and Barnabee, of immortal memory; indeed it is likely that the Water-Poet and the Anti-Water-Poet were acquainted, and that the latter may have introduced him to his connections hereabout, Branthwaite being the same name as Brathwait, and Barnabee's brother having married a daughter of this Sir John Dalston."
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