University of Virginia Library

A matter touching the Iourney of Sir Humfrey Gilbarte Knight.

The man that trauels much,
with mind and body both,
(Whose restlesse lims, & labring thoughtes,
through heaps of hazards goth,)
A while would gladly rest,
and so some sollace taste,
To sharp the sense, and ease the heart,
that toyle doth weare and waste.
But though with charged brest,
I seeke to steale a nappe,
In hope sounde sleepes would soone forget,
the griefe of thankelesse happe:
Some cause calls vp my Muse,
and bids my witts awake,
That dowwne is layde on quiet Coutch,
a little ease to take:
As lately loe you heard,
by Verses penned well,
Which soundes so shrilly through my eares,
and tings so like a Bell,
That though in sadde dead sleepe,
my wery body were,
I must rise vp and whet my wittes,
and lend a louing eare
To that new tale I heere,
of friends that hence do go
Vnto a soyle they neuer saw,
another world I trow
That few or none haue found,
well, what should more be sayd,
The Iourney that my friends do take,
full long in head I wayd,
Yet thought to pause awhile,
(eare pen to paper past)
To see how course of world wold go,
and things fell out at last.
And thus in my delay
I caught a slumber sweete,
And sure me thought infearful dreme,
or sweauon did I meete
The Golden Heart, and other Ships,
that to this voyage goes,
Which Barks wer brauely vnder saile,
where water ebbes and floes.
And where the view of Coūtrey soile,
was farre from Saylers sight,
And men were forst to trie the Seas
in storme or darkest night,
But eare my dreame could ende,
a voyce gan call alowde,
Wheris Churchyard: doth he sleepe?
or is he crept in Clowde,
To shunne the vse of penne
and matter worthy note?
Whereat I started out of bedde,
and streight wey vp I gote,
And to my Studie dore
in hast therewith I went,
As one that fain wold write some thing
that might the World content.
Then brought I vnto mind,
the heauie Dreame I had,
Yet eare I wrote one Englishe verse,
I cald my little ladde,
And bad him runne with speede
abroade, and bring some newes,
And learne the troth of euery thing,
that I might shape my Muse
To please the peoples eares
with frute of Poets penne.
My Lackey had not walkt in Pawles
not twentie pasis then,
But heard that sundrie friends
of mine, had taken leaue
At Courte, and were all Shipte away.
this brute may thee deceyue
Thou foolish Boy (quoth I)
nay Sir by sweete Sainct Iohn
(Quoth he) Sir Humffey Gilbart {s}ure,
and all his troupe is gone.
But whether, no man knowes,
saue they that are in Barke,
Who with one mind, and one consent,
do hope to hitte one marke.
A ha Sir boy (quoth I)
I knew this long agoe,
Shut study dore, packe hence a while,
and musing euen so,
I marueld howe this Knight,
could leaue his Lady heere,
His friends, and prettie tender babes,
that he did hold so deere,
And take him to the Seas,
where dayly dangers are.
Then wayd I how, immortall Fame,
was more than worldly care,
And where great mind remaynes,
the bodyes rest is small,
For Countreys wealth, for priuate gayne,
or glory seeke we all.
And such as markes this world,
and notes the course of things,
The weake and tickle stay of states,
and great affayres of Kings,
Desires to be abroade,
for causes more than one,
Content to liue as God appoyntes,
and let the world alone.
Yea such as deepely looke,
into these worldly toyes,
And freedome of the body still,
and noble mind enioyes,
Are glad to trudge and toyle,
and driue off time awhile,
And at our ydle pleasures laughs,
or at our follies smyle:
That will not take some paynes,
and trye both land and Seas,
For Knowledge seeke, and heape of happe,
to do our Countrey ease.
O Gilbart noble Knight,
God send thee thy desire,
O manly Knolles, and worthy Wight,
whose heart doth still aspire,
I wish thee great renowme,
and noble Carie too,
And noble North, with Wigmore wise,
I wish you well to do.
O Rawley ripe of sprite,
and rare right many wayes,
And liuely Nowell, God you guide,
to purchase endlesse prayse.
Goe comely Cotten too,
and march amidde the rancke,
And honest Dennie with the best,
must needes deserue some thanke.
George Carie forth I call,
and sure Iohn Roberts heere,
A speciall sparke with present witte,
in person shall appeare.
Miles Morgan gaynes good Fame,
and Whetstone steps in place,
And seekes by trauell, and by toyle,
to winne him double grace.
Iohn Vdall is not hidde,
nor Rowles I do forgette,
The rest I vow to publish out,
and so dwell in their dette.
But though that Frances Knolles
commes last vnto my mind,
Among the first that shall do well,
he will not be behind.
O faithfull friends farewell,
I namd you all aroe,
For World to view, whiles world doth last,
what courage you do shoe.
What charges you are at,
what venter you haue made,
And how you seeke to traffike there,
where neuer yet was trade.
And most of you such men,
as liuings haue at home,
So great and good, that sure abrode
yee neede not for to rome:
Faire houses, lands, and wiues,
great friends, and of the best,
Good stayes and pillers, wherevpon
the strongest heere may rest:
Well knowne, and honord both,
in credite euery way,
In perfite plighte and state to liue,
and laugh, though world say nay.
This strange adiew of youres,
doth argue noble harts,
And in your brestes are noble giftes
and many noble parts.
For hauing wealth at will,
and world at becke and call,
Propt vp with Princes fauoure still,
so sure ye could not fall:
And yet to leaue that hope,
to seeke vncertayne happe,
And so committe your goods & liues,
to euery stormy clappe
That suddayne tempest brings:
me thinke the venture great,
The value of your valiant minds,
surmountes the fire in heate.
Whereof such hote desires
of doing good, doth rise,
The kindled [illeg.]
do sparckle through the Skyes
Some people happly thinke
a greedie hope of gayne,
And heapes of gold you hope to find
doth make you take this payne
Oh sure that can not be,
conceyue the case who list
For hauing that which thousands wāt,
alreadie in your fist,
You meane to clime for Fame,
as high as eye may looke
And search the Creekes and priuie Portes,
and euery secret nooke,
As farre as Shippe may sayle:
I trust for Countreys good:
And for the commonwealthes auayle,
you offer life and bloud
Let world now speake the worst,
and babble what they please,
What thing could make you take these toyles,
and so forsake your ease
If God moud not your minds,
to things he liekth well,
And that your good and deepe consaytes,
wherein you long did dwell,
Did leade and hall you thence,
as men prepard and wrought,
To shew what witte and skill men haue,
and serue the makers thought,
That all thing cleerely sees:
tis God and your good mind,
That driues you to this high attempt,
for any thing I find.
And as he sent you out,
so can he bring you in,
Yea safely home, that you shall shew
at large where you haue bin,
And now to tell it plaine,
not one of all your troupe,
(Of gentle race) that neere at home,
did hold downe head or droupe,
But brauely bore it out
which shewes, no neede it was,
That did procure those gallants gay,
from hence in hast to passe.
Thus sure some other thing
than gayne, did cause you goe,
Some noble fire that burnes in brest,
whose flames of force must shoe
Good meaning and good mind,
good frute and grayne withall,
When season serues, and haruest commes,
and hope for hire doth call.
You might haue walkt the streetes,
as other gallants do,
Yea kept the Court and Countrey both,
in Pawles haue ietted too.
If mind had not bin drawne,
to things of greater weight,
And had not harts held vp your heads
another kind of heigth,
Perhaps in ydle dayes,
you would set men a worke,
And call them to accompt in hast,
that close in corners lurke:
And aske in open place,
how they would spend their time,
And if they say they had no mind
the loftie Cloudes to clime,
Yet would you wish they should
see what on earth is found,
And search the proofe, and sayle by arte,
about the world so round.
At home to tarrie still,
but breedes grosse bloud and witte,
Then better with the Fawcon flie,
than heere on dunghill sitte,
And see how Crowes do feede,
on tainted carren bare,
Or liue a leawd and wretched life,
vpon a hungry share.
At home much time is lost,
and neuer found againe,
Much household cares, and common griefes,
do breake both sleepe and brayne.
Abroade men winne great wealth,
or knowledge gayne at least,
At home we runne to wanton sportes,
and smell out euery feast.
Abroade small bankets are,
it will not quit the cost,
At home is naught but making loue
to euery paynted post.
Abroade the flesh is tamde,
and brought in feare and frame,
At home oft times pride goes before,
and after commeth shame.
Abroade we Wisedome learne,
and do from follie flee,
At home some daunce so in a nette,
their selues they can not see.
Abroade where seruice is,
much honor may be wonne,
At home our gay vayneglory goes,
like shadow in the Sunne.
Abroade bare robes are best,
and Manhoode makes the showe,
At home yong Maister must be fine,
or all is lost you know.
Abroade few quarrels are,
a brawle is bought so deere,
At home they cogge, they foyst, they royst,
and reuell all the yeare.
Abroade is courteys speech,
and ciuill order still,
At home where rudenesse keepes no rule,
wilde wantons take their will.
Abroade may health be got,
for laboure lengthens life,
At home the Goute, the Cramp, the cold,
and each disease is rife.
Abroade the sightes are strange,
and wonders may be seene,
At home a stale and balde deuice,
but duls the spreetes I weene.
Abroade we learne to spare,
to serue our turne in thend,
At home men set the cocke on hoope,
and vaynely spoyle and spend.
Abroade few theeues you haue,
they find so little grace,
At home foule shiftes and robbries both,
abounde in euery place.
Thus prooue I trauels best,
for body, soule, and sense,
And ease a nurse to pamper vice,
and buckler of defense.
Where vertue can not strike,
nor enter any way,
The buckler hath such wicked barres
dame Vertues force to stay.
With rest leawd lust doth rise,
and soone subdues the mind.
And toyle beares backe fond Venus toyes,
and strikes vaine fancie blind.
Much rest runnes Riot still,
and breedeth treasons oft,
And toyle plucks downe those haughtie hearts
that lokes to mount alofte.
Rest maketh mischiefe ripe,
and settes bad things abroch,
Toyle teacheth men to conquer Fame,
and flee from foule reproch.
Rest loues to dallie much,
like whelp that waues the rayle,
Toyle is for Vertue quicke as Bee,
for Vice as slow as Snayle.
Rest sowes no blessed feede,
yet reapes a curssed grayne,
Toyle weedes the ground, and planteth floures
where nettles did remayne.
Rest will no dutie know,
but shakes off shackels still,
Toyle makes the body apte to stoupe,
to bend and shew good will.
Rest is a retchlesse ioy,
that sees not his owne harmes,
Toyle castes out many a vayne consayte,
that rest brings in by swarmes.
If toyle bring these good things
that I haue told before,
And rest but want and beggrie breedes,
with sundrie mischiefes more:
They ought haue endlesse lawd,
that in these loytring dayes
Set ydle hands and heads a worke,
to winne immortall prayse.
And they that first found out
the strange and forrayne soyle,
Are gone themselues to win the prise,
or take the open foyle,
Which shewes them more than men,
halfe Gods if I say troth,
Whole kingdomes scarcely cā suffice
their minds and manhoode both.
Now haue they taken leaue
of worldly pleasures all,
That yong and lusty were to liue,
and now to toyle they fall
That finely were brought vp,
yea now they bidde adiew,
The glittring Court, the gallāt towne,
the gorgious garments new,
The brauerie of this world,
the pride and pomp of earth,
And looke not backward any way,
to ritches, race, or birth.
To worthy wife nor friend,
to babes nor neerest kinne,
But only to the Lord aboue,
and iourney they are in.
And all for Countreys cause,
and to enrich the same,
Now do they hazard all they haue:
and so for wealth and fame,
They fare along the Seas,
they sayle and tide it out,
They hale and stretch the sheates aloft,
they toyle and dread no doubt.
They feede on Bisket hard,
and drincke but simple beere,
Salt beefe, and Stockfish drie as kecke,
is now their greatest cheere.
And still a fulsome smell
of pitch and tarre they feele,
And when Seasicke (God wot) they are,
about the Shippe they reele.
And stomacke belcheth vp,
a dish that Hadocks seeke,
A bitter messe of sundry meates,
a Sirrope greene as leeke.
Then head and heart doth heaue,
and body waxeth cold:
Yet face will sweat, a heauie sight,
the same is to behold.
But they must needes abide
a greater brunt than this,
And hope that after hellish paynes,
there commes a time of blisse.
Yet note the torments strange,
that toyling saylers haue,
Who liues at mercie of the Seas:
yea surge and swelling wave,
Would swallow vp the Shippe,
if Pylots were not good,
And some in time of great distresse
vnto their tackle stood.
Sometime a flaw of wind
blowes Maister ore the Hatch,
And Boy frō toppe coms tumbling downe,
and at a cord doth catch
To saue his sillie life,
aloofe then cries my mates,
No neerer shore the Ship she tucke,
and on the sand the grates,
And plying for aboorde,
about the Vessell goes,
And through the shroudes and clouted Sayles
a gale of winde there bloes,
That seemes to shake the Barke,
in sunder euery ribbe,
Then is no time to heaue she can
to crie carous and bibbe,
But each man to his worke
they fall and flie apace,
In necke of this a man of warre
that seekes to giue the chace,
They spie in halfe a kenne,
vp Sould youres ho in hast
The Captayne calls, yet vnder hatch,
a sort of them are plast,
To beate the enmie out
that should the Shippe assayle,
At length the Cannon bullet flyes,
and shotte as thicke as hayle
Goes off to murther men,
and such a smoke doth rise,
As few may well regard the seas,
or scarce behold the Skyes.
Some grone and bidde goodnight,
their day watch waxeth dimme,
Some cā not speake their heads are off,
and some haue lost a limme.
Some lyes on hatches lame,
they haue no legges to stand,
And some haue lost the vse of arme,
or maymed of a hand.
And some are fighting still,
and gets no harme at all,
But he that speedeth best the while,
makes boast thereof but small.
These brawles and bloudy broyles
to end or quiet brought,
A new beginnes, as yll a storme,
that troubles more their thought.
The Rockes and wretched streights,
that they must safely passe,
The narrow Creekes & doubts they find
in compasse of their glasse,
Is daunger wonders great,
so that these Saylers toyle,
Rests all on hazards, eare they come
to any certayne soyle.
I could rehearse a heape
of sorrowes that they haue,
But you that liue in peace at home,
and mince the matter braue,
Will scarce beleeue a troth,
and toyle that trauelers take.
Well noble Pilgrims, as in Verse
I write this for your sake,
In Prose at your returne,
looke for a greater prayse,
A Booke that to the loftie Skyes,
your rare renowne shall rayse.
This write I for your friends
that you haue left behinde,
Your worthy wiues, whose patient hearts
beare many things in mind,
And sitte and shakes their heads
at that they can not mend,
And many a sigh and sadde consaite,
along the Seas they send,
To follow those that flie
from them God wot to fast,
And carried are in rotten Barkes
about with euery blast,
And tossed vp and downe
the Seas, our Lord knowes where.
O Husbāds whē you saw your wiues,
shedde many a bitter teare,
How could you part from them?
the cace is aunswerd thus,
You are not ruld by loue of babes,
nor womens willes yewus.
But guided by such grace,
as God himselfe hath sent,
And that you do, is done indeede
vnto a good intent.
God graunt you good successe,
the whole harts ease you craue,
As much of wealth and honor both
as euer men may haue.
A safe and short returne,
not long from home to dwell,
A quiet happy iourney still,
and so deere friends farewell.