University of Virginia Library

MASTER THOMAS CORIAT TO HIS FRIENDS IN ENGLAND SENDS GREETING,

From Agra, the Capitall City of the Dominion of the Great MOGOLL in the Easterne India.

Printed according to the true Copie of the Letter written with his owne hand in the Persian paper, and sent home in the good Ship called the Globe, belonging to the Company of East India Merchants:

With an addition of 200. Verses written by I. T. that like a Gentleman Vsher goes bare before his pragmaticall Prose, in commendation of his Trauels.

[Some may perhaps suppose this Prose is mine]

Some may perhaps suppose this Prose is mine,
But all that know thee, will be sworne 'tis thine:
For (as 'twas said b'a learned Cambridge Scholler)
(Who knows the stile, may smel it by the Coller:)
The Prose (I sweare) is Coriats, he did make it,
And who dares claime it from him, let him take it.

Certaine Verses in commendations of this mirrour of footmanship, this Catholique or vniuersall Traueller, this European, Asian, African Pilgrime, this well letterd, well litterd discouerer and Cosmographicall describer Master Thomas Coriat of Odcombe.

O thou , whose sharpe toes cut the Globe in quarters,
Mongst Iews & Greeks & tyrannizing Tartars:
Whose glory through the vasty Welkin rumbles,
And whose great Acts more then nine Muses mumbles,
Whose rattling Fame Apollo's daughters thunders,
Midst Africk monsters, and mongst Asian wonders;
Accept these footed Uerses I implore thee,
That here (Great Footman) goe on foot before thee:
To sing thy praise I would my Muse inforce,
But that (alas) she is both harsh and hoarse:
And therefore pardon this my Loues Epistle,
For though she cannot sing, I'l make her whistle.

IN PRAISE OF THE AVTHOR MASTER Thomas Coriat.

Thou that the world with pleasures ful hast pleasur'd,
And out of measure many kingdomes measur'd.
Whilst men (like swine) doe in their vices wallow,
And not one dares for's eares thy steps to follow;
Not one within the Compasse of the Cope,
Like thee that dares suruay the Horoscope:
For who is he that dares call it a lye,
That thou hast trotted into Italie?
By th'edge of France, and skirts of Spaine th'ast rambled;
Through Belgia & through Germany th'ast ambled.
And Denmarke, Sweden, Norway, Austria,
Pruce, Poland, Hungary, Musconia,
With Thracia, and the land of merry Greekes,
All these and more applaud thee, that who seekes
Vpon the top of Mount Olympus front,
Perhaps may see thy name insculp'd vpon't,
And he that durst detract thy worth in Europe,
I wish he may be hang'd vp in a new rope.
It were a world of businesse to repeat
Thy walkes through both the Asiaes, lesse & great,
Whereas (no doubt) but thou hast tane suruay
Of China and the kingdome of Catay,
Th'East Indies, Persia, Parthia, Media,
Armenia, and the great Ass-yria,
Caldea, Iurie, (if we not mistake vs)
Thou hast o'r-look'd the Sea call'd Mortuus Lacus.
And I durst venter somewhat for a wager,
Thou hast seene Ionia, Lidia, Misia Maior,
Old Iliums Ruins, and the wracks of Priam,
But of Inuention I (alas) so dry am,
I beat my braines and with outragious thumping,
My lines fall from my pen with extreme pumping.
Auaunt, dull Morpheus, with thy leaden spirit,
Can matter want of him that wants no merit?
As he through Syria and Arabia's coasting,
My lines from Asia into Africke poasting,
I'l follow him alongst the Riuer Nilus,
In Egypt, where false Crocodiles beguile vs.
Through Mauritania to the towne of Dido,
That slew her selfe by power of god Cupido.
The Kingdomes vnsuruaid he'l not leaue one
From Zona Foride, to the Frozen Zone.
With Prester Iohn in Æthiopia,
And th'ayrie Empire of Eutopia.

A SHORT DESCRIPTION OF THE LONGING desire that America hath to entertaine this vnmatchable Perambulator.

America , A merry K, Peru,
Vnhappy all in hauing not thy view:
Virginia of thy worth doth onely heare,
And longs the weight of thy foot-steps to beare:
Returne thee, O returne thee quickly than,
And see the mighty Court of Powhatan;
Then shall great Volumes with thy Trauels swell,
And Fame ring lowder then Saint Pulchers Bell.
Then maist thou (if thou please) despight the Deuil,
End thy good daies within the Towne of Euill.
And then at Odcombe thou entomb'd maist be,
Where Trauellers may come thy shrine to see,
By which the Sexton may more money get,
Then Mecaes Priests doe gaine by Mahomet.
These Letters following, which thou didst subscribe
Vnto thy Mother and th'Odcombian Tribe,
Declare thy Art, and also whence thou art,
And whence, from thence thy purpose is to part.
Thy learn'd Oration to the mighty Mogull,
All men thereby may see if thou beest no gull,
Tis so compactly and exactly writ,
It shewes an extraordinary wit.
For write thou what thou please, ('tis thy good lot)
Men like it, though they vnderstand it not.

A LITTLE REMEMBRANCE OF HIS VARIETY OF TONGVES, AND Politicke forme of Trauell.

A very Babel of confused Tongues,
Vnto thy little Microcosme belongs,
That to what place soeuer thou doest walke,
Thou wilt lose nothing through the want of talke.
For thou canst kisse thy hand, and make a legge,
And wisely canst in any language begge:
And sure to beg 'tis policy (I note)
It sometimes saues the cutting of thy throat:
For the worst thiefe that euer liu'd by stealth,
Will neuer kill a begger for his wealth.
But who is't but thy wisedome doth admire,
That doth vnto such high conceits aspire?
Thou tak'st the bounty of each bounteous giuer,
And drink'st the liquor of the running riuer:
Each Kitchin where thou com'st, thou hast a Cook,
Thou neuer runst on score vnto the Brooke;
For if thou didst, the Brook and thou wouldst gree,
Thou runst from it, and it doth run from thee.
In thy returne from Agra and Assmere,
By thy relation following doth appeare,
That thou dost purpose learnedly to fling
A rare Oration to the Persian King.
Then let the idle world prate this, and that,
The Persian King will giue thee (God knows what.)
And furthermore to me it wondrous strange is,
How thou dost meane to see the Riuer Ganges,
With Tigris, Euphrates, and Nimrods Babel,
And the vnhappy place where Cain slew Abel.
That if thou wert in Hebrew circumcised,
The Rabbyes all were wondrous ill aduised;
Nay more, they were all Coxcombs, all stark mad,
To thinke thou wert of any Tribe but Gad.
Sure, in thy youth thou at'st much running fare,
As Trotters, Neates-feet, and the swift-foot Hare,
And so by inspiration fed, it bred
Two going feet to beare one running head.
Thou filst the Printers Presse with griefe & mourning,
Still gaping, and expecting thy returning:
All Pauls Church-yard is fild with melancholly,
Not for the want of bookes, or wit; but folly
It is for them, to greeue too much for thee,
For thou wilt come when thou thy time shalt see.
But yet at one thing much my Muse doth muse,
Thou dost so many commendations vse
Vnto thy mother, and to diuers friends,
Thou hast remembred many kind commends,
And till the last, thou didst forget thy Father,
I know not why, but this conceit I gather,
That as men sitting at a feast to eat,
Begin with Beefe, Porke, Mutton, and such meat,
And when their stomacks are a little cloyd,
This first course then the Voyder doth auoyd:
The anger of their hunger being past,
The Pheasant and the Partridge comes at last.
This (I imagine) in thy minde did fall,
To note thy Father last to close vp all.
First to thy Mother here thou dost commend,
And astly to thy Father thou dost send:
Shee may command in thee a Filiall awe,
But he is but thy Father by the Law.
To heare of thee, mirth euery heart doth cheere,
But we should laugh out-right to haue thee heere.
For who is it that knowes thee but would chuse,
Farther to haue thy presence then thy newes.
Thou shew'st how wel thou setst thy wits to work,
In tickling of a misbeleeuing Turke:
He call'd thee Giaur, but thou so well didst answer
(Being hot and fierie, like to crabbed Caucer)
That if he had a Turke of ten pence bin,
Thou toldst him plaine the errors he was in;
His Alkaron, his Moskyes are whim-whams,
False bug-beare bables, fables all that dams,
Slights of the Diuell, that bring perpetuall woe,
Thou wast not mealy mouth'd to tell him so,
And when thy talke with him thou didst giue ore,
As wise he parted as he was before:
His ignorance had not the power to see
Which way, or how to edifie by thee:
But with the Turke (thus much I build vpon)
If words could haue done good, it had beene done.

The Author of the Verse, takes leaue of the Author of the Prose, desiring rather to see him, then to beare from him.

Those Rimes before thy meaning doth vnclose,
Which men perhaps haue blūdred ore in Prose:
And 'tis a doubt to me, whose paines is more,
Thou that didst write, or they that read them o're:
My Scullers muse without or Art or Skill,
In humble seruice (with a Gooses quill)
Hath tane this needlesse, fruitlesse paines for thee,
Not knowing when thoul't doe as much for me.
But this is not the first, nor shall not be
The last (I hope) that I shall write for thee:
For whē newes thou wast drown'd, did hither come,
I wrote a mournefull Epicedium.
And after, when I heard it was a lye,
I wrote of thy suruiuing presently.
Laugh and be tat, the Scullers booke, and this
Shew how my minde to thee addicted is;
My loue to thee hath euermore beene such,
That in thy praise I ne'r can write too much:
And much I long to see thee here againe,
That I may welcome thee in such a straine
That shall euen cracke my pulsiue pia mater,
In warbling thy renowne by land and water:
Then shall the Fame which thou hast won on foot,
(Mongst Heathēs, Iews, Turks, Negroes black as foot)
Ride on my best Inuention like an asse,
To the amazement of each Owliglasse.
Till when fare well (if thou canst get good fare)
Content's a feast, although the feast be bare.
Let Eolus and Neptune be combinde,
With Sea auspicious, and officious winde;
In thy returne with speed to blow thee backe,
That we may laugh, lie downe, and mourne in Sacke.