University of Virginia Library

Incipit Thomas Bastard.

Pvt downe, put downe Tom Coryate
Our latest rares, which glory not:
Since we thy spials did peruse
Fraught with the quintessence of newes.
On seuerall subiects thou hast grated,
Of men, of bookes yet vnrelated.
Ther's nothing left for traueller,
Nor for the trimmest Caualier
For table talke, in my poore sense
Thou putst's downe all intelligence.
The like of things as thou hast noted,
Nor is, nor was, nor shal be quoted.
Nor in the chanting Poets theames,
Nor in the wisest sickmens dreames:
Nor in the bookes of Bacon Friar:
Nor in Herodotus the liar:
Nor in the mud of Nilus thicke,
With wormy monsters crawling quicke.
To thee giue thanks for thoughtlesse skil,
Reports which neuer dropt from quil.
Which couldst if thou wouldst vnderborne it,
Haue spoke of state, but thou didst scorne it.
Thou hast seene Kings, there is no doubt,
But wisely didst thou leaue them out.
Choosing by iudgements ayme to hit,
What all haue mist for want of wit.
Whilst snow on lofty Alpes shal freeze,
And paint the dales rich butterflies,
Thy name shal liue, nor be forgotten,
When Siuil Oranges be rotten.
And thou shalt weare our English Bayes,
And surfeit, yet not die of praise.