clii
CERTAINE LETTERS
Of watrish taste, the flesh not firme like English beefe,
And yet it serues them very well, and is a good releefe.
Their sheepe are very small, sharpe singled, handfull long,
Great store of fowle on sea and land, the moorish reedes amonge,
The greatnes of the store doth make the prices lesse;
Besides in all the land they knowe not how good meate to dresse.
They use neither broach nor spit, but when the stooue they heate,
They put their victuals in a pan, and so they bake their meate;
No pewter to be had, no dishes but of wood,
No use of trenchers; cups cut out of byrche are very good.
They use but wooden spoones, which hanging in a case,
Eache mowsike at his girdle ties, and thinkes it no disgrace;
With whitles two or three, the betterman the moe,
The cheefest Russies in the land with spoone and kniues doe goe.
Their houses are not huge of building, but they say
They plant them in the loftiest ground to shift the snowe away;
Which in the winter time, each where full thicke they lie,
Which makes them have the more desire to set their houses high;
No stonework is in use, their roofes of rafters be,
One linked in another fast, their walls are all of tree;
Of masts both long and large, with mosse put in betweene,
To keepe the force of weather out, I neur earst haue seene;
A grosse deuise so good, and on the roofe they lay,
The burthen barke, to rid the raine, and sudden showers away.
In euery roome a stoue, to serue the winter turne,
Of wood they haue sufficient store as much as they can burne;
They have no English glasse, of slices of a rocke,
Hight Sluda, they their windowes make, that English glass doth mocke.
They cut it very thinne, and sowe it with a thred,
In pretie order like to panes, to serue their present neede;
No other glasse good faith, doth giue a better light,
And sure the rocke is nothing rich, the cost is very slight.
The chiefest place is that, where hangs the god by it,
The owner of the house himself doth neuer sit,
Unlesse his better come, to whom he yeelds the seat;
The stranger bending to the god, the ground with brow must beat,
And in that very place which they most sacred deeme,
The stranger lyes; a token that his guest he doth esteeme.
Where he is woont to have a beares skinne for his bed,
And must in stead of pillow clap his saddle to his head.
And yet it serues them very well, and is a good releefe.
Their sheepe are very small, sharpe singled, handfull long,
Great store of fowle on sea and land, the moorish reedes amonge,
The greatnes of the store doth make the prices lesse;
Besides in all the land they knowe not how good meate to dresse.
They use neither broach nor spit, but when the stooue they heate,
They put their victuals in a pan, and so they bake their meate;
No pewter to be had, no dishes but of wood,
No use of trenchers; cups cut out of byrche are very good.
They use but wooden spoones, which hanging in a case,
Eache mowsike at his girdle ties, and thinkes it no disgrace;
With whitles two or three, the betterman the moe,
The cheefest Russies in the land with spoone and kniues doe goe.
Their houses are not huge of building, but they say
They plant them in the loftiest ground to shift the snowe away;
Which in the winter time, each where full thicke they lie,
Which makes them have the more desire to set their houses high;
No stonework is in use, their roofes of rafters be,
One linked in another fast, their walls are all of tree;
Of masts both long and large, with mosse put in betweene,
To keepe the force of weather out, I neur earst haue seene;
A grosse deuise so good, and on the roofe they lay,
The burthen barke, to rid the raine, and sudden showers away.
In euery roome a stoue, to serue the winter turne,
Of wood they haue sufficient store as much as they can burne;
They have no English glasse, of slices of a rocke,
Hight Sluda, they their windowes make, that English glass doth mocke.
They cut it very thinne, and sowe it with a thred,
In pretie order like to panes, to serue their present neede;
No other glasse good faith, doth giue a better light,
And sure the rocke is nothing rich, the cost is very slight.
The chiefest place is that, where hangs the god by it,
The owner of the house himself doth neuer sit,
Unlesse his better come, to whom he yeelds the seat;
The stranger bending to the god, the ground with brow must beat,
And in that very place which they most sacred deeme,
The stranger lyes; a token that his guest he doth esteeme.
Where he is woont to have a beares skinne for his bed,
And must in stead of pillow clap his saddle to his head.
