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Too many masters made me masterlesse,
Too many wrongs have made me moneylesse,
Helpless, and hopeless, and remedilesse,
And every way encompast with distresse.
To ease my griefes, I have one trick of wit,
(If you that read will set your hands to it)
Which is, when I do give you good account,
From London unto Cornwal's Michaels Mount,
Of all my journey, and what news I found
In ayre or sea, above or under ground,
When I do give you truths of this in print,
How I did travell; gravell, dust, dirt, flint,
My entertainment; where 'twas good, where ill;
Then in good money give me what you will.

Your names and dwellings write, that I may find you,
And I shall (with my book) seek, find, and minde you
With humble thankes.

The metrical introduction to this tract consists of the following lines, which are ingenious and characteristic.

Taylor's Westerne Voyage to the Mount.

'Tis a mad world,* my masters, and in sadnes
I travail'd madly in these dayes of madnes.
Eight yeares a frenzy did this land molest,

The ninth year seem'd to be much like the rest:
Myselfe with age, griefe, wrongs, and want opprest,
With troubles more than patience could disgest.
Amongst those isles I chose the least and best,
Which was to take this Journey to the West.

*“A mad World, my Masters,” was the title to a comedy by Middleton, first printed in 1608. It has since been borrowed from by many writers. See Jones's Biog. Dramatica, iv. 5.

And sure it is an argument most fit,
That he who hath a portion of small wit,

(As I have) and good store of friends,-'twere sloth
And foolery, not to make use of both.

My wit was worne thread-bare, halfe naked, poore,
And I, with it, went wool-gathering for more.
This long walke, first and last, I undertooke
On purpose to get money by my Booke.

My friends, I know, will pay me for my paine,
And I will never trouble them againe.

Six hundred miles I very neare have footed,
And all that time was neither shoe'd or booted:

But in light buskins I perform'd this travell

O're hill and dale, through dust, dirt, flint, and gravell ;
And now no more words I in vaine will scatter,
But come unto the marrow of the matter.
My reader must not here suppose, that I
Will write a treatise of geography;
Or that I meane to make exact relations
Of cities, townes, or countries scituations,
Such men as those, I turne them o're to reade,
The learned Cambden, or the painefull Speede.

And now, good reader, I my Muse do tune:
I London left the twenty-one of June.
To Brainford, Colebrooke, Maidenhead, and Henly,
I past (the weather faire, the high wayes cleanly)
To Abingdon, where some dayes I remain'd,
By friends and kinsfolkes kindly entertain'd.
Thankes to my nephew John, with all the rest,
To whom that time I was a costly guest.

The rest consists of a prose diary, kept during his perambulation, describing places which have since been far better described; and detailing some

particulars,

which only find a fit apology in the necessitous circumstances under which the pamphlet was produced. Taylor was then in the seventieth year of his age, and a neglected royalist.

SONNET before "Vertues Teares for the losse of King Henry III. of Fraunce, and the death of Walter Devoreux, who was slaine before Roan in Fraunce, &c. 1597."

To his deere friend, Jervis Markham.

No longer let dismembred Italie

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Thinke scorne of our (thought dull, for colder) clime,

Wee are not so frost-bitten in the prime,

But blest from Heav'n with as great wealth as shee:

With all her Citties shall one, our Cittie,

Compare for all the wealth of this rich time;

Thames shall with Po vie swanns, swanns musicke chime, London with subtle Venice, pollicie;

Shee shall drop beauties with faire Genoa,
Though humorous travailers repine thereat :
But not with glorious Florence, will they say,
So farre fam'd for her wits triumvirat ;

To that proude brag, thou, Jervis, shalt replie,
Whose Muse in this song gives them all the lye.

E. GUILPIN.

T

Cornucopia: or divers secrets. Wherein is contained the rare secrets in man, beasts, fowles, fishes, trees, plants, stones, and such like. Most pleasant and profitable, and not before committed to bee printed in English. Newlie drawen out of divers Latine authors into English by Thomas Johnson.

At London, printed for William Barley, and are to be sold at his shop at the upper end of Gratious streete, neere Leaden-Hall. 1595.

4to. Sig. F 4.

1000)

THE greater part of this volume consists of extracted passages from the Natural History of Pliny, and from other ancient writers, whose works are now much exploded by the experimental philosophy of modern times, and the advanced state of physical science: effectual antidotes to the poison of popular errors and vulgar superstitions.

A very short specimen may suffice of these transmitted sophisms.

The hart, striken with an arrow, knoweth how to drive it out, with eating of Dictum herb.

Swine, hurt of serpents, are healed by the Crabfish.

The chattering pie, being sick, bringeth the bay-leafe into hir nest, and so is restored.

A snake flyeth and feareth a naked man, and pursueth or followith one that is not naked.

A bull, though never so fierce, becommeth quicklie verie gentle, being tyed unto a figge-tree.

The Pellican revives her young ones, being killed, with her own blood. The Lobster so feareth the fish Polipus, that at his sight he dieth incontinent.

Italie hatcheth statelie mindes, Fraunce excesse of pride, England covetousnesse, Scotland craftinesse, Ireland lasinesse, Flaunders drunkennesse.

Laboris condimentum otium.

Eglogs, Epytaphes, and Sonettes, by Barnabe Googe.*

Colophon:-Imprynted at London in S. Brydes Churchyarde, by Thomas Colwell, for Raufe Newbery: and are to be sold at his shop in Fleetestreet, a lytle above the Conduit, 1563, 15 die mensis March.

THESE very rare Poems of BARNABE GOOGE (whose descent is registered in vol. iii. p. 35, supra) contain the following particulars.

Verses by Alexander Nevyll, in commendation of the author.

A dedicatory epistle (in prose) "To the ryght worshipfull M. William Lovelace, Esquier, Reader of Grayes Inne," signed "Yours assuredly, Barnabe Googe."

• See Censura, ii. 382.

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