[Footnote 1: Moudjick, a servant.]
[Footnote 2: St. Nicholas.]

To Spencer.

If I should now forget, or not remember thee,
Thou Spencer might'st a foule rebuke, and shame impute to mee,
For I to open shew did loue thee passing well,
And thou wert he at parture, whom I loathde to bid farewell.
And as I went thy friend, so I continue still,
No better proofe thou canst then this desire of true good will
I doe remember well when needes I should away,
And that the Poste would licence vs, no longer time to stay:
Thou wrongst me by the fist, and holding fast my hand,
Didst craue of me to send thee newes, and how I liked the land.
It is a sandie soile, no very fruitful vaine,
More waste and wooddie grounds there are, then closes fit for graine.
Yet graine there growing is, which they vntimely take,
And cut or eare the corne be ripe, they mowe it on a stacke:
And laying sheafe by sheafe, their haruest so they dry,
They make the greater haste, for feare the frost the corne destroy.
For in the winter time, so glarie is the ground,
As neither grasse, nor other graine, in pastures may be found.
In coms the cattell then, the sheepe, the colt, the cowe,

Fast by his bed the Mowsike then[1] a lodging doth allowe,
Whom he with fodder feeds, and holds as deere as life:
And thus they weare the winter with the Mowsike and his wife.
Seuen months the Winter dures, the glare it is so great,
As it is May before he turne his ground to sow his wheate.