My Parker, paper, pen, and inke were made to write, And idle heads, that little do, haue leisure to indite: Wherefore, respecting these, and thine assured loue, If I would write no newes to thee, them might'st my pen reproue. And sithence fortune thus hath shou'd my shippe on shore: And made me seeke another Realme vnseene of me before: The maners of the men I purpose to declare. And other priuate points besides, which strange and geazon are. The Russie men are round of bodies, fully fac'd, The greatest part with bellies bigge that ouerhang the waste, Flat headed for the most, with faces nothing faire, But browne, by reason of the stone, and closenesse of the aire: It is their common vse to shaue or els to sheare Their heads, for none in all the land long lolling locks doth weare, Vnlsse perhaps he haue his souereigne prince displeas'd, For then he neuer cuts his haire, vntil he be appeas'd, A certaine signe to know who in displeasure be, For euery man that viewes his head, will say, Loe this is he. And during all the time he lets his locks to grow, Dares no man for his life to him a face of friendship show. Their garments be not gay, nor handsome to the eye, A cap aloft their heads they haue, that standeth very hie, Which Colpack they do terme. They wears no ruffes at all; The best haue collers set with pearle, which they Rubasca call. Their shirts in Russie long, they worke them downe before, And on the sleeues with coloured Silks, two inches good and more. Aloft their shirts they weare a garment iacket wise Hight Onoriadka, and about his burlie waste, he tyes His portkies, which in stead of better breeches be: Of linnen cloth that garment is, no codpiece is to see. A paire of yarnen stocks to keepe the colde away, Within his boots the Russie weares, the heeles they vnderlay With clouting clamps of steele, sharpe pointed at the toes, And ouer all a Shuba furd, and thus the Russe goes. Well butned is the Shube, according to his state, Some Silke, of Siluer other some: but those of poorest rate Do weare no Shubs at all, but grosser gownes to sight, That reacheth downe beneath the calfe, and that Armacha hight: These are the Russies robes. The richest vse to ride From place to place, his seruant runnes, and followes by his side. The Cassacke beares his felt, to force away the raine: Their bridles are not very braue, their saddles are but plaine. No bits but snaffles all, of birch their saddles be, Much fashioned like the Scottish seates, broad flakes to keepe the knee From sweating of the horse, the pannels larger farre And broader be then ours, they vse short stirrups for the warre: For when the Russie is pursued by cruel foe, He rides away, and suddenly betakes him to his boe, And bends me but about in saddle as be sits, And therewithall amids his race his following foe he hits. Their bowes are very short, like Turkie bowes outright, Of sinowes made with birchen barke, in cunning maner dight.