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. Small arrowes, cruell heads, that fell and forked bee, Which being shot from out those bowes, a cruel way will flee. They seldome vse to shoo their horse, vnlesse they ride In post vpon the frozen flouds, then cause they shall not slide, He sets a slender calke, and so he rides his way. The horses of the countrey go good fourescore versts a day, And all without the spurre, once pricke them and they skippe, But goe not forward on their way, the Russie hath his whippe To rappe him on the ribbes, for though all booted bee, Yet shall you not a paire of spurres in all the countrey see. The common game is chesse, almost the simplest will Both giue a checke and eke a mate, by practise comes their skill. Againe they dice as fast, the poorest rogues of all Will sit them downe in open field, and there to gaming fall Their dice are very small, in fashion like to those Which we doe vse, he takes them vp, and ouer thumbe he throwes Not shaking them a whit, they cast suspiciously, And yet I deeme them voyd of art that dicing

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