324 JOURNAL OF THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 
The quaint doggerel which William Strode put in the mouth of 
his country bumpkin in 1625, is not without its value as a bit of 
word-painting : 
Thou nere woot riddle, neighbour Jan, 
Where ich of late have bin-a; 
Why ich have been to Plimoth, man, 
The like was yet nere zeene-a. 
Zich streets, zich men, zich hugeous seas ; 
Zich things and guns ther rumbling ; 
Thyzelf, like me, woodst blesse to zee 
Zich bomination grumbling. 
The streets be pight of shindle-stone, 
Doe glissen like the sky-a; 
The zhops stan ope, and all ye yeere long 
Ise think a faire there be-a. 
And many a gallant here goeth 
T’ guold that zaw the King-a; 
The King, zome zweare, himself was there, 
A man, or zome zich thing-a. 
Observe the touch of nature in the mention of the shingle stones 
that ‘‘pight” the streets; in the wonderful character of the shops 
that stood open all the year long, so stored with merchandise that 
our friend thought a fair was onward ; and, finally, his conclusion 
that the King was “a man, or zome zich thing-a.” No wonder 
that “neighbour Jan” declared : 
Chill moape no longer heere, that’s flat, 
To watch a zheepe or zheene-a, 
Though it so var as London bee, 
Which ten miles ich imagine 
’Ch’ll thither hye, for this place I 
Do take in great induggin. 
But the rustic mind is easily roused to wonder, and the Ply- 
mouth of 1625 need not have been so wonderful after all. Forty 
years later, however, we have testimony to its attractiveness from 
one who was familiar with the great cities of Italy. He was an 
Italian who came hither in the suite of Cosmo di Medici, Grand 
Duke of Tuscany in 1669, and is almost as enthusiastic as the 
unnamed friend of “neighbour Jan.” In his general facts he is 
sadly at sea, knowing either a good deal less or a good deal more 
than the Plymouth folk themselves; but he does tell us that the 
life of the “city” was navigation ; that very few people were to be 
